"What the f**k are you doing?" Gavin was standing in my doorway, staring at my nearly packed suitcase. I was tossing my bottle of shampoo in the bag when he appeared.
"Getting the hell out of here," I snapped. "No way I'm working for somebody who's that trigger happy."
"And just where do you intend to go?" Gavin glared at me.
"Just about anywhere," I said. "As long as they speak English there and don't shoot at me." I glared right back at Gavin.
"Lissa, listen to me. You can't go."
I zipped my bag closed and set it on the floor. "Why the hell not?" I asked.
"Because Winkler won't let you, that's why," Gavin said. "Do you think he didn't run a background check on you when you went to work for him? He's in the security business, Lissa. He knows your ID is fake." He now wore a slight frown and his arms were crossed over his chest while he watched the fear come over me.
"Oh, dear God." I slumped onto the bed, dropping my head in my hands. "Why did he hire me, then?" I looked up at Gavin. I was having trouble keeping the quaver out of my voice. Tears were threatening and I had no desire for Gavin to see that.
"Because you could be useful to him and he had a way to blackmail you, didn't he?" Gavin said.
"So, all he has to do if I don't obey his every whim is threaten me?"
"Or worse. Don't get me wrong, most of the time he's a reasonable man. Other times, well, you know what happened last night."
"Yeah." My back was throbbing from what happened last night. "Is Sam still alive?" I was shivering, now.
"Yes. Very much so. And still married to Whitney, it seems. Flaring tempers almost turned that whole thing into a bloodbath last night. You were the one standing in the middle of it all."
"Lucky me," I retorted. "I hope he never wants a meal cooked by me again. The ass**le."
"Lissa, he didn't shoot you. Phil did. All three times."
"Great. My least favorite ass**le." I got off the bed and paced a little, hugging myself tightly. "Prick. Jerk. Motherfucker." I wasn't sure I had enough obscenities to cover what I thought of Phil. Turning back to Gavin, I examined his face. It had become just as shuttered as it usually was. "Why are you bothering to tell me this? Why do you care?"
"Lissa, don't." Gavin turned away from me.
"So, I'm supposed to stay and pretend nothing happened? Like I wasn't shot, getting his sister back for him? Like I didn't stop Phil from murdering Sam? Because that's what happened. When Sam ran out the door, it was all I could do to jump in front of him before the bullets started flying."
"I think Sam's father is grateful," Gavin said, his back to me, still.
"Yeah? That does me a lot of good." I picked up my suitcase and flung it through the closet door. "Get out," I said. "Right now, I don't think I want to talk to anybody, including you. Does Mr. High and Mighty Winkler expect me to guard the perimeter, tonight? I'll drag myself to work if I have to. And thanks for waiting to tell me he could blackmail me any damn time he wanted. Get out!" I flung an arm out, knocking a vase of silk flowers off the chest beside the door. That must have done it for me. I threw everything I could get my hands on, smashing it against the wall. Some of it went through the sheetrock, I threw it so hard. I was weeping and cursing while things broke inside my bedroom that night.
* * *
"She's a little upset," Gavin informed Winkler. "I told her she had to stay and she started throwing things. It'll stop when she runs out of things to throw. I hope you didn't have anything important in there."
"Fuck," Winkler sighed and walked into the kitchen. "I can't let her go—fuck."
"Phil should stay as far away from her as he can get," Gavin observed dryly.
"You think I didn't tell him that already? I'd be dead if not for her. Hell, Sam or Whitney might be dead if not for her. And I still don't know how she tracked those three assassins. I can't let her go."
"Your second in command ruined this, you know. Now she hates you just as much as she hates him. You've seen how fiercely she protects someone she cares for. You may have removed yourself from that equation."
"I know. Fuck."
"When do you expect her to go back to work?"
"I don't know. What is it, Saturday?" Winkler was pacing in the kitchen.
"Yes. Saturday evening."
"Then put her back to work on Wednesday if she's up to it. If not, let me know. Do you think she'll accept payment as compensation?" Winkler looked at Gavin.
"I may be very wrong, but I don't think she'll accept anything from you right now."
"I know that, too."
Gavin let himself into the guesthouse as quietly as he could, but silence was all he heard from Lissa's bedroom until he heard the sob. And it was followed by another. "No, Lissa," Gavin whispered. "No."
* * *
Gavin slipped a note under my door, telling me that I wasn't to go back to work until Wednesday. Great. Perfect. I still wanted to run away, but Winkler could call holy hell down on me. No way could any normal person get over three gunshot wounds to the back that quickly. No way. He knew what I was. It was likely that Gavin and the others did, too. Fucking perfect. I'd made myself a hostage. Tied myself up with a ribbon and handed myself right over to them. Now there wasn't any telling what I might be asked to do. I still had one option, as painful as that might turn out to be. At least I'd be dead at the end of it and beyond their reach. And I still had to feed myself, on top of it all. It's not as if you can go to the counter in 7-Eleven and buy a pint of blood.
"Where have you been?" Gavin started in on me the minute I got back from having dinner.
"You know what I am so I don't have to mince words anymore," I snapped angrily. "I have to eat, you know."
"Lissa, there are other ways. Come here. Winkler had this brought in for you."
I didn't want to "come here", but Gavin repeated his request so I followed him into the kitchen. He opened the refrigerator door and I stared at shelves filled with bagged blood.
"Money can get you anything," I said angrily, slamming the refrigerator door so hard it rocked a little.
"Don't try to heat it, it will kill the nutrients and make you ill," Gavin said. "You have to drink it cold."
"So, just pour it in a glass and add a stalk of celery?" I asked sarcastically.
"If it makes you feel better, go ahead. And you won't upset me if I see you drinking it," he added.