"One More Bullet"

BigBubblehead

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"One More Bullet"

Carl Davis shifted the crosshairs back and forth between the man and woman in the apartment across the boulevard. He was getting frustrated ... and Carl Davis wasn't a man who got frustrated easily. Carl was the cool, calm, and collected type. The lack of emotion he felt when he had a rifle in his hands was what made him a good professional assassin.

"Stand by," the voice in his ear repeated for the third time.

"The target is in the open," Carl whispered to the cell phone mike on the wire dangling from his ear. "The situation is ... fluid."

What Carl meant by fluid was that the man and woman he was watching were arguing, and their fight looked about to become physical. Even though he couldn't hear their words, their body language and animated lip movements told Carl that they were yelling at one another, likely with profanity loud enough to garner attention from the neighbors.

If he didn't take the shot before someone called the cops, the chances of him getting away clean began to diminish quickly.

"I need to take the shot now or withdraw," he spoke, his tone beginning to show his cool slipping away.

"Stand by," the woman repeated yet again, still in that same uncaring tone. "The client has the call."

Suddenly, things across the road took a dramatic turn for the worse. The woman appeared as if trying to order the man out of the house when he reared a hand back, swung, and smacked her across the face with the back of his hand so hard that she fell back onto the couch. As he watched through the scope, the man grabbed the woman, twisted her away from him, bent her over the back of the couch, and began ripping her clothes off.

Carl had no doubt what was coming, and as cool, calm, and collected as he was, he simply couldn't watch this while waiting for his handler to get a go ahead. He carefully sighted his rifle and squeezed the trigger. The .30-06 kicked, and when the weapon steadied again so that he could review his performance, he found a small hole in the shatter free window and the would-be rapist laying atop the woman, unmoving, his arms slumped to his side. On the light colored wall beyond them, a nasty red splotch revealed the damage that the fast moving bullet had done to the man's skull.

Carl had his weapon broken down and stored in the very common looking backpack in less than ten seconds. Sixty seconds after that, he had descended the three floors from his firing position, checked the street for activity, proceeded with the next phase of his mission.

*****​

OOC: If you are interested in being the woman, here's what you need to know:
  • PM me before posting. I may have given the part away already.
  • I'm not going to tell you why an assassin was hired to kill the man who tried to rape you.
  • You can create all of the story of what was happening in the apartment. Make it something along the lines of a jilted boyfriend or a guy who wanted some but couldn't get any from you or a co-worker who misunderstood her politeness or something like that.
  • You can write the argument and the shooting from her point of view. You can even have her call the cops if you want. But don't let her leave the apartment.
  • Something is going to happen about 4 minutes after the shot.
 
"I think you should leave." Evelyn Simpson pointed a finger at the front door. This conversation was getting way too heated for her comfort. She felt sorry for James, an ex-employee from her company, at first when he showed up at her door. He came to beg and demand for his job back. She explained the decision was out of her hand, but he didn't believe her.

James was yelling profanity, calling her crude names, and threatening her with payback. She had enough and repeated, "Leave now or I'll call the co-." WHACK! She was knocked off her feet before she could finish the threat. Her cheek burned hotly and half of her face ached tremendously. She was still daze from shock and pain when he grabbed and spun her around, pinning her against the couch.

Evelyn screamed, "What are you doing? Get your hands off me! Get off me! Get away from me!" She tried to fight back against the man behind her, but he easily over powered her kicks and ignored her shouts.

James grabbed on her blouse and pulled, ripping the cloth off her milky back. He trapped her arms between her body and the couch while his legs pinned hers apart. He bit down on her neck and whispered to her ears, "Payback is a bitch, bitch. You took my job, and now I'm gonna fuck your brain's out, slut."

She couldn't find any sense or logic in his threats, but this wasn't the time for that. She was trap and all she could do was scream on top of her lungs for help. He was much stronger and she was helpless under him. Tears formed in her eyes as she continued to free herself in vine. She was crying and begging for him to stop, but he did the opposite. The attacker unbuckled his belt and dropped his pants along with his boxer. He leaned up with his arm pinning onto her back to keep her at bay while his other hand pulled her skirt up before guided his cock in between her legs. She felt his tip rubbed along the small triangle in front of the thong.

SPLUT!

Then everything went quiet and still. James body towered on top of her before he fumbled onto the floor. She didn't know what just happened nor cared. Her adrenaline kicked in as she seized the moment and ran off down the hallway topless and locked herself in her room. She grabbed the phone off the night stand and dialed 911 in her crying voice and shaking state.
 
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The cop pounded on the door again but got no response from inside. The building was older, as was the door: new building codes called for apartments to have heavy duty fire doors and dead bolts, but this one had neither. He lifted his leg and smacked the frame near the knob with a powerful foot, sending the barrier open easily.

"Police!" he called out, entering with his service pistol drawn. "Police! Ma'am ... are you in here?"

He stopped for a moment to eye the man on the floor. he was on his back, so the mess that had once been his brow was more than obvious, as was the blood on the wall, the couch, and ... well, everything.

He hurried to the open doors -- kitchen, bathroom -- and saw no sign of the apartment's resident. Moving to the closed bedroom door, he called a bit more softly, "Police. Ma'am ... are you in there? Are you safe ... injured? Ma'am, can you open the door please?"

He didn't want to break the door open as he had the previous one. Despite possession of firearms being regulated in the city, and the records showing that she had none, there was still the possibility that she might have an unregistered gun and -- in panic -- start shooting his way.

"Ma'am...?"
 
Eve curled into a ball on the floor with the bed sheet around her and the phone glued to her ear while she waited for the dispatcher arrival. BAM! She let out a loud gasp before her hand covered her mouth to quiet herself.

"Evelyn? What is it?" a female voice from the other end of the call asked genuinely. She agreed to stay on the phone with the frantic victim until the law enforcement arrive.

"Someone is here," Eve whispered. "He's still her-."

An unfamiliar male voice introduced his presence and shouted through behind the door before her mind could freak her out even more. "Police. Ma'am ... are you in there? Are you safe ... injured? Ma'am, can you open the door please?"

"It's the cop, Evelyn. A dispatched just called in and confirmed that he's there at your place," the lady reassured her. "He's going to help you now, okay?"

"Ri. Right. Okay," she whimpered weakly as she got to her feet and went to the door.

Eve opened and was so relief to find a uniformed cop standing behind it. He was the mark of ending the nightmare from earlier. She was so relief that she could have hug the cop, but thankfully her body still too shaky to response. Even though she was completely covered in the navy silky sheet, her bare feet were still visible. She didn't notice the blood on the bottom of her feet and a few drops between her toes as she asked him, "Is he. Is he gone? Did you catch him?"

Out of haste earlier, she never stopped to look back at her attack after he mysteriously fell to the ground. For all she knew, James was still somewhere in the house, hiding and waiting to attack her again.
 
The cop was a bit confused by Evelyn's question. Did she not realize that the man in the other room was dead? He stepped into the bedroom, closing the door behind him just enough to ensure she couldn't see the still bleeding out corpse in the other room.

"Ma'am ... Evelyn, I'm told, yes...?" He waited for her to respond, then said with urgency, "We should get you out of here, ma'am. It's not safe. I have a cruiser on the street, and other units have been dispatched. They'll deal with..."

He didn't continue his assurance to her, instead snatching up a long coat hung over a nearby chair and suggesting, "Please put this on, ma'am ... Evelyn ... and I'll take you downstairs."

He turned his back -- the gentlemanly thing to do, seeing how she was partially naked beneath the sheet. He could just barely see her in the edge of the mirror over the bureau. It wasn't safe for him to take his eyes off either a suspect or victim at a crime scene, so he inconspicuously kept an eye on her...
 
Eve returned puzzle look as equal as his own when he didn't answer about James. She backed away from him when he entered and shielded the doorway. She didn't stop until she reached the edge of her bed and responded after he shared the plan, "Oh, okay." She was to follow him downstairs, which should be fine. She doubted James would appear when the cop was still with her. "Yes. My name is Evelyn Simpson. I go by Eve. Th. Thank you."

She grabbed the long coat from him before he turned his back to her. The sheet dropped and pooled around her feet as soon as her hand let go of it. Her perky breasts were out in full view, which she didn't mind since he wasn't facing her. Her nipples were lightly hard from the cool air in the room while goosebumps emerged on her arms. She put the coat on and buttoned it before tied the string around her waist. She kept the high-waist pencil skirt on, but didn't even think to put a shirt on first; it was one of those coat that could double as a dress anyways. It flared out from the hips down and came down just pass her knees.

She tapped the cop on the shoulder. "I'm ready officer." She waited for him to stir and for further instruction before she asked, "I'm safe with you, right?"
 
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(OOC: I have to use just a little bit of "god moding" here. I rarely if EVER put words in another character's mouth -- I consider it a boundary -- but I need to do it just this once. Forgive me if you don't like it. I can actually delete it if you don't like it. Seriously!)

"I'm ready officer." She waited for him to stir and for further instruction before she asked, "I'm safe with you, right?"
"Yes, of course," the cop said with a polite smile. He opened the door and guided her through it, keeping his taller form between her and the dead man, not wanting to shock her with the sight. He walked her out the door and turned her not toward the elevator but toward the back stairs. "The Press monitors the police bands, so ... it would be better if we went out the back. We have back up in the alley. We can put you in that cruiser, instead of mine, and then get you to a safe place."

They descended the three flights quickly and without any notice from residents, police, or anyone else. He halted her at the first floor door, opened it to check out the alley, then nodded to her politely. "We're clear."

They stepped out into the relatively dark alley where the cop had said a cruiser was waiting ... only to find an alley filled with nothing but dumpsters, grime, and shallow puddles of dirty water.

"Where's your--?"

Evelyn didn't finish the question, a hand clamping over her mouth and nose tightly as a second hand grasped tightly around first one wrist, then the other, drawing both of her arms tightly to her chest. She struggled, as Carl would have expected, but it was too no avail: he was simply too strong for her.

It took an agonizingly long 40 seconds for the lack of oxygen to cause Evelyn to pass out. Carl turned her to face him and tossed her over his shoulder like a rolled carpet...



It was after dark when the beauty stirred and opened her eyes. When she looked up from the couch she was laid out upon, Carl -- no longer in the stolen uniform -- smiled down to her and quickly said, "Don't be afraid. You're safe. No one is going to hurt you here."

Here was a windowless, basement room that looked barely inhabitable: the walls were water damaged concrete with chipping paint; the lighting was provided by three battery-powered lanterns sitting atop book cases that otherwise were almost devoid of objects; a cot with its bedding neatly folded sat against a far wall; and a small card table offered a propane fueled cooking stove that at that moment had a steaming pot over it; and a coffee table was covered in gun cleaning tools and a broken down sniper's rifle.

Carl offered out a coffee mug, asking, "Hungry?"
 
((I'm okay with what Evelyn said. It wasn't out of her character and followed the plot. Though, now I feel a little stupid for asking you about the cop's identity in the PM. LOL!))

Eve walked along side of him as they walked down her hallway. She was oblivious about him blocking living room where James had attacked her. On the hindsight, she should had smell blood when they passed the room. Moreover, she should had felt crusty dry blood on the bottom of her feet. Granted, her feet were very cold and slightly numb for her to feel anything. It didn't even bother her that she was barefoot when the cop steered her toward the stairs instead of the elevator.

Before she could question his suggestive route, he said,"The Press monitors the police bands, so ... it would be better if we went out the back."

Eve didn't challenge him since he was the law enforcement after all. He was a cop, and sworn to serve and protect the citizen, right? She was a law biding citizen who definitely in need for his help in case James decide come back for second. Besides, the lady on the emergency line assured her that he was to be trusted. As soon as they made into the staircase, she heard the ding from the elevator and muffled voices and beeps. It sounded like from a cop's radio, but the one's on the cop in front of her didn't make a sound. Was that another cop coming to her place? If so, why didn't this cop with her waited for the other to show up before escorted her away? Why was he taking her away in the first place? Why didn't he ask for what happened? Why wasn't he taking a report?

Her mind wondered but she never voiced any of them. Instead she followed him down the flights of stairs, hoping her worries were just non-sense and left over from the fear earlier.

Once the made to the ground floor and pushed through the metal door, she found herself in a back alley with nothing like the cop had said and promised earlier. "Where's your--?" She only managed two words before the world spun beneath her and everything went dark in less than a minute.

---

When Eve finally came to, the world was still dark but at least it stopped spinning. It took her a few seconds to adjust to the dinginess of the...dungeon? She wasn't as relief this time when she made out that familiar face, which belonged to the cop whom showed up at her place earlier and swept her away from danger but then knocked her unconscious and bought her to a foreign place.

She sat up quickly and scooted away from him. Her eyes locked onto him, and didn't dare to move or look around the room. Last time she took her eyes off him, she was pinned and blacked out. The place was pretty dark for her to make out much anyways. "Who. Who are you?" she stammered.

Eve wondered if he was another disgruntled employee who blamed her for losing his job and wanted to get even. However, his calm demeanor said otherwise. Besides, she sworn she would had recognize his face if he was one of the employees. She sort of wished he would show some sort of emotion since his coolness and collectiveness were equally, if not more, scarier than James' hothead behavior. Her fear kicked in once again. Her body shook and eyes swelled up as she tried to make some sense of the situation; she racked her brain and had no luck. She blurted out her questions between her soft cries, "Where am I? What do you want? From me? Who are you?"

Once she stopped for air, he responded with one simple word, "Hungry?"

Eve stared down at the offering and then back up at him. She slapped the mug away before she went on again, "Please let me go. I won't tell anyone about this. I can. I can give you money. Is that what you want? Ransom? I can go to the bank and withdraw money for you. I'll give you all I have if you just let me go. Please."
 
She slapped the mug away before she went on again, "Please let me go. I won't tell anyone about this. I can. I can give you money. Is that what you want? Ransom? I can go to the bank and withdraw money for you. I'll give you all I have if you just let me go. Please."

Carl wished it was all so simple. He would have loved to just unlock the three different styles of locks -- one a combination lock -- that were securing the door to the basement hall, then wave her free. But that wasn't going to happen until he had answers about why the hit hadn't occurred the way it had been arranged.

Of course, Evelyn didn't have the answers Carl needed, so there was no reason to explain that part of the situation. She was, of course, going to soon realize that there was drying blood on her feet and back and caking in her hair. And when she did, that was going to freak her out in a way that waking up here, a prisoner with a cop who wasn't cop already had.

"Evelyn, I need to tell you something important," he said, walking toward her just until he could see her cringing from his proximity. "That guy in your apartment ... the one who was about to rape you. He's dead. I killed him. From across the street..."

Carl half turned and pointed to the disassembled sniper's rifle on the coffee table. "...with that. I was there, on the roof opposite you, for a different reason, but ... well, when I saw what was going on, I just couldn't let it happen."

He pointed to the only other doorway -- this one without a door -- beyond which was a toilet, a tiny sink, and a curtain-less shower. He finished simply, "You need to clean up."
 
Eve shuffled her bare feet, backing away from him as he casually advancing toward her. She hit the water damanged wall behind her and had nowhere else to go. Her lips trembled and hands balled into fists, expecting and bracing for the pseudo cop to attack her. However, he didn't. He confessed instead, "I killed him. From across the street..."

Her eyes snapped to him, widened in disbelief and horror. Her teeth clattered as she stuttered, "You. You kil. Killed James?" Her voice was trembling as much as her body was shaking. Her mind reran the scenerio back in her apartment, piecing things together and making sense some of the things that had unfolded there.

She stared at the man before her and wondered who he really was. He was a trustful cop a few hours ago and now... now he just confessed to a murder with such ease and careless in his voice. It was like killing didn't phase him at all. Eve wondered for a second if this wasn't his first kill. Was he a professional hitman? Should she be thankful to him? He did saved her. There was no doubt in her mind that James was going to rape her back there. She was relief to be away from a rapist; on the other hand, she found herself being lock in the room with a killer now.

The lady followed his finger to the coffee table with random pipes and springs spread. She continued to follow his pointing and saw an open to another room. Before her mind could mistaken the opening as an escape route, he told her to clean up; she could only guess doorway led to a bathroom. She didn't move a muscle; they wouldn't move for her to be more correct. Her eyes wandered back to him and asked weakly, "Who. Are. You?"

Eve took a deep breath before she questioned, "Are you. Are you going to kill me too?" Even though it didn't make sense in her head for him to kill her now since he could had easily done so at the apartment, she needed to know, to hear it from him. A little naïve part inside her hoped that the killer wouldn't lie. After all what would be the point to lie to someone if you're going to kill him or her anyways, right?
 
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Who. Are. You?" Eve took a deep breath before she questioned, "Are you. Are you going to kill me too?"

The assassin hesitated before answering, "My name is Carl ... and no, I'm not going to kill you."

He could have been a little more truthful and finished with Not yet, but he didn't think honesty was the best route at the moment.

Instead, he went on with the same general though that was going through Evelyn's mind. "Why would I have saved you if I was just going to kill you ... right?"

He gestured her toward the bathroom again, almost ordering her to go clean up. "I need to make some calls ... to get some answers. Take your time. There's plenty of hot water. Just the one towel, though ... mine. Sorry."

Carl needed answers. It wasn't just a way to prod her to clean up, though she really needed it. The stench of James' blood was beginning to fill the room.

He turned away from Evelyn and walked to the far corner, the only spot in the basement where he'd been able to get a clear cell signal in the basement room...
 
Eve eased just very so slightly when he said, “I’m not going to kill you.”

Before the confused captive could interject more questions, Carl gestured at the other room again and walked away to the opposite corner with a cell phone in hand. She obeyed this time and headed toward the bathroom. On her way over, she tried to open the other door. As expected, it was securely locked.

She flipped the switch. The single light bulb turned on and illuminated the bathroom in an eerie yellow tint. Her eyes wandered, up at the ceiling, around the walls, down at the floor, and spotted some odd discoloration on her feet.

“Is that?” She lifted her foot and examined the dark maroon crusts closer. “God, blood!” She frantically stripped off the little cloth that she had on and jumped into the bathtub. Her feet rubbed and scrubbed against each other while she stood underneath the shower head. The hot streams trickled down her body and collected around her feet. The bathroom quickly enveloped in steam. Eve discovered another horrible surprise when the clear water turned pinkish as it ran down her sides and outlined her hips. God, was all this blood from her? She didn’t feel any pain. Then was it … James’ blood? She scrubbed down hysterically from head to toe, determine to thoroughly clean herself.

She didn’t stop until the hot water turned lukewarm and then finally just cold. She reached for the one and only towel but then stopped; remembering Carl’s called dip on it. Maybe it wasn’t the wisest choice to take a killer’s possession. Then reality hit her again, she was locked in a room with a pro; An Assassin; A Killer! How the hell did this happen?

She wringed her curly red locks before putting the dress back on. It clung onto her dampened body like magnet. Her dripping hair framed her face, down her neck and shoukders.She was cold and wet, but at least she was bloodless now. She didn’t bother with the other clothing since she found bloods stain on them too. She headed back to the other room slowly while her mind screamed in panic and raced with escaping ideas…
 
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Carl waited until the shower's discharge was pounding against the cold tile before he began pressing the cell phone's buttons. A moment later, a male announced a code word to which Carl responded, "Rover Rover."

"Stand by, connecting," the man responded.

Carl looked toward the door-less bathroom entrance. Occasionally, Carl would catch a glimpse of a hand, an elbow, a foot as Eve undressed. When he saw her panties hit the tile, he unconsciously leaned a bit to his left. When he realized what he was doing, he straightened quickly and turned to the window again, chastising himself.

"Code in," a female voice demanded.

"Blackjack diamonds," Carl said quickly, listening to her response before describing his current situation with a single word, "Secure."

"Stand by," he was told again.

As he waited, he simply couldn't help himself. He casually peaked back over his shoulder only to find no sign of Eve. He turned, leaned, then stepped left--

Just as Eve herself stepped to her own right. Carl's eyes widened at the sight of her fully nude form. She was incredible: shapely, firm, fair skinned. She was everything Carl liked in a woman, save the splotches of dark red blood caked to her hair and skin, of course.

As she moved about, she presented herself to him fully from behind and from the side. She was so perfectly well rounded, a wonderful hour glass figure, pert young breasts.

Carl realized suddenly that he was hard as a rock. He turned away again, looking back at the brick wall before -- unable to resist -- turned back for just one more look before she stepped out of view into the shower.

"Report," yet a second female voice demanded...



Carl was standing over the card table, heating water for instant coffee in one pot and soup in yet another. He looked up to a new sight -- a dressed Eve -- that was somehow even more erotic than the previous sight. Her dress clung tightly to her undried body, emphasizing her full breasts and nipples, as well as that perfect hour glass shape through her torso.

Carl pulled his eyes away as he said flatly, "We are moving. I have transport arranged for midnight--" He glanced to his watch, adding, "An hour and a half."

He gestured to the soup, then to some trail bars and other easy to carry, high nutritional content foods spread across the table. "If you're hungry..."

He couldn't help but take another quick ogle of Eve as she made her way about the room. He was stiffening again, though -- after arranging the lay of the land earlier -- it was a bit less obvious this time around.

"It's a short commute," he continued, lifting the pot to pour the steaming coffee into a mug before asking Eve if she wanted some as well. He caught sight of her firm round ass and suppressed a smirk. He was suddenly remembering the rape scene -- attempted rape scene -- back at Eve's apartment, and found himself wondering whether he'd done James a disservice, killing him before he'd been able to sink his cock.

Of course, it was a totally inappropriate thought, and he wouldn't have allowed it to happen. No, the reason for the horrific thought was that Carl was subconsciously wondering what it would have felt like to have been there in Eve's apartment, stiff, eager, poised behind the redheaded beauty, and plunging away deep inside her.

He looked back to the soup, stirring it as he felt his face flush with shame. "I'll, um ... arrange some new clothes for you ... when we get to our destination."

He left the conversation there, not explaining anything about what he'd learned from the call. It wasn't something he would ever share with her. Or at least, that was what he was thinking now. There was going to come a time, very soon, when Carl was going to have to explain to Evelyn Simpson that he'd been on that roof that day to put a bullet through her head.
 
Droplets of water dripped from her wet hair, down her neck and dip between her amble breasts as he explained their next move. Goosebumps formed along her skin while her nipples protruded underneath the now wetsuit. Compared to the bathroom, this open room was like a freezer for a wet girl. Eve crossed her arms and rubbed her hands along the other arm to retain some heat as she walked toward him.

She stood on the opposite end of the card table, putting an obstacle between them, as she reached for the coffee mug. She didn’t have an appetite for food, but she definitely needed some caffeine and something warm. She kept her eyes on him through the veil of steam while she sipped on the warm black liquid.

She watched him watching her. She thought she saw some sort of expression on his face. For a split of a second, his dark eyes flickered with… lust… before he looked away, fiddling with the soup and letting the steam colored his cheeks. She heard him, but didn't understand. Why was she here?

“Carl-” Inhaled. Exhaled. Gripped on the mug tightly. “-I just want to go home?" Without warning, tears formed and trickled. She took a deep breath to calm herself before asking, “What do you want from me?"
 
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“Carl-”
“-I just want to go home.”
“What do you want from me?"
He hated the sight -- and sound, of course -- or a weeping woman. One of the nice things about having moved from boots on the ground to detached, distant sniper was that he no longer had to listen to the tragic emotion that often accompanied his work.

He tried to hold off moving to her, but she was in a desperate mood and beginning to tremble, both from the situation and the cold air chilling her wet body. Despite his being a relatively handsome man, he'd never been much of a ladies man, had never really learned how to treat a woman in the way that would make her want to stay with him long term.

And, of course, there was the little detail about how Carl had assassinated the man who was raping Eve just a few hours earlier. That may complicate things a bit further he understood.

"Listen, this'll be over soon, and you'll go home," he said, setting his mug down and moving around the table closer to her. He doubted that that would ever happen, of course, but Eve didn't know that and he wasn't about to tell her such now. He continued his lie with a very convincing tone, "I'm not going to let anyone hurt you, Eve. I'm here to protect you."

His intent was to take her drink, set it aside, and carefully take her into his arms, caressing his hands over her back and upper arms in an attempt to warm her. Of course, he had no idea whether she would allow it. He was, of course, a killer...
 
Yet again Carl dodged her questions, which terrified her even more. So many things were still unanswered. One thing was certain though, for some strange and unknown reason –far beyond her own comprehension, she was in the center of the attention.

The “this’ll be over soon, and you’ll go home” spill meant she was still a his prisoner. The news shattered her, crying uncontrollably now. She was a mess with puffy cheeks, teary eyes, running nose, messy hair. She wasn’t a pleasant sight. Then again, she was in no situation to care if she was presentable, not even if the man before here was clean cut, well groom, handsome and attractive –all the traits she would fall for in any other circumstance.

Carl then moved toward her, slowly as if he was anticipating and waiting for her to react, to attack, to run, but she didn’t andjust froze in place. Whether the caffeine had heightened her senses or just because he was so close to her now, Eve noted his manly jaw line, defined biceps, and those sunken mysterious eyes. She allowed him to pull her into an embrace and run his hands along her back and arms. Her wet cheek plastered against his firm chest, breathing in the masculine musk. Her body melted onto his as it welcomed his body heat. She felt something long and firm pressing near her a stomach but thought nothing of it for the time being.

Her fingers clung onto this shirt on his sides while he promised to protect her in a very sincere tone. He did save her from James, but then did he really? If James was his target, he would have killed him with or without her in the picture. If James was the target, what was the need for her to be here? She barely knew the man. Recalling Carl's words earlier, he stopped James from raping her -so was he not the intended target?

An invisible light bulb lit above her head as she tilted her head back and stared up at him. Eve's face went pale while the words escaped her mouth, "you weren't there for James, were you?" She watched his expression for a second and then questioned, "Am I your target?
 
"Am I your target?"

"No," Carl lied quickly, adding with more emphasis, "No! Of course not. I was there on a totally unrelated job ... another apartment. This ... this was all ... coincidence let's call it. I saw what was happening ... couldn't let it happen ... and, here we are."

He gave her shoulders a tight squeeze, giving her what he hoped was a convincing smile as he finished, "Trust me. Though you might not see this as good news, if I'd been there to kill you, you'd be dead."

He stepped back, then turned and headed around the table toward the cot in the corner. "Listen. You can't stay in those clothes. You're going to freeze to death."

He retrieved a large wool blanket and sheet, both neatly folded at the end of the simple canvas and aluminum frame bed. He returned to Eve, saying, "Go back in there, wrap up ... come out and take a nap. We'll be leaving soon."
 
Eve watched him fumbling around with his words and denying her suspicion. Oddly enough, it was the first time he directly answered her question. Whether if that was a good thing or not, she didn't know. She really wanted to believe him, but the unknown was gnarling her mind. He squeezed her shoulders and confidently boasted about his marksmanship. That was suppose to make her feel better...right?

He then wandered off and came back with the blankets and orders. She took them and headed back to the bathroom. She didn't resist his suggestion since she didn't mind taking the wet dress off in the first place. With her back faced the doorframe, she dropped the things to her feet before she peeled off the coat, which was adhering to her skin like glue. She let it pooled around her feet and bent over to grab the sheets off the ground. Her smooth round ass hung in the air for a second before she pulled the sheet over her naked body and layered the wool on top.

She washed off her face once again before she returned to the room with both blankets draped over her shoulders. This time, she was the one to approach him with one more question, "Why did you bring me here, Carl?"
 
Eve was either unconcerned with Carl's attention or lack thereof toward her nudity or so out of it that it didn't occur to her that he might be watching, for this time -- other than simply walking through the door-less entryway -- she made no effort to hide to one side from his view. For his part, Carl made no effort to move to a far corner to give Eve her privacy either. He watched with great delight as she stripped the wet clothing from her body, exposing her skin slowly like some boner-causing scene from an R-rated teen flick.

When the coat fell to the floor, leaving Eve again naked to Carl's eyes, he just nearly headed for her, wanting to spin her around, set her atop the tiny counter, and ram himself into her until they were both screaming in ecstasy. When she leaned over to retrieve the blankets, Carl drew a deep, excited breath at the obviousness of her shaven folds of skin.

He spun away from her, walking a couple of steps away, cursing himself for taking such liberties. It wasn't that he thought it inappropriate to ogle the beauty. If she took no efforts to hide herself, Carl certainly wasn't going to take any not to see her. He loved the sight of a beautiful, naked woman as much as anyone did.

But he knew that one day soon -- really soon -- he might have to kill Evelyn Simpson, not because he wanted but because his employers demanded it. How much harder would it be to put a bullet through her skull or smother her with a pillow or toss her from a building if he'd enjoyed the pleasures that were to be found between those athletic thighs?

"Why did you bring me here, Carl?"

He spun back to face her, his gaze dropping to the blankets that now concealed the erotic beauty that was the cause of the massive hard-on pressing against the zipper of his jeans.

"Why what...?" he asked without thinking. When the words sunk in, he said, "Oh! Why did I bring you here?"

He moved to the table to retrieve and top off his coffee mug. He sipped at it, being careful with the steaming fluid, before saying, "I couldn't very well leave you there after I'd shot ... what was his name, James?"

He waited for her confirmation, then continued, "It just seemed ... the right thing to do. I felt ... responsible for you. You didn't ask for James to rape you. Nor did you ask for a stranger to prevent that rape in such a method. It just seemed like maybe I should step in and see if there was anything I could do for you. Did I make a mistake?"
 
Confusion and fear still clouded her judgment, so discrete and proper etiquette were the last thing to her mind. Eve wanted answers, more importantly her freedom. The one man, who had everything she seeks, stood in front of her, rambling to her question but giving her nothing either.

"Yes, James," she replied while he sipped on his coffee. She then reached for her mug. Her arm poked through the creases of the wool blanket. Cold air rushed through the opening and hit her naked body underneath.

She stared at him when he asked, "Did I make a mistake?" She couldn't tell if he was being sarcastic since he sounded quiet serious. She didn't know how response at first, so just shook her head. How could what he had done be a mistake since she was still alive and safe...at least at this moment. James did tried to rape her, and would had success too if it wasn't for his bullet. He killed a man in front of her... for her.

It was her this time who reached out and grabbed his hand as her eyes locked into his. The flaps of the blanket slowly separated and opened up without her hands held it close. "Thank you. For saving me. Carl. Thank you." Her thanks seemed long overdue.
 
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"Thank you. For saving me. Carl."

He began to smile in appreciation for Eve's words, when the blanket and sheet wrapped around her fell open. He couldn't help himself: his gaze dropped, further and further as the parting coverings exposed more and more of her.

Eve's cleavage was on full display, as was one full nipple, the pink nipple solidly hardened at the crisp, cool air striking it. Down further, the blankets opened less, but even with just an inch of gap at the level of Eve's waist, it was obvious to Carl that the woman was shaved, either for her own comfort or for the pleasure of her lover, which any man would assume this beauty had.

Carl forced his gaze back up, and as he met Eve's eyes, her expression told him that she was all too aware that she'd exposed herself and that the man before her enjoyed it. His cock was rapidly returning to full rigidity, and Carl's lust filled brain had suddenly blocked out the reason the two of them were here, now screaming Take her! Take her now!
 
She waited for his response when Carl stood quietly with a half smile on his face. His eyes dipped low. She looked down to follow his line of sight, fearing there was a bug on her chest or something. She gasped with embarrassment when she saw how exposed she was. Her face flushed red when their gaze met.

Out of panic, she pulled onto the sheets and re-covered herself securely. The mug dropped out of her hand and shattered between them in the process. She yelped from the loud clash and hot liquid against her feet. "Shit. Oops. Aw, damn it." She felt like clumsy and fluttered.

"I'm sorry. I'll. I'll clean it up." She went to her knees and picked up the ceramic pieces.
 
(OOC: I'm going to intercept her in her last action. Hope you don't mind.)

"Shit. Oops. Aw, damn it..."
"I'm sorry. I'll. I'll clean it up."

"It's okay," Carl said, catching hold of Eve as she began to drop to clean up the shattered ceramic. He'd felt a drop or two of the hot liquid splash to his hand, so he could just imagine what the coffee was doing to her feet. He took hold of her and maneuvered her toward one of the rickety wooden chairs as he said, "Let me clean it up ... and get this off you. Sit down."

Carl sat her down, then went to the bathroom to wet the only wash rag in the room. He returned to drop to his knees before her, urging her to cross one knee over the other as he began wiping the coffee from her feet and shins. Suddenly, the blankets parted, slipping to each side of the upper knee and exposing her long, athletic leg all the way to her hip.

Carl couldn't help but ogle the long limb up its full length. She was so incredible, and all he could think of was parting those legs and partaking of her womanly pleasures.

He felt a flush fill his face, and he looked up into Eve's face. He didn't know what to say or do, so he simply continued to wipe her feet and lower legs...
 
((Nope, it's fine., I anticipated for him to do so =D))

Her muscle tensed from his touch even though he was gentle with her as he sat her down. She felt the hot spots on her legs where the coffee tainted, but she made no attempt to wipe them off herself. Carl told her to sit, and so she did –silently and rigidly. Even though he seemed genuinely nice and had shown her nothing but courtesy, Eve couldn’t help but feeling paranoid and fearful of the man. She was waiting and expecting him to snap at the second now if she didn’t follow his instruction. He did kill a man and imprisoned her after all.

She crossed her legs in accordance to his gestures, as if there were invisible strings between her legs and his hands. She kept herself as stationary as she could while he wiped the brown tinge off her feet. She shivered ever so lightly at the soft abrasion of the dampened towel. The cover separated once again, and she still didn’t dare to move. She watched him, half appreciative and half baffle. He was caring and tending to her, but he was her captor and killer at the same time. She couldn’t quite understand where she stands. Was she safe and sound or on a verge of death? The agony perplexed her and she found her mind lost in a repeating loop as she tried to figure out.

The rag trailed higher her lower leg, elevating up toward her knee. He looked up with reddening cheeks and locking his gaze with hers. His eyes, dark and mysterious, saturated with desire and wanting. She couldn’t deny the man’s handsomeness, whom was being such a gentleman and chivalrous; and the way he looked at her… If his glare could cast a spell, she would be hypnotized and bounded. But then her ominous reality washed over her, bringing her senses back.

“Ahem-hem,” breaking the spell with her soft voice. She reached down and grabbed the towel from his hand. “I got it, thanks.” She spun away from him, as she bought the other leg on top to clean off the rest of the coffee.

She*spoke, more so to*herself as if she was thinking outloud and reassuring herself,*“I assume you can't tell me where you'll take me? You won't tell me why I'm still here. You saved me from being rape, but then you locked me here. I'm not your target, but you kidnapped me. You said you'll protect me, but you won't tell me from what or whom.*I really hope that you weren't lying when you said I'll be safe with you." She glanced over to him, waiting for some sort of confirmation before concluding, "Then I guess all I can do now is sleep and wish for the best."

In reality, that was all she could really*do. She saw no way of escaping, not now anyways -she would still look for the chance when it presences itself.
 
“I got it, thanks.”

The moment had been getting ... intense, was the word Carl would think of later, as he'd been running the wet rag further and further up her long, athletic leg, wiping her where he couldn't even see coffee droplets yet had simply wanted to touch her. It was a good thing Eve had taken the towel when she did, because the lust rising in Carl was nearing the point where if she hadn't stop him, she might not have been able at all.

She questioned him about her situation.

"It's ... it's really best that you don't know for now," was all Carl could say in answer. "As soon as I have more answers, I promise that I will tell you all I know."

It was eating Carl up inside that he didn't have those answers, not for her but for himself. There had been no reason for delaying the mission, that mission being to put a bullet through Eve's head, of course. His employers didn't send him on a job with the instructions, "Shoot when we tell you". His instructions had always simply been "Shoot".

To be contacted at the last minute and told to stand by had simply been unprofessional. The irony, of course, was that he was here now with his target and an erection -- for her! -- and, somehow, glad he hadn't pulled that trigger when he was ready.

"Then I guess all I can do now is sleep and wish for the best."

He snapped out of his reverie, realizing that as she'd continued with the wiping of her legs, his gaze had been set upon them. He turned, embarrassed yet again, and retrieved his coffee. "Yes. Why, um ... why don't you get some sleep. I'll have an answer before sunrise, I'm sure. Either way, we won't be staying here long."

He moved to the card table and, in less than 20 seconds, had the snipers rifle totally reassembled with the exception of the slide, which he inconspicuously slipped into the inside pocket of the jacket he hadn't taken off since he'd first eyed Eve through the rifle's scope so many hours before.

He stood the rifle in the corner opposite the cot, then returned to the cot and fluffed out the second sheet for Eve to use on bottom. He took the second blanket for him, pointing to the little space heater and telling her, "It might get cold. Point that at the cot if you wish."

He moved back to the old raggedy chair near the corner by the rifle, fluffed out the blanket, and dropped into it. Once he was covered, he pulled the little semi-automatic pistol from his waist and set it in his lap under the blanket. Carl had the sleeping routine of a cat: any movement or sound would snap his eyes open, and his hand was always laying upon the pistol.

He didn't know whether Eve would try anything during the night: he was fairly sure she was frightened of him, despite his generous care for her thus far, so he didn't expect her to attempt to either escape or overwhelm him during the night.

But, you could never be sure about people. A few years earlier, he'd picked up a goddess of a woman at a hotel lounge, only to have her sink a knife into him after an amazing, three hour long fuck'n'suck-fest. She would have killed him if it hadn't been for his reflexes, reflexes that both deflected the knife away from his heart and into his shoulder instead and caused him to twirl her away from him, wrap an arm around her head, and snap her neck without even thinking.

It took three days for Carl to learn who had put a contract on his head. It took fewer days than that for him to kill that person, but that didn't do anything to make up for the pain that he felt these days every time he fired a rifle and the butt of the weapon kicked back into his shoulder scar.

"Get some sleep," he told her after she'd finished with the rag. He glanced at his watch: 3am. "We have about four hours. I wish it was more, but..."

He laid his head back into the soft chair, ignoring the musty smell deep in the cloth. He closed his eyes as if sleeping himself, but he could see through the slight crack in the lids enough to keep an eye upon Eve until she was finally settled on the cot...
 
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