| Subject: Don't read this one, it's a duplicate of Part 1. Read Part 2 in this message. |
Author:
Arlis
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Date Posted: Monday, November 21, 07:08:35am
In reply to:
KatherineG.
's message, "Chapt 217 - Part 2 (16 and above)" on Monday, November 21, 07:04:07am
She braced herself for the inevitable, forcing herself to face her fate. Hillinger even started to berate her--hopefully working into her plans, as he felt the trickle of blood which was running from the new gashes on his face. "You little bitch! How dare you . . ." He was stayed by Jamie's hand again before he reached her, making her almost hopeful--thoughts tilting sideways in her shock. The bad guys in the movies always wanted to talk forever before carrying out their deeds; her heart pounded. She could only pray that that would be true for real life, as well.
She was aided in this hope by the characters of the two men who had her trapped--one too gloating, proud, and vitriolic to believe that she could overpower him for long, the other too curious about this strange new opponent to want to see her gone quite yet. Jamie, in fact, had been wondering about her for weeks now, could never quite settle his mind. While he knew that his partner wanted to do his worst to her right now, he wasn't quite ready for that. He had questions. And this was the only chance he would ever have for answers.
Hillinger's eyes destroyed her, then, as he forced himself to wait--Jamie's curiosity served first; the gunman wasn't in the right position to take charge quite yet. He tried to remind himself of the truth. Even if she had wounded him slightly, it wasn't much; they would heal. He began to smile--a terrible sight. Besides, the few scratches he now bore on his cheek were practically a bragging point. Any man with sense wanted to gloat about breaking the ones with such inner fire.
He was certain he would get his chance, wasn't rushing--deciding to just savor her lingering fear. That was one of the best parts of any woman; he managed to straighten himself, despite the pain in his foot. There was no reason not to enjoy.
Jamie didn't hurry, either, his confidence in Madeline's plans--whatever they might be--complete. The woman was deranged, but she wasn't stupid. They should have at least another hour before Michael even realized the girl was gone.
His slow words began, then, his curiosity finally allowed to roam; it started in one of the spots which had been goading him the most. "So, you're my father's little mistake, huh?" His look bore in. "What makes you think you're good enough to succeed him?"
Despite the fateful situation, Nikita's eyes widened with surprise; she almost forgot that she was supposed to draw this out. She only hoped her words would work, not wanting to goad him into action. "I never said I was." She shrugged, her chin rising, gaze bearing in on him. "But what makes you think you are?"
The very question infuriated Jamie--mostly because it was all too insightful, was one his father had clearly asked a thousand times before; his whole face was a sneer. "You stupid bitch. I'm his son." He clearly thought that was answer enough.
Nikita didn't--or pretended not to, shrugging again, becoming slightly more comfortable with her own willful resistance to the situation. "So?" She heard his growl but went on before he could--praying this was the right way to take things. "You obviously don't think that's good enough, or you wouldn't be here now." His glare deepened, making her change tacks--needing to draw him on. "Is that why you think I'm such a threat?"
Jamie barely answered, his sneer continuing. "You're a girl."
The denial didn't work--her shrug returning. "And?"
He was growling this time, taking a step toward her. "You listen to me, bitch." His hand went to his chest, and Nikita felt her heart nearly freeze--terrified he would produce his gun; the relief she felt when he only gestured toward himself was repressed with the greatest of effort. "*I'm* going to take over for him." His look tore in. "He decided that when I was born."
She managed to keep her own look casual, shaking her head. "So?" When he seemed to grow angrier, she changed tactics again. "Why do you even want the job?"
This question made her brother pause, his lips almost flapping for a second in an effort to answer such an incomprehensible challenge. Hillinger filled in for him, his disgust evident. "Typical," he muttered. "Broads like you never understand power."
This wasn't true, unfortunately, but every lesson the actress had been given had taught her completely of how fruitless it all was. Her eyebrows raised, her head shaking--the irony clear in her look. "That's your idea of power--killing people? Selling drugs?" She had to swallow heavily, as the next thought came. "Whoring out women?" She tried very hard not to shudder, forcing herself not to consider the life which might well lie before her, if she failed. "You're really convinced that any of that makes you strong?"
This was a question neither of the men could understand--given that it was their *exact* definition of the word. Jamie spoke first, utterly stumped--asking despite himself, thoroughly unaware of the delay she was successfully causing. "What the hell's your idea of it?"
Nikita's eyes focused inside him--deeper than he was at all comfortable with--but she only shook her head, before looking away. "You wouldn't understand."
All of this left the boy in an absolutely bewildered state, his innate reaction to it aggressive; his finger jabbed at her like the gun he fortunately hadn't yet retrieved. "Now, listen here . . ."
Her head only shook again, catching his eyes, finishing up this conversation--hoping to get through to him, somehow. It was clear now how Madeline had won him over, what she had threatened him with. He believed her to be a challenge to Jones's throne. But that would never be true in this lifetime.
"I don't want it, Jamie." She shrugged, taking him off-guard with both her words and the use of his name; it wasn't like they had ever really been introduced. "*You* think that's such a great life, enjoy it." Her head shook again. "I could care less about living in such hell."
Such a summation of the life which had always been the boy's idea of heaven left him slightly speechless; he just stared at her for a few long moments, before his head dropped, his confusion finally forcing him to retreat to the far wall. He just didn't get it. Madeline had told him that this girl was a challenger for his future throne. But, seeing her now . . .
He was shaking his head, utterly stumped; he had to question her further to try to understand. "Then why did you come by to see my father?" He couldn't quite get himself to use the word "our."
Lord. She almost laughed. "Because he kidnapped me?" There was a snort. "It wasn't exactly like I had a choice." It was true of both her visits to him--even when she hadn't been the one at gunpoint.
The answer did her no good--the boy's thoughts returning to their original path. "Then he wants . . ."
She shook her head, finishing the statement. "Me to let go of Michael." The disgust showed on her face. "It's not like he exactly understands the concept of love."
Part of Jamie's mind agreed with this analysis completely--even if he had no clue that it applied to him, as well. But he still hadn't quite changed his mind. "Why would he care?" Was it just that their father saw the man as a bad companion for her future position as his heir?
Lord. She rolled her eyes, working him with the truth. "Because he's an idiot." Her look dug into him. "Nothing I do is any of his damn business."
He was left dumbfounded, couldn't begin to figure out what to say after this--felt like he was seeing her for the first time. "Then you don't . . ." He couldn't quite finish the thought, amazed, beginning to understand. This girl wasn't a threat to him--even saw his father in the same light he did; his sigh was quiet, gaze confused. But where did that leave any of them now?
Christ. Hillinger could see where this was going--and he didn't like it. If he didn't step in soon, Jamie might change his mind; his smile grew, thoughts shifting. Then again, what would it matter? He would just kill the son-of-a-bitch and take his prize. It wasn't like he had ever intended to let Jamie walk out of here alive.
He interrupted the scene anyway, just to annoy the man. "Of course she wants it." His gaze groped at her. "You need a strong man, don't you, bitch?"
He was moving a little closer to her, but she was holding her own, her disgust so clear, as her eyes raked over him. "Why, do you know any?" This only made him laugh, coming closer--forcing her more casual look to dissolve into one of pure hatred, talking to him in the only language she might hope for him to understand. "I'd rather cut off your dick than have it near me."
This won a surprising snort from her brother--who had never exactly been Hillinger's greatest fan, the men's conflicts existing on many levels. Primary among them was the fact that they had both always wanted Jones's attention, were determined to take his place. And they were both prideful, convinced that the other one was only a toadying little snot who would never have any real use in the organization. But probably the most telling difference lay simply in the competition of two men who desperately wanted to be the leader of the pack at all times--neither of them capable of the role for even a second. It made all relations between them iffy, at best. And having paired up for this night's attack hadn't settled any of these issues at all.
It was some version of all of these truths which was flowing through Jamie just then, all of them building to an inevitable--but not yet conscious--decision. After all, as the man approached his sister yet again, so many facts became clear. Here he was, in a place no one would ever admit to seeing him, with his old enemy's back toward him, his opponent--the one who was clearly setting *him* up to be killed--having no gun in sight; a smile almost broke through. Any police who might investigate would never have the balls to search for Jones's son--assuming that he left any witnesses at all. Yes, it was tempting--and temptations this good didn't come around all that often in this life.
These were some of the man's current motivations--but there was something else too, was some sort of spirit he was seeing in this girl; it had taken hold of him in a way he didn't fully understand. Even as she continued her last thought to Hillinger--her laughing, "Assuming I could find it" all dame once more--he came to sort of . . . like her; the consternation showed on his face. He really didn't understand.
It was an odd moment, all of these thoughts leading in only one direction--but he was only starting to see where that led. All he really understood was that he had no particular reason to see this girl dead; she was no threat to him or his position, was deeply unlikely to turn him in, especially to anyone who would care--and Jones might get upset, if he found out about his son's part in her death. He nearly shook his head. He didn't even have any reason to let Hillinger have her, couldn't imagine what good it would do to let her become anyone's whore but her husband's. She was a star. It could draw attention, could get messy; his hand reached slowly for the pocket inside his jacket, the gunman thoroughly distracted. And he was damn tired of being the one in all the wrong kinds of spotlight.
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