No Ordinary Love

One hitwoman, her hitman captor and a world of lies, secrets and mystery. Rated: Mature

Go Directlly to Chapters 11+

Spider.

To any regular passerby she was a beautiful woman, walking the busy New York City streets on her way home from work. He saw the way they looked at her as she breezed past them; the men stared; the women envied; he despised.

He hated everything about her.

From the way she walked straight, upright with her head held high, her determined chin jutting out in a self assuring manner, her hips swishing loosely beneath her tailored linen skirt. She didn't even bother to hide or try to blend in with the rest of the pedestrians: Her first mistake.

To the way she nonchalantly pulled the tiny pins, that secured her hair in a severe bun at the nape of her neck, from her silken hair. He hated how the dark waves of hair tumbled from that horrible looking bun, down her back like a sea of chocolate rivulets : Her second mistake.

He'd been following her for days. Memorizing her routine. He knew what time she woke, what she had for breakfast, what time she left her apartment, the places she went, her friends, when she returned home... He even knew the type of panties she wore; she preferred thongs, but sometimes settled for bikini cuts.

He hated knowing that. But it was a job requirement. Hitman rule number one: Know your target.

Spider, her name. Dubbed that for her ability to trap her victims in a web and kill them before they even knew they were stuck.

Orphaned at an early age, she was taken in by a mob family and raised under the skillful tutelage of Lucas "Luke" Spencer. She grew to be the cream of the hired killer crop. Rumor had it that she succeeded in her first hit at age fifteen; taking out a rising mobster, Manuelo "Manny" Ruiz. There had been a string of men and women she had snuffed out since then, each one adding a silent notch to her deadly belt.

One of her notches belonged to someone who had meant a great deal to him.

Her phone rang, chiming in an annoying tinkling of bells. Only Spider would be bold enough to answer a call in broad daylight, fresh from completing a perfect hit. She probably still smelled of the blood she spilled.

She hit a button on her hip and began talking. Hands free.

He wasn't up to date with the latest technologies and truthfully he didn't care to be. It had taken him years to get a cell phone. They were a nuisance in his book. A way for people to keep tabs on him, a way for anyone to gain access to him at any moment. He never knew when the damn thing would go off and interrupt him in the middle of something. In short, they took his control away and he didn't like not having total control.

He slowed down as she veered off down a nondescript street. She'd never taken this route before.

God, he'd be happy when he finally got the go ahead to off her. He was growing tired of following the woman. Tired of getting to know more and more about her. He just wanted her gone and as soon as he got the chance to pull the trigger he would exhale a sigh of relief.

The boss wanted a clean job on her (in and out). He, on the other hand, wanted a messy one. After all of the work he had put into "getting to know his target" he deserved that much.

He needed to hear her scream for mercy while he used all of the pain devices he'd acquired over his years as an enforcer, on her. He longed to wrap his fingers around her delicate little neck. He could imagine how relieving it would be to feel that tiny pulse pumping beneath his fingers, knowing that he held her life in his hands. To see the way her creamy complexioned skin looked under his sun darkened hands as he squeezed the breath from her lithe body.

He wouldn't let her die that way though. No, he wouldn't go that far. Just as she stopped struggling and embraced death, he'd remove his hands and watch her in satisfied amusement as she gasped for air and took it into her lungs in greedy gulps.

He was a sick man, yes, but not nearly as sick as her.

He was about to turn the same corner his target had when his phone vibrated against his thigh. A quick look told him the caller was his boss.

"Morgan," he answered, roughly into the phone.

"Do it." A simple go ahead.

"It's done." He returned the phone to his pocket.

The moment he had been waiting for. He was finally able to snuff the life out of her. His heart began beating like a drum against his chest in anticipation. Taking swift but light steps he caught up to her. She was still talking, to what seemed like air, oblivious to the threat that lurked only feet away.

The dark street, tucked quietly between two brick buildings, was empty. Save for a few crates, shattered glass and cardboard boxes, they were completely alone. Indiscreetly, he slipped behind a stack of crates and leaned back against the brick wall of a building. His hand went to his .40 (it was cold), he pulled it out from beneath the leather jacket he wore and leveled it so that the barrel aligned with her head.

He was far enough away to not be noticed but close enough to take a silenced shot and end her life.

In and out. In and out.

The boss' words replayed in his head like a needle skipping over a record. So easy, all he had to do was take his shot. The seconds ticked away and she was still standing, he was still holding his loaded gun.

The boss wanted her dead and it was his job to follow through. Just take the shot. But he didn't want to take the shot. He had dreamed of too many ways to make her suffer before death and none of them included a single shot to the head. That was far too kind. She deserved much worse. He lowered his gun and put it back into its resting place in the holster, against his torso.

No longer happy with killing her the easy way, he chose to step out from behind the crates that concealed him. She looked up as soon as he stepped into plain view. He saw the exact moment she realized that she was in danger. Her eyes flashed brilliant sapphire and her mouth lifted at the corner in a coy grin.

She wasn't afraid of him, in fact, she seemed to think it a game. She stopped talking on the head set. He pointed to his head, motioning for her to get rid of the phone. She obeyed pulling the small bud from her ear, dropping it to the ground and stepping on it. It crushed beneath her stiletto heeled foot.

He reached beneath his jacket and pulled the gun from his holster, aiming it at her head. Her grin widened. He scowled.

"Morgan." She said his name as if they were old acquaintances that had just run into each other after years away.

He took a couple steps forward, carefully gauging her state of mind. She didn't make a move to reach for any weapon but he still said, "Relieve yourself of all artillery."

A finely arched brow cocked up, "Artillery?" She took a step toward him. Bold. "Morgan what do you think I am hiding beneath this?" She made a sweeping motion over her attire.

His eyes swept her appearance. What could she be hiding under a tiny skirt and a skin tight shirt? Anything.

He held the gun steady and took another step toward her, "Do it." A command.

She shrugged, murmuring, something he couldn't make out, under her breath. She eyed a nearby crate then started for it. He kept his aim the whole time. When she reached the wayward cube she lifted her foot and placed her heel on it. Her skirt hiked, the front split of it spreading to make room for her stance. The position gave him a unabashed view her thighs. They were creamy, just like the rest of her skin. He wondered what it would be like to use one of his torture devises on those thighs. One that had screws.

He kept his eyes trained on her movements as she slipped her hand beneath the hem of her skirt and came back out with a Lady Smith, it was a small but efficient gun. She held it up in surrender and handed it out to him. He took it, placing it in a free space of his holster.

She brought her foot down and just as he was about to tell her not to fuck with him, that he knew she had more on her than that one gun, she lifted her other foot to the crate and once more reached beneath her skirt, slowly. This time she handed him a butterfly knife and a throwing star.

He pocketed both. She stepped down and unfastened the first three buttons of her crisp white, cotton shirt, revealing the crescent tops of two very full, very smooth breasts. She reached into it and came back out with one last blade.

"That's all," she said with an air of uncaring finality.

He smirked. There was no way he believed that. Against his better judgement he lowered his gun, pushing it into his waistband. A few steps and he was a bare inch away from her. She was small, he towered a head plus above her. His size should have intimidated her but she seemed to sway toward him. Her chest brushed his for a second, making his blood run cold. She was playing a game with him, trying to use her feminine ways to distract him, to seduce him. He wasn't easily played.

Quickly his hand shot out and slipped between her legs, she gasped. He seized her shoulder with his other hand to keep her in place, then ran his hand up one smooth thigh. He reached the area where her garter belt was located and checked it for weapons. He found none. Still, he ripped it off her leg and dropped it. He did the same with the other leg but this time he let his fingers travel higher, above the garter to the curve of her ass. It was soft, pliable. He indulged in a squeeze. She stiffened against his hand and he removed it.

His eyes roamed her chest, he slipped his hand into the space between the freed buttons and searched. His fingers passed over her sheer bra, he could feel her nipples harden as his hands brushed them. She swayed toward him again and her eyes fluttered up to his. His hand jerked to a stop, for a second he was entranced in those deep blue eyes. Breaking the connection, he dropped his lids to her mouth. So full, so sinfully pink.

His body responded in a way he wasn't expecting. She felt it too and she smiled at him, devilishly.

Annoyed by his reaction as well as hers, he pinched her nipple, hard, and held on. She squeaked and writhed to get out of his hold.

"Get off of me, you sick son of a bitch!"

It was his turn to grin, "What a filthy mouth," he chastised as he let go.

She wrenched out of his hold but that second mistake of hers didn't let her get far. He grabbed onto her loose hair and yanked her back. She yelped in surprise and pain, he hoped. He twisted her silken hair around in his hold until his hand was pressed harshly to her scalp. She couldn't run. But she could kick.

A swift kick to one chin, then the other. Tired of the cat and mouse game they were playing, he swung his leg out and clipped both of hers. She fell to her knees with a cry.

With his hand still firm in her hair and her; down on her luck, literally, he figured he could do one of two things: Kill her right then and there, or do as he intended from day one; make her suffer.

Decided, he pulled his gun out and brought it down on her head, it thudded against her skull and she went limp in his hand.

Elizabeth (code name: Spider) woke, wincing, in a cold room. With much effort, she opened her eyes. It was dark, pitch. She couldn't see a thing. She reached out using her other senses. She heard nothing. A sound proof room, with no windows, maybe? She smelled wetness and... stone. Concrete? Yes, concrete, she felt it against her feet. They were bare. She tried to move them, they were bound. So where her hands, above her head. Tied to what, she didn't know.

She tried again to focus her eyes in the dark, no use. She attempted to look up to see what her hands were bound to but the head blow she had taken wouldn't allow her to move too much without suffering immense pain behind her eyes. She was able to shift her thighs and felt nothing brush them. Was she naked? No, not naked, she felt her panties and bra against her skin, but that was it.

She used her fingers to feel along the object her wrists were secured to. It was cold and metal and curved, with a point. A Hook. And the wires tied to her ankles must have been bound to a bolt that was secured within the cement floor.

Damn Morgan!

He knew exactly how to tie a potential guinea pig. And that's just what she was to him, some new lab rat. She knew all about his extracurricular activities. She heard the story's about how he used his prized torture devises. None were first hand accounts because no one ever made it out of Morgan's lair.

Morgan was notorious in their profession. Stone, cold killer. The man was a robot, he felt nothing. Unless, of course, he was torturing something... or someone. Then he felt nothing but pleasure. He was the man that mentors spoke of while training their proteges. He was the one whispered about by parents to their children. "You better be good or Morgan will come," they would say. The threat had finally come to pass. She hadn't been good, not by a long shot, and Morgan had come for her.

Now she was bound, half naked, and at his mercy. She didn't want to think about all of the ways he would torture her. She knew it would come though. He'd already halfway pinched her nipple from her breast.

The thought sent a tingle to the junction of her thighs. She shook the memory away. She shouldn't be reacting to the maniac's touch in such a way, but the pain Morgan had inflicted had made her weak with pleasure. She had to jerk away from him to keep herself from pushing shamelessly into his hand.

He was a twisted man. She shouldn't have wanted to feel his hands on her, but she was a sick woman... and she had.

She felt a whisper of movement sweep past her. Her heart began to race in panic and she struggled against the restraints at her feet and hands. They weren't budging. She stopped struggling, not wanting to waste any strength she had left. She thought about screaming but that would serve no purpose. The room was sound proof, no one would hear her cries.

How the hell would she get out of such a mess? And if by some minuscule chance she was able to escape Morgan and his twisted games, then what? Luke would surely find out and... she couldn't think of that. She needed to focus all of her thoughts on getting out of the current predicament.

"I hear the wheels turning in your head Spider."

It was Morgan! The thumping of her heart picked up pace. She strained her eyes in the darkness trying to find him. It was no use, she couldn't see a thing.

"Morgan," her throat was hot and dry, his name scrapped against her mouth like sandpaper. She swallowed and pain shot down the tissue of her esophagus. He must have given her something. Fighting through the acidic hurt, she was able to scratch out a question, "What do you want with me?"

He was silent. Too silent. The room was still.

Elizabeth wanted to say more to him. Talking the predator down was the only chance she had at escape. But her mouth was as dry as a match and her throat was on fire. She couldn't manage a squeak, let alone, a sentence. So she waited for him to speak again. Finally he did.

"Whatever you are thinking, un-think it. There is no way you are making it out of here alive."

Her heart slammed hard against her chest as dread settled over her.

"And don't bother talking. You'll only hurt yourself..."

She heard him move. He was very close, she could smell him. He smelled earthy, and powerful and lethal.

"...I gave you something, to keep you from screaming."

She knew it, the twisted bastard. She heard him move closer to her, then she could feel him standing behind her. She jerked when his hand reached into the thick mass of her hair.

He lowered his mouth to the shell of her ear, "Don't move."

It was a command and she followed suit. His fingers tangled in her hair, moving over her scalp until he touched what she realized he'd been looking for. The knot on her head. The one that he caused by knocking her out with a pistol. She winced when he pressed it. Shockingly, he took care and didn't inflict unnecessary pain on her.

"It looks better, the swelling has gone down since yesterday."

Looks better? Since yesterday?

Just how long had she been locked in this pitch black room and what was Morgan talking about; it looked better. Did the man have night vision?

He removed his hand from her head, letting the back of his knuckles skim the length of her back. It sent a thrill through her body. Those forcefully skilled fingers knew exactly how to make a person suffer and give them pleasure. She had now experienced both at his hands.

"You liked that, Spider?" He phrased it as a question but it was all too knowing.

Sick and twisted man that he was, Morgan knew that she reacted responsively to his touch. Sick and twisted woman that she was, there was no use in shaking her head in denial. He wouldn't see it anyway.

He stepped away from her and she shivered at the loss of body heat.

"You're cold."

How could he know? She heard him move around and felt his presence when he was in front of her. A swift brush of air breezed past her face, once, twice, a third time. What was he doing?

She tried to speak, it hurt like hell but she tried again. "How long have I been here?" Her voice was like a rake against gravel.

"You haven't seen the day pass, Spider?"

Was that concern in his rough tone? And how could she see the sun rise in such a dark room? She shook her head, no. Then tried to say it, knowing that he couldn't see her.

"Fuck." He spat the word. At her, at no one? She didn't know. Then he said, "One day."

The air came again, fanning across her face. And just like that, she knew.

Morgan had said that her head looked better and he had seen her shiver. And just then she hadn't spoken a word, just shook her head, and he knew the answer. And the bursts of air she'd felt; Morgan had been waving his hand in front of her face, waiting to see her react.

Panic seized her, gripping her chest like a vice as the levity of her situation became clear to her. The room was not pitch black, she was blind.

Morgan had to bite his tongue to keep from cursing again. He had only intended to knock her out, not to blind her. In all of his years of immobilizing his victims he had never blinded one of them. Caused a few concussions? Sure. He had even dealt a few death blows, by mistake, before he perfected his angle. But blinding someone was a first.

The knowledge that she could no longer see should have pleased him. He had been waiting months to get his hands on her, any small form of torture should have been sufficient, but he wasn’t pleased with her being blind. He wanted her to be able to see him administer the pain he intended to give. That was the key to torturing your victim; having them witness the horrible things that were done to their body and being able to see the person dishing out the pain. Spider not being able to see him, took away a bulk of his power.

"I’m blind," she said casually. Her countenance remained unaffected, as if finding out that she was blind was nothing at all.

He thought, for a second, about calling the private doctor who attended to men in the organization, just to be sure that he wasn’t being played. But that would only raise red flags and he didn’t need his boss catching wind of it. She was supposed to be dead, not alive, blind and tied up in his basement. Besides, her unfocused eyes told him all that he needed to know.

He stared into those expressionless eyes, no longer were they the lively and challenging ones he was met with when he disarmed her. It was as if blinding her had taken away their spark. Non the less, he still felt trapped in her bleak sapphire stare. In fact, he was finding it harder to look away from her now that she couldn’t see him looking back. Then she closed her eyes and the connection was broken.

"Apparently," he answered, belated.

He waited for her to break down and cry. He’d seen grown men babble like babies under lesser circumstances, but Spider didn’t break. Her face stayed placid, unmoved by what she had just discovered.

Taking advantage of her lack of sight, he spent longer then he would want anyone to know studying her. The full day she had spent in the basement of his safe house didn’t show on her face. Her eyes, now covered by heavy lids, weren’t framed with dark circles that came with lack of sleep. Thick black lashes lay on her fine rosy cheek bones, making her look more like a porcelain doll than a hired killer. The tip of her nose was tinged red, it was also the only evidence of discomfort that showed on her body.

If she was in any pain, besides the obvious ache of her burning throat, she hid it well.

His eyes drifted down to her mouth, it was sensuously full. He stared at her lips, puckered in a slight pout. She licked them, leaving behind a fine, wet sheen. His body responded, and displeasure followed immediately after. He looked away, positive that she was toying with him. Weakened, blinded, suffering; none of it could stop Spider from doing what she did best.

"Why don’t you just go ahead and kill me Morgan?" Her voice was hoarse, a rough whisper. "You’ve blinded me, isn’t that torture enough?"

"Not nearly enough," he bit out.

She coughed, a ragged, dry cough. Then said, "I know all about people like you. I know that when you torture your victims you like them to be able to see every twisted limb, every screw, knife, rope, chain...," as her voice gave out she attempted a shrug.

His mouth twitched, an involuntary smile threatened the corners of his lips. "Really? And just how do you know these things, Spider?"

She raised that perfect brow at him. Even in her disabled state she still gave off an air of composed calculation. "I’ve read my share of books on Serial Killers," she grinned, despite the hurt her talking must have been causing.

"To get tips?"

"To get to know the enemy."

"Tell me then," he started, "Since you know so much about people like me, how you think I will torture you? Because I will torture you."

He watched her struggle to swallow. She was stubborn, fighting through the pain to try and talk him down. It was a waste of time, he couldn’t be talked down, but he did find pleasure in seeing her attempt to win a losing battle. She didn’t know it, but he was experiencing a great deal of satisfaction in keeping her talking. With every word she spoke, immense agony stripped her throat. The longer he kept her speaking to him the more pain she felt. So in essence, the torturing had already begun.

She pulled her bottom lip between her teeth, her brows furrowed into a look of contemplation.

"You’re biting your lip."

She quickly released it, "Nervous habit."

"I make you nervous?"

She cleared her throat, "I can’t see, Morgan," she said, ignoring the question, "You won’t be able to get half the satisfaction out of torturing me as you want. Go ahead... end it."

Her tone feigned indifference but he saw the way her body reacted. She trembled. It was just a sliver of a shake but it had happened. Spider wasn’t as unaffected as she wanted him to think. It was clear to him that she was acting the part of the non caring captive.

"You’re right," he said, absolutely. "You can’t see but you can feel. That’s all that matters."

"You lie well, Morgan, and with a straight face. Your detached facade covers the slight rise in your voice when you’re not truthful," she paused, swallowing with a wince. "If I could see you, I probably would have believed what you just said. Since I only heard it, I know that you were lying."

Funny, he thought, because the same went for her- in reverse. Had he not been watching her closely, the evenness of her words would have convinced him that she had no problems dying at his hands. It was her body that told a different story, the real story.

"I’m glad that you hear so well, Spider. Maybe those ears of yours will be the first to go."

Without thinking, he reached out and touched a finger to the top of her ear, it was cold. The iciness of her skin alerted something inside of him and he had to fight off the urge to warm her. She didn't stiffen at his touch, so he let his hand linger. She seemed just about to press her cheek into his hand, but as quickly as it happened she jerked her head away. He stepped back, angry at himself for touching her the way he had and for the unwanted feelings of protectiveness that came from doing so.

Her lips compressed in a tight white line, "About your earlier question, Morgan. You don’t make me nervous, you make me sick." The last word passed her lips as a curse.

He frowned at seeing her faultless mouth dripping with venom. Venom directed at him. For a moment he wanted her to take it back, but he snapped out of it. That was just what she wanted him to feel. It was exactly how she trapped her victims. By tricking them into false security, by acting harmless, or hurt or uncaring.

He could see exactly how some unsuspecting innocent could fall into her tangled web. Thinking about the one that had, the one person who he would have given his life to protect, made him sick. He hadn’t been there to protect his sister from the monster standing before him. His failure enraged him.

"About your earlier question," he said, his own voice matching and exceeding her previous venomous one. "Don’t worry, I have every intention of killing you... slowly."

As he watched the visible shake run through her- from head to toe- his mouth set in a grin; one that turned down at the corner instead of up, but a grin all the same.

Let her wonder about all the ways she will suffer before death, he thought as he left.

With Morgan gone, Elizabeth tried to move her arms but the wires tied around her wrists dug into her skin. He still had her bound to the hook that hung about three feet above her head. She was cold, freezing, but at least the burn in her throat was subsiding. Carrying on a conversation with Morgan had been excruciating. Pure torture. Just what he wanted, she was positive of that.

She was also certain that she was completely blind. Thanks to Morgan, she was now a sightless lady killer. In other words, she was out of a job. Not that her job mattered anymore, Morgan had captured her and intended on killing her. There was no way she was making it out of wherever she was alive.

A smile touched her lips. At least she could die knowing that he didn’t enjoy offing her half as much as he would have had she been able to see. But the best part about it was that it was Morgan’s own mistake that caused her blindness. He’d regret knocking her over the head with that gun for a long time after she was gone.

She had her own regrets as well, like keeping up a conversation with him in spite of the pain doing so caused. It would have been best for her to have kept quiet and not played into Morgan’s hand. His words had been used purposefully, he knew how much it hurt for her to talk.

Knowing full well what he was doing, she shouldn’t have said a word. But she was tired and aching, and she could hardly think straight after discovering she was blind, and he was provoking her! Morgan had no shame and in those moments she lacked the patience to let him goad her without returning a few of her own.

Elizabeth took a deep breath, trying to latch on to the remnants Morgan’s scent.

It was true what they said; lose one sense and the other ones sharpen. Her hearing, smell and touch were all clamoring for her attention. Those three senses seemed to attack her all at once while in Morgan’s presence. It had taken everything she had inside of her to keep her body in check, going so far as to tell him how much she was repulsed by him. A lie, of course, but he didn’t need to know that.

She wasn’t quite sure what to make of it herself. She’d met alluring men before, she’d had her share of flings with dangerous ones too. But Morgan was far more of a threat than the small timers she rendezvoused with. Unlike them, everything about him was enticing, especially the way he smelled. More than once she found herself breathing deeply, wanting to capture his masculine scent.

Then the way he touched her ear, so gently, had nearly made her weak in the knees.

Even her sense of taste was overcompensating for her sudden blindness. There had been a moment when Morgan was close to her, she felt the moist heat of his breath fan across her face and she licked her lips to see if she could taste him. The reasons behind the way she, so audaciously, attempted that weren’t lost on her, neither was the fact that she would try it again and again, until she finally got a taste of him.

Luke would be disappointed in her if he knew how easily she might give in to Morgan. He’d tell her she had no heart. She had heard him speak those words before, thankfully they’d never been directed at her. Still, she knew what Luke was capable of, she knew that he could crush a person’s whole being with just a few disapproving words. Lucky, her adoptive brother, had been on the other end of Luke’s dissatisfaction more times then she could count. More times than were necessary.

Lucky hadn’t been the best in their profession, not close, hardly mediocre, but he had tried. He did everything Luke asked of him, always aiming to please his father, never seeing that it was a losing battle. Lucky died in his pursuit of becoming the type of son Luke could love. He passed, never realizing that Luke didn’t want a great son, he wanted a great killer. He got all that and more in her, and now she had failed him.

Angry, Elizabeth fought against the restraints one final time, pulling, tugging, trying to free herself. There was no use. After a few minutes she stopped. She was exhausted, her body sore from standing upright for so long, her arms numb from being stretched above her head, her wrists and ankles tender from friction with the wires. She positioned her head so that it lay against one of her up stretched arms. She was so tired, so very tired.

After making sure the locks on the basement door were secured, Morgan made his way down a narrow hall of his safe house. He stopped when he heard the clanging of glass coming from the living room. Instinctively, his hand went to his waist, the cool steel under his fingertips gave him a sense of security.

Without drawing his weapon, he made his way to the end of the hall. Upon entering the spacious living area, a quick survey of the room told him that he wasn’t in any danger.

The curtains were drawn, the fireplace had been lit, despite the summer heat, and was blazing in full glory. His boss, Sonny Corinthos, sat on the couch. He looked relaxed, leaning back on the plush cushioning, glass of scotch in hand, one foot crossed over knee.

Morgan dropped his hand from his weapon back to his side. He crossed the room, taking a seat in a chair across from Sonny’s position on the couch.

"How did things go?" Sonny asked.

Remembering Spider’s claim that his voice gave his lies away he leveled his tone and said, "Things went well."

He searched Sonny’s face, looking for any hint that he did not believe the answer, he saw none.

"Where did you take her?"

"It’s better if you don’t know," he answered, skittering around the truth. She was just one level below them. The thought unnerved him and he hoped that Sonny would drop the inquisition.

Corinthos’ brows hitched but he didn’t push for more. "I know that after what she did to Emily, you wanted to see her suffer." Sonny cast an empathetic glance his way, "I wanted it as much as you did. But we were dealing with Luke’s daughter, the cleaner the hit the better. We didn’t want to give him any reason to suspect us."

Morgan nodded in agreement. Like him, Sonny wanted Emily’s death avenged. His boss just didn’t want to draw attention to the organization while doing it. In the end they both would both win. The woman in his basement would suffer for the pain she caused, like he wanted. And she would end up dead, like Sonny believed her to currently be. In the mean time, what his boss didn’t know, wouldn’t hurt him.

"You know Jason," Sonny dropped his leg to the floor. Propping his elbows on his knees, he leaned forward, "You look like you could use a vacation." The fire winked over his dark gaze making his eyes appear alight with black flame, the very depths of hell.

His eyes narrowed, Corinthos never made a move, no matter how small, without it having a greater meaning. He leaned back in the chair and folded his arms across his chest, "Do I?"

He was more than a little suspicious of the mans true intentions. It didn’t matter that Sonny had practically raised him, he didn’t trust his mentor and Sonny, most likely, didn’t trust him either. In their business trust was a frivolous notion. It was intangible; spoken of, but never truly there.

"You just took out a major unit in the Spencer family," Sonny twirled his wrist, rotating the scotch around the glass like an amber whirlpool. "Luke will be looking for his precious daughter. Having you get out of town for a while, until things die down, is best."

Corinthos was right and it had crossed his mind more than once, since capturing Spider, that he move her some place else, somewhere more discrete. He’d never dealt with anyone as skilled as her before and if he was honest with himself he’d have to admit that he wasn’t exactly sure about what to do with her any longer.

It had all seemed so simple before he blinded her, before he realized just how cunning she could be. Even with her at a disadvantage, she was a threat. Spider was too smart, too clever, and his safe house was too close to the city. If by some chance she was able to use her natural craftiness to outwit him and escape, he would be the one who ended up dead.

"You’re right," he said, agreeing with Sonny, "It’s best if I disappear for a while."

What was it about her that made him want to break something? Morgan had been tossing that question around in his head for an hour now and he still had no answer.

He eyed a pool stick hanging from a holder on the wall and thought about breaking it. One quick hit over the knee and it would be left in splinters. He looked away, knowing that breaking all the pool sticks in the world help. It wouldn’t take the edge, that had been riding his back for two days, off.

The very edge that had been nagging him since that late afternoon on the empty side street. The afternoon that he hauled an unconscious Spider into the back of his SUV and transported her to his home.

He rolled a black eight ball across the green felt of his pool table, it rolled to the opposite end then ricocheted back to him. He contemplated throwing the solid ball against a large mirror hanging across the room.

No. Bad luck. He had enough of that in his basement.

"Mr. Morgan."

He looked up to see, Milo, one of Sonny’s guards standing in the doorway of his private room. The guard he’d recently paid good money to keep his plans about the woman tied up in his basement quiet.

The young guard looked about ready to jump out of his skin.

Morgan didn’t like the nervous disposition of the dark haired boy, but at the moment he had no other choice but to trust that Milo would be able to keep his mouth shut. Trust. The notion put a sour taste in his mouth.

The only reason that he'd decided on Milo over a more seasoned guard was because he felt that Milo’s loyalty to Sonny wasn’t as strong as others. He was able to scare Milo into keeping a secret and doing his biding the way he wouldn’t have been able to do with a more experienced guard.

"Is it done?"

The guard nodded. Morgan hiked his brows a notch.

"Y-Yes, Sir. I packed everything you asked for. Her clothes, her shoes and panties- er...," Milo stammered, turning beet red under Morgan’s hard glare. "Underwear Sir... I-I made sure to get her underwear."

Morgan felt his mouth curl in a sneer. Was it that Milo was shaking in his Italian leather shoes, and refused to keep eye contact with him for longer than a second that turned his stomach? Or the knowledge that Milo had handled Spider’s underwear? After thinking it over he went with the former, he never did care for a man with shifty eyes.

"You didn’t take much did you? I don’t want it to look like she was going somewhere."

"No." Milo shook his head emphatically. "I followed your orders, Sir, and only took a little of each clothing item. Nothing is out of place."

Morgan narrowed his eyes at the shaky guard out of habit, "Good. Is the truck loaded?"

Milo took a cautious step into the room. Morgan trained his eye on that step and the guard backed up. "The truck is ready for you, Mr. Morgan."

After a long silence Milo turned to leave.

"Remember, Milo," Morgan spoke to the guards back. Milo stopped and turned back, "I won’t be happy if any of this gets out."

"Right, Sir."

"And if I’m not happy, Milo, you’re not alive."

Milo swallowed visibly then nodded and backed away.

Morgan picked up the black and white eight ball and tossed it up in the air. He caught it easily, clutching it hard in his palm.

Their destination was set. At night fall he would drug Spider to keep her from making any trouble, load her in the back of his waiting truck, and take the long drive to Tennessee.

They would stay at his Cabin until he decided exactly what he wanted to do with her. Located in the forested foothills of the Smokey’s, it was a secluded place. His closest neighbors were six miles out, and they never bothered him. He’d only met them once, at a local grocery. The Morris’ were a quiet elderly couple. Mr. Morris was hard of hearing, and Mrs. Morris was hard of seeing. Morgan was sure that he didn’t have to worry about either of them stopping by.

Everything was in place. There was just one thing nagging him. He didn’t know Spider’s name. Sure, he knew about twelve different aliases of hers, but he wanted to know her real name.

He’d tried every outlet there was to gain that information, but Luke had her past buried like Egyptian royalty. He was unable to get his hands on an authentic birth certificate for her, being that she was adopted, her records before her time with Luke were sealed. Or maybe they no longer existed? Luke could have easily destroyed them years ago. And none of his contacts were able to get much information about her past, other than Luke was her adoptive father.

The lengths that Spencer had gone through to secure that Spider’s past remained just that made Morgan uneasy. It wasn’t odd for a trained killer to lack a past, on paper anyway. But there were always ways to find out the things that others wanted hidden, except in Spider’s case. In her case there was nothing.

She was as elusive to him as her given name; Spider. A spindly little thing, quiet, always ready to strike, or trap you. He needed to find her crutch. What made her tick?

From past experience he knew that the more personal you got with a captive the more stuff they admitted: Tell a man you knew his mother’s address and where she shopped and he told you his boss’ name, and gave up his counterparts. Let someone know that you had access to their child’s daycare, and they sang like a canary on anyone and everyone they knew.

He didn’t really care to know much about Luke. In his opinion he knew all that he wanted to know about the old devil, but if he could somehow gain access to other things, things that concerned his sister... Maybe showing Spider that he'd found out enough information about her to know her real name would scare her into spilling some secrets about Emily. It was obvious that Luke was covering her past for a reason. What would she do to keep those secrets buried?

Morgan dropped the ball to the table. In all the time he’d been planning to simply torture and get rid of her, he’d never taken the time to think about finding out her reasons for killing Emily. What was the motivation behind it?

He strode out of his private room with one thing on his mind. Figuring out the name of the spider in his basement.

Elizabeth scented his arrival before she heard him.

Morgan was an eerily quiet man, and moved swiftly- with a deaf stealth. One that made it easy to sneak up on the enemy, like he had done her. She wondered how long he had been following her. Days, weeks, months maybe, and she hadn’t a clue.

She felt him move in front of her. Her breath hitched. She held it there–in her chest–while she focused on keeping her body in check.

"Spider." That was his hello, she supposed.

She tilted her head away from his voice and cemented her jaw.

"Not speaking to me now, huh?"

Elizabeth bit down on the inside of her cheek. She would not let Morgan trick her into talking to him again.

"I take it that’s a yes," he said in response to her silence.

She could feel the heat of his towering form and she could have sworn that he leaned closer to her. Immediately she felt self conscious. Her first reflex was to cover herself, she yanked her arms. Of course, they didn’t budge but the movement caused one arm to brush across his face. A light dusting of stubble prickled against her arm. The sensation was unnerving. She yanked herself away from him, hoping that he had no clue about what that accidental touch from him had done to her.

He began tugging at the wire on her wrists, "I have a question for you, Spider... or is it Beth? One of your aliases, right?"

She bit the inside of her cheek harder. What was he getting at?

"We’ll be taking a little trip and since we will be traveling together, I’m thinking we should be on a first name basis. What about you?" He moved closer, one of his hands grazed up the length of her arm until he reached her wrists. "Spider is so informal." He yanked on the wires.

She heard the binding snap and her arms flopped lifelessly to her sides, her balance went askew at the unexpected release and she tilted forward. Morgan caught her shoulders and righted her. She pulled away, crossing her arms to rub the cold skin, they tingled as the blood rushed through them.

So Morgan was taking her on a trip? Interesting.

"Is Beth short for Bethany?" He asked, letting go of her shoulders. "You don’t look like a Bethany."

He was stooping now, tugging at the wires on her ankles. "Betty?"

Just what kind of game was he playing? And why was he tapping on her toes?

"No one named Betty would wear black polish," he observed.

Elizabeth rolled her eyes beneath her lids. Who would have thought that Morgan had such a dry sense of humor? Who would have thought he harbored any humor at all?

The wires around her ankles gave way. She was free... in a way. If she had been able to see she might have stood a chance at getting away. On the other hand, if she was able to see Morgan would have probably tortured her to death already.

"Lift your arms."

She tried to keep her brow from raising involuntarily. But by the time she thought about it it was already quirked. She hadn’t had control over that action in, well, ever. Luke chastised her about the habit relentlessly. He said it gave away her feelings, and killers were not supposed to have any.

Morgan must have seen the question on her face because he said, "I’m only going to put a shirt on you."

She raised her arms and remained completely still while he worked her arms into a long sleeved shirt. The soft cotton stopped at her knees, she figured it was his. After the shirt was on he moved behind her, his chest pressed to her back.

"Let’s go." His voice was heavy in her ear.

Elizabeth hid the shudder that threatened to show and moved along as he guided her, she didn’t bother to ask him where they were going, she was more focused on keeping her stiff legs from giving way beneath her.

"We’re coming to a set of stairs," he told her. "Right here, take a step." He held her waist with one large hand and led her up, step by step. Each step they took he threw out another name. Some were actual aliases of hers, but some were just plain ridiculous: Bette, Bitty, Bitsy-- like the spider.

When they came to the top of the landing he stopped with the names.

Letting go of her waist, he took her arm and nudged her to the right. As soon as they began their walk Elizabeth’s body thawed, there was warmth all around her. She felt it on her face and arms and legs. She reveled in the feel of warm cushioned carpet beneath her icy feet. After being in the cold for such a long time the heat of the upper part of Morgan’s lair was a welcome reprieve.

They came to a stop and she heard Morgan unlock a door, he led her inside. The door closed behind them. He steered her forward and set her down. It was a bed, a very comfortable one, which meant she was in a room. She sank into the soft mattress, making sure that she didn’t show how good it felt to be able to sit after standing for so long.

She heard him next to her, tinkering with something that sounded metal. She sighed, resigned to the fact that she was at Morgan’s mercy, "Do your worst."

"I will," he promised, then moved away from her.

"Do I get a last meal?" For the life of her she didn’t know what possessed her to ask that question. Okay, maybe she did know what possessed her. She was unsure, and when she was faced with something that unnerved her she became... chatty.

"Sure, what do you want?" She felt him move closer. He grabbed one of her arms and she felt a metal cuff come down on it. He clicked it into place.

"Chili." She tried to move her arm but the other end of the cuff was connected to something steady.

"Any other requests?"

"A hot bath," she said, playing along with him. She knew that none of her requests would be answered.

"Is that it?"

She nodded and he moved away again. She heard the door open and close. Then came muffled voices from beyond the threshold, Morgan’s and a woman. The female voice had a hint of an accent. Elizabeth strained to make out their words but they were on the other side of the door, it was no use.

After a minute the door reopened. He returned to her side and unlocked the cuff on her wrist.

He pulled her up from her sitting position on the bed. She wanted to moan in protest. The bed had been so welcoming, if only she could have lay down.

She heard water running a short distance away, coming from the direction that Morgan was leading her in. When they got closer to the sound she realized that someone was running a bath. There was a light scent of rose in the moist air.

"Morgan?" She was being led to her death, she knew it. He wanted her to believe that she was about to take a bath when what really was about to take place was a drowning! She tried to turn away, struggling against his arms to keep him from moving her closer to what she now knew was a bathroom and her death sentence.

"You asked for a bath, you’re getting one," he said, twisting her back around.

After he’d pinned her arms behind her back and righted her, he guided her into the bathroom. It was warm and muggy from the hot water that had been drawn. The air was heady with the smell of rose bath salts, she knew the smell well; used them every night.

They were rare, she had to special order them from a little upstate shop. Just how had Morgan gotten his hands on the same ones?

"All done, Mr. Morgan." It was the voice of the woman that Morgan had been speaking with.

"Thank you. You can leave us now."

Elizabeth wanted to scream and beg the woman to stay, instead she bit her lip. "Are you leaving to?" She asked him, already knowing the answer.

"No," he answered non pulsed. "Now, let’s get you undressed."

"If you think that I’m going to stand here while you watch me undress you are crazy," Spider said, attempting to back away from him.

"I’ve been called worse," he countered, unable to stop his hands from hands catching the hem of the shirt she was wearing.

She reacted quickly, snatching the shirt away. "I know what you are up to and it’s not going to work."

"What am I up to... Elle?" Another try at figuring out Spider’s real name. He’d tossed around a couple of options in his head and was now throwing them out there and waiting to see how her body reacted to each one. So far she’d shown no sign of recognition.

"That’s not my name and you know it." She wrapped her arms around herself. It was the first time he’d seen her look vulnerable. "And I know that you are going to drown me," she added.

He smiled. Not once had he thought of drowning her. "You’re right. I know that’s not your name. But you’re wrong about the bath, I’m not going to drown you." She didn’t look convinced. "Look, Ella..." no response. "As much as I hate to admit this; I won’t be drowning you in this tub, right now. You asked for a bath and I’m giving you one."

"Because you want to see me naked."

"Don’t flatter yourself," he responded as dryly as he could. "I’ve seen everything you have to offer and I’m not impressed." He hoped that the lie he told wasn’t apparent to her. The flame rising in her cheeks told him she hadn’t detected the untruth. "We’re going to be riding in a car, in close proximity, and I’d rather you smelled clean." That blush on her cheeks spread to her neck. He’d never seen anyone look as embarrassed as she did in that moment.

She tilted her head to the side and asked, "Are you saying I smell?"

He refused to answer that one. She didn’t smell, far from it. "How about I help you in and out?"

She seemed to contemplate his offer, behind her lids her eyes shifted back and forth. "Do you promise not to look at me?"

Morgan grunted. She was a tedious woman. He yanked a large robe off the door and handed it to her. "I’ll leave. Put this on when you get undressed," he placed the robe in her hand. "When you’re ready to get in, let me know."

He left, closing the door behind him. About a minute later she called out that she was ready. He went back in and found her swallowed up in the large robe he’d given her. Biting back a groan he took her arm and guided her into the bath. He showed her, by hand, where the shampoo was, and a towel that draped over the edge of the tub. He then placed a wash cloth and soap in her hand. After she was standing in the water with full hands, he turned to leave.

Again, he waited on the other side of the door for her. He listened to her moving in the water and imagined how it would look sheeting off of her body. Then he cursed himself for thinking something so wrong. Spider was his enemy, and he would need to remember that if he planned on staying a step ahead of her.

After what seemed like an hour she called for him again. This time when he entered the bathroom she was wrapped in a towel. His eyes lazily traveled from the tip of her wet head, over the curves and indentations of the towel covering her middle, to the bottom of her tiny black painted toes.

He reminded himself that she was his enemy, and she was dangerous. A femme fatale. She’d killed his sister for Christ’s sake. Why was he letting himself imagine spreading and settling between her shapely legs? If there was ever a doubt before, then his thoughts of Spider had oficially certified him as a disturbed individual.

He pulled a fresh shirt over her head; one of her own, She didn’t move the towel until the shirt was in place and then she only moved it to her waist. He handed her a pair of panties that Milo had confiscated, she put them on beneath the towel. Finally, he handed her a pair of jeans.

"These are my clothes," she said, dropping the towel from her waist.

"They are." He reached out as she swayed while trying to step into her pants. His hand caught her arm to steady her, and she was able to get them on.

"And those were my bath salts?" She buttoned the jeans.

"They were."

"I suppose you have my tooth brush?"

"No." He couldn’t take any personal items that would raise suspicion if gone. "I bought a new one for you."

"That’s right... I’m supposed to be dead, not on vacation." She shoved her hand out. "May I have it please?"

After Spider was done with her bathroom duties he helped her back to the room where he handed her a bowl of hot chili. Her face curled up in surprise when he told her what it was. She questioned him about what type of poison he’d put in it, but eventually she dug in and ate... and ate.

He waited until she could no longer lift the spoon to her lips and watched as realization crossed her face. "You drugged my food."

He took the bowl from her loose hands and raised a glass of water to her lips, "Don’t worry, Spider, it’s just to help you sleep." She deliriously took a few sips. A sweet smile played over her lips as she fell into slumber and into his arms.

Shit, he thought, catching her body as it drooped. Her head fell back over his arm, wet curls dangling over his exposed skin. He moved the strands of hair that were stuck to her face away and looked at her. She was closer to an angel, in sleeping form, than a mere woman. Soft and porcelain. He let his eyes linger for a while then hauled her up into his arms and started for his truck.

They had a long trip ahead of them, he and his itsy bitsy spider.

Chapter 4
Prompt: Down Came The Rain

...and washed the spider out. He really needed to get that song out of his head. As he watched the windshield wipers thump back and forth--wiping away the light early morning rain–he told himself that his inability to get the song out of his head had everything to do with the rain falling down on his car and noting to do with the tiny little woman knocked out behind him.

Glancing in his rear-view, he saw Spider sleeping soundly in the back seat. He had buckled her in and propped her head against the window when they left. From time to time her body would slump and she would fall forward. When that happened he would reach back to reposition her head, and ever so often he would hear her snore lightly, but for the most part she was an agreeable, silent passenger.

He reached the point on the road where it split left, in the direction of his cabin. He turned the wheel to the left, veering off in the direction of his house.

A couple more miles and he’d be able to sleep. With the amount of sedative Spider had ingested he figured that she had at least five more hours of sleep in her, he only required three. The terrain to his cabin was rough and gravely and though there were no land markers he always knew when he was nearing the cabin. The gravel turned to dirt which turned to grass and finally he pulled up through a clearing to his cabin.

The sturdy wooden structure was nestled in a valley of tall pine trees. The trees kept the cabin shaded in the summer months, which was a good thing since his AC system had the tendency to blink out on him without warning. The trees also gave him a large blanket of solitude. Besides the occasional deer or two that passed by, or squirrel that found a perch on his porch banister, he was very much alone, just the way he liked it.

The small snore from his backseat passenger reminded him that he wasn’t as alone as he normally was.

Coming to a stop just feet from his front door, he threw the car in park and stepped out onto the grassy lawn. His first stop was Spider’s door. After opening it he unbuckled her and pulled her into his arms, she was completely boneless as he carried her into the cabin. He took her into one of his two bedrooms and delivered her to the bed then closed the door.

After two more trips to the truck, gathering their bags and other supplies, he locked up the house and made his way to his room, which was conveniently located directly across from the one Spider was sleeping in. He sat down on the bed and toed his boots off.

Had Spider not been blind he would have worried about letting himself fall asleep without having her tied to something. But since she couldn’t see and they were basically deserted, that didn’t trouble him. How much could a blind woman in an unfamiliar place accomplish.

After his boots were off he fell backward onto the bed. Slinging an arm over his eyes, to shield them from the rising sun, he drifted off.

Lucas Lorenzo Spencer was mad. Somehow his most prized killer had managed to go missing. He had no idea where she was, or if she was alive for that matter, and it was pissing him off.

Lizzie was gone. Vanished, without a word. It was so unlike her, being that she never made a move without reporting to him first. The last time he talked to her she let him know that the Salvador hit went off without a hitch. They talked for a few minutes after that but then she cut the call short and he hadn’t heard from her since.

After a day with no word from her, he sent men out to check her apartment. She wasn’t there and they never saw her return. The second day he increased his man-power and had his men retrace the route she took the day of her disappearance. They had found nothing that would suggest foul play. Really, they found nothing at all. Not a thing to help them figure out what had happened to her.

He walked through her immaculately clean New York City apartment. Nothing was out of place, everything was just as Lizzie would have left it. The only missing component was the apartments inhabitant.

"Everything looks clean, Luke." Coleman, his right hand man, walked out of Lizzie’s room and headed to the kitchen.

Luke followed him. "What do you think?"

Coleman shrugged, "You mind?" he asked, pointing at the coffee maker.

Luke waved his hand in dismissal. It wasn’t like Lizzie drank much coffee anyway, his little Spider preferred hot chocolate.

As Coleman shuffled around the tiny kitchen in search of the coffee, he rambled off some possibilities. "Maybe she wanted some time away from the business."

"She would have called," Luke countered, shooting that suggestion down.

Coleman tried again, "Maybe her last hit wasn’t successful?"

"Impossible. Besides, I know for a fact that Salvador is resting in a morgue."

"Maybe someone pulled a hit on her?"

Luke let that one go by without a response. It was a possibility. Corinthos had been making veiled threats for months.

Finding the instant coffee, Coleman scooped some out into a filter then started the machine. He leaned back on the counter and pushed his hair away from his face. "I don’t know what to tell you, Luke. You have some men on it, don’t ya."

"Yeah," Luke looked around the apartment. It was Lizzie’s, but it was void of any personal touches. He wouldn’t even let her take a picture of Laura when she moved out. ‘The less you show attachment to anyone, the better,’ he’d told her.

The machine beeped, letting them know the coffee was ready. Luke watched Coleman pour himself a cup. When he offered one to him, Luke shook his head, he didn’t want any coffee. What he wanted was to know where his daughter was.

"You should start thinking about training Leslie Lu," Coleman grinned putting the steaming mug to his lips.

Luke ignored the dig. It was a running joke between the two men that Luke’s most successful killer wasn’t either one of his blood children. Coleman knew as well as him that LuLu didn’t have the heart for the business, just like Lucky hadn’t. LuLu was better off in school.

Luke left Coleman in the kitchen and went on one last walk though. He started in her bedroom, searched her closet, her drawers, under her bed. Everything was as it should be. He went into the bathroom and looked around. Her wash cloth was hanging over the sink, her tooth brush was in it’s holder, her robe was crumpled up on the floor. Luke picked it up, palming it in his hands for a moment, then hung it on the hook behind the door.

On his way out he caught his reflection in the mirror. The man staring back at him wasn’t the young mobster that started the Spencer organization. He was getting old. Wrinkles were spreading over his face, laugh lines had turned into creases, and crows feet had turned into claws. To top it off, his once thick blond hair was now silver and thinning.

One day, in the not so distant future, he would be gone. He’d always hoped that Lizzie would be the one to take over for him when the time came, and now she was missing. Maybe dead. Luke turned the light off.

Lucky was gone--dead over a year--the silly boy. And Leslie Lu was more into her books than the family business. He had to face the facts that when he died, his empire would as well.

His thoughts went to his wife, his dear Laura. Little by little, bit by bit, she was slipping away. After Lucky’s death she became a recluse, never leaving the house, staying away from windows. She had crying fits that came and went in the blink of an eye and at times became hysterical over the tiniest of things. What would happen to her when he told her about Elizabeth?

Luke made his way back down the hall and met up with Coleman at the door.

"Don’t worry," Coleman slapped a heavy hand on his shoulder. "Spider is one of the most clever killers in the business. If she’s still out there, she will find a way out of whatever she’s gotten into."

Coleman’s words did little to alleviate the feeling of hopelessness that had wormed it’s way into Luke’s heart. He would have to go to Laura and tell her she had lost another child. This time might just be the hit that shattered her already fractured sanity.

It was strange, Elizabeth concluded, her being blind. She sat in a chair, by what she had easily figured out was a window. Her sudden blindness had definitely put her at a disadvantage. She was now like a child, relearning the world around her.

After coming out of her drug induced sleep she’d stayed completely still, on the bed with her eyes closed, afraid to open them and find out all over again that she couldn’t see. Being scared wasn’t a feeling that she was used to, but in that moment she had been completely petrified. She did open them though and just as she feared, there was no light.

Determined not to wallow in her handicap, she pulled herself to her feet. Using the bed as a guide, she walked to the end of the of it. When her fingers reached the foot board she traced her hand along the cool wood and walked along side it. From there she turned, putting her back to the foot board and her arms out in front of her, she took one cautious step forward, then another, and another.

She kept going until her knee hit something.

She gulped down the cry of pain, not wanting to alert Morgan, who had to be somewhere close. Using her hands as interpreters, she felt along the object she’d hit and realized that it was a chair. Stepping around it, she continued on.

It took what seemed like hours to figure her way around the room she was in. But by the time she was done she knew exactly how many steps it took to get from the bed to the small bathroom that was connected to the room. She knew that the sink was the first thing she came in contact with upon entry into the bathroom and that the toilet sat between the sink and bathtub.

She’d memorized the exact number of steps to the door that opened into the closet, and did the same with the one that led out of the room. She found out that there were two windows in the room, they were low--easy for escape. And by tossing a pillow, she took from the bed, out of the window, she determined that she was currently on the ground level.

She took the time to listen to the outside noises as well. Elizabeth couldn’t be sure where Morgan had taken her, but she did know that it was far from any city. It was somewhere with plenty of trees for the amount of birds that sang around her, with no major roads because she heard no cars; and there was a creek or a river nearby, she could hear the water trickling down stream.

A few of knee bumps, and bruised shin bone later, she was seated in the chair at one of the two window’s, with the warm sun beaming down on her, happy about all that she had accomplished.

And that was how Morgan found her.

It took him a minute to process what he had walked into. The room was the same as he’d always known it, but the woman inside was not where he expected her to be. She was out of the bed and seated in a chair at a window, that was now open. The bathroom door was ajar, as well as the closet. It was obvious that he had severely underestimated Spider’s cunning or she was able to see just fine.

When he stepped into the room she turned her head in his direction. Her eyes were shut as usual, her lips pursed as if she was agitated by his interruption. The sun streaming in through the window shimmered off of her dark hair making the soft tendrils appear to be threaded with amber and gold and auburn.

"I see you’ve made yourself comfortable," He said crossing the room, toward her.

Her pursed lips eased into a small smile, "I did."

As he closed the distance between them her smile faded. He watched her stiffen as his steps stopped just before her. Using a finger to tilt her chin up he said, "Open your eyes, Spider."

She shook her head away from his hand, "You think I can see." she stated, "I don’t know whether to feel honored that you think only someone who can see would be capable of finding their way around, or offended that you think so little of my capabilities."

Taking that as answer enough, he moved his hand away from her face and looked out of the window, "There is a pillow on the porch."

She blushed and he realized that she had forgotten to retrieve her test-dummy pillow.

"I take it you know that you’re on the first level now." The answer he received was an innocent shrug of her small shoulders. "And the bathroom? You found your way around that, too, I see."

When she made no attempt to answer the obvious he sighed, rubbing a hand over his eyes. It was a good thing she was blind otherwise, he was positive, she would have escaped him by now. If nothing else, she was resourceful.

He leaned toward the window, reaching out he caught hold of the pillow. He brought it back inside and tossed it to the bed, then took a seat on the window sill. He positioned himself directly in front of where she was seated and contemplated her for a minute, finding her serene disposition a bit troubling.

She looked totally comfortable, if not a bit smug in her easiness. Completely indifferent to her current disability. The very disability that, if not for it, would have guaranteed her freedom from him. For some reason just the thought of her not being under his thumb bothered him, so he chose not to think about it. Instead, he focused on the way that she tilted her head toward the window, like she was listening to an interesting tune he was not able to.

He wanted ask her exactly what it was that had her so captivated. Twice he opened his mouth to do just that, only to shut it before any sound came out. He opted to figure out what it was she was focused on himself.

At first the silence of the room was deafening, but after a moment he began to hear things. Like the birds chirping and the scurrying of squirrels along the porch. As he listened more intently he was even able to make out the gentle flow of water coming from the small river that ran directly behind the cabin. The soft rustle of dried leaves on the ground, even the whistle of the slight breeze between the pine trees.

How he had never noticed these sounds before, he had no clue and it made him wonder what other things he had overlooked through the years.

"You hear it?"

The question startled him and since she was unable to see it he didn’t bother to school the confused look on his face. "Hear what?" he asked.

Her eyes downcast, she gave him a wry grin. "Where are we?"

Realizing that she wasn’t going to answer his question he decided not to answer hers. They fell silent for a stretch but then she asked, "When will the torturing begin?"

He had been asking himself the same question all morning and was yet to come up with an answer.

"Soon," he supplied, looking away from her as her lips set in a frown.

"Why are you delaying the inevitable?" she asked curiously.

He brought his attention back. "I have my reasons."

Her mouth formed a small ‘O’ and she dropped the subject, becoming quiet once more.

Staring at her, a list of questions ran rapid through his mind. The most forefront one being her past. What were she and Luke hiding? Before he realized that he spoke, that very question was spilling out of his mouth, "Why is your past so hidden, Spider?"

Her lidded eyes allowed no emotion, nor did her face betray any. "I don’t know what you’re talking about."

He crossed his arms and gave her a look that was known to cower the bravest man. It took him a second to remember that even if she opened her eyes she wasn’t going to see it. He let his arms fall to his side and leaned close to her. He was tired of playing games and ready to get straight to the point. "Your name; your real name. Your parents; not Luke, but your birth ones."

Her brows furrowed as if she wasn’t following what he was saying. "You have no idea what my real name is, do you?" The question was not one of mockery but of discovery. She leaned forward in the chair. The act brought her almost nose to nose with him. "Interesting."

The word whispered across his face. It felt like an invitation to take her mouth in his. He dug his fingers into his palm and straightened--retreating from his forward position–to keep from doing just that. "Is it?"

She nodded, "I had no idea that you were really searching for my name yesterday."

"What did you think I was doing?"

"I don’t know..." she gave him a genuine shrug.

Interesting indeed, he thought. "Do you know my name?"

"Of course, I do," she assured him as though the question was silly. At his silence she added, "Jason."

He couldn’t pinpoint why, but his name on her lips coincided with his pants becoming uncomfortably tight. At the same time, knowing that she had that much access to him and he had none to her, he became hot with anger.

A smug smile formed on her face. "I take it you want to know my real name for you own twisted purposes?"

"I have my reasons."

"That seems to be your answer for everything"

"What?"

"I have my reasons," she mocked.

He hadn’t realized that he used that answer with her so much. That didn’t mean that he was going to stop now, "I do. Have my reasons, that is."

She looked as though she was suppressing a yawn, "I’m sure," she replied in a bored tone.

It was apparent that she was over their talk and was attempting to dismiss him. It amused him and he had the mind to flat out ask Spider for her real name. But that would make look desperate.

Still, he couldn’t help the fact that he really wanted to know it. Not for reason’s to use against her either. Not even to be on equal footing with her. He honestly wanted to know who the woman was in front of him was.

The one who he had drugged, kidnapped (with the promise of pain), and was now holding captive. The woman who took it upon herself to learn the room she was being held in like the back of her hand, opposing him and enticing him at every turn.

He had never known a person like her. No woman or man, and help him, he wanted to know more. The very thought set his teeth on edge. For all of the intrigue that surrounded her, he could not let himself keep forgetting that she was lethal.

The reminder was like cold water on his back, bringing him back to the purpose at hand. Emily. If he was going to accomplish his goal of finding out the why’s of her murder he would have to think straight. That meant putting as much distance between himself and Spider as was possible in the current situation.

"Do you want anything?" he asked as he stood up to leave.

She shook her head once but then turned, angling her face in his direction. "I would like to take a walk."

She couldn’t be real. "I’m sure you would," he answered, walking toward the door.

"Jason, wait."

She had said his name again. "What?" he bit out.

She visibly bristled at his tone but it didn’t stop her from pressing the subject.

"Since you are waiting-- for whatever reason-- to begin your little games with me... I was thinking that in the mean time we could work something out. Something that would allow me to get out every now and then, and for you to learn more about your victim- me. Now, I want to take a walk and you want to know my name. I suggest that we begin an: I scratch your back- you scratch mine sort of thing. A deal of sorts, a pact, a-"

"I get it." he cut in, afraid that if he didn’t she might continue on and pass out from lack of air.

She smiled at him and he was amazed that she looked so innocent and that she wasn’t out of breath.

"So you will do it? You’ll take me out of here for a while?" She worried her bottom lip while she waited on his answer.

"A deal, huh?" He could do that. "Alright, come on."

Her smile broadened at his answer. She stood up from the chair, using the back of it to guide her. He crossed over to her and took her by the arm, leading her out of the room.

It was clear to him that he had just made a deal with an enemy, but at the moment he didn’t care. He was as anxious to know her name as she was to get outside. If it took making a pact with the devil to find out what he wanted to know about her, and what he needed to know about Emily, then he would gladly wear gasoline boots into hell.

The morning was waning, giving way to a high afternoon sun. The dense stretch of green forest he was leading them through provided a good amount of shade. Sunlight streamed in through the thick foliage raining down on them in golden rays of light.

Jason looked down at the little woman holding on tightly to his arm, she turned her face up toward the suns heat. A pang of guilt struck him as she did; an unsettling reminder that he was responsible for taking away her ability to appreciate such times with her sight.

They came to a clearing that led to the small river. He started to turn around but she stopped him, digging her heels into the dirt.

“I want to get in,” she told him, pulling him toward the sound of the river.

He dug his heels in as well, “No.” She didn’t appear to be ready to accept his answer. Her lips parted to speak but he cut her off, “I’m not taking you down there, Spider.”

“We had a deal Morg- Jason,” she corrected, “and it clearly stated that you were to take me outside to do whatever I like, and in return I give you my real name.” She griped his arm tighter and attempted to pull him forward.

“That wasn’t the deal,” he said, unmoving. “The deal was that I take you for a walk and you give me your name. Your amount of enjoyment wasn’t a part of that deal.”

She lowered her head at his words, dark shimmering curls dancing over her shoulders. He wanted to touch one of those tendrils, wondered how it would feel between his fingertips. He closed his eyes, pushing away the thought, when he reopened them Elizabeth was looking at him.

His heart sped up a notch.

Her sapphire gaze was startling, and even as he knew that she was sightless he felt as though she was staring right through him. He saw himself reach out for one of her taunting curls and he couldn’t do a thing to stop it. His hand had taken on a life of it's own and before he knew it he held a lock of silky chocolate between his fingers. It was as soft as he imagined it would be, softer even. Like downy in his hand.

When Spider made no move or sound of protest he dared a step closer. She had closed her eyes by now, and he studied her face intently. His eyes lowered to her mouth and as if having an out of body experience he lowered his head. His lips hovered just a breath away from her mouth, she licked her lips, her blunt nails digging slightly into his right bicep.

“What are you going to do, Jason?” Her question whispered over his lips and he could taste the sweetness of her mouth.

Suddenly tense, he stepped back, dropping the lock of hair as if he found offense in it. He ran a hand down his face, collecting himself.

The grip she had on his arm had lightened significantly, she was barley touching him.

He glanced down at her, she wasn’t wearing the smug smile that he thought she would be. She looked to be lost in thought, worrying her bottom lip red. There was a slight tinge of red on her cheeks that gave her the look of a child that had just been scolded.

That pang of guilt hit him again, though this time he wasn’t able to pinpoint why. “I’ll take you,” he said, fully expecting her to smile at him the way she had when he agreed to take her on a walk.

He was a little disappointed to see her only give him a nod.

She clung to his arm again as they began the decent to the river. When they reached the sparsely sanded bank she let go, pulling away from him. Jason started to reach for her but she bent and began to untie her shoes. He followed her movements as she skillfully found a space on the ground to sit, freed her laces, and pulled the sneakers from her feet. Her socks followed; she waded them up, sticking them into one shoe.

The ease in which she completed the task showed more proof that Spider was very capable, in spite of her lost eye sight.

When she was done she reached out for him, he took her arm in his hand and led her to the edge of the river.

“Aren’t you going to take off our shoes?”

He scoffed at the suggestion. “No,” he answered blandly.

She gave him a little smirk. “Oh come on, Jason. When was the last time you felt sand between your toes?”

He grimaced. “I don’t recall.”

“That long ago, huh?”

After giving it a little thought, and coming up with nothing he answered her, “I don’t think I’ve ever had sand between my toes.”

“Don’t tell me you’ve never been to the beach,” she almost laughed it out.

He’d been to many different paradises on business in recent years. And he did spend a considerable amount of time on Sonny’s private island, but he couldn’t remember a time that he actually spent time on a beach.

When he didn’t answer, she poked him in the ribs with her elbow. Jason's eyes shot down to the little menace of woman and he grunted. “What was that about?” he asked, trying to hide the smile in his tone.

She swallowed hard- seemingly afraid of the repercussions that might come from her playful action.

Jason purposely made his voice lighter to ease that fear when he spoke, “You told me not to tell you that I’ve never been to the beach.” At his non serious tone she loosened up, “So I didn’t tell you.”

The smile he’d been waiting for blossomed across her face. “Well, there’s a first time for everything,” she said, her expression full of mischief.

He stared at her in disbelief. She couldn’t seriously think that he would take his shoes off and put his feet in freezing mountain water.

Even while he was dead set against getting anywhere near the water he found himself bending to unlace his shoes. He felt completely unlike himself as he did so. Morgan would never allow sand to get close his toes, but apparently Jason would.

Once his shoes and socks were deposited on the sand beside hers, he took her arm again. Feeling out of his element and completely unsure about what people did in the sand, he let spider more-so lead the way while he steered them clear of sharp rocks.

They reached the banks edge where the crystal clear water rushed downstream.

Spider dipped her toe into the water. “It’s cold!” she exclaimed with a laugh.

That fact didn’t stop her from stepping both feet into the water.

He held himself back, making sure to keep his feet as far away from the icy shore as he could. His plan was working well for him until, he felt Spider list beside him, her fingers slipped away and he rushed forward to catch her, stumbling into the river.

“Christ,” he sputtered, his eyes snapping shut at the cold water rushing over his legs as he reached for her.

A series of giggles split the air around him, he opened his eyes and saw Spider holding her side as she laughed, her face was flushed an adorable shade that was more pink than red. He tilted his head, studying her. She was literally tickled pink, as if she’d planned his stumble into the freezing water herself. Then it hit him, she had.

As her fit of laughter continued he looked down at himself. He was up to his calves in water, his jeans were soaked past the knee. Seeing himself in such a state- he felt another pang, but this one wasn’t guilt.

He couldn’t explain what the reason was for the new pang but he blamed it-whatever it was- for what he did next.

Bending to cup his hands in the freezing water he filled his cupped palms then tossed water on her. Spider’s laughter stopped immediately, a shocked expression spread over her face.

“I can’t believe you did that,” she yelled at him, bending down to catch water in her palms.

She came back up and tossed it, missing him completely but that didn’t stop him from returning the favor. When the water hit her this time she became drenched, she yelped and stood there looking something similar to a wet rat.

Jason noticed a tremor run through her and he rushed to her side. “You’re cold.”

Of course I’m cold!” she exclaimed, twisting out of his arms and bending for more water. He scooped her to him by the waist and the water she held in her hands slipped through startled fingers.

“Jason,” she squealed, wriggling to get out of his hold.

“Stop fighting and I’ll let you go,” he huffed in her ear.

She stilled. “No more water?”

“No more water,” he agreed, loosening his grip on her waist.

She nodded once and he let her go. She was breathing hard, as was he.

His eyes dropped to her heaving chest and he forced himself to look away. “We should go back,” he told her through clenched teeth.

She held her arm out to him without protest and he took it, leading them back to shore. Just as they neared the edge of the river bank, she clipped his legs, making him loose his footing and tilt forward.

Quick reflexes kept him from falling face first into the sand. He turned and landed on his back taking her with him. They landed chest to chest; him on his back, and her pressed atop him.

It wasn’t supposed to be this way, Elizabeth thought as she landed on top of Morgan’s-no-Jason, this man was definitely Jason.

Jason’s chest.

He wasn’t supposed to be agreeable, or playful. He was supposed to be mean and unforgiving. But the man who walked her through the shaded trees to the river was anything but that.

“Why did you do that, Spider?” he asked, a little breathless.

Why had she done it? Because I wanted this, she answered herself. His muscles shifted beneath her, reaffirming to her that he was all powerful man. He made no attempt to move her off of him and for that she was thankful.

The ice cold river water lapped at their feet, a vivid contrast to the heat generating between them.

“I-I...,” she drifted off as she felt his cool finger swish over her cheek. Oh, how she wanted to turn into his hand. She fought the urge, shifting a little to move her arms from their awkward position at her sides. He gripped her waist when she shifted, as if trying to keep her from pulling away.

She moved her hands up his chest- to his neck, then higher- to his face. Her fingers met stubble on his chin and cheeks. He was rough... yet soft, she thought as her digits trailed higher to his smooth cheekbones.

Her heart pounded hard in her chest, anticipating him to club her at any second. She had to remind herself that the man she was with at the moment, the one allowing her to be this close, this intimate was not Morgan, but Jason.

Her thumbs swept over his closed eyelids, feathery lashes jumped under her touch. She tried to recall a picture of how blue his eyes were. She could almost remember them, their intensity, the bleakness of them, they came off as cold as the water splashing about her feet. Somehow she knew that if she could look into those eyes now, they would be anything but cold.

Elizabeth moved her hands down, tracing his strong jaw line. She repositioned, leaning one forearm on the broad expanse of his chest. With her free hand the used her index finger to touch his lips. She almost sighed when she felt how soft and warm they were. She took pleasure in the way his arm tightened around her waist as she traced the outline of his mouth.

She was surprised when he pushed his hand into her hair. A warm shiver ran down her spine as he pulled her down close to his face.

“Tell me your name, Spider.”

His gravely tone screamed passion. She swallowed hard.

He lightly brushed his lips over hers. “Your name,” he said again, in that same tone.

She took a calming breath, “Elizabeth,” she answered, breathlessly.

His hand massaged the back of her scalp. “Elizabeth,” he repeated against her lips.

The heat between them became heady. Elizabeth became all too aware of the man beneath her, and it was physically apparent that he was very aware of her.

He lifted his head, his lips grazing hers again. She was positive that he was going to kiss her. So sure, in fact, that she was stunned when he didn’t. Instead, he removed his hand from her hair, and shifted her off of him.

She didn’t bother to try to hide her shocked state as he moved away. She just sat there-in the wet sand-like a bump on a log. When he returned with her shoes she put them on, in a zombie-like state. It took her a while to get her laces tied, being that her fingers were shaking incessantly.

He helped her to her feet- rather coldly- once her shoes were laced, and without a word, led them away from the river.

As they made their way back to the cabin Elizabeth became wise to the fact that she had spent an enjoyable afternoon with Jason, but that he was gone now, and Morgan was definitely back.

 Chapter 6
The Definition of Insanity

Elizabeth.

To the naked eye she would appear to be a pretty young woman. Men would see her and think that she reminded them of their wholesome daughters. Women would look at her and smile in a friendly way.

For the first time, Jason was seeing her as what she might have been.

If not for being tainted by mob life she could have been a young college student with big dreams, working extra hours at a diner to make rent. She would have had friends that hung out with her at her place where they watched chick flicks. She would have probably had a decent boyfriend that called her every night, took her out on the weekends, remembered her favorite drink.

Instead she was a twenty-two year old killer. She lived alone, had no friends, kept company with no one but herself and her family on rare occasions. She lived in an apartment that was unnaturally clean, calculatingly so. She had no family pictures adorning her walls or placed neatly on dresser, no dog or cat. She didn’t go to the movies, she had never had a real boyfriend, and her favorite drink was hot chocolate-of all things.

He would think her a robot if not for her quirks. Like the biting of her lip or the way she blushed ridiculously at the smallest of things. And, of course, there was the effect she had on him. Only a living, breathing, flesh and blood woman could make him abandon his restraint the way Elizabeth did.

Hearing her name for the first time had stirred something inside of him. He didn’t need to question if the name was a fake, some random moniker thrown out there to appease his curiosity. No. There was a truth in the way it was spoken from her mouth, as though it defined the woman Spider truly was, and when he tried the name out on his tongue, it felt right.

But wrong at the same time.

No longer was she only a skilled killer with a fitting nickname, and a crap-load of aliases. In that moment she had become tangible. There was no guard up, no underlying meaning to her words, the wheels in her head weren’t turning. The spider had shed her skin and he had been with the real woman behind the facade.

And it had scared the shit out of him.

Jason spared a glance at the object of his thoughts.

She was sitting where he had deposited her just minutes ago; on the leather couch that occupied his living area.

Her wet clothes were clinging to her small frame and there was a slight shake, that had been with her since they left the river bank, visibly running through her. Dark hair was plastered to her face and the loose ends hung in dripping curls around her shaking shoulders. He looked closer and noticed that the slight shake had turned into a full blown shiver and her lips were moving as though her teeth were chattering.

Taking a few steps closer to study her, Jason saw that her lips were blueish in color.

Shit.

“Why didn’t you ask for a towel?” he asked, slightly upset with himself for not giving her one in the first place. Jason plucked a blanket from a of neatly folded pile kept near the couch and made his way over to her.

“Why didn’t you offer one?” she asked through a tight jaw.

He didn’t answer as he draped the blanket around her shoulders. “You should go get in the shower.”

Elizabeth pulled the blanket close to herself. “Don’t act like you care,” she snapped in reply.

He grimaced at her tone. Here he was concerned about her, when he didn’t have to be. When he shouldn’t be, and she shows her gratitude by snapping at him? “I won’t,” he snapped back. “Do whatever you like.”

Jason left her to her own devices as he made his way to the back of the cabin and into his room.

Elizabeth listened Morgan’s hard retreating steps, and braced herself for a slamming door. After a full minute without hearing one, she relaxed. She should have known that he wouldn’t resort to slamming doors. Morgan never lost his cool, he was too much in control for things such as that.

Yes, that was Morgan. Controlled. The very picture of it, or so she remembered.

Cursing her lack of sight, Elizabeth rose from the couch. She hated to admit it but he had been right, a warm bath would do her wonders. She was freezing, and while she should have asked Morgan for a towel or a blanket - she pressed her cold nose into the one covering her shoulders- she would not give him the satisfaction of having her beg for some form of warmth from him.

Not after the way he had turned from hot to cold on her in the blink of an eye.

Using her hands as feelers - the way she had done earlier while learning her way around the room she was in - Elizabeth touched and bumped her way through the house, doing what she could to follow the steps she had heard Morgan take just moments before.

She felt along a wall until it stopped, then turned the corner of it into what she could tell she was a hallway. Her hand skirted the wall until she came to a doorway.

Yes. This was it.

Her hand moved against a groove in the bedroom door and Elizabeth knew she had reached her room. She entered and closed the door behind her. Beyond that point, her recollection of the room made getting out of her clothes and into the shower easy.

She was pleased that her shivering died down under the warm spray of the water. She washed with a single bar of soap because she had been hard pressed to come across a wash cloth. The soap smelled eerily of Jason; crisp and manly. She used the bar-soap to lather her hair as well, and shamefully reveled in the way that the bathroom steamed up with Jason’s scent while doing so.

It was when she was rinsing the soap from her hair that she thought again of her interlude with Jason.

He had been so different. Nothing like she had ever expected.

She recalled the way his arm had tightened possessively around her waist, and how close their mouths had been. The way it felt when his lips brushed hers and she was able to feel his warm breath against her face. In that moment they were the only two people in the world.

But then as quickly as it had began, it ended and she was left not only hot and bothered, but dismayed at the sudden drop in Jason’s temperature. As he led them back to the house she could feel the frost coming off of him in waves.

But why?

What had she done to change his demeanor so quickly? Other than tell him her real name... and why was that such a big deal, anyway? It wasn’t as though it was impossible to get information about people in their business. Luke had made sure that she knew all of her peers like the back of her hand: Major events in their life, all aliases, place of birth, family members, friends, acquaintances, conquests... but most importantly, their full names.

Surely Corinthos would have taught Jason the same things.

Then again, she thought, she was adopted and all of her records had been sealed. She had gone by aliases all of her life. Not even her family called her by her actual name. They all opted for Spider, except for her aunt Bobbie. She was the only person who called her by her real name. Always had. For as long as Elizabeth could remember. But Bobbie was a little on the eccentric side, if prostitutes could be described as that.

She still couldn’t see how enlightening Jason on her real name would cause him to react the way he had.

Sighing, Elizabeth turned the shower dials off and rang her hair out in her hands before reaching for the towel she had left by the tub. She retrieved it and wrapped herself in the soft cotton then left the bathroom.

It was a shirt that she found in the closet to put on. One of Jason’s, she figured as she fumbled her way back to the bed.

After slipping between the cool sheets her thoughts drifted off to Jason once more. What an enigma he was.

One moment she was sure he wanted her dead and the next she was being held captive in his lair. From there he went from promising to torture her to taking her on a trip to god-knows-where. Then he proceeded to let his guard down and actually had a good time with her, which for a moment held the promise of a kiss, only to go icy on her.

Maybe he had been using her. He wanted something out of her and used her obvious attraction to him to get it. Morgan was a perceptive man, he knew that she reacted to him. He had seen it on many occasions and even commented on it once.

She shook the thoughts away, sinking further into the bed.

It was probably best if she resigned herself to the fact that Jason would always be a mystery to her.

What’s in a name?

Everything.

Even more so in Elizabeth’s case. Finding out her real name allowed him to gain the background information he was so curious about.

Jason flipped his phone cover open and pressed in a call. “I need a favor,” he said once the other end was picked up.

“What will it be?”

“A full background check.”

“Name.”

“Elizabeth Spencer, of New York, New York.”

“Done.”

The call ended.

Tapping the cell phone against his chin, Jason noticed that the water in the bathroom had stopped running. His eyes fell on the bag set at his feet. It held all of the clothes that Milo had confiscated from Elizabeth’s apartment, which made him wonder what she was now wearing?

He mentally checked his thoughts before they went to far, something he had been doing ever since he’d laid eyes on her. Their time spent at the lake had done nothing to alleviate those thoughts, if anything, it only added fuel to the fire.

It had been a bad move for him to agree to take her. Even if he wanted to know more about her he should have never allowed himself so much leeway.

Dropping your guard only served to open yourself up to be taken advantage of.

He had given Spider an open opportunity and she had used it. Sneaking in to places she didn’t belong was a specialty of hers and she used that skill to the fullest by penetrating his rough outside and getting under his skin.

Sonny Corinthos poured himself a glass of scotch with a disgruntled sigh. Having his plate full at the moment, he was not in the mood for visitors, especially those of the uninvited variety.

He placed the seventeen- year-old vintage bottle of scotch back on the wet bar and made his way to the couch. Freeing the two buttons of his suit jacket, he sat down on the plush cashmere furnishing.

He leaned back and took a slow sip from his glass, enjoying the pleasant softness of the single malt.

Feeling slightly more relaxed, he motioned for his waiting guard to bring in his guest.

A few seconds later his guest walked into the living room. He carried himself with all of the smoothness of a porcupine. Sonny held back a grimace as he coolly offered the visitor a seat across from him.

Once the guard was out of the room, Sonny turned full attention to the man sitting in front of him. “To what do I owe this unexpected visit?” he asked, glaring into blue eyes from above the rim of his glass.

“We had a deal,” the man growled at him.

Sonny smiled, quietly amused by his visitors tone. “So we did,” he said smoothing a hand over the lapel of his expensive tailored suit.

The hard blue eyes in front of him flashed fire.“You haven’t followed through,” he accused.

Corinthos’ brows rose. “Haven’t I? She has been taken down, like you wanted.”

The guests eyes narrowed at him, “You know damn well that I wanted to see the body.”

Sonny shifted on the couch, becoming increasingly perturbed. “That couldn’t be done.”

“Why not?”

Sonny regarded the man for a moment. “I’m not sure how much of her body was left to see.”

A green pallor rose on the uninvited guests face. “You didn’t,” he said in disbelief.

“You’re right,” Sonny gave his visitor a wry grin, “I didn’t, but I can’t be sure about Morgan.”

The man shot to his feet. “I said make it quick. No mess,” he hissed. “And you let your twisted hit man do the job? God only knows what she went through!”

“You wanted her dead!” Sonny shouted- immediately upset with himself for losing his cool.

He stared at the glass in his shaking hand and waited until the liquid stilled before saying calmly, “She’s dead. How it happened shouldn’t matter.” At the continued look of distraught, Sonny added, “If it is of any consolation, I did give Morgan orders to make the hit an in-and-out. I believe he followed through.”

“But you can’t be sure,” the man stated.

Sonny ignored the shaky inflection in the mans tone, but that didn’t stop him from frowning. “Morgan had a special interest in this hit, as you know.” He laid a thought inducing dark gaze on the man before him. “Who would I have been, to not let him be the one to take her out?”

“But-”

“What’s done is done,” Sonny snapped in finality.

At his tone, the guest sobered up. His face became unreadable, the way a man with true control of himself should appear. “You’re right. It’s over with.” He extended his hand to Sonny in an act of gratitude.

Corinthos took his hand, eagerly ready to end his dealings with the spineless man. After this, all of Sonny’s involvement in Spider’s death and the events leading up to it, would be over with.

He had no doubt that Morgan had followed through, and while the hit was supposed to be clean, it didn’t bother him to know that it probably wasn’t. Besides, with this shake, it was no longer his business.

The handshake ended and Sonny turned his attention back to his scotch, dismissing his visitor without so much as a second glance.

He had been watching her so long that he’d completely lost track of time. From his vantage point at the doorway he had studied her as she slept, then woke, yawned and stretched. Now, she laid there, in the bed. From time to time she would open her eyes and place her hand in front of her face; at those moments he felt like a heel.

Of all the rotten things he could have done to her, why did he have to go and blind her? Mistakenly, at that.

It bothered him that he had been so sloppy, causing her to go blind without that intended outcome. How long had it been since he had made a mistake of such magnitude? Years ago, back when he was still green and a pup in the business.

But what bothered him more, was that he even cared.

Elizabeth turned to her side. Propping herself up on an elbow she rested her cheek in her hand. “I know you are standing there,” she said.

Jason frowned, the woman had ears like a cat. He cleared his throat while trying to remember the intended purpose of his visit. “Are you hungry?”

“That depends,” she answered, sitting up in the bed. “Do you plan on poisoning my food again?”

As she shifted, the sheet fell to her lap. Jason noticed that Elizabeth was wearing one of his shirts. She must have taken it from the closet, he thought. His eyes were trained on the rise of her breasts under the large shirt.

“No, not tonight,” he answered, averting his gaze back up to her face.

“Then what are you cooking?”

“I don’t cook.”

“Of course you don’t. You wouldn’t, would you?” She heaved a sigh.

“Look... there’s a place, not to far from here that-”

“Where is here?” she asked, cutting him off.

A corner of his mouth lifted, “Nice try.”

She grinned and lightly shrugged her shoulders in a way that told him that the question couldn’t be helped.

“Do you eat burgers?”

“Yes...” she answered him cautiously. “Why?”

“The place I was talking about has good ones. I can bring you one back, with some fries.”

She frowned, “You’re leaving me here... alone?”

“Well, I can’t take you with me.”

Elizabeth kicked the sheets away from her body, revealing smooth skin from the knee down. “And why not?” she asked. Swinging her legs off of the bed, she got to her feet.

“You’re not serious, are you? If I give you the opportunity to be around other people you’ll scream bloody murder.”

“What if I promised not to?” She was inching her way in the direction of the door, and him.

“I can’t believe a word that comes out of your mouth,” Jason replied, his eyes dropping to her perfectly shaped legs.

“But you believed me when I told you my real name. You took my word on that, didn’t you?”

Jason took a guarded step back as Elizabeth neared. She seemed to note it as she tilted her head in question.

“Do I scare you, Jason?” she asked, in earnest.

Yes. “No.”

The truth was; she did. He found himself at a lack of self control while around her. And for a man who lived under the strict rules of control, the feeling was not only foreign but unwanted. It was also something that she could never know.

Jason took a step forward, reclaiming the retreated one. It was a trivial move, but he needed to do so in order to back up his words. He also took two more and closed the gap between their bodies; just to show further proof.

Standing in close proximity to her, he was unable to keep himself from breathing in her scent. Fully expecting to take in the subtle scent of rose that she carried, he was surprised when she smelled of something all together different.

Of him.

Jason could smell his scent all over her. He eyed the oversized t-shirt she was wearing and realized that it must be his shirt that carried his scent. But it was in her hair also. His soap. She had to have used it while in the shower.

His body responded on its own volition. He had never known anything more inviting- more erotic- than his scent all over her. It was as if he’d marked her. A feeling of possession came over him, making him want to reach out and grab her and claim her as his in every way imaginable.

What the fuck am I thinking?

Jason stopped himself from stepping away from her again as he fought to reign in his wayward thoughts. He knew it was pure animal instinct that had him reacting the way he was, which only served his purpose in pushing the thoughts and feelings down. It wasn’t like him to be ruled by his emotions. He had never been before and he’d be damned if he started now.

“You took my word on that, didn’t you?” she asked, impatiently.

What?

He looked down at her, her face was the picture of faultlessness lifted up to him. Like always, his gaze fell to her mouth and he found himself fighting the urge to press his thumb to her full pink lips. He could recall how soft they had been against his own lips and he closed his eyes in response while he let the guilty pleasure of that moment replay in his head.

His eyes snapped open when he felt movement across his stomach. He looked down and saw Elizabeth’s small palm rested flat against his chest. At her gentle touch, his heart rate picked up, seeming as though it would race right out of his rib-cage.

The lustful fog that had invaded his brain lifted. He mentally shook off all residual remnants as he thought back to the conversation they had been having.

“I did,” Jason answered, finally. His voice thick. He swallowed hard past the lump in his throat then wrapped a hand around her small wrist and moved it away.

She let her arm fall to her side. “Then let me give you my word again. I swear on my name that I won’t run or call for help.”

God, she really had no clue. She was completely unaware of the effect she was having on him.

He should turn away. That would be the best thing to do in the situation. “You are serious.”

“Very,” she said, nodding her head.

He raked his eyes over her, “You can’t go in that,” he told her. A weak attempt to get out of taking her along.

“Well, give me my clothes then.”

Jason stared into her determined face for a moment. Her lids were lowered, the dark lashes casting a soft shadow against her cheeks. He tamped down the urge he had to brush a finger over her flushed cheek the way he had done earlier that day.

Maybe it was best if he took her with him. It wasn’t like she wouldn’t be a threat if left alone.

“Let’s go,” he said, decidedly. Jason took her arm in his hold and steered her out of the room.

“What about my clothes?” she asked, half grinning, half grimacing as he rushed them out into the hallway.

“We’ll get your clothes,” Jason appeased her question through clenched teeth. He could only hope he wouldn’t regret his decision.

 Chapter 7
And The Award Goes To...

Deep in thought, Elizabeth rapped her fingers on the table. She had given Jason her word that she wouldn’t try to escape and even though she intended to keep it, she couldn’t help thinking of ways that she could possibly get away.

Thoughts of freedom were futile, as she knew that without her sight getting away from Jason was nothing more than a hopeless notion. Still, it was instinctual; the need to be free. As natural as breathing and she was unable to stop the continual impulse that crept upon her.

Yet another reason to be angry about being blinded.

There was no doubt in Elizabeth’s mind that if she could see she would have escaped by now or at least been on a level playing field with Morgan. But then again, there was the chance that her being blind was the only thing saving her butt. If not for the chance disability, Morgan might have followed through with his intended plans of torture.

Elizabeth had taken her sudden condition in stride, keeping the way it affected her pushed back into a far corner of her mind. She knew that if she gave into the helplessness that threatened to overcome her each time she opened her eyes and saw nothing, that her chance of survival would decrease significantly. She refused to let Morgan succeed in taking that away.

As far as Elizabeth was concerned she had let Morgan take too much away from her already, and not just her sight but her self restraint. Very few times over the course of her life had she not been in complete control of her emotions, but for some reason she was unable to keep herself in check while in Jason’s presence.

Elizabeth sighed in frustration.

"The food is coming." Jason’s voice was close, drifting down to her from just above her head. "If that’s what you’re huffing about, it’s coming."

Elizabeth squelched the urge to scoot away from him. One; because as she was stuck in a booth between him and a wall, leaving her nowhere to go, and two; because the last thing she wanted was for Jason to see that she was upset.

"Carrie’s coming. Don’t try anything," he warned.

Elizabeth gave him a sharp, mocking salute - to which he responded with a grunt - and waited for the overly friendly waitress, Carrie, to arrive.

She had her suspicions that Jason and Carrie had a past or a present. Their lovely waitress had been particularly cold to Elizabeth, choosing to direct all of her questions to Jason and only speak to Elizabeth when utterly necessary. Maybe Carrie treated her that way because Elizabeth was blind and the woman assumed her an invalid that couldn't think for herself, or maybe it was something all together different.

Elizabeth was leaning towards the all together different probability.

"Here we go," Carrie said in a slightly southern drawl. "Two originals with cheese and a side of fries."

Elizabeth heard Jason’s plate go down softly, followed by hers- which was deposited in front of her with a blunt thud. Apparently Carrie wasn’t in the business of hiding her feelings about Jason or the woman she perceived to be his date.

There she had it, Jason had something going on with their friendly waitress. Elizabeth rolled her eyes behind closed lids.

"Thanks," Elizabeth said dryly, pushing the rim of her plate away with a finger. Suddenly she wasn’t hungry anymore.

"Thank you, Carrie," Jason said more smoothly than Elizabeth thought was required.

She could just imagine the way that they were looking at each other; eyes connected, a hint of longing and a whole lot of lust. It made her stomach churn.

"Could I get you anything else?" That was Carrie, and was it Elizabeth’s imagination or had the waitresses voice become husky all of the sudden?

"Not right now," Jason answered in reply.

There was a long pause then Carrie said, "Alright then, if you need something just shout me a holler."

Elizabeth listened to her walk off and knew the woman was swishing her hips a little extra for Jason’s eyes. A blind woman could see that coming a mile away, and this blind one knew that was just the type of woman Carrie was.

"You’re not going to eat?" Jason asked after a minute had passed.

"I’m not all that hungry," Elizabeth answered, rather sulkily. Why was she behaving like a five year old?

"Starve yourself then," he replied, non pulsed.

"Maybe I will," she retorted. "Anything is better than being trapped under your thumb for a second longer."

"Under my thumb?"

"That’s where I am, is it not?"

"Just eat," he told her, in a tone that said their back and forth was over.

She had come to know that tone well over the days spent with him. It was Morgan’s bottom line tone. When he spoke that way he expected all conversation to come to an end. Well, she wasn’t in the mood for bowing to his tone.

"Carrie has a nice southern accent, doesn’t she," Elizabeth stated.

"And?"

"Just an observation," she replied, lightly.

Jason shifted beside her. Elizabeth could feel the heat of his body as he closed the distance between them. "Those little ears of yours sure are sharp." His voice was a deep rasp against the shell of her ear.

Elizabeth kept herself from showing how much it affected her. "It’s a gift that comes along with being blinded, I guess."

She felt Jason bristle beside her and knew she had struck a nerve. Good.

Jason couldn’t help going stiff when she spoke of her blindness. Blinding her was a mistake that he had come to beat himself up about regularly and he didn’t need Elizabeth throwing his mess-up in his face at every turn. He remembered it well enough on his own.

Moving away from her, Jason turned his attention back to his untouched burger.

Elizabeth softly cleared her throat."You and Carrie seem to know each other pretty well."

Jason lifted his eyes to her. The things that Elizabeth picked up on. "We know of each other."

"That’s obvious," she said.

"Do you care?" he asked, then quickly wished he hadn’t. Why did he want to know if Elizabeth cared about his relationship with Carrie?

She appeared to think his question over. "Not really," she answered, then inched her fingers toward the plate she had pushed away.

Jason reached over and slid it to her.

"I don’t need your help," she snapped at him. "I can do it on my own." Her lips formed a semi pout.

Jason’s mouth turned down at the corners. He pushed the plate back from her fingertips, halfway across the table, and clear out of her reach. It was painfully evident that they were both acting like children, but at the moment he didn’t care.

Knowing that he had won the battle, he turned back to his plate and bit into his burger. From the corner of his eye he watched Elizabeth move her hand over the table in search of her plate.

"You asshole," she spat at him when she realized it was not in her reach.

"You can do it on your own, remember?" He watched her cross her arms over her chest and lean back with a huff.

Forcing himself to look away, Jason took another bite of his burger.

Minutes passed with both acting as though they didn’t care. Elizabeth; about not eating, and Jason; about Elizabeth not eating.

Tiring of their battle of the wills, Jason picked the plate up and placed it in front of her. It took a minute but without a word Elizabeth moved her fingers back to the plate and began to pick at her french fries.

With the fray over, Jason looked away, allowing his eyes to scan the diner. The place was slow, with only a few scattered couples and one family.

He felt a set of eyes on him and he looked for the source, he found it in Carrie. At the meeting of their eyes the waitress sauntered away from the counter and in his direction. Jason shifted a little uncomfortably in his seat. It wasn’t lost on him that Carrie was being unnecessarily rude to Elizabeth. And strangely enough, Carrie’s attitude toward Elizabeth sat sourly with him.

"Everything still fine?" Carrie inquired after reaching the table. "Can I get you something?" she continued, giving him a sweet smile that spoke of sexual intent.

Jason’s eyes shifted to Elizabeth. Her face was drawn in a frown, the same way it had been each time Carrie stopped by. Looking back to Carrie he said, "Yeah, the check and a carry out."

Carrie tilted her head to the side and eyed him from heavy lids. "You sure that’s all?"

"That’s what he said, isn’t it?"

Both of their eyes snapped over to Elizabeth. Her elbow was propped on the table and she had two fingers pressed to her temple.

"That’s all," Jason told the waitress not moving his eyes from Elizabeth. "What was that about?" he asked after the miffed waitress left.

"Nothing."

"Nothing?"

"Look, I’m agitated and I-I just want to go..."

"Home?" he asked "Back to the cabin?"

"Yes, I want to go home. Back to New York."

He couldn’t explain why but that truth twisted in the pit of his stomach. It felt oddly like a betrayal and he couldn’t help the harsh words that came to his tongue because of it, "There is nothing for you back there. Your family thinks you’re dead, Luke’s not even looking for you. You don’t have any friends, not even a boyfriend to mourn your death. So what is it that you miss? Your empty apartment?"

She looked stricken at his words and he immediately felt like crap for making putting that look on her face. Just when he was going to do something that he never did - apologize- Elizabeth spoke.

"Be careful throwing those stones, Morgan, you wouldn’t want to shatter your glass house."

Having no available come-back, Jason let her comment pass without a reply.

More time had gone by and there was still no word on Spider.

The trail was cold.

Luke had to hold back a grunt; there had been no trail. It was as though she had vanished into thin air.

It had been his intention to keep Spider’s disappearance to himself. He didn’t want to cause Laura or Leslie Lu and unnecessary grievance. But after having almost a week go by and not finding anything that could lead them to the whereabouts of Spider or -god help him- her body, he knew it was time to tell them both what happened.

Had he known how hard doing so would be he would have kept it to himself a while longer.

As soon as the words came out of his mouth he saw the remaining light in Laura’s eyes flicker out. In Leslie Lu’s eyes he saw something horrible, something that broke his heart. Enmity, unmasked hatred. Whether it was directed at him or the person responsible for Spider’s disappearance, he couldn’t be sure. In all honesty, he didn’t want to know. The truth in that answer might be his undoing.

LuLu had been a surprise for their family. After a traumatic labor with Lucky, doctors told them that Laura wouldn’t be able to bear more children. They both took the news for what it was worth and focused their attention on their only son. They had been happy with their little family but a few years later Laura fell in love with a little baby girl, Spider, and wanted the infant as her own. Luke had been dead set against it. At the time the Spencer Organization was beginning to make a name for itself, becoming a force in the business, and he didn’t want another child to slow him down.

After explaining his reservations to Laura she let her dream of becoming Elizabeth’s mother go, at least she never brought it up to him, but he knew deep down inside she still wanted the child. Laura felt that she could provide the little girl with a life that she deserved, a better one than the baby had been born in to.

It had taken three years and a tragic event to change his mind but in the end they adopted Spider. Leslie Lu was born two years later.

Luke looked up from his interlocked fingers into the two sets of pleading blue eyes staring back at him with hope that he could give them answers. Answers he didn’t have.

"What are you going to do about it, Luke?" LuLu asked, leaving Laura by herself on the couch as she got to her feet.

"We are doing all that we can, baby girl."

"Well it’s not enough!" LuLu stared him down the way one did an enemy they were learning for the first time.

Luke had always thought that his genes were lacking in his youngest child. He now knew that he was wrong. Standing there looking at him in disgust he saw for the first time just how much of his make-up his daughter carried.

"How could you let this happen? Who did it?" she pleaded with him for answers. Tears fell freely from her blue eyes.

Luke stood. "I don’t know, baby girl, but I’ll find out." He opened his arms, hoping that his little lovable child would fall into them so that he could wipe her tears away and promise her everything would be alright. LuLu put a hand up at his gesture and he dropped his arms back to his side.

"Just know that I’m looking for the person responsible," Luke tried to console her with words. "I’m also doing everything I can to make sure that you and your mother remain safe."

"Safe?" she scoffed at him. "There is no such thing as safe with you as a father."

"Leslie Lu-"

"First Lucky, now Spider," she angrily cut him off. "Your track record for keeping your family safe isn’t looking so good." She wiped her wet cheeks with the back of her hand. "But somehow you manage to keep yourself alive. Why is that, Luke?"

His mouth opened to say something but shock kept him from getting a word out. By the time he could manage an audible sound LuLu had retreated up the stairs.

Dejected, Luke turned to Laura. She stared off past him, her gaze transfixed on nothing at all.

Looking away, Luke decided that he needed a glass of vodka, maybe the whole damn bottle.

The ride back to the cabin was tense and silent. It seemed that any words left for them to say to each other had already been spoken and ended when Elizabeth basically told him that he was a mirror image of her.

Really, who was he to imply that she had nothing to return home to? It wasn’t like he had anyone either.

Jason let his thoughts drift back to his earlier musings on Elizabeth and found that they were very much alike: neither had close ties to anyone other than people in their line of work, they both carried out the orders handed down to them by the person they worked for. They lived alone and acted out their responsibilities alone.

They were the same side of the coin and by attempting to insult her, he had insulted himself.

Jason pulled the SUV up the driveway and parked. Elizabeth didn’t wait for him to come around to get her before she swung her door open. She was out of the car before Jason had a chance to open his own door.

He hopped out and walked around the large vehicle to the passenger side, Elizabeth was standing there, hands on hips. Jason didn’t bother to question her about what she’d just done, figuring that she wanted to prove to him that she could get out on her own.

She no longer wanted to rely on him for help. He was somewhat impressed by it, but part of him felt a stab of resentment knowing that she no longer needed him completely.

He stared her for a moment then walked off towards the cabin.

"You’re not going to offer me any help?" she called out behind him.

"I thought that you’d want to do it on your own," he called back, glancing at her from over his shoulder.

Elizabeth took a small step forward and stopped. She hated needing Morgan for anything, but damn it, she had no clue where she was. Getting herself out of the car on her own had been done to prove a point. Morgan had taken that point and was now running with it.

She tried to keep her cool despite her rising anger. It was because of Morgan that she couldn’t see, and was forced to rely on him. Rely on Jason Morgan - of all people - the man who had just cut her to the core with his crass words.

There is nothing for you back there. Your family thinks you’re dead, Luke’s not even looking for you. You don’t have any friends, not even a boyfriend to mourn your death. So what is it that you miss? Your empty apartment?

What did she miss? She missed her sight, her freedom. She missed her mother and her sister and she even missed Luke. There was not doubt in her mind that Luke was out looking for her, if not because he cared enough about her well being to do so, then because he needed his number one killer. His Spider.

Morgan thought her rootless, a loner. How ironic that he was more alone than any person she knew.

He had been shunned by his family after the accident that turned him into a uncaring hit-man with a reputation for torture. The only people who continued to accept him after he went to work for Corinthos were his grandmother, Lila and his sister, Emily. Elizabeth knew that Lila had died years ago and that Emily was killed by...

Emily.
 
"Oh my god," the words were almost silent. That’s it. She felt her stomach lurch and fought back a gag.

"Elizabeth." Jason’s voice was laced with concern, making her feel even more ill.

Elizabeth shuddered when his hand slipped beneath her hair, his fingertips came to a rest on her neck. She didn’t want his caring or comfort, he could shove it up his ass.

"What’s wrong?" he asked.

There was that concern again. She wished she could run away.

Morgan’s fingers trailed down her spine coming to a rest on the small of her back. "Let’s get you inside," he said as he gently nudged her forward.

Elizabeth felt as though she was walking in quicksand, she couldn’t seem to move her feet. Her motor functions had gone blank and all she could focus on was Emily. Morgan ended up having to half drag, half carry her into the house.

He set her on the couch and left her side. She heard his retreating steps and was thankful for his leave. She needed to be alone.

Sickness roiled inside of her stomach and Elizabeth leaned forward. Dropping her head between her knees, she took deep breaths, trying to calm her insides and clear her racing mind.

Emily was the reason that Jason had come after her, he wanted her dead to avenge his sisters death.

It was all so clear to her now.

She wanted to groan in protest when she heard Jason reenter the room. She needed was time to think, time to sort the whole mess out and Jason wasn’t giving her an inch. Elizabeth forced herself to lift her head as he sat down next to her. She jumped as the cold rim of a glass touched her lips.

"It’s water," he told her. "Drink some."

Without much thought, she took a few mechanical sips, hoping to wash the bitter taste of bile away.

"Feel better?" he asked, moving the glass from her lips.

"Do you really care?" she asked, unable to hide her bitter edge in her tone. She was so mad. At Jason, at herself, at the situation.

When he didn’t respond she had her answer.

Tears stung the back of her eyes. She never cried. Never. And she refused to start now. Even as she made that determination the warm slip of a tear traveled down her face.

Thinking about that night, the night of Emily’s death was something that she never did as well, and here she was thinking about it.

Reliving it.

The parking lot. The muffled scream. The single silenced shot. The drop of Emily’s lifeless body.

She thought that it was gone, that she had successfully pushed that night out of her mind. She was wrong.

"Why, Jason?" Elizabeth asked. Another tear escaped her tightly shut eyes. She swallowed thickly. "Why do you care about the woman who killed your sister. Because I did kill Emily, right?"

The firm beat of Elizabeth’s heart pumped rapidly beneath her rib cage; threatening to jump from her chest at any moment. It served as a vivid contrast to the almost inaudible hum of the dead air around her. Her breathing had become erratic with the fast pace of the clenching muscle in her chest, and her face stung with the salty tears that welled and spilled from her eyes, wetting her cheeks.

A cold sweat had broken out over her body and she forced herself not to wipe the moist prickling of beads from her brow, instead, keeping her hands pressed rigidly in her lap. Not wanting to show that she was more unstable than her body was already telling, she didn’t even chance wiping away the traitorous tears that were staining her cheeks. Morgan was already seeing her weakened by tears, she would not allow him to see her hands shaking in unknown fear.

Elizabeth waited for some form of a reply to come from him, whether it be by words or blunt force. There was no definite way to determine how Morgan would react to her words. She was basically sitting prey, fearfully anticipating a deadly cat to pounce. When he did, would he play with her first, nipping and pawing before he finished her off, or go straight for her jugular? That was yet to be known.

The silence enveloping the room stretched, becoming deafening. It went on for so long that Elizabeth began to wonder if she had asked him anything at all.

"Why do you care about the woman who killed your sister, because I did kill Emily, right?"

She had asked him that, hadn’t she? She no longer knew. Maybe she hadn’t posed the question and all of her upset was for nothing. She could have very well thought the query without speaking a word of it aloud.

Her fingers twitched in her lap and she mentally coerced herself to grapple in her emotions.

She had been keeping all of her thoughts about Emily’s murder buried so well that when she thought back on that night all of her pent up feelings about it bubbled out, like water over a breaking dam. Months of unresolved feelings concerning the tragic events of that night had finally caught up with her and she was now an emotional wreck.

Snippets of memories drifted in and out of Elizabeth’s mind as she sat and waited for Jason to react. The conjuring of those long forgotten thoughts brought more tears to her eyes and she lost her battle with restraining her hands as she reached her fingers up to wipe her damp cheeks.

Elizabeth licked her dry lips, tasting the faint saltiness from her tears. Clearing her parched throat with an audible grunt, she worked up enough nerve to speak, "Jason-"

"Don’t." The command was rasped at her sternly.

A shiver passed down her spine at his deadly tone, causing chill bumps to rise on her arms. He had heard her question, that much was apparent. That must mean that he was thinking over ways to kill her. Elizabeth figured that the torturing must have been kept bay only because Morgan wasn’t sure of her involvement with Emily’s murder. Now that she had all but admitted it, Morgan would surely kill her.

She swallowed past the rising lump in her throat and wished that she had to the nerve to ask for the glass of water he’d given her back. "What will you do with me now that-"

"I said, don’t." Again, the words held a venomous bite.

This time she would heed his warning; there was nothing left to do but that.

Jason rubbed along the stubble of his tense jaw. His cool blue eyes were fixed on Elizabeth as he took in every tear, every tremble, every attempt at keeping herself from losing more control over her emotions than she already had.

Staring at her with unmoving eyes, Jason realized that it was the first time that he’d seen Spider not in control.

This was the woman who faced him down in a deserted alley without showing a hint of trepidation. The same women who took being blinded as though it was nothing more than a mosquito bite. She had persevered being restrained in his basement, drugged and transported to an unknown place; all without so much as a complaint.

Never once in the days that they had spent in close proximity had he witnessed a moment when Elizabeth was not at ease. So why, he mused, would she now show how defenseless she could be?

In his opinion, the timing of her breakdown couldn’t be more opportune.

"Tears," he muttered, anger flowing through him like a hot river. Of all the times to show weakness Spider waited until he would have no choice but to kill her.

Deep down he had been holding out hope that he and Sonny had been wrong about Spider’s part in Emily’s fate. Since coming to know her he had began to question if she was as heartless as her reputation said she was. All shreds of that hope were gone now.

She was the one responsible, the tears proved that much. Didn't they?

Why had it taken so long for him to see her for the woman she really was; one who would admit to killing an innocent? A faint nagging in his mind made him reconsider his stance. There was something about the question Elizabeth had just asked him. Something that made him wonder if there was a chance that she hadn’t killed Emily.

Jason knew that he was grasping at straws. He hated to admit it but he had become attached to Elizabeth in the days they had spent together. She was unlike any person he knew. She was able to stir things inside of him that no other person had, and he was beginning to realize that he didn’t mind the foreign feeling of emotions. Not when the cause of said feelings was Elizabeth.

His eyes fell upon her followed by an unfamiliar tug at his heart. She appeared fragile, nothing like the woman he thought her to be. There was more to Spider than Elizabeth and more to Elizabeth than he’d considered. Her small feminine frame trembled and Jason resisted the urge gather her in his arms and make things better for her. A single tear pooled at the corner of her mouth and the need to kiss it away rode him to distraction.

He cursed himself for the traitorous feelings. His main concern was Emily not the woman who probably killed her.

Shoving all thought of caring for Elizabeth to the back of his mind, Jason focused his attention on getting the truth out of her.

"Why did you do it?" The question traveled from his mouth before he had a chance to think it over. He hoped that she would deny his question. Tell him it was all a mistake, so that he could go back to feeling for her without the guilt that came with it.

"I-I... it..." she seemed to struggle to find the words. "It was a mistake." The last word was nothing more than a breathy whisper.

"A mistake?" he rasped, his heart sinking at her words. "How do you kill someone by mistake?" he asked, incredulously, looking away as more tears dropped from her eyes.

"The same way you blind someone."

Jason pushed the feeling, that he had come to know as guilt, away. Spider didn’t deserve his pity. Dragging his eyes back to her face he barked, "It’s not the same thing, Spider, and you know it."

She jumped at his tone and his chest constricted painfully.

He didn’t know how to deal with feelings like the ones he was experiencing. Apprehension, hope, guilt, need, anger...

Jason had always been able to keep himself totally in control. When faced with a new unknown emotion he would learn how to battle it away and compartmentalize it so that it no longer affected him. He was so good at doing so that he’d become known as a Borg. But now each emotion that he had shoved to the recesses of his emotional capacity had resurfaced and refused to be re-buried.

After gathering himself as much as he could, he asked, "You’re admitting to killing my sister?"

"I’m admitting that it was a mistake," Elizabeth answered, flatly. Her hand lifted toward her face, probably to wipe tears away, Jason would never know, as he reached out and caught her slim wrist with his hand before it could get that far.

Elizabeth flinched and he watched her brace herself for what was to come next. He stood, hauling her up to her feet as well. His grip on her wrist was strong as he pulled her along behind him through the cabin. Jason was sure that his fingers would leave bruises on her fair skin, and in his anger, it concerned him in the least.

Pushing the door to her room open, Jason yanked Elizabeth inside behind him. Without a word he let go of her wrist, turned and took quick steps away, walking back to the door. He wasn’t sure what he intended to do with her later, but putting as much distance between himself and Elizabeth, seemed like the right idea for the time being.

There was just one thing; that nagging little voice in his head telling him he had to know the truth.

All of it.

Stopping just short of leaving, Jason turned back. Elizabeth stood, her small frame seeming to be weighted down under some unseen force. His eyes settled on her face. Fear etched her soft features, from her furrowed brow, to her tightly pursed lips. She was waiting to be killed.

Without his approval of accord, he took a few steps forward, closer to Elizabeth, his gaze never leaving her face as he diminished the breadth between them. Everything inside of him warned him to stop but he couldn’t. There were questions that needed to be answered. Feelings that needed to be explored.

His hand rose and softly landed on her cheek, Elizabeth didn’t flinch or move away at the contact so he leaned in and cupped her face fully in his hand. His thumb passed in absent strokes across her damp cheek. "Open your eyes, Elizabeth," he quietly commanded in a voice that was not his own.

There was a truth that he needed to find, the only way he knew to do that was to look directly into her eyes. Jason tilted her chin up with his thumb. The flutter of dark, saturated lashes ensued and her lids lifted. Deep blue eyes stared blankly up at him. Though he could never forget just how captivating her eyes were - how he felt as though he could get lost in the intensity of her gaze - he never ceased to be amazed at how much her sapphire stare drew him in.

"Did you do it?" he asked, his voice strained for reasons beyond his control.

Intently, he watched her eyes for any hint of a lie, only lowering his gaze for a second to that beautiful mouth of hers. When she didn’t answer he asked again, "Did you kill Emily, Elizabeth?"

The warm droplet of a tear met his thumb, he swiped it away.

"I’m sorry," she whispered.

God, he wanted to break something. "Answer the question!" Jason demanded, beseeching her void blue gaze to tell him the truth he was searching for.

"I’m so sorry," she cried. Elizabeth’s body began to tremble with the tears.

She looked broken and in that moment something inside of him shattered. A fierce needing gripped his insides, a need that had built up over the time that he’d spent with Elizabeth. The shattering, Jason realized as he moved his hand from her cheek replacing it in the cool drop of her hair, was his good sense.

His fingers glided through silken strands and he cupped his hand around the back of her neck, pulling her closer to him. Elizabeth moved forward without hesitation, only adding to the want he had for her. The feminine swell of her breasts pressed to his chest sending blood rushing to his groin.

Dropping his head, Jason brushed his lips so lightly over hers that the touch was barely felt. He sought entrance but didn’t rush it, instead taking pleasure in kissing the sweet curve at the corners of her mouth. He trailed his tongue over her bottom lip, tasting in the teary saltiness of it.

A soft moan escaped Elizabeth’s slightly parted lips and she leaned into him, her fingers curling around his cotton shirt. At her display Jason grazed her lip with his teeth, gently biting down on the soft flesh until she opened up, granting him the access he desperately wanted.

Jason flicked his tongue over her lips one last time before claiming the inside of her mouth. A fever of heat jolted him at the connection of their mouths. Elizabeth responded to him in kind, darting her tongue into his mouth then retreating in painstakingly slow strokes.

Even after wanting her for all this time, he hadn’t imagined that Elizabeth could possibly want him the same. But she did. Her kiss was a desperate as his, she needed him as bad as he needed her. It was a truth that couldn’t be hidden behind the meticulous placement of words. It was the only thing, besides her real name, that Jason knew to be true about Elizabeth; she wanted him.

He could easily take her right there. Tear her clothes away and claim her entire being as his. But what would that make him? A man too concerned with his baser needs to properly avenge his sisters death, that’s what.

What he was doing was wrong. It didn’t matter how bad he wanted Elizabeth or that the feel of her lithe body pressed perfectly against him was more rewarding than he could have ever hoped for, giving into those feelings would be disastrous. He still didn’t know what had happened with Emily and he was lusting after the woman who may have killed his sister.

The notion was cold water to his fire hot body.

Abruptly, Jason pulled away from the kiss. Breathing hard, he chose to look away instead of directly at Elizabeth. The glimpse he had gotten of her flushed cheeks and reddened lips was enough to make his already painful erection, excruciating.

Jason stepped away from Elizabeth, his lips burning with the memory of their kiss. "Tell me what happened that night," he commanded, running an unsteady hand through his short hair. He watched as she pressed two unsteady fingers to her lips.

"I can’t," she told him, her voice shaky. She dropped her hand away from her mouth to her side.

"You mean; you wont."

She nodded faintly in response.

"Did you kill her?"

"Jason-"

"Did you kill her!"

"If you think I did, I did," she spat flippantly at him.

"That’s not what I asked you."

"I told you I can’t answer what you’re asking me. If you want me dead, then go ahead and get it over with. If it will make you feel like justice had been served then kill me, Jason."

Jason’s hands curled into tight fists. Elizabeth wasn’t giving him the answers he needed and flat out told him she wouldn’t. Two could play that game. "You won’t leave this room until you are a little more forthcoming."

She shrugged. "If that’s what you want..."

Resisting the urge to lash out at her with harsh words, Jason turned away. His steps were heavier than usual as he crossed the room. He glanced back at her for a second, wishing that she could see just how serious he was. Quickly being reminded that it was because of him that she couldn’t, he left the room, slamming the door shut behind him.

Elizabeth shuddered at the slammed door. It seemed that her calm, cool enforcer had lost his control.

That couldn’t bode well for her.

She tensed as she heard his heavy footfalls, which were more stomps than steps, returning to her door. A tinkling of metal, then the turning of a lock and she knew that she was trapped. Morgan had locked her in the room. Just to be positive, she made her way to the door. Her hands found the knob, she turned and it didn’t budge. Elizabeth spun around on her heel. Leaning her back to the door, she slid down the wooden structure until her bottom met the floor.

What was she going to do?

There was no doubt in her mind that Jason wasn’t convinced that she had killed Emily and that could only mean that he would begin to look for someone else. She couldn’t let that happen.

Elizabeth dropped her forehead to rest on her bent knees. She closed her eyes, the memory of kiss she had shared with Jason lingered in her mind, making her lips tingle. His kisses were everything that he was; smooth, skilled and dangerous.

He was a man with the power to make her shed all of her pretenses and let go. That made him lethal to her sensibilities. The right touch, the right words, the feel of him against her- and she might tell him all he wanted to know.

What had she become? She was acting like a silly girl with a crush. She didn’t do crushes... until Jason.

Pushing up to her feet, Elizabeth counted precise steps to the bed. She shed her shoes, socks and shorts before slipping under the sheets. She wanted to wash the dry stain of tears from her face but she was too weary, too exhausted to move.

In a matter of a few hours her life had gone from bad to worse. She had been faced with reliving that horrible night, she had given into her need for Jason and lost all sense of right as he took her mouth in his, and now she was left even more trapped than she had been before. Both physically and emotionally.

Elizabeth rubbed her fingers over her eyes as she settled into the bed. It only took minutes for her to fall into a fitful sleep...


Cold air whipped around Elizabeth’s body from the open window of the car, making her wish that she had chosen to wear a heavier coat. But heavy would only slow her down.

From her inconspicuous position in a nondescript car she staked out the parking garage. Even at the late hour it was full of cars, but that was to be expected at a hospital. Sick people came in at all hours of the night.

She smiled to herself, thinking there wasn’t a better place to be shot than the parking lot of a hospital. Too bad it wouldn’t matter; she always shot to kill and she never missed.

The staccato clicking of heels brought her attention to her mark. The blonde was just leaving the hospital. Her long khaki trench flapped around her ankles with each collected step she took. What a shame, Elizabeth thought. Such a nice coat.

Twisting on her silencer cap, Elizabeth popped on the chewing gum in her mouth. This was going to be easier than she thought. Faith Roscoe didn’t even have her muscle with her. The Mob Queen’s cockiness would prove to be her downfall.

Elizabeth took aim, ready to take her shot. Just as her finger steeled over the trigger someone else exited the hospital. Fuck, Elizabeth thought at the young woman in blue scrubs that was hurriedly making her way to what, Elizabeth assumed to be the woman’s car.

It looked like Faith got a reprieve. She lowered her gun just as the buzz of an unmistakable silenced shot whizzed through the air. In less than a second from when the shot was fired Elizabeth heard an earth-shattering scream and saw the woman dressed in scrubs drop to the ground.

"What the fuc..." Her words were cut off by another shot, this one loud. Elizabeth scooted down in her seat and aimed her gun out of the window. Faith Roscoe was stooped low, her gun cocked and ready to take another shot. But at who?

Damn, damn, damn. What had she gotten herself into? Was it an ambush? Did the other shooter know she was there? Her eyes skittered to the woman lying lifelessly on the ground, blood pooled around her body. An innocent. Biting back the bitter edge of bile, Elizabeth silently opened her car door. She moved on hands and knees to get a better look at the second shooter.

Faith popped off a second shot. Elizabeth didn’t flinch as she ducked and weaved between cars without being seen. She could easily take Faith out but the last thing she needed to do was get between another rival’s mission. Luke would understand that. At least she hoped he would.

Finally, Elizabeth reached a distance where she could see the second shooter. Her heart dropped to her toes in realization: Long dark hair bound tightly at her nape, dressed in black from head to toe, a Lady Smith gripped between steady fingers. The shooter looked like a skilled killer- Elizabeth glanced again at the woman’s body on the ground- only she wasn’t.

Elizabeth turned away and shot off a single shot in Roscoe’s direction. It wasn’t her intention to kill Faith, it was her intention to let her go. The song of sirens sounded in the distance, it wouldn’t be long before the police were all over this place.

At her shot, Elizabeth saw from the corner of her eye- the second shooters body jerk. She glanced over, meeting the shooters eyes; fear was livid in them. Elizabeth forced herself to look away, making sure that Faith would take the slowing of shots as an opportunity to leave. She did. Roscoe retreated into the shadows. Seconds later the screech of tires marked her departure.

As the noise of sirens closed in Elizabeth turned to the second shooter...


Blind eyes shot open. Sweat drenched and tangled in sheets, Elizabeth struggled to lift herself to sitting position. The hot sting of tears pooled and fell without abandon down her face as her mouth silently formed a single word, "LuLu."

(Walkin’ on) Broken Glass

Jason held true to his threat and did not let Elizabeth leave the room she’d become so familiar with at all that day. He’d even taken it further than she had expected and turned off the ac so now the room was sweltering. Her room had turned into a sauna overnight and in the hours she’d spent cooped up in it during the day it had become an inferno. She had opened both of the windows in her room in an attempt to cut the thick air but it was a muggy day out and it only served to suck up the last remnants of the cool air the room had, replacing it with a filmy steam.

She didn’t think that things could get much worse until she retreated to the bathroom for a cold shower only to find that there was no water. It was apparent that she had seriously underestimated the cold calculating Jason Morgan. Not only had he cranked the heat up but he had turned the main water line off as well.

At that point she had seriously considered escape. She knew that she was on the first floor and that the drop from the window sill was only about four feet, she could easily make her way out of it safely, but after that she would be lost. Without her sight a reasonable escape was futile, unless she was willing to tell Jason what he wanted to know. Since she was not, there was nothing left to do but wait her time out in the hot box.

Elizabeth stepped away from the open window that was bringing her nothing but merciless heat. She turned and took five steps to the bed then fell back upon it unceremoniously. Her head was beginning to ache in the heat of the room. Pin pricks of moisture stabbed at her brow and rolled lazily down her temple. She wiped it away with a huff that was more of a pout as she fought to keep herself from succumbing to the desolateness of her situation.

Jason pulled his second bottle of beer from the refrigerator, the cool air streaming out of the box was a relief in the hot conditions of his cabin. Damn air conditioning was out again and after spending hours trying to repair it, he hadn’t been able to. The only way to get cool air back in the cabin was to have a repairman come out. It was a call that he didn’t want to make, but it was either that or suffering. Reluctantly, he called.

He eyed the bottled waters occupying the entire bottom rack of the fridge, contemplating whether or not to grab one for Elizabeth. He decided that he wouldn’t; that he’d cut the water off to serve a purpose, and kicked the refrigerator door shut with the heel of his boot. Popping the cap off of the bottle he walked the length of the hallway, pausing at the door that Elizabeth was behind.

He pulled a key from the pocket of his jeans but stopped short of unlocking the door. He had Elizabeth locked in the room for more reasons than he let on. It wasn’t just that she was denying the information he asked for, it was also because close proximity to her led him to make rash choices. Like kissing her.

The kiss shared between them still lingered in his mind, still tingled his lips, and he wanted to ravish her mouth again. He hated himself for it. But what he hated more was that his urge to find out everything about Emily’s murder was slowly waning, becoming replaced by his need to not let go of Elizabeth. He reasoned that as long as she was keeping secrets he had reason to not only keep her alive, but keep her.

Jason shook the wayward thoughts away, determined not to let his baser needs cloud his judgement. After he felt them successfully tucked away, he unlocked the door. As it opened he took in the room with one quick sweep of his eyes. Nothing was amiss - other than the open windows, everything was as it should be.

His eyes fell on Elizabeth. She was sprawled with her back to the bed. From his stance at the door he could tell that her eyes were open and she stared blankly up to the ceiling.

He crossed the room. Stopping just before the foot of the bed, he stared down at her, his eyes traveling from her slim legs encased in denim, to the little inch of creamy skin bared between the waist of her jeans and hem of her shirt. He let his gaze linger on that show of skin, wondering what Elizabeth would do if he touched her there.

"The air-conditioning went out," he said, finally lifting his eyes to her sapphire ones.

As if she felt him staring at into her eyes, she closed them. "And here I thought you were trying to burn me alive," she quipped quietly. "That still doesn’t explain the lack of water, or has the main line gone out too?"

Jason couldn’t help the grin she brought to his mouth. "No. The main line is fine," he said, covering his mouth with his hand as though she could see the smile she brought from him.

"I figured as much; about the water, but it is nice to know that you had no plans on suffocating me, purposely, at least. Your only intention was for me to die of thirst."

Jason thought it was better not to further comment on that. "Are you ready to give up the information you have on my sister?" he asked, more out of habit than actual desire to know.

She frowned, her brows furrowing in a way that made him yearn to kiss the crease away. "What I told you yesterday still stands," she said, lifting herself to sitting position. "I have no intentions of telling you what you want to know. That hasn’t changed and never will."

It should have bothered him more that she was still refusing but he couldn’t find it in himself to feel too put out over it. Jason rubbed the back of his neck absently. "I have someone coming out to fix the AC."

Elizabeth’s face took on a curious expression. She was apparently taken aback by how quickly he'd dropped their previous line of conversation. "That’s it? No more questions about what I know?" she asked suspiciously.

"You’ve made your position in this clear and so have I. Until you are ready to tell me everything there is nothing left to discuss."

Her lips pursed in thought and she nodded. "I guess you’re right," she said. "You can go now, then."

He grimaced at the way she attempted to dismiss him. To spite her, he hunkered down next to her on the bed. Elizabeth stiffened beside him, turning to stone before his eyes. "Want something to drink?" he asked, trying to ignore the way her reaction to him left him unsettled.

"Did you bring water?"

He looked down at the bottle in his hand. He had gotten it for himself not her, but as it had always come to be when dealing with Elizabeth, he found himself unable to stick to his guns. "No. Beer."

"That will have to do," she said opening her hand for it.

Jason placed the bottle in her palm and watched as she brought the rim to her mouth and took generous gulps. He was regretting his decision not to bring her water. Hell, he was beginning to regret turning the water off in the first place.

After downing most of the beer she let it rest lazily in her hand against her thigh. A small frown pulled the corners of her mouth down and she tilted her head to the side, pressing two fingers to her temple. With her hair pulled up into a high, messy ponytail the move exposed the line of her neck, it was strangely inviting. Jason couldn’t remember a time when he cared one way or the other about a woman’s neck. He couldn’t even remember a time when he particularly noticed how erotic a delicate neck could be.

"Do you have plans on turning the water back on?" she asked.

He vaguely heard Elizabeth’s question as his thoughts were elsewhere; focused on a curl that was stuck sweetly to the nape of her neck. Without much thought behind it, he reached for that curl.

"Yes," he said, his voice deeper than usual as he fingered the soft strand of hair, "I have plans on turning it back on."

A soft feminine exhale whistled from her lips. "Good," she finally said, more breath than voice. "I’d like to take a shower," she added, still a whisper.

Jason moved closer, cupping the back of her neck in his palm, she didn’t move away. Even with her not being able to see, he knew that she was capable of that much. Instead, Elizabeth turned to him. From the corner of his eye he saw her hand lift then felt it softly skim his jaw, lowering to his neck, before coming to rest high on his chest.

Jason swallowed hard, his heart picking up pace in anticipation.

He knew what he wanted, and he knew that Elizabeth wanted it too. In spite of their learned disdain for the other there was an undeniable attraction, and he was tired of fighting it.

She parted her lips. Jason ached to taste them again, this time he wouldn’t hold back. He would take her the way his body had been telling him to, the way he had been warring with himself not to. Completely and totally.

Elizabeth shifted and their thighs touched. Even the denim of their jeans served no barrier from the overwhelming ache that stirred with that simple touch. Jason dipped his head, his mouth coming close to hers. Her tongue darted out and moistened her lips. He wondered absently if she would taste as sweet as she had yesterday, sweeter even?

A knock coming from the front of the cabin, delayed that answer. He pulled away from Elizabeth, immediately missing the loss of their closeness.

"That’s the technician for the ac system," he said, staring at the open windows in front of them. He looked back to Elizabeth, she sat with both her hands pressed to her lap. Jason wondered for a moment if the thought to escape out of those windows had crossed her mind, he decided that it had. "I’ll turn the water back on," he said, as he stood.

He didn’t look back at Elizabeth as he left, but he did inspect the windows and made a mental note to nail them shut. Part of him hated that he was about to take that liberty from her as well, but another part of him, the part that wasn’t ready to have her out of his reach thought it a necessity.

"Don’t do anything stupid," he told her before he left.

Luke leaned drunkenly over a table in a dive bar he’d all but moved into. An old blues song played on the jukebox, wafting around the smoke filled club. It was a song of his own choosing. Or at least he thought he chose it, he couldn’t be sure. He hovered over a glass of vodka and hummed the tune, off key.

"Ain’t no sunshine when she’s gone," he howled, then brought the glass to his lips and drained the liquid. "It’s not warm when she’s away..." he bellowed.

There were a few catcalls and a couple of "shut-up’s" tossed his way but he was too intoxicated to care.

What was left for him to care about? He thought aimlessly. His wife had become nothing more than ghost, his daughter hated him, his son was dead, and his Spider... she was gone.

Luke tapped his empty glass on the wobbly wooden table. A few seconds later a waitress came over and filled his glass. He grabbed her arm before she could move away and rose his glass. "Toast with me, sweetie," he slurred.

"No thanks, I’m on the clock," she said, trying to work her arm free.

Luke loosened his grip and frowned up at her. "You don’t have to drink, just toast."

The waitress looked at him sympathetically and obliged. "What are we toasting to? She asked lifting the bottle to his glass.

He thought it over. "Death," Luke decided. "To death!" He declared. His glass clinked with the bottle, spilling vodka over his hand.

The waitress shook her head sadly and walked off as he licked the liquor from his skin.

Luke glared at her retreating back. Who cared that she pitied him; they still had to serve him. It didn’t matter that he was way past the legal limit, his money was gold in this establishment. His name rang out across New York and demanded respect. He was Luke Spencer!

He sighed heavily, mulling over the drink in his hand. He displayed a wry grin as he brought the glass to his lips.

"Luke."

The voice jarred him, causing vodka to dash over the rim of his glass. He had been expecting her to come eventually, but he thought this bar a fortress. He came here to escape not to be confronted with his demons. He put the glass to the table with a thunk and braced himself.

"I have been looking for you for days."

"How did you find me?" he asked, rubbing a hand over his tired eyes.

"You’re not so hard to find when your drunk," his sister said, plopping her purse down on the liquor stained table.

"Let me guess," Luke said, his body tilting to the right. "You need money, Bobbie." He looked away as his sister took the seat across from him.

Hazel eyes narrowed at him. Bobbie leaned across the table and spoke quietly. "I’ve been hearing things. I came to you for assurance."

Luke scoffed. "For assurance and not money," he said with exaggerated shock. "Assurance about what?" he asked darkly.

"How are things with the family?" Bobbie’s tone was light, but there was a seriousness in her delivery.

Luke felt his mouth shape a tight line. "What have you heard?" he asked.

"How is Elizabeth?" Bobbie asked tersely, clearly angered about having to spell it out for him.

Luke was quiet for a long minute. Through his drunken stupor he noticed that Bobbie was staring daggers at him and gripping her purse like her life depended on it. He tried to form the words to tell his sister about Spider but they never came. Finally, he settled for not saying anything at all.

Bobbie’s hard stare faltered and she looked away. "You are a bastard, Luke," she spat at him as she worked her way up from the chair. "A bastard, you hear me!" She yelled, getting in his face.

Luke motioned beyond Bobbie and seconds later two men flanked their table. They grabbed Bobbie, pulling her away from the table. Bobbie continued to curse him with rancor as she was ushered away.

Luke contemplated his glass as his sister disappeared from the bar. "To death," he said softly, raising the glass to his mouth.

Don’t do anything stupid. Jason’s parting words rang in Elizabeth’s mind as she slowly maneuvered around the room. In other words; don’t make a peep while the ac repairman is here. It was just like Jason to demand that she behave while he was unable to, to command her to not do anything stupid when that was all that he had done from their first meeting in the alley.

It was Jason who had accidentally blinded her. Jason who hadn’t done the smart thing and killed her. Jason who took her out to a public diner where she was able to pick up on the clues around her; like southern accents. Jason who kissed her. And Jason who would have done it again had it not been for the knock at the door.

She was simply going with the flow, Jason was being stupid.

Elizabeth winced as pain lanced through her head. She dropped to her knees and pressed her fingers to her aching temples and rubbed. What had began as a dull headache had turned into a full on pounding migraine. She waited until the heaviness in her head subsided a little before she tried to stand. The subtle action of trying to rise made her light headed and she went back to her knees.

Somewhere through the pain the need for cool air surfaced. The heat of the room had caused this headache, she was sure of that. If she could just make it back to the windows... She attempted again to get to her feet, she didn’t make it far before a splitting wave of pain ripped through her head causing her knees to buckle beneath her.

Elizabeth fell back to the floor. Hot, dizzy, in unimaginable pain. She curled herself into a fetal ball, tucking her head between her knees and hoped for an end to this new misery.

Jason was standing outside overseeing the air conditioner work when his phone vibrated in his pocket. His first thought was that it was his inside source, getting back to him with the information he’d requested about Elizabeth.

He was surprised when the number on his screen showed another familiar number. Corinthos.

He turned away from the repairman as he flipped his phone receiver. "Morgan," he spoke quietly into the phone.

"How’s your vacation been?"  Came Sonny’s voice from the other end.

Jason looked to the cabin and thought of the woman he was holding inside. "Well," he answered.

Jason grimaced. It wasn’t that he couldn’t make the trip in that time, even if he had to take a flight to do so, it could be done. It was Elizabeth. What was he supposed to do with her?

"How important is it?" Jason asked, immediately regretting his words. The last thing he needed to do was to raise Corinthos’ hackles.

"Nothing is more important," Jason cut him off, dragging his stare away from the cabin. "I’ll be there." Jason ended the call before any other words could be exchanged.

Jason turned to the man working on the ac system."If you need me just call into the cabin," he said then turned, making his way back. He detoured to turn the main line back on. After that was done he stopped by the fridge and grabbed a water to take to Elizabeth.

Upon opening the door his eyes immediately fell to Elizabeth’s curled form on the floor. Her body was shaking, and there was a weak whimper coming from her. Alerted, he bent down and turned her over. Her coloring was off, too pale. He touched a hand to her forehead and found her skin was scalding hot.

There was a moment when he felt a rise of panic, of complete helplessness. He didn’t know what was wrong with her, but it was obvious that it was more than just the heat of the house. He pushed the unwelcome feeling of dread away and scooped Elizabeth up in his arms, a twinge of helplessness twisted in his gut at the way her limbs dangled lifelessly as he carried her to the bed. He laid her down then tracked back to where the water had been left on the floor. He brought it back to Elizabeth, twisting off the top. He lifted her head and pressed the bottle to her lips. She didn’t respond.

"Fuck," Jason cursed lowly, flinging the water across the room.

He paced away from her, knowing full well what had to be done. Eventually it would have come to this. Something would have happened that would require him to breach the secrecy of Elizabeth being alive. He just didn’t think it would be so soon - he looked over his shoulder to Elizabeth- or would border on life or death.

Calming himself, he pulled his phone out of his pocket - his heart beating rapidly in a fear he had never known - and dialed out.

Everything You Always Wanted To Know About Sex 

He had to ask a favor, something he was loathe to do. Favors were nasty little things, cankerous boons, that always came back to haunt you.

The call was made in a moment of desperation. Jason needed someone discreet, someone who he could trust with this delicate matter, but most of all; someone close.

The first person who came to mind was Anthony "Tony" DeMarco. Boss of an organized crime unit based out of Atlanta. Like all crime families, he had his share of private doctors that tended to the men in his organization. Jason’s long time good standing with the DeMarco family allowed him the advantage of knowing that Tony’s older brother, Brian, was one of those doctors.

It was sheer luck that Jason had been able to contact DeMarco so quickly. And that neither DeMarco brother hesitated to fly out and offer their assistance.

Not to say that their willingness didn’t come with a hefty price tag, because it did. But the cost didn’t matter to Jason, not in this situation. Even knowing that by making the call he would automatically become indebted to DeMarco wasn’t enough to stop him.

He now owed Tony; that was a given. The silent agreement had already passed between them. There would come a day when Tony would call in a favor of his own and Jason wouldn’t be able to say no. No matter how big the request.

It was worth it, Jason told himself, and he didn’t doubt that it was. Finding Elizabeth the way he had, so weakened; it shook him. He had felt actual fear. Fear for Elizabeth. Fear of the unknown. He hadn’t known until the surreal emotion struck him that he could be moved in such a way.

He found fear to be an absurd disturbance: It was hot metal unfurling within the pit of his stomach. It made his blood run cold and his skin burn all at once. It made his arms shake and his knees weak.

It made him, Jason realized, human.

Jason ran a hand over his face and stepped away from the wall he’d been hold up against. He glanced over to Brian DeMarco. The doctor was pumping a blood pressure cuff that was wrapped tightly over one of Elizabeth arms. She looked so small. Frail. Breakable.

Jason looked guiltily away, swallowing thickly. This was because of him. He had brought this on her. And for what? Revenge for something he was no longer sure she had done? And what if it was all a mistake? What if Elizabeth had nothing to do with Emily’s death?

Jason sighed, frustrated. He scanned the living room, considering if it was best to close the windows now that cool air was beginning to circulate from the repaired air conditioner.

He had brought Elizabeth from her room to the front of the house after he made the call to Tony. It had been sweltering hot in the cabin when he made the move so he opened all of the windows in the house to bring Elizabeth fresh air. He stayed by her side after that, not moving until he heard Tony pulling up in the driveway.

His strange behavior elicited a raised eyebrow and a questioning glance from the repairman who would of course think it strange that he had a young woman passed out in his house and hadn’t called an ambulance. Jason explained that the situation was delicate and that his wife had a private doctor that saw to her. The repairman seemed to get the message and kept his mouth shut the rest of his stay.

Knowing that was only a temporary fix to a very large problem, Jason lined the man’s pockets a little extra and hoped for his discretion.

The situation was now getting out of his control. Little by little, the edges of the secret were starting to fray.

Jason pushed a worried hand through his hair and glanced at Brian DeMarco’s back. This time he didn’t attempt to see past the older DeMarco brother hovered over Elizabeth, afraid of what he might find.

Deciding to keep the windows open he made his way to the kitchen. He could feel Tony trailing him out of the living room.

Jason glanced back at the younger DeMarco brother, he seemed to find Jason’s cabin intriguing; his eyes landing on every parcel that occupied the space. An ingrained practice, Jason noted. People in their line of work were naturally mindful, conscious and a bit suspicious of their surroundings.

Jason opened the refrigerator and stared absently at its contents."Would you like something to drink?" he asked. "Beer, water... beer...?"

Jason heard Tony scrape a bar-stool across the hardwood. "Water would be good," he answered, taking a seat.

Jason grabbed two bottles and shut the door. He handed one to Tony and kept the other for himself.

Jason had always respected DeMarco. They were roughly the same age, but Tony was head of his family and had never been an enforcer. He had taken over the DeMarco organization at his father’s death and the Atlanta mob affiliates were flourishing under his rule. Tony was a very level headed boss, much unlike other top authorities in their line of work. He was also the youngest, which probably accounted for his more relaxed manner.

Sitting in Jason’s kitchen now--dressed in a pair of khaki cargo shorts, a plain white t-shirt, and tennis shoes--DeMarco looked more like a college student than a crime lord.

Tony toyed with the sunglasses propped upon his dark head of hair. "The girl looks familiar. Who is she?" he asked.

Jason snapped out of his reverie. He hadn’t expected Tony to come out and ask so bluntly, instead assuming that the anonymity of the situation was what DeMarco would want. The less one knew about the problems of others, the less trouble that came ones way. But now that Tony had inquired, Jason couldn’t deny the man an answer.

Jason cleared his throat, his eyes skittering to Tony then looking off, beyond him to where Elizabeth was. "Daughter of a New York boss," he answered vaguely.

Tony whistled low. He took a sip from his bottle and arched his brows. "Which one?"

For all the respect Jason had for Tony there was still a severity to these truths he was relinquishing, DeMarco had to understand that. Jason leveled a stare on his peer.

"No one finds out," Tony said. "Look, it’s obvious that you’ve gotten yourself into some deep shit, Morgan. And by helping you I’ve stepped in the dung as well. I think I deserve to know what I might be facing in this."

Jason could brook no argument. "Luke Spencer."

Tony straightened. His cat-like green eyes flashed conspiratorially and he looked back over his shoulder into the room behind them. "Son of a bitch," he said softly as he turned back to Jason. "Spider? How the hell did you- you know what? I don’t want to know, especially since she’s supposed to be dead."

"It’s best that you don’t," Jason replied truthfully. "No one can know about this," he reluctantly added the last part, "most of all, Sonny."

Tony’s brows drew together. "You mean Sonny doesn’t know?" he smiled dryly. "What kind of shit do you have going on- never mind." Tony threw his hands up. "I really don’t want to know."

An uncomfortable silence enveloped the cabin.

"You look like hell," Tony said, breaking the quiet.

Jason caught Tony’s stare and cracked a slow smile. He rubbed along his jaw, scraping two days worth of stubble. "I know."

"Never thought I’d see the day," Tony said looking from Jason, back over his shoulder to where his brother was still checking Elizabeth’s vitals.

"You’ve seen me look worse," Jason reminded him. They had both seen each other bottomed out, but that seemed like a lifetime ago.

"Yeah, I have," Tony agreed, turning back to Jason, "but I wasn’t referring to that. I’m talking about the woman on your couch. Never thought I’d see you let a pretty face get in the way of a job."

"It’s not what you think," Jason said, hating how hollow the words sounded to his own ears. If they sounded that way to him, he could only imagine how they sounded to Tony.

"Then what is it?" Tony asked, his tone incredulous.

"I thought you didn’t want to know."

"I lied," Tony grinned widely, displaying straight white teeth. When no answer came from Jason, he shrugged his shoulders in defeat. "You have my word that all of this stays here. No one finds out about Spider from us." he said.

Jason nodded. He trusted Tony’s word.

It was as though she had been held at the bottom of the ocean by a weight that had finally let her free and she was now floating slowly to the surface. Twice she felt the weight grab her leg again in an attempt to drag her back down, and twice she had kicked it free. Now, she could see sun beaming down on top of the water, spilling its rays over the water in muted golds and reds.

What a strange dream, Elizabeth thought, somewhere between sleep and consciousness, as she began to feel the whimsicalness of the dream meld into the reality of awakening.

All too fast she became aware of little things that had been lost to her not too long ago, like the sun. Not only could she feel the heat of it on her skin but she could see the brightness of it behind her eyes.

She moved--just a little--and noticed that her body was painfully stiff. Her muscles felt locked, like they had been flexed to tautly and now refused to give. She moaned in pain, then an unfamiliar voice spoke from above her. She’s coming to, it said.

Coming to? She mentally retraced the day in her head, recalling the heat, and Jason; that he had cut the water off. Then there had been the headache, it was horrible and brought her to her knees. She had blacked out from the pain.

How long had she been out? She wondered, trying to raise herself.

"Take it easy," a voice said; the same one that shouted about her ‘coming to.’

Strong hands pressed her shoulders back. She was too tired to fight it, so she acquiesced, allowing herself to lie down.

"Spider."

She recognized that voice right off. It was Jason’s, calm, even, sure. "Jas...," her mouth was dry and her voice gave out.

"Don’t try to talk," he advised.

Elizabeth moved again with a grimace. "W- What happened to me?" she asked, disregarding Jason’s warning.

She opened her eyes to blink away the heavy remnants of sleep and silently acknowledged that rather than seeing absolute blankness she was able to see something. Nothing in particular, no shapes or faces. It was more like a gauze had settled over her vision and she was seeing in waves of white blur.

It didn’t make sense, but what in the last couple of weeks had?

In a moment of clarity it struck her that her sight might be returning and she quickly closed her eyes.

"You passed out, Spider," Jason said in answer.

Elizabeth noted with distaste that he was no longer calling her by her real name. She didn’t like the change she could hear in his voice. He sounded... distant. ‘No shit, Sherlock,’ was on the tip of her tongue but she resisted the quip. She was way too tired to be a Smart Aleck.

A cool hand touched her forehead. It was a reassuring touch and she wanted to lift into the comfort it gave her. Upon realizing that the hand was much too soft to be Jason’s, she turned her head away.

"Nothing too serious occurred from what I can tell," the unfamiliar voice said. "Did you feel any pain before you passed out?"

Elizabeth nodded slowly, "My head," she scraped out. "It was pounding."

"Probably a migraine. You know...."

Voices began floating around her. Some of the words she understood, but for the most part it was all gibberish. She could make out Jason’s low treble within the voices. She clung to his smooth, molten tone as a safety net as she felt herself slowly slip back beneath the surface.

The sun was setting before Jason heard Elizabeth stir. He lifted his head, feeling a crook in his neck from the way he’d been uncomfortably sprawled in a love seat across from where Elizabeth lay. Opening his eyes, he fixed them on her.

She moved again and he sat upright, dropping the leg he had propped on the old wooden coffee table to the floor. He leaned forward, elbows on knees and studied her as she shifted.

She was a sight while sleeping; delicate, innocent, beautiful.

Brian DeMarco had noticed it as well. The doctor had been unable to keep his eyes off of her. Even after he assured Jason that Elizabeth would be fine, that it had probably been a bad migraine, Brian still found a reason to glance at her longer than necessary, or touch a hand to her forehead to see how warm she was. Wasn’t that what thermometers were for?

Jason’s reaction to seeing the way Brian acted around Elizabeth had been primitive. It took all of his willpower not to bark at the doctor to get his hands off of her.

Tony had been fascinated by her as well, although his reasons had not been the same as his brother’s. Jason could tell that Tony was trying to figure out just what Elizabeth had done to Jason to get him so wound up over her. He had studied her as though somehow looking at her would bring him the answer. Jason didn’t know if Tony ever figured it out. If he had Jason wished that the man would have shared it, being that he wanted to know that answer as well.

It was all Jason could do to get both DeMarco brothers out of his house. Brian wanted to stay until Elizabeth woke up. He said he needed to make sure that she would be okay but Jason saw through that. Tony wanted to hang around as well--he never said it, but the curiosity he had for Elizabeth showed clearly in his eyes.

It seemed they were both taken with Elizabeth and neither had seen her in a lucid moment.

If not for the urgent call Tony received, requesting his presence back in Atlanta, the two men would have probably camped out in his cabin waiting for the elusive Spider to awaken.

Jason watched as Elizabeth stretched languidly, feline like, all feminine curves and plains. Her eyelids lifted and fluttered back down sleepily. He stood up, walking to her side. She stilled as he approached. Her eyes remained closed for a long while.

"It was a migraine," he told her, knowing that she was no longer sleep.

"So I heard," she replied. "I need to use the bathroom," she said groggily, never opening her eyes.

Jason’s brows hitched. Of all the things he thought she might say, that hadn’t been one of them. "I’ll help you," he said, leaning down and pulling her to her feet.

Jason wrapped an arm around her waist, steadying her footing, tucking her closely to him. Elizabeth whispered a small protest but didn’t attempt to pull away. She held loosely to him, telling him with no words that she only accepted his help because she had too.

"I want to take a shower," she said, her voice a rasp. "Do you mind giving up one of your t-shirts?"

Jason glanced down to her, "No. I don’t mind."

He took Elizabeth as far as her room before he went to grab a shirt. After pulling one from a clean pile, he returned. Elizabeth was closed up inside of the bathroom so he placed the shirt on the bed and knocked on the bathroom door.

"Yes?" Elizabeth called from behind the door.

"The shirt is at the foot of the bed," he answered.

There was a long pause and then he heard her mumble, "Thanks."

Water from the sink started to run and he left the room, granting Elizabeth her privacy.

Elizabeth’s vision was still gauzy. She stood in front of the mirror blinking repeatedly, not able to clear the haze. When there was no further change she stopped trying and reached for her toothbrush. Leaning over the sink, she lazily brushed her teeth. It was all she could do to stand upright, her limbs were heavy, her whole person tired, but at least the pounding in her head was gone.

She had already decided that she wouldn’t share this new change in her vision with Jason. It wasn’t like she was actually able to see again, so what did keeping it from him matter? And she didn’t owe him a damn thing, he was the reason that she was in this predicament to begin with. If she told him she’d probably end up in restraints again. No, she would not be telling Jason.

Elizabeth dropped her toothbrush on the counter and felt her way to the shower. She undressed while the bathroom filled with steam. She stepped into the shower and immediately relaxed. It felt good to wash away the sweat from the day. Her tight muscles unwound under the hot spray of water, the lethargy she felt, lifted.

As she washed, her thoughts drifted to the voice from earlier that day. Jason had found her and called for help. He must really want the information she was withholding to call some outside person to come help her.

After stepping out of the shower she wrapped herself in a towel and made her way into her room. She found the shirt where Jason told her he left it. The cotton was soft against her fingertips, the material felt worn, like one he wore often. She brought it to her nose and inhaled--it also smelled of him. She pulled the shirt on and wrapped her wet hair up in the towel.

From outside of her room she could hear pans clanging in the kitchen. Curiosity got the better of her and she ventured to the door. She was surprised to find in unlocked when she turned the knob. Jason must have forgotten about it. Elizabeth took a moment to debate whether or not she should leave the room.

What was the most she could lose in doing so? Decided, she pushed the door open and crept from the room. She walked slowly down the hall, her fingers trailing the wall for guidance. When she made it to the end she stopped. The clanging of the pans had ended and now she could smell something deliciously tempting wafting from the kitchen. Her mouth watered at the smell.

"You’re out of the room."

Elizabeth jumped at Jason’s voice. He was close, just in front of her. She hadn’t heard him approach, but then again--she never did. Suddenly, she felt caught doing something wrong. She nervously went to tuck a strand of hair behind her ear only to find that there wasn’t one. In her surprise she forgot that her hair was tucked away in a towel.

Her hand dropped back to her side. "I was- I..." she couldn’t think of a good explanation for why she was out of the room. "I heard clanging," she explained.

Jason didn’t reply. The silence stretched and Elizabeth felt her cheeks warm. "I-I guess you forgot to lock it?" She felt like a bumbling idiot.

She should have stayed in the room. This was the first time she ventured out without some sort of okay from Jason and apparently he didn’t like it. Well, would you like it if your prisoner took such liberties?

She had to remember that she was a captive, sometimes–with the banter and lightness and kisses between them--it was easy to forget.

Jason smiled at her as she stammered over her words. In her face he could see frustration building along with an attractive rosy blush. Her hair was hidden in a towel that was wrapped around her head like a turban, and she was wearing nothing but his shirt--that stopped just above her knees, leaving the long expanse of bare legs for his eyes to feast upon. She was gorgeous.

"Do you want to eat, Elizabeth?" he asked, halting the train of jumbled words that tumbled from her lips.

Her mouth formed a silent ‘o’ and for a few seconds she looked wholly mystified but then she straightened, becoming serenely composed.

"I am hungry. So yes, I would like something to eat." She recovered with diplomacy. "What are you making?"

"Chicken noodle soup," he replied.

"I didn’t know you cooked," she said, a hint of question in her tone. She took a small step forward.

"I cook from time to time," he said. But I didn’t make this soup, it came from the local market. One of the ladies in town makes it fresh and sells her soups by the jar. All I did was warm it up."

Elizabeth took a breath and exhaled with a smile. "Well, it smells good."

As did she, Jason thought. She smelled of him again but it was mixed with her own sweet scent. He couldn’t resist the urge to bring her close to him. Reaching out, he placed his hand on the small of her back. Her hand shot out in surprise and caught his shirt, her fingers curling into the fabric against his chest.

"It tastes even better than it smells," he said, leading her into the kitchen.

"I’ll be the judge of that," Elizabeth retorted.

Jason helped her onto a stool set before the breakfast bar. After she was settled, he ladled soup into two bowls and grabbed a stack of crackers from a box in the cabinet. He set the bowl down in front of her and took one of her hands in his. Her fingers were cool in his hand; a stark contrast to how warm she’d been earlier. He was glad for that small thing.

Focusing on the task before him, he led Elizabeth’s fingers to the bowl, showing her how far she was from it. When she nodded, seemingly comfortable with the two hand span distance, he placed a spoon in her hand. It was not hard to see that while she accepted his assistance she disliked needing it. Still, she took what he offered with her head held high.

"It’s a little hot," Jason said as she brought a spoonful to her mouth. He quietly watched as she blew over the spoon then took her first taste. Her expression turned from slightly wary to indulgent.

"You were right. The soup is very good." She smiled down at her bowl, contemplatively. "Who was here earlier?"

Jason placed his uneaten portion of soup behind him on the counter. "A business associate. I called in a favor to him. He came out with one of his doctors to see about you."

Elizabeth ate another spoonful. "That was nice of you ... unexpected."

A lump formed in Jason’s throat. He found it hard to speak past it. "When I found you ... I was- it was ..." Great. Now he was the one who couldn’t get their words straight.

Elizabeth put a silencing hand up. "Don’t worry about it. I know that seeing me like that couldn’t have been easy. I’m sure you thought that the secrets I’m holding would die with me." She dropped her spoon into the bowl. "Couldn’t have that," she huffed under her breath.

Her assumption was so off base it floored him. That had been the furthest thing from his mind when he found Elizabeth. His first thoughts were to get her safe for her, not for the damn secret. "Elizabeth-"

"Don’t try to explain, there is no need for it. I get it and I understand." She bit down on her bottom lip. "I mean, I’m keeping something from you and the truth about it is very important to you. I don’t blame you for-"

"I was worried about you, Elizabeth." Her eyes sprang open, deep blue pools of shock. He had shocked himself as well, but it was too late now to take it back. Time to own it. "When I found you on that floor, I was worried. It wasn’t because of the secret you’re keeping, it’s was because of you."

Elizabeth shook her head in disbelief. "Why?" There was desperation in her voice.

Jason paced away from the counter. He felt strangely unlike himself and had no clue how he could make sense of it to her when he was hard pressed to do so for himself. He stopped, resting his palms flat against the counter that separated them. He tilted his head to the side closing his eyes. "I don’t know, Elizabeth. I can’t explain it."

"But you were worried for me?"

He opened his eyes and stared at her. Her face was expectant. Like she was waiting on the cusp for his answer. "Yes." His voice was rough.

She pressed her lips together at his answer. "Not too many people worry about me, Jason. Not without having their own purposes for doing so." Tears glittered in her eyes. "Thanks for that."

"You don’t have to thank me. It was probably the one good thing I’ve done my whole life."

Her eyes brightened and she smiled. Jason inclined his head, studying her expression. It was odd, seeing emotion not only in her face but in her eyes as well. He chalked it up to the tears dancing in them.

"I doubt that," she said, closing her eyes.

"No. It’s true," he replied. His gaze dropped to her bowl, he followed the trail of steam rising from the soup back up to her face. "Are you done eating?"

"Oh ... no." Elizabeth shook her head. "I had lost my appetite, but I’ve gotten it back now."

Jason rubbed a hand over his face, scrubbing stubble. "I should probably go take a shower. Will you be alright, here until I get back?"

"Yes, go. I’ll be fine."

Jason hesitated, not sure if he was ready to leave her alone just yet. Elizabeth went back to eating, her disposition told him that she’d already dismissed his presence. Pinching the bridge of his nose, he left her to her soup.

Elizabeth listened to the fall of Jason’s boots as he left the room. With a secret smile she spooned more soup into her mouth. It felt good to know that someone felt about her enough to want her okay for no other reason than they cared.

Jason didn’t care about her, at least not in the affectionate direction her wayward thoughts were going. He had experienced a moment of humanity–that was all. And why did she care anyway? He had kidnaped her, blinded her and was now holding her captive. The last thing she should be doing was debating which way Jason Morgan cared about her. So why was she?

And why was she warming to him?

Sure, she was attracted to Jason. He was a man that was hard to resist, the air around him alluded to dangerous sensuality. But it was more than that, there was more to him than that. Another layer. Under his harsh exterior there was more. It had to be that something more that was drawing her to him, making her smiles come easier when he was around. Making her heart flutter in her chest when he admitted that he was worried about her ...

Elizabeth finished her soup. She stepped down from the barstool and felt her way back down the hallway. Right before she made it to her door she could hear Jason’s voice coming from another area of the house. She stopped, trying to listen. Even as everything inside of her screamed for her to go into the room and go to sleep, she found herself leaving her door behind and walking further down the hall.

Following Jason's voice, she came to a door where she could hear Jason very clearly. Elizabeth leaned closer to the door, trying to get a grasp on what he was talking about.

Not tonight. I can’t make it.

Something came up.

I can’t talk about that now, I’ll inform you in person.

Tomorrow afternoon at the latest.

Without warning the door jerked open, sending Elizabeth reeling forward. Jason caught and steadied her, planting one hand on her waist and the other around her arm. Embarrassment flushed her face. "I’m sorry," she offered lamely.

"How much did you hear?"

Elizabeth was surprised that he didn’t sound angry. She had been spying on him. She cleared her throat. "Just that you couldn’t make it somewhere and that something came up. Look, I’m really sorry about spying on you."

She realized that while Jason had let go of her arm, his hand was still pressed intimately against her waist. His thumb ran back and forth over her lower abdomen and she became all too aware of her state of dress. She took a cautious step back, stepping out of his oddly comforting hold.

She heard Jason heave a sigh. "That was Sonny Corinthos," he said.

"Oh," Elizabeth replied, stunned that he had actually offered an explanation.

"He wanted me back there tonight. I told him I wouldn’t be making it."

"You know, Jason, you don’t have to tell me this." And she wished he wouldn’t. He was being honest with her and she was keeping something big from him. A truth that he deserved to know but that she refused to tell.

"I know I don’t. And believe me, I don’t know why I am ... We will have to go back tomorrow," he said after a few beats.

Elizabeth was confused. They were going back to New York? "Does Sonny want me back?"

What would happen to her now?

"Elizabeth, Sonny thinks you’re dead. He thinks I completed the job."

Well, wasn’t he just full of surprises tonight? "I thought that you were acting on his orders."

"If I was acting on his orders you wouldn’t be here right now," Jason told her cooly.

Elizabeth was becoming increasingly irritated with him which was completely crazy since she was the one who was asking all the questions. Jason was simply obliging her with answers.

"Then why are you taking me back?" she asked, her voice too close to pleading for her liking. "How will you explain it to Sonny? Unless, you don’t plan on telling Sonny."

"I don’t know what I plan to do Elizabeth," he snapped. "The truth is after we return to New York anything can happen."

Elizabeth hated the uncertainness of his tone. He should at least know what was going to happen with her, the fact that he didn’t was upsetting. She took a deep calming breath. "Okay then," she said through clenched teeth. "I think I’ll go to bed now."

Jason lightly touched her arm. "I’ll walk you.

Elizabeth jerked away from his touch. "No, no. Thank you, but I can manage on my own."

Jason tossed and turned in the night never finding comfort. He wondered if Elizabeth suffered the same plight or is she was long sleep? And therein lie the reason for his lack of sleep. Elizabeth.

He didn’t know what he was going to do with her when they made it back to New York. When she had asked he had been able to offer her no real answer. He hated to see the disappointment in her face when he told her he didn’t know. As much as she hated to, she depended on him. He was not only her source of eyes but her at the moment her livelihood. It had to be hard to hear that the person responsible for her current predicament had no clue what he was going to do about it.

If he could he would just end the whole thing and set her free, tell her to take her freedom and run. She could begin a new life, away from the business. Then after a while she could contact Luke and tell him she was alive. That would be the simple conclusion to the problem. But it would never happen. Elizabeth couldn’t see, which meant she would not be able to make it on her own without some help.

He would send someone with her, a companion that could get her settled and help her become accustomed to her new life.

Who the hell was he kidding? Elizabeth would never consent to that. She would go back to Luke and seek revenge. It would be an all out war and he would be to blame since he didn’t do his job the way he should have. He had let emotions and attraction get in the way and now he was paying.

There was always the option of keeping her locked away in his basement. But that idea made him uneasy. He was no longer okay with locking her up. Crazy how just weeks ago it was an ideal situation for him, but that was before ...

Things were different now and would never be the same again.

Jason turned in the bed, looking out of his open window. The sharp chirping of crickets and croaking of frogs near the lake filtered into his room.

He focused on the outside sounds, searching for the serenity he found in Elizabeth’s face the day he saw her listening to the noise from beyond her window. The calm was slow to come but when it did, with it came a clarity on the situation.

He would have to let Elizabeth go.

Give her back to Luke and let them seek the retribution they thought deserved. It would no doubt start a war between the Spencer’s and the Corinthos Organization. But if he didn’t do it, he would forever be at war with himself.

How could he live like that? He was barely managing as it was.

Chances were that he wouldn’t be living long after he returned Elizabeth anyway. Luke would have his head on a platter, if Sonny didn’t cut if off first.

Chapters 11+

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