Jackson Rippner 2.0

Can I borrow you?

"Do you have an escort yet? It is imperative to the mission, that you don't tip anyone off." The stuck up voice of my client nagged through the speaker of my cellphone.

"Yes yes, I know that. I'm on my way to pick the girl up right now if you'd just give me a fucking second." My tone of voice showed irritation and exasperation toward the woman.

"Well make it quick, the job ends tonight." An abrupt click followed quickly after, signaling that she had hung up.

"Bitch." I mumbled under my breath whilst I continued to drive down the crowded strip of road. It was about 4:00 in the morning and all the drunken partiers were leaving the bars and clubs.

I pulled my sleek black car, a Jaguar F-Type coupe, into the alley way next to a large strip club. It was nicer than most of the ones around here, but I still wouldn't touch most of the girls with a ten foot pole.

There's only one girl there i'd be willing to interact with, and thats exactly who i'm picking up. I've been following her for months now.

I watched closely in my car from the shadows, as the back exit door was flung open and out stepped a petite blonde girl.

I quietly stepped out of the vehicle and walked towards her slowly. I cleared my throat, causing her to jump and spin around in my direction.

She whipped a small handgun out of her purse and aimed it at me. Smart girl. At least someone in this awful town is smart enough to keep a weapon on them.

I pursed my lips and put my hands up, showing her that I was not going to harm her. I felt my chest tightening slightly. After Lisa and her fucking father shot me I still haven't gotten quite used to having firearms aimed at me.

"Don't worry, doll. I'm not here to hurt you." My voice was slightly raspy from being stabbed all those years ago, but I still managed to make it sound calming.

"What do you want?" Her voice was weary as she lowered her gun.

"I'm just here to make a deal." I shrugged my shoulders and dropped my hands back down to my side.

"I don't do drugs." She warned, mistaking what I was saying.

Silly little girl.

"No, Honey. I'm not a drug dealer." I chuckled and shook my head at her comment. I took a few steps closer to her, and wrapped my arm around her shoulders. She looked up at me with her big sparkling brown eyes, filled with confusion.

"How would you like to make 2 grand?" I smirked down at her locking her brown orbs with my blue ones. Charm is always the way to go with women.

Her brows furrowed and she pushed me away from her.

"Uh I'm not a prostitute." Her voice held disgust towards me. I internally scoffed at her assumptions of me, people in glass houses shouldn't throw stones, and she lives in the biggest fucking glass house around.

"No I don't mean for sex. I simply need you to attend a banquet with me." My tone held high levels of condescension.

"You'd pay me $2,000 just to look pretty on your arm?" She sounded as if she didn't believe me, as she looked up at me with her hands on her tiny hips.

"Well, yeah. I have a lot of money and an important task to complete. Will you accept?" I put my hand out towards her, waiting for her to take it.

She looked around hesitantly, wrapping her cardigan tighter around herself.

"I'm not going to hurt you, I promise." I raised an eyebrow at her, urging her toward me.

"Fine." She rolled her eyes and put her small, tanned hand in my larger one.

"Awesome. Let's go." I led her towards my Jag, and opened the passenger door for her. Believe it or not, I am capable of being a gentleman.

Once we were settled into the vehicle I decided to introduce myself. I turned to her, and tried to smile warmly.

"I'm Jackson."

"I'm Liliana."

I know.

She put out her hand and I shook it politely before taking off down the road again.

"Nice to meet you Lily."

"And you too, Jack."

I suddenly cringed at the Nickname. Dreadful thing.

"Please don't call me that." I tried to sound as nice about it as possible, but I honestly hated it.

"Why not?" She gave me a curious look with her brows knitted together.

I thought back to Lisa persistently calling me Jack the whole time, just because she knew it bothered me.

"Um, bad memories." I brushed it off with a tight smile, and continued to drive back to my pent house. My job gets me a lot of money, and it's safe to say i've utilized that.

I pulled up in front of the apartment building, helped Lily out of the car, and handed my keys off to the valet with a tip.

He's a good kid, never once has he scratched my car.

"Good Morning Mr. Rippner." The tall brunette who works the front desk greeted, flashing us a smile with blindingly white straight teeth.

"Morning, Trish." I gave her a sharp smile, and continued walking. Ugh. That woman was always trying to get in my pants.

I led Liliana into the elevator and up to the top floor, before unlocking the door to my penthouse and swinging it open.

Her warm brown eyes danced around the space and widened in surprise.

"It's very nice, Jackson." Her fingertips ran softly over the back of the black leather, 'L' shaped couch.

"Why thank you, kitten. Now you should go take a bath, get cleaned up and then rest a bit. The banquet isn't until 7:00 p.m."

I placed my hand lightly on her lower back and urged her towards the bathroom. She walked with me down the hallway, and into the bathroom.

"Here you are. Feel free to use whatever you like." I gave her a small wink, and left to give her some privacy.

My footfalls were quiet on the carpet as I walked into my bedroom. I dug the large plastic bag that contained Lily's dress off of the hanger, and laid it out on the bed, making sure not to crinkle it.

I'm almost certain that dress will look astonishing on her, a white off the back gown that contrasts perfectly with her tanned skin and her glowing blonde locks.

I shook my head at myself, ran my hand through my slightly curled hair, and left to the living room.

Once there I poured myself a small glass of Irish whiskey, and laid back on the couch. I sank back into the smooth leather, and took a sip from the glass.

My fingers ran over the raised scar on my throat and memories of that blasted plane trip came back. How could things have gone that horribly wrong?

I mean, the bitch stabbed me in the throat with a pen, stabbed me with her high heel, kicked me down a flight of stairs, and shot me. Not to mention she killed my colleague, my very obedient assassin.

What a bitch.