Over and Out

Chapter Nine

It was testament to her years of training and field experience that Lisa kept her heart rate down. Refusing to respond, she kept quiet, eyes closed. He let go of her slightly, turning her in his arms so they were facing each other, her eyes still closed, his arms both around her back now.

"Though I can't say I have many complaints about—Oh?" He stopped, hand slightly resting on the concealed pistol. She clenched her eyes closed even tighter, barely breathing. "Are you going to tell me what that is, or should I find out myself?"

"There're rumours about this part of the city." She whispered, deciding that sheer naivety was the best way forward. "Can't blame a girl for wanting to protect herself."

"Of course not." He pressed a thumb to one of her eyelids gently. "Will you at least look at me?" She reluctantly peeped out, gulping slightly as she drank in his face. He was just as devastating as she remembered, which was doing things to her balance that almost made her glad for his arms keeping her up. Almost.

"Good girl." Another shiver skimmed through her body, adding to her act—though she wasn't sure how much control she admittedly had over it.

"Wh-Why did you want me in here?" She kept her eyes on his mouth as she posed the question, not trusting the piercing eyes above it.

"I thought I would return the favour. After all it would be rude of me to not pay you a visit, especially when you kindly dropped in to see me a few days ago." Blind panic flooded her at his words, realisation that her cover had been ripped to shreds. This was the part where she had to lay it on thick.

"Sorry? I've never met you before, you must think I'm someone else." She priced herself away from his grip now, shaky but taking solace in the knowledge that she was still fairly protected, the heaviness in her sleeves reassuring. He didn't reply, coolly taking a step forward so she stumbled back slightly into the sofa behind her. She carried on: "Look, I think this was a big misunderstanding, I really d-"

"Oh, I very seldom make misunderstandings. And I very rarely forget a face, even if I see it under...adverse circumstances." He smirked, pressing forward until her knees hit the sofa, forcing her down. He leaned forward, ignoring her wince of discomfort, caging her in with two arms crammed with tattoos, swirls of ink wrapping around them. He was so close that the end of his long wavy bangs brushed against her brow bone—she had no choice no but to meet his gaze. The heady scent of his cologne only added to the thick tension rising up within her, her body refusing to even inhale in his presence. Lifting a hand, he carefully brushed the stray hair away from her face, scrutinising every last inch of her features, before raising it to cover the upper part of it. "I wasn't wrong after all."

Deciding that it was now or never, Lisa slowly lifted her own hands, running them up her sleeves, maintaining eye contact. "You're very sure for someone who was passed out and tied to their own bed the last time you would have had a chance to meet me." With that she lunged forward, flinging her hands over her shoulder and around the back of his head, so that he had a knife held up to both sides of his neck—catching him, she thought viciously, off guard, his eyes widening in surprise. Slowly, she stood up, blades not faltering. "But kudos to you for the spot. Sit down." She twisted them around, so it was his legs now that hit the sofa, using his reluctant compliance to manoeuvre him down, lifting up a knee to press down onto his midriff. "Hands up." He did so, mockingly.

"I've outdone myself truly." He laughed, tipping his head back. "What luck, and to think they did exactly what I thought and sent you right back to me as well." His delighted tone grated at her nerves. Slowly sliding away one of her blades, she slipped it back into her sleeve, before running a hand across his waistband—removing the two blades and single pistol he had strapped to him, tossing them into the farthest corner from them.