What You Don't Know (Sequel to "Secret Love")(Hunter Hayes/James Marsden)

Shots

Well, I got a chance to finish writing this, and it's still kind of a cliff-hanger, but not really. I'm sorry it's kind of lamely written, though. I'm just...I dunno. In a rut, I guess.

Anyway, comment, vote, all that mess, you know the drill! Love you guys!

God Bless and Happy Reading!

She froze on the floor, Darryl's words finally filtering through her shock. I'm not who you think I am, I swear. Trenton's going to kill you. You have to get out of here. I'm not who you think I am.

Then who was he? Hardly the thought to ponder at the moment, yet it tickled her like a feather sweeping gently across the soul of her foot.

Trenton panted for a few minutes more before he finally righted himself and brushed off his shirt. He smoothed a hand over his wig, and Bethany had the chilling thought that he was preparing himself for her murder.

She had not even tried to move. Trenton was reloading his gun, paying little mind to the girl he had claimed to love, yet she was immobilized. Even her mindless rocking had ceased, and she was strangely calm, an incongruous sense of acceptance settling into her skin. It was as though she still did not believe Trenton was a murderer, though she had only just seen the proof with her own eyes.

Bethany glanced down at Darryl's body again, thinking he looked very peaceful in death. Perhaps death wouldn't be so terrible, she thought, her muddled imagination transforming the puddle of blood haloing Darryl's head into a warm bed with burgundy sheets. He was only sleeping, cocooned in a rich crimson embrace, and it looked so comfortable, so inviting.

It was so quick. I probably won't even feel it. Perhaps it won't be so bad.

Trenton shuffled his feet suddenly, and she flinched. He was turned away from her now, marveling at his nauseating decorations with a sadistic pride. He tapped Hunter's picture with his gun and turned to her with a grin. It was the same grin he had worn the night of their first date, the moment after their first kiss, and every day in between, but in this setting, its normalcy was eerie, unsettling. Bethany squelched the shiver in her spine, afraid that any movement, however small, would persuade the next bullet in Trenton's gun to settle in her brain.

"It's beautiful, isn't it?" Trenton spoke, gesturing again to his wall. "I've spent years working on it, as I'm sure you noticed. I had hoped you would find it; it'll be such poetic justice to kill you in here."

He turned toward her then, crouching in front of her.

"This is all so new to me, Bethany. I've never killed a woman before, you should know. Not that I've anything against relieving the opposite sex of their livelihood, but I've never been called on to dispose of a woman, you see. And of course there was the matter of my vendetta with you. You really do have a way with men, don't you Bethany? Ah well, I got what I wanted didn't I?" He looked her up and down with a lecherous glint, leaving her with no doubt what he meant.

He had only kept her alive this long to complete what he had started that night in his office. She had escaped him then, and he had found his opportunity to trap her once more. Her heart filled with hate; he had played her so well, almost had her believing him, almost had her falling in love with him. She had given in; she had allowed him liberties she should not have, and though he was voicing exactly what she had been sent here to discover, she found no comfort in knowing her mission was completed.

"Willakers will be here any moment. I'm sure of it."

Bethany knew it was a weak argument, but Trenton's laughter was shocking even so.

"Jeremy Willakers? Surely you know by now that Jeremy Willakers was working for me, no?" He took a moment to absorb the stunned expression she wore, then bellowed for another moment, rising from his squat to pat her on the head. "You are so naive, Ms. James. I always knew you were, but your stupidity knows no bounds, does it? I over estimated you."

Trent moved to the door and peered into the guest bedroom. Whatever he was looking for did not appear, which caused him to sigh heavily before returning to stand in front of her.

"Well, I was hoping Reese would be here. So disappointing." He shook his head, his lips pursed regretfully. "Ah, well, I suppose I've put this off long enough."

The gun's barrel stared her directly in the face, and a split second later, a muted bang! ricocheted off the walls.

Bethany had closed her eyes, a reflex in preparation for the pain that was sure to come. Come it did, but not where she had anticipated. She cried out, clutching her left knee, which had been blown open by Trenton's misguided bullet.

Trenton looked over to see the man whose voice had diverted his aim and smiled.

"Reese, my man! I was afraid you weren't going to show," Trenton exclaimed, lowering his warm gun for a moment and ignoring Bethany's tortured wailing. "Come on, in, party's just started."

Reese entered, reaching behind his back to pull out his own gun, then hefting it by his right side as he answered Trenton.

"I see you've already dispatched one. Who's this guy?" he inquired, kicking Darryl's side gently.

Trenton shrugged. "An old employee. Useless, really."

Reese nodded, then glanced over Trenton's wall of conquests, whistling lowly.

"Wow, Trent, what a lineup!"

Trent just nodded. "Let's get rid of her first, Thereon, then we'll discuss the past."

The next shot came from a third party, standing in the door with a smoking pistol in his hand. Trent was clawing at his right hand, where a new hole had been carved. Within seconds, Reese had produced a pair of handcuffs from his waistband and tied the metal manacles around Trent's wrists.

'~'~'~'~'~'~'~'~'~'~'~'~'~'~'~'~'~'~'~'~'~'~'~'~'~'~'

Rory Hermstead watched as his partner shackled Trenton McDermott, listened for a singular moment as the Miranda rights were recited. He breathed a sigh of relief, years of tension being released into the atmosphere. Finally, they had him in captivity. Finally, they would be able to throw him into the pit he had dug for himself.

There were, however, more pressing matters at hand. The man he knew to be Bethany's ex-boyfriend, Hunter Hayes, had rushed into Trenton's apartment during the commotion, and Rory had just barely disentangled himself from his closet alcove in time to intercept him. He had convinced him to stay put just as Reese was passing by. Now Rory needed Hunter's help, and shouted into the hallway that it was safe for him to approach the murder scene.

Hunter appeared swiftly, his eyes wide as saucers. "What's going on?"

Rory merely pointed at Bethany and commanded Hunter to help her down the stairs and into the ambulance that was waiting below. Hunter obliged, wrapping his arms around her and carrying her into the elevator.

Back upstairs, Trenton was being forced out of the apartment, and more and more of Rory's associates were arriving to tape off the area and photograph the evidence. He left them to their work, opting to follow the hero of the hour to the hospital, where the doctors would mend her leg.

It may take a while for her to get comfortable, but when she did, she was going to have a lot of questions. It was his job to provide her the answers.