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Knight in Rusty Armour {asylum and Alan23}

"Oh yeah. It's going to be fun," he continued. Either he was such a good actor that the Screen Actors Guild were going to have to totally rewrite their admission standards, or he was that rare being, someone genuinely unafraid of the rich and powerful. he "forked" up a mess of food with his chopsticks, thrust it into his mouth, and swallowed. "Couldn't help noticing that your dad had that enviable air about him, the sort that means its bearer is used to being obeyed unquestioningly and obediently. Like the British Raj in India, y'know, or a ship's captain in the navy, or the top dog in a street gang. Like they don't even have to assert themselves, that to even have to make it obvious they're trying is a failure."

He grinned, digging in the container of saffron rice.

"The problem for such people comes when they meet someone who won't play by the rules. Look, have you ever actually sat in your dad's office?"

He chewed a bit, and continued.

The chair facing his desk has been carefully altered. The front legs have been shortened just a few millimetres. You wouldn't notice the slope with the naked eye. But anyone who sits in it is automatically looking down, adopting a position of subservience. And the window's behind the desk, and always kept open during interviews so the guest is dazzled. Psychological warfare, see? He's got the upper hand before the conversation even opens. And of course, those pics of him in macho poses that he's got mounted on the wall, holding up massive fish he's caught, and in boxing gear. very clever man, your dad. Sends a message the best way possible - without even havingt o say anything.

"So, when we discussed my fee, I had to play a little trick. Pretended to be suffering a temporary wound... I think it was in my leg or something, I can't recall," (He recalled the exact nature and history of the wholly imaginary wound) "And pleaded I couldn't get up easily, so would he mind fetching me a glass of water from his drinks cabinet? And, ohm, better not call a menial in to do it... see, we're discussing his daughter's case, and, well, discretion and all that... course, the poor man had to comply or look a total heel. So off he went to the cabinet.

"Gotta give him credit, his jaw didn't even drop when he turned back and fund me sitting in his chair. If he's said anything, I'd have given him some line about I had to check the office for bugs, but he just smiled. He knew a guy after his own heart, you see. In fact, I have a feeling he'd been interviewing a few candidates for the job of rescuing you... and that's how I got the nod. Which wouldn't have done him much good, I'd already decided I didn't want to work for the arrogant wanker anyway...

"Then he showed me your photograph. Well, like, after that... seeing a girl as beautiful as you... well, I wasn't going to cry off, was I? I'd never have forgiven myself. Oh, did you try this by the way? It's a kind of deep fried squid in lemon sauce. Very tangy."
 
"My father....means well."

-she started, in defense of the man, when it came to him wanting things the way he wanted them. Of course she'd been told that nearly from infancy. He'd been that way when her mother had been alive. She didn't so much notice that he'd gotten worse after the elder woman was gone as she had just gone with the flow, in the middle of her own mourning.

Her head shook lightly, sending a lock of hair tumbling forward again-

"No, that's where he does his work. I wasn't allowed in there."

-but she listened quietly as he described the room. While she'd never physically been in the room, she'd caught a glimpse or two, briefly. She'd seen the pictures, she knew at least some of what he was talking about. She'd never thought about it or considered in the way he'd described it. She would have never thought about it, to her, he was just her father. Proud of his accomplishments and taking care of business, keeping family separate.

Her brow furrowed softly, she was hearing things she was clueless to about her father, as well as hearing things she did in fact know. Her father however could be ruthless, she knew that well enough as well.-

"He's not fond of...competition. He may not be happy to see you when you take me back...."

-the worry was clear in her eyes. Her father, she knew was indeed a ruthless business man, he did everything in his power to elimate any sort of threat to his high standing. Her eyes darted back and forth over his features. He seemed unfettered by the fact that he may be facing danger from her father. Though, he was generally putting himself into it, she still worried even if she thought he could handle his own.

She glanced briefly down at the squid dish he spoke of but her attention shifted back up to him, fingers brushed against the back of his hand, her palm coming to rest against his wrist-

"If....if you aren't accepting the money...."

-she paused, trying to form the words in her head before she spoke them-

"Maybe it's best if you don't...accompany me home. You can...I don't know...drop me off close. I'll walk."

-from their initial conversation as it were, he'd know that wasn't her favorite thing to do. In this instance, she would though...because as it was written on her worried features, she'd rather not see him hurt...oddly enough.-
 
"Nah, that won't fly," he chuckled. "See, the fact I'm not taking a fee doesn't really change much. I still contracted to do a job, get you our of the clutches of those thugs and get you safely home, and your dad - quite rightly - would have a right to spit shit if I didn't do that. After all, he's prepared to pay up, it wasn't his idea for me to work for nothing, was it?"

He scooped out the last of the fried squid in plum sauce. He knew exactly why she'd said what she had. That her father was known to use hired muscle on those who displeased him. He was touched by her concern, though he wouldn't reveal as much. He'd been hunted by hired goons before, more times than he could count. Between his ability to hide, and his ferocity when cornered, he knew that whoever took on the job of acting as his chastiser would earn their fee in spades.

"I guess it's like this, pretty Savvy. When I walk into that office of his and hand you over, at that second my obligation ends. At that point I no longer work for him. Then I'm free to... well, let's say act on my own behalf." He thought for a moment. "Now, if that means letting off a smoke bomb and carrying you out of there again as my own kidnap victim, well and good, but that's a bit... well, melodramatic, ne? Much better to just link arms with you, tell him I've fallen for you like crazy and I'm taking you to dinner while we discuss it and we walk out of there calmly and unmolested. Sure, he'll goggle and his eyes are going to pop but I don't think he'll push the bell under his desk and call those standover guys he keeps on the payroll."

He grinned.

"Oh yeah, I know about Honey and Vince. Honey, Big Afro-American, all of thirty stone, wears studded wrist bands and a chain round his neck, and Vince, a London boy like myself, muscles harder than steel and can bench press twice his own weight. I've worked with both of them, and we go back a long way. Frankly, they're more likely to take my orders than his. Especially since the both of them have a high regard for you, and dislike the way your dad treats you. He calls them they're likely to 'accidentally' get delayed, or find some excuse not to mash me to a pulp."

He sat back, and polished off the last of the rice.

"But that's a worst case scenario. Far better I feel, to simply report that the enemy - those that took you in the first place - know where we're headed and have made it necessary to take the long way home. Of course..."

He grinned.

"This all presupposes that you want to do things this way. If you still find my company as boorish and arrogant as you did when we first met, I'll happily revery to plan 1 and take you home right now."
 
"No."

-she replied softly, it wasn't her fathers idea after all. She couldn't argue that but it didn't diminish the worry that had settled inside.

She set her fingers working with the chop sticks and it took her a couple of tries before she could grab anything really but she did, a little bit at any rate. Her lips curled softly in accomplishment before her eyes drew upward again, sliding the small touch of food between her lips. The curl remained, the softest of pink crept against the apples of her cheeks when he addressed her, not just as "Savvy" but pretty as well.

The soft pink however, rather quickly in fact turned to a near five alarm fire red color as the words continued to leave his lips. The blush became most prominent when he spoke of linking arms with her and telling her father that he'd fallen like crazy for her. In fact, the breath seemed to catch in her throat, it was a good thing she'd already swallowed the bite of food she'd taken or she likely would have ended up chocking on it.

She seemed to have turned to stone, not in a cold way, simply....she was still and staring at him. One could only guess if it was in awe or as if he had suddenly grown a third eye but her gaze met his without much more waver than a blink or three as he continued and she fought to concentrate on his words, her ears hearing the words, though it took a moment longer for it to sink into brain.

There was a long pause after he fell silent, she simply sat, quiet. As if she were contemplating his proposition. In reality, she was internally working up the nerve to follow through with her answer, that was action rather than words.

Leaning forward as she lifted slightly onto her knees, she gently grabbed his face as she pressed a nerve rattling kiss against his lips, shaking fingers holding against his jaw lightly and a blush that certainly rivaled any of the others. The answer was quite simple in that one action.-
 
The floodgates of her emotions had obviously well and truly opened, and for a few seconds he simply relaxed, letting the waves of her emotion wash over him. He had expected more hesitancy, less commitment, and he saw now that her response was simply one she had been saving up for many years... saving against the day when some man, any man, would express such feelings for her. That she had needed to hold it back so long he counted a tragedy beyond measure.

With any other woman of her age... hell, with most other women he'd encountered... his next action would have been simple, unrehearsed and obvious. She would have been on her back, her legs kicking half empty containers of Chinese food everywhere, her dress... which was revealing enough as it was, with its propensity to creep up along her thighs... up somewhere just below her breasts. The body of a mature woman who had just accepted his adoration would have been his playground.

But... but this was Savannah.

Legally, he knew, the action his mind and libido contemplated were unremarkable enough, She was a fully grown woman. The problem was, that despite her calendar age, in many senses she was still a helpless child. A virgin, both physically and mentally, one with so little experience of the world, it was almost like taking advantage, almost a mind-rape.

Therefore, though his inner mind was cursing him, he held back, returning her kiss with enough promise to make his desire obvious, stroking her hair tenderly, yet not following through, running his hands along her face cheeks instead of her breasts, kissing her lips instead of the parts of her body he longed to kiss, drawing her to him in a way that made it plain she need go only as far as she wished. He could take her now, he knew, and however she might regret it, whatever the level of her tears, afterwards or the next day, the deed would be done, and he'd have yet another notch for a bedpost already crisscrossed with them.

But this was Savannah.

So, he held, holding her close, protectively and lovingly, leaving the next move open to her.
 
-the kiss was tentative, tentative but genuine. She was shaking ever so slight, terrified of the course she'd taken but she knew she couldn't take it back.

She'd taken that step and he hadn't pulled away from it, that almost terrified her just as much but combating the fear she felt, was an exhilaration as well. She'd stepped out of her comfort zone. She'd defied her father, she was going to take further steps to take control of her own being.

She could feel her belly tightening and he'd feel her begin to shift against him. A scared, yet almost sensual, shift in his arms. He'd also feel a slight pulling away, she was scared, as any one in her pure position would be, slightly afraid of what may come of the action she'd set in motion but there was a hesitancy in the pullinig away as well, she didn't want to despite her fear.

She found herself quite comfortable pulled against him, feeling safe...and wanted. By someone other than who her father thought she should be with.

This mix of emotions frightened her almost as much as anything else but there was also the need to see it through, to want it, to...understand it since she'd never experienced it before.

What she knew however eventually claimed the battleground inside of her and made itself quite present. She pulled away, only her lips from his. Her head dipped, staring at her lap. Her lashes bat softly and he'd clearly feel, if not see, the warmth creep along her flesh.-

"Sorry..."

-she whispered softly, bashfully-
 
Her retreat had disappointed him, yet not taken him at all by surprise. The signs of lust in a woman were familiar to him, yet so were those of fear. He had expected it, even, in a way,planned for it.

Yet (and the humour of this struck his sense of the ridiculous) her replacing of her obvious need by coyness had produced a difficult situation in regards to etiquette. For a virgin of sixteen to draw back from the very gates of lust was an acceptable move, and she could do so without shame. A woman of Savannah's age, for all that she was, in a sense, that same sixteen year old girl, was a different matter entirely. He would respect her decision, yet how might he convey that without seeming patronising, without lampshading her obvious sexual backwardness?

It did not help that, just for a second, he lost control, allowing the look of thwarted disappointment he'd been trying not to show to flicker across his lean features. A tiny hint of exasperation and impatience, a cluster of body language that conveyed "what the fuck" as clear as day before he controlled it. This state held for less than a second before he was able to bring it under control, compose his features into one of sympathy. But would such sympathy embarrass her even more than anger would have done under the circumstances.

"You're right," he replied, backing away, making it obvious he would not touch her. "I... I shouldn't have done that. The... circumstances aren't an excuse."

He turned his back upon her, stared at the wall, got his emotions fully under control.

"I apologise for what I said," he continued. "Ridiculous idea. It could never work." he shrugged. "You could throw your sunglasses out of a car window and be guaranteed to hit a more suitable... consort than me. I'll take you back to your father at first light tomorrow, hand you over, and walk away. Thanks for having the sense to stop things before they went too far... it could only have been a disaster, couldn't it?"

He sat on the floor, still facing the wall, with a cigar he had taken from the pack on the bedside table, puffing it angrily, sending up clouds of white smoke, keeping his voice light and unconcerned.

"We'll stick to plan A, yeah?"
 
-the tension of disappointment would have been noted regardless of whether he'd shown it or not. She'd felt it before, from her father and it was as thick radiating from him as she remembered from her father. Her lips puckered inward, her hands fidgeted but she still hadn't moved from being so close to him...at least not until he'd moved, backing away.

She blinked, rapidly. A slightly confused look fell over her blushing features. Her attention shifting to him as he turned his back to her. He might hear the sharp intake of breath as it hitched softly in her throat, nostrils flaring softly and again those lashes batting in a blink as she stared, completely and utterly confused at his back.-

"I..."

-she repeated that single letter twice more before she fell silent, her hands knotting at her stomach, her eyes dropped away from him. She'd kissed him, he hadn't done anything to her, she'd started it and she'd done so despite being terrified to do so at first. It had been her answer to his plan and now...she wondered what she'd done wrong, if perhaps she shouldn't have hoped and worked herself up to her actions.-

"No. Yes. Maybe...."

-her words were little more than a whisper but one thing was certainly clear even in the barely notable tone. Defeat. For in his words and tone, she heard a certainty. He was taking her back to her father tomorrow. She felt her stomach lurch softly. Thinking she'd done something wrong caused her to steer just out of reach of him, despite wanting to reach out and touch him...instead she made a beeline for the only room she could escape to. The bathroom. Of course she could slip out the door as well but she feared that more than she did him or anything that she might have done wrong, she was upset with herself but she wasn't suicidal. A final word slipped from her lips before the door closed behind her.-

"Ok."

-though she sounded less than thrilled about it, she thought she'd made it quite clear she didn't want to go back to that prison. She figured that was exactly what he wanted though, it was his job after all, right? She'd already tried to take a step away from what she was used to and somewhere it had gone wrong, she'd tried to take that step forward and had tripped over her own pretty little shoes...just as her father had always warned her that she would.

Flustered and upset, angry with herself, she tugged sharply at the skirt but the second she sat on the toilet lid, she shot back up. It was cold on her blushed, warm thighs. The side of the tub was no better an option and instead she opted to lean back against the counter, struggling to work the heels she had on from her feet, trying to keep her fingers from shaking so that she could. More importantly trying to keep the room and everything else from wavering behind the tears that threatened to fall. She didn't even realize that she hadn't locked the door behind her, she wasn't taking a shower or using the restroom, so it hadn't even crossed her mind to flip the little knob.-
 
Though Rak had made a show of staring at the wall, he had used his excellently trained peripheral vision to watch Savannah carefully when she reacted. Had she made for the door of the room, he knew he could react instantly, cover the ground and restrain her easily. Nonetheless, he heaved a sigh of relief when, instead, she made for that traditional sanctum of upset women everywhere throughout recorded history - the bathroom. A word, incidentally, that in American usage had always amused him, for people very rarely went into them to take a bath!

He sat, for ten minutes or so, finishing his cigar and making no further movement. Apart from anything else, there was always the possibility that she had gone in there simply to attend to her bodily functions, though he heard no sounds to suggest this, nor that of the closet flushing. He noted, almost with a feeling of pride, that she hadn't burst into tears, suggesting that deep inside she still possessed a certain amount of pride.

When he felt enough time had elapsed, he stood up, noting with wry amusement that the erection he'd been sporting since she'd started kissing him had done nothing in the way of subsiding. He walked steadily and softly over to the door, stood outside it, and waited a few moments.

"So here's the way of it, Savvy," he said, softly. "I know damn well the door isn't locked, 'cos I'd have heard it spring. And even if you did lock it, I could pick it in about half a minute, tops. But given you're an adult woman, I'm guessing it's more respectful to give you the chance to come out and talk to me, rather than walk in there and carry you out." He did not state he'd be prepared to adopt plan B if necessary - sheltered a life as she may have led, he did not think she was quite that naive.
 
-She'd stood and turned to face the mirror, fingers wiping softly at the wet flesh beneath her eyes and then again to draw the tears from her lashes. While he'd heard no wailing from the small room as he'd sat staring at the wall that connected the two, the flow had not been staunched. Through the door now, he might hear the soft intake of breath, a sniffle as she straightened. There was no answer from the other side otherwise and the silence seemed to stretch on. To the point it would almost force him to implement plan B in fact.

Before he could however, he'd hear the knob turn. The door swinging open to reveal her standing now on bare feet, the heels discarded behind her between the counter and the toilet, though the lack of shoes did little to detract from the climb of her legs into the depths of the skirt she wore. Her gaze did not meet his however, instead she focused on a point about his mid-chest.

Her chest rose and fell slowly as she drew in a slow and long deep breath, as if preparing herself for whatever was to come.-

"I'd rather my father not see me being carried home, thank you."

-she said softly, trying to sound cold and detached from what she was feeling. Despite the square of her shoulders, the ridged set of her spine, the red and puff of her eyes, that still would not meet his, gave away just how she was taking all of this. Another deep breath lifted the soft mounds of flesh to tease at the edge of the dresses top. Her eyes flickered past Rak and finally she moved, aiming to try to squeeze past him and into the room beyond. Her fidgeting hands denoted that she needed to keep herself busy, so she wouldn't focus so much on him and what she had a feeling they were to be talking about. She had it in her mind to start packing whatever they had in the room, so that they would be ready to go first thing in the morning.-

"I'll start putting everything together, I'm assuming you need to discuss how things are going to go in the morning?"

-again her words were soft, though in part she sounded just like her father might have in that office while he and Rak had discussed her saving. There was still a hint of defeat in her tone, no matter how hard she tried to keep it hidden.-
 
"Not a lot to discuss," he replied, leaning against the door jamb. "This should be an easy enough handover, I'd say. No complications."

As soon as he'd said it in those words, he regretted it. "Handover." As if she were a commodity, a package of drugs or a shipment. Not a living, breathing girl. Woman, he corrected himself, for all her lack of worldly experience, and sheltered life.

"Don't worry, I'll make sure everything's conducted with as much regard for your dignity as I can manage," he continued, then realised how formal this sounded. No wonder, he admonished himself, she's so scared. All her life she's been talked down to, treated like a child. And child, she certainly wasn't. Had she come to him for advice, he mused, it would have been easy enough to help her. He would have taught her how to stand up for herself, defy her father and anyone else who might belittle her. But that was not his role. Her father was his boss, not her.

Although...

A sudden thought struck him. One daring in its originality and unorthodoxy. One that would, as a by-product, severely damage his reputation for doing what he did (which he cared about a small amount only) and which might cause all sorts of excitement in his own life (which he relished.)

"Savvy?" he asked. "Erm, Savannah." Better give her the dignity of her correct name, for what he was about to suggest. An idea that had not even taken full form in his own mind, never mind his knowing the right words in which to frame it. "Would you be interested in hearing a rather strange idea I had?"

He chuckled.

"Has it struck you that if I were working for you - and not your father - then everything I did would have to be that which put your best interests as heart? And... well, your father's wants and yours might not necessarily coincide in all things. See, I... I already told you I'm not taking a fee from him, so I could walk out of this situation pretty much whenever I liked. I could call him now and say "I quit" and they'd be little he could do about it. Now, naturally, I'd wait until he could send some of his own staff to escort you home, rather than leave you unprotected, but I'd gladly do that... if that was what you wanted.

"But... just hypothetically... if you, and not he were my boss... I'd have to do whatever you said, wouldn't I? If you said to get you out of here, past those goons who are trying to recapture you, to some place where neither they nor your father could reach you... well, that'd be my job. And I hope you've noticed... I'm kind of GOOD at my job."

"Just something to think about, is all," he finished. "Your call... if you still want to stick to plan A, that's fine."

He turned away, looking out at the room outside the bathroom. He saw she'd been crying, and though she obviously knew he knew, there was no point in humiliating her further by making it too obvious.
 
-if her shoulders could have gone any more ridged, they did in that moment that he spoke. His words simply confirming that he was all business and that's all she was and had been to him.

Her bottom lip sucked between her teeth and she bit down softly, trying desperately to keep the hurt, the rejection from her features and movements. Her back to him, she thought she had it covered. Though her movements were a little quicker and harder than she realized and then it just stopped, she stood, staring into the suitcase that sat on the end of one of the beds.

A small smile struggled to curl the corners of her lips when he called her Savvy but it was short lived as he changed it and called her by her full name. The shirt she held in her hand was tossed almost angrily into the suitcase before she turned to face him finally, hands on her hips.-

"You know what I'd be interested in hearing? "Savvy" not Savannah. Everyone calls me Savannah."

-her tone would imply that...he was not everyone....she did not consider him part of that category, why, because for the most part he truly hadn't treated her like everyone else usually did. Her words almost over shadowed those that he spoke further on. She was listening, it wasn't something she had considered but with reason, several really, the main one being that she was used to being told how things were going to go, not how she wanted them, but another obsticle lay in the way as she saw it-

"When I was taken, father froze all of my monetary accounts. So that I couldn't be led into getting out any money to give away, when he didn't plan on giving in to demands either. So, I have no money to give you, to pay you for your.....job."

-she drew in a breath, her hands dropping from her hips, spread out as if admitting defeat. Palms slapped lightly against her thighs and she turned back to the suitcase, picking up the shirt she'd dropped and started fidgeting with it, to fold it and lay it back inside neatly-

"But I don't want to go home either."

-she said softly, her back once again facing him.-

"I don't want to burden you if I can't pay you."

-she continued, leaning forward as she set the shirt into the case. Really, she was just fidgeting. Shifting everything around as if she were unpleased with how things were positioned. Clearly she didn't much care for plan A and despite him offering another option, she didn't want to get her hopes up again either.-
 
"Hmm, that's a shame." He deliberately kept his reply ambiguous, one of the verbal tricks he so delighted in playing. Sometimes, she was just so un-streetwise, he couldn't resist yanking her chain. "It's a pity, but if that's truly the truth of it, then there's not much more to be said, is there?" He smiled, wickedly and mischievously. "Like I say, it's a shame... 'Savannah' is such a beautiful, romantic name and I was starting to like it... but if you insist on 'Savvy' well, so be it.

"Now, as to my fee." He picked a piece of the yellowed hotel notepaper and scrawled on it with a pen. "Here's a quote. There might be expenses, of course, you can never keep these quotes exactly right.

He handed her the folded sheet.

"OK, now," he smiled. "Go back into the bathroom, study those terms, and let me have your decision. me, I'm going to nip out onto this balcony and smoke another quick cigar, while you think about it."

He turned, lit the cigar, and walked slowly from the room as if the situation no longer concerned him.

(What was written on the paper)

Quote: For escort services, to a place of safety, and thereafter as agreed by both parties. Agreed this day between Ms Savannah Moreaux, hereafter known as 'The lovely Savvy' and Rak Davidson, hereafter known as 'someone who thinks she's kind of cute.'

Fee: The lovely Savvy to

(a) Kiss Rak once per day
(b) Keep looking beautiful

There were two dotted lines below it. On of them already bore his signature.)
 
-there was just a quick nod of her head to signify that she did indeed insist. Her hands swept across some of the clothes in an attempt to smooth them into one even layer when in truth it didn't do a damn thing but mess them up a little more as her hands were shaking softly.

She drew in a breath when she heard him start to discuss a fee. Her brows furrowing as she stood and turned to face him once more. A fee. Of which she had no money to pay for, so her gaze was one of disbelief and curiosity. Disbelief because she idly wondered if he'd heard her about not being able to get to any of her money to pay him with.

With tentative fingers, she grasped the small fold of paper. A single shake of it at him, she asked-

"You did hear me, right? I have no money to pay yo....."

-the words fell off in a sigh as he disappeared to the balcony and she did the only thing she knew to do. What she was told. She started toward the bathroom, no glance over her shoulder to know whether he was watching her or not. Instead she was unfolding and reading the paper as she moved, shuffled honestly, toward what had become her sanctuary within a sanctuary.

The further she read, the slower still her steps became until she finally just halted, not even having reached the bathroom door yet. Her head lowered as she re-read the words on the page and a third time, just to be sure she'd read right.

Her lips pursed softly, the words wavered a little. This time behind a thin sheen of moisture. The corners of her lips curling softly upward. A breath drawn in brought a soft sniffle, this one sounding wildly different than the last he'd heard moments ago. A rosy color began to creep along her cheeks again as they rounded higher as her eyes traced over his signature. The signature signified that he was committed to it. If she'd learned nothing else from her father, she knew that well enough, signatures were binding in most, if not all, situations, no matter what they be.

She turned, fingers fidgeting again softly with the paper between them. A moments pause before she moved back to where she'd come from and the pen he'd left on the dresser. Setting the paper on the flat surface, she used the pen to scrawl her own name beneath his. She stared at it for a moment, wondering over the fact that she'd just defied her father again. Teeth captured her bottom lip, a shaking breath drawing in behind the action. This time, he would find out for sure that she had and that set her mind a-worry again but it was already done. She dropped the pen atop the paper and started toward the bathroom again before she could scribble her name out.

The door did not close behind her this time but the sound of water would trickle into the room beyond as she set to washing the dried tears from her face, the skin feeling a bit gritty and stiff from those that had fallen earlier.-
 
Rak had already opened Savannah's father's special number - the one reserved just for contact between the two of them - and keyed in the special cypher that encrypted any communication between them. The message that followed had also been composed by him, while he'd smoked his second cigar. If Savannah had decided against his offer, he'd planned to wipe it, but he wasn't expecting her to.

He could hear her washing her face. He even heard the scribble on the paper. She could, of course, have been writing "not in a billion years" or some such variation, but, again, he strongly doubted it.

He leaned against the edge of the balcony, carefully checking the street. If he spotted anyone spying them out, it would almost certainly be the organisation that had first kidnapped Savannah - even her father wasn't efficient enough to react before he'd sent the message. That he could see no-one reassured him only slightly. It might mean there was no-one - or, alternately, that whoever was there was so good even he couldn't pick them.

Well, whatever the situation was, it was too late to do much about it now. Instead of being able to call upon his employer (former employer, he corrected himself) for assistance, he'd now have an enemy of both parties. One of the most powerful criminal organisations in the whole country, and one of the richest men with his own far-reaching tentacles of muscle. It didn't seem fair... but that was their problem, he guessed.

If only, he mused, he'd known this was going to happen. He'd have made some plans...

After giving Savannah enough time to compose herself, get her tears washed away, the worst of the creases shaken out of her dress... he went to stand by the washroom door again.

"Well, pretty one, have you decided?" he asked.
 
-folding the small towel neatly, she placed it over the ring again after she'd patted her face and hands dry. A quick straightening of her hair as much as she could, her fingers sufficing for the moment and then the straightening of her skirt.

She peered sideways at him, seeing him both from the corner of her eye and in the mirror as well as he leaned against the doorframe. She let her hands sweep down her sides and hips, idly still trying to work out any remaining wrinkles in the skirt, imaginary or otherwise, as she answered-

"Your answer is on the dresser."

-she replied softly, letting her eyes wander back to her own reflection. She hadn't really, truly looked at herself since he'd brought her here. Her brows furrowed softly as she watched the darkened flesh beneath her eyes shift with her expression. The paler nature of her skin from being kept in the dark for the time she'd been held captive was doing her no favors either. She was going to be tanning come Hell or high water as soon as he got them to a place where she could safely do so.-
 
He picked up the sheet of yellowed paper, and kept his expression deliberately neutral as he read her signature. Without showing any reaction, he pocketed the contract. There was no way he was going to show the relief he felt. With no further preamble, he pushed the key that sent the message to her father.

The die was now cast.

"OK, time to move," he said, calmly. "You need to be packed by the time I get back. Same signal as before, and don;t open to anyone else... at all."

Ignoring any questions she may have had, he hurried from the room.

About ten minutes later, he returned, and gave the agreed signal. Entering, he gave her a massive grin.

"Your father gave me that phone especially for this assignment," he told her. "I'd be pretty amazed if he didn't have it bugged. Well, I would have done if it had been me, I... erm... decided I was better off without it. So I wiped everything, then stood on the rail bridge a few minutes walk away and contemplated how much I'd miss it. Sorry I took so long... I had to stand contemplating for a while, until that fast freight train came by. Then I must have been so upset, I kind of dropped it... and unfortunately that train doesn't stop until it reaches... well, somewhere a good two hours journey away. It's my guess your dad's already sent his goons off after it... so I suggest we move in the other direction."

He smiled.

"Oh, he'd bugged the car, as well. Suspicious type, ain't he? Had to stop and get that little device on the way... that's gone for a train ride, too. Well, ready to move, pretty one?"
 
-she indeed started to ask a question but he was gone before she could. She stood for a moment, watching the door. Chewing on her bottom lip.

She drew in a deep breath and turned to retrieve the suitcases they'd brought in. There wasn't a ton to pack away. A few things of clothes and what was left of the food. She packed it up and went into the bathroom to grab the shoes she'd left in there.

When he came back, she was sitting on the end of the other bed, sliding the last shoe on and buckling it.

She listened, folding her hands into her lap when she was finished, turning her attention solely onto him as he finished speaking. She nodded and stood, smoothing her hands over her skirt. Truthfully, all the bugging sounded a little foreign to her but she got the gist of it and frankly it didn't surprise her that her father would have gone so far.

She asked only one question as she grabbed a suitcase from the end of the bed.-

"Where are we going?"

-she asked curiously-
 
"Where are we going?" he repeated, then grinned. "Oh, there and back, just to see how far it is."

As they left the hotel and walked through the streets to the car, he kept his arm around her, as if they were lovers. He gave no indication, however, as to whether this was because he wanted to protect her if they should be ambushed, or if it were affection. The whole time, he had kept up a bright chatter, but absolutely none of it had related to their situation. He had talked of his favourite kind of music, concerts he'd seen (he seemed to attend everything form rap performances to symphonic concerts,) movies and art. If they passed anyone in the opposite direction his hand strayed to his pocket, as if he carried some kind of weapon, though they were not challenged and he did not reveal it.

Anyone passing them would have assumed they were simply a pair of lovers returning home after a night out.

Once they reached the car, he made her stand while he carefully rechecked it with a tiny device he'd taken from the pocket of his jeans, then opened the door and waved her in. He got in, started the car, and began waving through the streets, backtracking often and taking such a rounabout route that even a native of the city would soon have ended up hopelessly lost.

"We can speak freely, now, lovely one," he said, calmly. "Now, as your employee I'm bound to go wherever you say, but that doesn't stop me offering advice. Which is, the logical thing for us to do right now would be to head South, get over the Rio Grande and start sightseeing haciendas and beanfields. Which means, in turn, oh sweet Savvy, that that's the very absolute LAST thing I'd recommend we do. So, unless you insist differently, we'll head due North. Canada might be a bit cold this time of year, but I have a few contacts there, and though their customs are harder to bribe than the Mexican ones, I know a few places where we can get in without having to bother with passports and stuff."

He reached across, touched her hand. "It's OK, Savvy... I'm making it sound a lot scarier than it really is. I've slipped clandestinelym across more borders than you've - " he stopped. He'd been going to say "kissed guys" but, knowing her, that might not, he felt, be much of a recommendation. "Than you've changed your lipstick," he substituted.
 
-she nodded as he repeated the question, she wanted to know. Her brows furrowed briefly at his answer, she didn't quite understand but he swept her out of the door and the hotel before she could really question it.

She knew or at least got the hint not to ask any questions of the sort in public. She let the suitcase roll to the side and behind her, resting comfortably against him as he held onto her. Eventually, as she listened to him chattering, her own arm slid around behind the small of his back, only adding to the image of them simply taking a stroll.

At the car, she stood near the trunk, waiting for him to finish his check. She tossed the suitcase into the trunk when he opened it and then slid into the seat when he opened the passenger side door, her gaze turning to look up at him as he closed the door, offering a soft, though uncertain, smile before the door closed and she situated, pulling her skirt down and running her hands against it a moment before she pulled the seatbelt over her frame.

During the first part of the drive, she watched quietly out the windows, though after a while she began to feel out of sorts, not quite dizzy as they weren't going round and round in circles, just out of sorts, as if she'd been in the confines of the car for too long already. She dropped her attention to her lap, looking at the pattern near the hem of the skirt that just didn't seem to want to stay down where she'd put it.

When he spoke she finally looked up, her lips parting as she was going to ask the question that had been on her mind earlier. However, he beat her to the punch as he spoke again, her lips falling closed. Her eyes watched him, wide, curious and a bit frightened, questioning just what she'd done. What she'd agreed to, what she'd set in motion.

Her nose flared softly as she drew in a deep breath and nodded, her tongue gliding over her lips to wet them.-

"No, I'm not going to insist differently. You know more about that than I do, so I trust you."

-she nodded softly, her eyes dropping to his hand on hers. A smile formed, rounding her cheeks, cheeks that held a soft warmth to them giving them the natural blush color. The quiet smile turned into a soft laugh and she glanced back up at him.-

"You've clearly never seem my lipstick collection."

-she probably had as many colors and brands to select from as she had perfume bottles lining her vanity at home...or rather she did.-
 
"No, there's a lot of things I plan to learn about you," he replied, finally filtering the car onto a main arterial road at long last. He might have said more, but deliberately let that teaser hang on the air, though he did glance slightly with his peripheral vision to see her reaction. He reached across, brushed a small fringe of hair that had fallen forward onto her forehead, pushing it back into place. "Ideally, I'd take a cutter to that hair of yours, disguise you, but it's be a shame to do that. And anyway, a woman as beautiful as you is going to be hard to keep nondescript." he said it casually, knowing the effect it would have this way was stronger than if he'd made a feature of it. He was trying to keep her spirits up.

He accelerated, skilfully cutting in and out of traffic, somehow seeming to outdistance other cars even though he did not exceed the speed limit once. "My pardon for not asking you to drive, by the way. It wasn't the traditional male thing about the guy always drives... just that, well, if you're my boss, it seems more fitting." In fact, having seen the struggle she was having to keep the hem of her dress in what she considered a position of decency, he'd been trying to spare her feelings. It would have hiked up even more if she'd been working pedals and had to keep hands on the wheel. No matter how often she pulled it down it immediately seemed to ride up again. "But next time you do your make up, we might experiment a bit, try to make you look different, maybe style the hair a bit different, too."

After a few seconds he spoke again.

"Well, we have a long drive. Why not tell me something about yourself?"
 
-she chuckled softly, the collection was quite large, the sound however was weak, sad. It was back at home, with her father. Which meant she'd never see it again nor would he. It was the rest of what he said however that caused the natural blush of her cheeks to intensify. The rounded apples pinkening warmly, even as she hadn't looked at him yet.

Her fingers fidgeting once again with the hem of her skirt. Her head tilted slightly toward him after the brush of his fingers swept feathery tendrils of caramel colored locks from her eyes, sending still more tendrils tumbling over her forehead instead. She offered him a soft smile. The blush getting deeper and crawling slowly lower than just her cheeks.

One hand lightly held the hem of her skirt, the other rose and scratched softly just beneath her shoulder bone.-

"It's ok. I failed my "escape route" driving test anyways."

-she quipped jokingly. She did actually know how to drive, surprisingly perhaps but it had only been because she'd bugged her father until he'd given her lessons. Few but lessons none-the-less. Daddy had always grumped about it, asking why she wanted to know, why she needed to know how to drive if she always had someone to drive her around for her instead. Those next words drew her head to the side, brow lifted curiously. She wasn't sure what to say, no more than she was certain of how she felt about the whole make up and hair thing.

She answered his final question instead, with one of her own.-

"We've already been through all that, not much to tell, remember? What about you though?"

-there really wasn't alot to know about her, nothing....exciting anyways, not with being under her fathers thumb.-
 
asylum said:
-she chuckled softly, the collection was quite large, the sound however was weak, sad. It was back at home, with her father. Which meant she'd never see it again nor would he. It was the rest of what he said however that caused the natural blush of her cheeks to intensify. The rounded apples pinkening warmly, even as she hadn't looked at him yet.

Her fingers fidgeting once again with the hem of her skirt. Her head tilted slightly toward him after the brush of his fingers swept feathery tendrils of caramel colored locks from her eyes, sending still more tendrils tumbling over her forehead instead. She offered him a soft smile. The blush getting deeper and crawling slowly lower than just her cheeks.

One hand lightly held the hem of her skirt, the other rose and scratched softly just beneath her shoulder bone.-

"It's ok. I failed my "escape route" driving test anyways."

-she quipped jokingly. She did actually know how to drive, surprisingly perhaps but it had only been because she'd bugged her father until he'd given her lessons. Few but lessons none-the-less. Daddy had always grumped about it, asking why she wanted to know, why she needed to know how to drive if she always had someone to drive her around for her instead. Those next words drew her head to the side, brow lifted curiously. She wasn't sure what to say, no more than she was certain of how she felt about the whole make up and hair thing.

She answered his final question instead, with one of her own.-

"We've already been through all that, not much to tell, remember? What about you though?"

-there really wasn't alot to know about her, nothing....exciting anyways, not with being under her fathers thumb.-
Click to expand...

"Now that, pretty one," he chuckled, "is something you really don't want to know about."

Despite his external cheerfulness, her request had caused him just the slightest of pangs. The many things he'd done, though he'd had good reason at the time, seemed in retrospect to be one long, sordid catalogue of events and actions that had far better not see the light. One day, he told himself, he'd let her fingers roan over the various scars on his body, tell her stories of how he came to be as he was, think as he did. But right now, the poor girl was scared enough.

He did, however, unbend enough to give her a few isolated, and heavily edited, accounts of things he'd seen and done. The majestic Antarctic, and the small, isolated military campaign in which he'd fought in its snows and across its frozen planes, and which the world's press had hitherto kept secret. His role, small but significant, in preventing a Ku Klux controlled Alabama State Senate. His commitment to a certain obscure philosophical sect that, later, he had turned from when it threatened to implode with its internal power struggles.

There were other stories he might have told, too. The real story behind the attempted assassination of President Barack Obama, and how he had failed in his attempts to prevent it (though, thankfully, others had succeeded.) How he was perhaps the only man in history both to possess a personal note of thanks for services rendered from George Bush Senior and to have called him a reactionary old fart. The intriguing tale of why Apple did not own Google.

Instead, to pass the time and distract her fears, he spoke of other things. The Giacoma, and her wonderful smile, though she'd been stolen too many times the painting was overcropped and a shadow of its original as painted by Leonardo. The Kremlin, and how it looked in a snowstorm. The beauty of the Great Barrier Reef. John Keats' original handwriting. A poem by Edgar Allen Poe, that only he and four other men had read.

The many women that had been in his arms he did not speak of. She would not, he guessed, wish to hear.

After driving for more than five hours, he decided that it was time to lay up for the day. A fitful dawn was breaking as he pulled the battered car into a run down motor inn.

"Next time, it'll be something a lot nicer," he promised. "I just need to arrange something, first."
 
-she looked at him seriously and nodded. She did want to know. She'd asked but if he didn't want to tell, she wouldn't push. She folded her hands into her lap, keeping them near the hem of the skirt, keeping pushed down at least some what for the time being.

When he began to speak though, she turned her attention to him. Her knees drawing up slightly as she turned a bit in the seat. Her hands shifted, one laying across her stomach, the other bending at the elbow on the back of the seat.

He truly had her full attention as she listened. She'd never been to the places he spoke of but they fascinated her, they truly did and that fact was there, written all over her pretty face. She really had led a horribly sheltered life. At some point, when he'd been quiet for a bit, when he'd glance over to her. He'd find her head resting against her arm, eyes closed.

She hadn't slept and the roller coaster of emotions she'd been on had finally just taken its toll. A soft snore escaped her. Her skin blushed from the warmth of sleep, the skirt creeping up unhindered the way her legs lay slightly to the side. The car ride lulled her and when it stopped, when he pulled into the parking lot of the motor inn, she'd wake with a soft start.

Her eyes shifting from him to the place in front of them.-

"Ok. It can't be much worse than the last place, right?"

-she chuckled lightly-
 
asylum said:
-she looked at him seriously and nodded. She did want to know. She'd asked but if he didn't want to tell, she wouldn't push. She folded her hands into her lap, keeping them near the hem of the skirt, keeping pushed down at least some what for the time being.

When he began to speak though, she turned her attention to him. Her knees drawing up slightly as she turned a bit in the seat. Her hands shifted, one laying across her stomach, the other bending at the elbow on the back of the seat.

He truly had her full attention as she listened. She'd never been to the places he spoke of but they fascinated her, they truly did and that fact was there, written all over her pretty face. She really had led a horribly sheltered life. At some point, when he'd been quiet for a bit, when he'd glance over to her. He'd find her head resting against her arm, eyes closed.

She hadn't slept and the roller coaster of emotions she'd been on had finally just taken its toll. A soft snore escaped her. Her skin blushed from the warmth of sleep, the skirt creeping up unhindered the way her legs lay slightly to the side. The car ride lulled her and when it stopped, when he pulled into the parking lot of the motor inn, she'd wake with a soft start.

Her eyes shifting from him to the place in front of them.-

"Ok. It can't be much worse than the last place, right?"

-she chuckled lightly-
Click to expand...


There were things Rak were no good at, and singing was among them. He'd never in his life managed to soothe anyone by singing a lullaby... but he took some comfort from the fact that his presence might at least have enabled her to sleep a little, despite the fraught times she was going through.

He'd tried not to look at her legs while he'd been driving, noting the efforts she'd been making to keep control over her skirt, but when she'd slept he hadn't been able to avoid enjoying the sight of her legs every time the interior of the car had been lit up by a passing truck or bus. Now, as she woke, in the harsh lights of the forecourt of the cheap motel, the hem had ridden up even more revealingly than it had when they'd been sitting on the floor in the previous place. He was forced to deliberately feign an interest in the surroundings, to avoid embarrassing her by showing her he'd noticed.

Checking in was a mere formality - here, they could not possibly have been known - but before he could sleep, it was necessary to make another series of phone calls, with a cheap, anonymous cellphone he'd bought at a fuel stop on the way.

"You might as well flop on the bed and carry on with your sleep," he said, softly. "There's someone coming over. An old friend of mine. We can trust her. She'll bring us the stuff we need to get out of here... might as well do it all legally. But you don't have to be awake for it."

*****

The girl was tall, athletic and elegant, with a short crop of raven-black hair. As she walked into the entrance of the motel an hour later, she was tingling with excitement.

She stopped, just long enough to heft her small breasts into a position of maximum effectiveness, fluff her hair, check her appearance in a small mirror. This was a job of course, and what she looked like didn't matter. But...

But she had not seen Rak Davidson for many months. And she was tingling with excitement...

Might... might certain unfinished business have a chance of resuming, she wondered...
 
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