1.  Prologue

 

 

 

 

There had been a calm before the storm, an extended period of disbelief. 

 

But, like any disaster it brought about a certain anxiousness and stirred the world, like a grand melting pot. In this pot was something akin to gold, to satisfy the greedy. It was vital, and if one didn’t know better, it might be credited as a glorious moment in history. 

 

It’s like sailing the ocean, this moment, looking over the edge of a grand boat, and thinking you’re about to go over the edge, but there is no end to the sea. Just like there was talk of how there would be no end to this chase. Now, the world buzzed with just how epic the ending was, like something out of the movies. 

 

Perhaps, once the initial shock died down, some newly inspired movie producer would begin making casting calls, looking for a “young, mysterious brunette” with a killer smirk and a “hazel eyed” love interest. Their love and lives painted with criminal intent, most likely the typical “Bonnie and Clyde” format, but it will sell millions, the movie, and everyone will be satisfied. Then, the world will think they know Kim Jongin, while the credits roll some newbie actor who thinks he’s making a breakthrough as “Kai”. It’s laughable but the only people amused are those who are misinformed, better known as the world.  

 

It's one in the morning in Barcelona when it happens, so it's in various time frames when the news breaks, but the difference in time doesn't halt the spread of it, or the rapid pace at which it is spread in the slightest. It's one in the morning in Barcelona, but it's four in the evening in San Francisco when the first newspaper is plastered on the stands, "Worlds Most Wanted: Captured in Barcelona!", it's almost midnight in London and the news anchor's eyes are glossy with disbelief when she announces, " After ten years of evasion, world's most wanted criminal, Kai, shot down in Barcelona, story developing"

His face is everywhere, name on everyone's lips, and just like a storm it doesn't come and go, it lingers. They don't mention her, and when they do it’s in a neutral sense, but everyone knows her. They knew her before this too, but Kim Jongin, better known as "Kai", is already being flown to Maximum security in New York with three bullets lunged in his flesh. 

 

Story developing …

 

 

---

 

 

Folsom State Prison | CA

 

 

 

"Tomorrow is the third of September, marking one year of your  ... Fugitive activities. If we do not receive a confession before ten a.m. on that day, you will be sent to the state of New York, from then on, your fate will be pretty much sealed. That can be narrowed down to two options, life in prison or death. I'm gonna lean towards the latter. To sum all of that up, you have less than twenty four hours to say something, anything, to save your sorry ."

Officer Mason Chalm can remember, vividly, as if it were just yesterday, the day he was handed the file for Kim Jongin, then labeled as “Kai”. He figures he’s one of the few people who even knows his real name, Jongin’s that is, and he takes pride in it, relishes in knowing something that he shouldn’t. It had almost cost him his life, the seemingly insignificant piece of information, but he would need more than two sets of hands to count how many times Jongin had almost taken his regardless. That, he’s not so proud of. 

 

He’s been fishing, he thinks, on the same creaky wooden boat for the last ten years. Various baits had been used, and sometimes when the fish bit, it would tug him, almost pull him over board. So, he had switched the bait, came back in that same sodden boat, and this time, when “Kai” had bitten, ready to pull, Officer Chalm had yanked him back, hard. There had been a struggle of course, but only one victor. 

 

So now he stands, sipping on his sixth cup of coffee from within the last two hours, head swimming, hand shaking slightly, but he feels more awake than ever. The girl seated before him regards him with a blank stare, eyeliner smudged, mascara running, but her lipstick is still as red and untouched as ever, hair tucked into a neat little bun, and she’s beautiful. Perfect. She has to be because this is what had enraptured one of the world’s most wanted criminals, a young woman with glistening hazel eyes and honey dipped baby hairs. 

 

He feels slightly intimidated in her presence, and it’s not because of her coolly schooled features. He figures it has something to do with the way Kim Jongin had taken three bullets for her, but had left one of his closest comrades to bleed to death to ensure her safety. It’s a little twisted love story, and Officer Chalm is just reading the opening paragraphs. 

 

The opening sentences look something like the woman before him, regarding him with a calculative look. She has yet to show any response, but he refuses to be frustrated or angered, not today anyway.   


"Are you aware the extent of the charges held against you?" He prompts, but she just blinks up at him, hands linked tightly on the table separating them. 

"Arson, bribery, Identity theft, Robbery in the first degree, first degree murder, indecent exposure, manslaughter-"

 

With each crime named his voices raises slightly, and any sane person would show recognition, remorse, something, anything, but not this woman. She shows nothing. It’s like a blank canvas, maybe he has to paint something, give it color.  

"Shall I go on?" He asks, and the lack of response really gets to him then, presses his nerves in all the right places he thinks, and he snaps. He hears the chair collide loudly with the wall, but he doesn’t quite remember even gripping it or throwing it,and all he can think of is the way his hand stings slightly when he slams it on the table, leaning in so he can see just how the green and brown collide in her eyes. 

 

She doesn’t even flinch. 

"Let me tell you something. I've been after Kim Jongin for ten years. Ten long, hard years of being evaded and you know what? Now he's got three of my bullets in his back and one toe in the grave, but he's still the same slinky, stubborn bastard from before. Do you really want to go down with the likes of him? You have the chance of a lighter sentence, a life after this, but him? They're going to fry him before he can even set foot in a courtroom."

 

Something he took pride in was his knack for reading body language, and by the flattening of her lips he can tell that all he really needs to do is let the bait linger, just in reach. 

"You were someone before this. Don't you want to be someone after this? Think of all the things he took from you-"

"I'd rather think of all the things he gave me."

 

He pauses immediately when she speaks, because it’s so soft, yet raspy and he has to catch it, because this woman was close and personal with Kim Jongin, saw every side and angle, and knew more than he ever could after ten long years. It stung, hurt his pride, but when her words dawn on him, he draws back, shooting her an indecorous look, because what?  

"What could have possibly given you besides a life sentence?" He asks then, but she doesn’t have to answer. The glistening of the gold band wrapped tightly around her ring finger stuns him into silence. Elegant and expensive aren’t adequate enough words to describe it and he thinks it must be worth more than two years’ of his salary. There had been rumors, but here he was getting a firsthand confirmation. 

"I want to speak to my lawyer" Is all she says before he storms out of the room, hands shaking, itching for a new cup of coffee. 

 

Her lawyer enters moments later, shoulders hunched slightly, but not due to age. He pointedly avoids her gaze as he shuffles into the murky, gray, quaint interrogation room. 

"What are my options?" She asks before he can even be seated properly. Suddenly, the chains around her wrists felt much heavier, and the fact that she had less than twenty four hours to save her life, and maybe even Jongin's, seems to weigh much more.

He glances at her for the first time since entering the room, and it's a look of severity and finality. She shivers, but not from the chill.

"To tell me everything"

 

 

 

---

 

One year prior...

 

 

Portia Nuvuex is seated at her dining room table. Her Alexander McQueen dress is over a thousand dollars and her Manolo heels are worth twice as much, but the expression on her face is priceless.

The dinner, a five course meal she had slaved over, sits cold before her. The silverware glistens even in the dark and her hand trembles only a little when she takes a small sip of wine. When she swallows, she's swallows back her tears too. Just as she places her glass back down, there’s a clicking sound and the front door opens, the person she’s been waiting for slinking in.  

"Why are you sitting in the dark?"

The lights flicker on, and so does the expression on her face. She smiles in a way that she hopes is pleasant, inviting, but he just frowns, jaw tight as he whisks past her. It’s almost as if she doesn’t exist but he at least has some decency to regard her. 

"I came to get the rest of my things." He mutters as he breezes past her. 

 

She simply hums, cutting a slice of turkey. It’s cold, but she shifts it onto the plate anyway. 

 

“Look, I’m going to need you to get over this. It hurts. I know. I’m hurting too, but I’m happy now. Even though we didn’t work out, I want you to be happy too.” 

 

He’s back now, two suitcases tucked in both hands, regarding her momentarily at the door. She wants to ask him how exactly is he hurting, because she doesn’t remember calling off any engagements and ruining what was meant to be one of the most happiest moments in his life.

 

No, she doesn’t recall. 

 

With that in mind, she simply hums, taking a meager sip of wine afterward. He sighs heavily in response, yanking the door open, before sparing her another frustrated glance. 

 

“You’re hopeless, you know that?”  

 

The door slams shuts behind him, but she doesn't flinch. She doesn't even blink, just stares unwavering at the now closed door. The official closing to this chapter in her life she thinks, and all it takes is the closing of a measly door.  The thought makes her laugh, but it's filled with bitterness and everything not associated with laughter. It's only a matter of time before the tears start falling, and when they do it’s in a steady stream. 

 

Her make up doesn't smudge thankfully because its smudge proof, waterproof, and expensive, something like her. They say money can fill any void. She thinks it doesn't cover broken hearts. 

 

Along with her tears came anger, that made her fingers twitch and stomach tighten. The gold band on her finger glistens once when it catches the light, but that’s all it takes for her to snap. Glasses and dishes collide, food and silverware spilling everywhere as her arm swipes across the table, knocking everything off in her rage, but it’s not enough. It’s not enough until she grabs her previously forgotten wine glass, and slams it down to the ground, shards of glass flying everywhere as it breaks, wine staining the marble floors and flooding the empty spaces in her heart.

 

Now she’s just a little drunk, and a lot broken.

 

The room is suffocating, but it’s only too empty, no love- there’s nothing, maybe a young millionaire deprived of things money can’t buy, like happiness. It’s too much, it hurts too much, so she grabs the nearest coat she can find, a leather jacket, worth half a million, but there’s no warmth inside it, just like her. It’s a perfect fit.

 

She doesn’t lock the door when she leaves, because she figures she doesn’t have anything else to lose, besides, maybe, what she thought was the love of her life. Her eyesight is blurred by tears as she shuffles down the hall into the lift. So blurred, that she misses a figure slinking past her, soaked from head to toe holding a brown suitcase, glancing back at her from beneath drenched, brunette bangs.   

 

 

_

 

 

She wanders aimlessly through the streets of New York, and it’s almost midnight, a bit dangerous, but she’s too caught up in feeling sorry for herself to notice or care. She has no more tears, just red eyes and arms crossed too tightly across her chest. The few people that she does see are mostly couples. She simply stares at the seemingly endless concrete instead, feeling lonelier than ever.

 

The street she turns onto next is practically barren. A weary feeling passes over her and she figures she should probably turn around and head back home. Stuffing her hands into her jacket pockets, she turns around to do just so, but the next thing she knows an arm wraps around her waist and she’s being pushed against a brick wall, the cool tile smacking her in the face.  

 

She screams once, then twice, as loud as her lungs will let her, before a hand is slapped over , covered in black gloves and three times the size of hers. Any struggle is fruitless, because his body is sturdy, unmoving, and there’s a cool piece of metal being placed against her cheek. The iciness makes her flinch and when her eyes stray to the side in panic, they meet the muzzle of a gun.

 

“Listen, and listen well. When I count to three, you’re going to turn around and take off your jacket and every last piece of jewelry you got. I want the shoes too. They look expensive.”

 

His voice sounds rough from disuse, right next to her ear, and it makes her shiver. When he notices this he chuckles directly in her ear, rubbing her arm slowly.

 

“That’s right be a good girl”

 

She flinches when he jabs the muzzle against her cheek.

 

“One, two, three-“

 

The next series of events happen a lot differently than she expects. When she looks back on it, she’s more than grateful. It reminds her of something out of the movies, but then she remembers movies tend to have more than one villain and too little protagonists.

 

She turns around as instructed, but just as she’s ridding herself of the crimson leathered jacket the gun is knocked clean out of the man’s grip. He stumbles, startled, from what she can tell with the mask covering his face, but soon recovers, pulling another out of his jacket pocket. Her savior comes in the form of a figure donning all black, a hoodie slung casually over their head. She can’t see their face despite the dim cast from the street lights.

 

He glances at her, but only briefly, before he all but charges at the gun wielding mugger. He’s startled at the prospect of his weapon not putting any fear in the savior’s heart, and he stumbles, pulling the trigger frantically as he’s tackled to the ground.

 

She counts three shots that ring out in the dead of the night, as she slumps down on the cool concrete. Her heart beats loudly in her chest, filtering to her ears, and a bullet whizzes past her cheek, but she’s too focused on the struggle in front of her to be afraid anymore. No, this is pure adrenaline filtering through her veins, so when the hooded figure knocks the gun out of the mugger’s hands and it slides to a stop a few feet in front of her, she dives frantically for it. Her fingers are trembling, palm sweaty, and she’s never held a gun a day in her life, but she takes aim anyway.

 

The mugger struggles, but fruitlessly so as her savior punches him with so much vigor that his head bounces on the concrete, blood pooling from his nose and mouth, staining the hooded figure’s hands crimson. Suddenly, red and blue lights are flashing from down the street, and the hooded figures head pops up, staring at the rapidly approaching vehicles. The mugger uses this opportunity to buck him off, wobbling to his feet and taking off down the nearest alleyway. The hooded figure lets him, slowly pushing to a stand.

 

The gun is still tight in her grip and when her savior turns around, he his head to the side at the way she’s shaking, still holding the gun tightly. He approaches her slowly, and reaches a hand out steadily, placing it lightly over hers. The warmth from his hands shock her awake and she gets the hint, lowering the gun almost hesitantly, but when he holds his palm out she readily deposits it. His fingers wrap around the gun and in one swift motion he discards his hood, revealing wild, damp brunette hair and deep brown eyes.

 

When the recognition sweeps across her face, he smiles, and it’s everything gentle and assuring, before he turns, and disappears down the street, black hoodie flapping behind him. She’s seen him before, maybe once or twice, but she can’t place him, not quite yet.

 

It’s only hours later when she’s at the police station, being bombarded with a number of questions. Her head hurts and the lights are too bright, but upon realization she jumps, spilling ice cold water all over her face, but it wakes her up.

 

It was her neighbor. Her neighbor had saved her life. 

 

 

---

 

 

Two weeks later, after several interviews and news reports, Portia Nuvuex returns to her everyday life.

 

She figures, as bad as it sounds, the mugging was exactly what she needed. Her broken engagement was pushed to the back of her mind, alongside her previous depression. She found that life was too short. That, and her assistant had left a very colorful message that, politely put, said she needed to return back to managing her company or she would surely be short one staff.  

 

Portia didn’t mind. In fact, she had laughed when listening to her assistant’s mini rant, but she did as requested anyway. It was her first laugh in three months and it felt great, because this is the best she’s felt in a while. The streets of New York are awake and buzzing, people shuffling, animated chatter filling the air. She takes it all in from her seat in the plush seats of her Limousine, sipping on her Caramel Macchiato. She smooths out her Roberto Cavalli dress just as they pull up in front of the company, her company.

 

She bids the driver a quick goodbye when he opens the door for her, requesting he come pick her up for lunch at three before turning and heading into the five story glass building. Of course her assistant is waiting for her, clipboard gripped tightly in hand, but she looks nothing like how she sounded over the phone. Instead, she looks worried, eyebrows furrowed and worrying her bottom lip.

 

“You have someone very important on hold in your office” She blurts out before Portia can so much as blink.

 

“If they’re on hold then they must not be that important” She laughs, breezing past Lilith, who follows instantly, looking none the bit amused. The walk down the hall to her office is surprisingly silent, and she notes wearily how Lilith swapped her expensive patterned Armani rugs with plush, fuzzy pink carpet.

 

She makes a note to never be absent for more than three days.

 

Lilith is still creepily silent, staring intently ahead of her. When they reach Portia’s office she stops dead in her tracks as if she cannot go past the door. Portia shoots her a worried glance but the girl simply urges her to answer the telephone. She sends her a questioning look, but does so none the less.

 

“Portia Nuvuex speaking” She says.

 

“Ms. Nuvuex, this is private investigator Mason Chalm. I’m afraid I have a very delicate matter to discuss with you. How about an early brunch?”  

 

 

_

 

Mason Chalm is just as strict looking as he sounded over the phone. His white button down is tucked neatly into his black jeans, suspenders handing over the back as he sits ram rod straight, running a hand through his blazing orange hair, waiting for his coffee to cool down. Black coffee, no creamer, no sugar, and Portia thinks it suites him personally. He glances up at her, smiling in what he believes is a disarming manner, but to her it looks like a pained grimace.

 

“Ms. Nuvuex, what I am about to reveal to you is highly classified information. Not only is your life in danger, but those around you. I need for you to hear me out, all the way through before making any decisions and understand that I understand.”

 

She doesn’t quite get where he’s going, but she nods anyway, a bit eager and overly curious.  

 

“Do you keep up with the news, Ms. Nuvuex? Are you aware who ‘Kai’ is?”

 

The name sounds familiar but she can’t quite remember why so she shakes her head no, placing her iced coffee down when she notices the serious tilt in his voice.

 

“Ten years ago, I found my best friend’s head in the trunk of my car, severed. He was in the force like me, a great guy- no-… a good guy. He was all for justice, but apparently justice wasn’t all for him because some slimy bastard beheaded him and put his severed head in my trunk, a joke, a very sick one. Six days later, I was handed a file of a fifteen year old boy named ‘Kai’. There was no photo, no leads, but I was told he was the one who killed my friend and that I wasn’t to sleep until he was found. So, I searched hard, long and hard, but to no avail. He is the definition of dexterity, cunning, and evasion. The kid was hard to find. I guess he got tired of waiting, because not a year later he was committing crime left and right, but never left any valuable evidence, ever. For ten years this went on. I became tired- I am tired, but for the first time in ten years he’s slipped up. It cost me half my squad, but we have one of the most vital things we could ever acquire, his location. Two weeks ago, you remember the night you were robbed, Ms. Nuvuex? That’s when we found that...” He pauses then, stares into the darkness of the murky coffee before him, as if contemplating his next choice of words.

 

“That?” She prompts because he can’t just leave her hanging in suspense like that. When he looks up at her, the severity of his gaze makes her shift uncomfortably in the hard wooden chair.

 

“That one of the world’s most wanted criminals, Kai, is your next door neighbor.”

 

It hits her like a ton of bricks, his words, because the man who had saved her from a criminal not too long ago was a criminal himself. The irony, she thinks.

 

 

“It’s a lot to digest, but the clock is ticking Ms. Nuvuex. We have to capture him before he can slither away, for good this time. You’re an attractive woman Ms. Nuxuex, very beautiful if I must say so myself.”

 

She doesn’t have time to be embarrassed by his compliment because he’s already leaning forward, face more intent than ever, speaking in low tones as if maybe this requires the ultimate discretion, and maybe it does.
 

“Since I’m guessing you two have never spoken a word to each other by the look on your face, it must have been your looks that’s attracted you one of the most dangerous men in the world. This is the best explanation I have as to why he chose to save you on that unfortunate night. Why would Kai, wanted in over twenty countries, attract such attention to himself by saving his neighbor from getting mugged? He’s been watching you. I’m almost sure of it. Whether you or I know it, you are something. Something we haven’t quite figured out yet.”

 

Vaguely, she wonders if she should be flattered, having caught the attention of one of the world’s most wanted men, but she finds she’s more terrified.

 

“Anyway, this is where you come in. Since, Kai is … willing to stick his neck out for you, he must like you. We want you to go on a date with Kai. It doesn’t matter how or where, just make sure it’s soon, say within the next three days. Now, you won’t be alone on this date. I assure you. We will be there, just not in sight. Rest assured we’ll only be one tap way. You will be wired, but lightly so. Kai is very intelligent. We can’t be too suspicious. I’m afraid we can’t have too much contact either, he most likely has someone trailing you.” He concludes, sparing a wary glance around the café their occupying, as he takes a sip of his surely cold coffee, his first sip since it was placed on their table.

 

A small pause ensues in which he just watches her, then she realizes that he’s awaiting an answer of some sort. That’s when it hits her just how dangerous his simple proposition was, but after the mugging she vowed to do more with her life, and as corny as it may sound, help better the world in whatever way she could. What better way to start than to help capture one of the world’s top criminals? 

 

“I’ll do it”

 

Just a few weeks ago she had been pouring her eyes out, drowning in wine. Now, she was going to aid in achieving justice.

 

Oh, how things change. 

 

 

---

 

 

Three days later finds Portia frantically pacing the space where her kitchen meets her dining room. She had been given a minimum of three days to initiate a date with Kai. Today is day three.

 

Her nerves were eating away at her, but that’s not what kept her from fulfilling her end of the deal. Rather, it was the fact that Kai never appeared to be home. He was always out or away, and the creepy thing about it was when she was sure she heard him leaving his home and she managed to open the door just as his footsteps sounded, the corridor was always empty. She had even went so far as to question the renter of the complex, but he was tight lipped as ever, telling her to mind her own business before sending her on her way.

 

It was all so suspicious that often times it seemed unreal, living directly across the hall from a murderer.

 

She shakes her head to rid herself of such terrifying thoughts. Contemplation is heavy, because she’s no hero. How can she possibly seduce a criminal? The thing is, she can’t. 

 

With that in mind she reaches for her phone, tucked neatly in her sweats, but before she can even unlock it there’s a knock at the door. She sighs, tucking her phone back in before shuffling toward the door. What, or rather whom is on the other side of it makes her freeze, Officer Chalm’s voice ringing in her head.

 

“After a while, if you don’t come to Kai, he’ll come to you.” 

 

Sure enough, Kai standing before, but it’s the state he is in that has her pausing. His brunette locks are damp, little droplets of water falling from the tips to his bare chest, and despite his half state, he’s leaning casually on her door frame, hands shoved deep into the pockets of his sweats.

 

She blinks multiple times just to make sure she’s seeing correctly.

"Sorry to bother you, but might you have any sugar? I’m trying to make a cake, but I’m out of sugar apparently-“ He pauses then, smirk evident on his face when he takes in how she’s pointedly avoiding his gaze and his torso.

 

“Sorry, should I go change? I didn’t mean to-“

 

“No! It’s fine!-“ She blurts before she can catch herself, and she’s definitely not blushing, but the heat spreading across her cheeks says otherwise.

 

“I mean, I don’t mind-Just, uh, come in, please“

 

His smirk deepens and she’s thinks she sees his gaze sweep down, so quickly she almost doesn’t catch it, before their eyes meet. Hazel meets deep brown, but she quickly tears her gaze away, stepping aside so he can come in. She tries to avoid glancing at his toned back as she breezes past him to the kitchen.  

 
"Hey, are you okay?" He startles her when he speaks up, and she jumps slightly, spilling some of the sugar on the countertop as she pours it into an empty bowl for him. His smile is sheepish as he scurries to help her, cleaning up the spilled sugar before turning to regard her..

"It's just- every time I see you, you look so sad. Is everything okay?"

 

She wants to say the last time he saw her, a gun was being pointed in her face, but opts for biting her lip instead. So he had been watching her? She can only recall seeing him once or twice before that night, and even then, it was in passing. For a moment, she feels a sort of appreciation for the man before her. Here he was, a stranger, asking her if she was okay, when some of her closest friends hadn’t even spared her a text message at least to see how she was doing after her failed engagement, and the falling apart of her own life. 
 

Then she remembers this is the same man who had beheaded officer Chalm’s partner and placed his severed head in the man’s trunk for him to discover. It’s now or never, she thinks. 

"I'm fine, just a little … lonely" She murmurs, and makes sure to lay it on thick, batting her eye lashes and glancing at the floor as if she’s so shy.

He hums at that, leaning on the closest counter, arms crossed lazily across his chest.

"I guess that’s my cue” He mumbles, turning to regard her with a nervous smile.

 

“Uhm- I’m not really good with these kind of things, but I’ve been trying to work up the courage to ask you out ever since you moved in, but I assumed you were taken since I saw a ring on your finger. I don’t see it now though.” He says, glancing at her hand to make sure he’s not mistaken.  

 

“That’s because I’m not engaged anymore. I haven’t been for a while.” She clarifies with a small smile of her own, and for the first time in months she doesn’t feel the sting of sadness that usually accompanies mentioning that time in her life.

 

“Sorry… I hope you didn’t think I actually came to borrow sugar, because I can’t cook to save my life, much less bake” He admits, rubbing the back of his neck, but he doesn’t look remotely remorseful, because he’s still grinning sheepishly at her, awaiting some sort of reply.  
 

“Okay” She says then.

 

“Okay?” The brunette reiterates, confusion evident on his face.

 

“Take me out tonight”

 

“Really?” His eyes widen momentarily at the simple reply before he schools his features to a simple grin.

 

“I mean- cool. I’ll pick you up at-“

 

“My driver can take me” She interjects, wincing at her own snobby reply, but he doesn’t seem fazed in the slightest. In fact, his grin pulls into a playful smirk as he pulls a crumpled piece of paper out of his pockets, offering it to her.

 

“I figured you’d say that” He mumbles as she unfolds it.

 

 

Meet me at Sardi’s, 7 p.m., see you there- Kai

 

 

“Get out!” She huffs crumpling the paper further and tossing it over her shoulder. His laughter filters through the halls when she swings the door open.

 

“See you at seven!” He calls out before she slams the door in his face.

 

She waits until she hears his own door close, signaling he’s safe inside his own home before she darts to her bedroom, pulling out her phone and dialing detective Chalm. He answers on the second ring.

 

 
__

 

 

 

The restaurant is filled the brim with people chatting animatedly and waiters bustling back and forth. The atmosphere is so welcoming and light that she almost forgets she’s sitting across from a wanted criminal, almost. She still sits ram rod straight in her chair, eyes roaming for any trace of Chalm or his men, but figures it’s actually a good sign when she can’t find anything. The detective had reminded them all multiple times that Kai wasn’t just cunning, he was intelligent.

 

“Are you okay? You seem tense. Here, take a sip. It’ll help loosen you up.”

 

Her eyes dart rapidly toward the wine glass he pushes her way, but she remains still, rigid in her seat. He raises a brow at that, but chuckles none the less.

 

“Okay, I guess I’ll have to do that myself.” He mutters, taking a sip from his own glass before leaning back in his chair, legs gapped open, eyes twinkling as he unconsciously strums his fingers on the table. For a criminal she can’t help but think he looks so polished, hair slicked back in a white button down.

 

“My name is Kai. I’m twenty five years old. My favorite color is black, but my friend always argues that it’s a shade not a color, in that case my favorite shade is black and my favorite color is red. My favorite movie is Kill Bill or Pulp Fiction. I can never decide. I’ve always wanted a Golden Retriever ever since I could remember, but our renter is a complete jerk with a no pet’s policy.”

 

His pout at the end makes her giggle, that ends abruptly because cold blooded killers shouldn’t be this cute. He looks at her then, a silent form of encouragement that makes her face heat up more than it should.

 

“My name is Portia. I just recently turned twenty three in April. My favorite color changes just about every day-“ She stumbles over her words slightly, not really used to introducing herself beyond a business aspect. It’s weird, but she finds that she likes it, even finding herself smiling unconsciously.

 

“What is it today?” He asks, seeming genuinely interested. She pauses, taken back at just how decent he is, but then what did she expect? For him to brandish a gun in the middle of the restaurant and shoot her? Or chop her head off with the steak knife and put it in the back of her best friend’s trunk? She winces at just how cruel the last thought sounds.  

 

“Orange, I think”

 

“Underrated, how interesting. Go on. What’s your favorite movie?” The brunette prompts, nodding at her with a small smile.

 

“I like classical mobster movies, so I’d say Goodfellas or all of the Godfather films. Scarface is one of my favorites too.-“

 

“I always tell the truth. Even when I lie (1)” He recites, a playful grin tugging at the corners of his mouth. She laughs, but only because of the irony of the situation, how he thinks she knows less than he’s willing to offer.   

 

Surprisingly, the dinner goes smoothly from there. The fact that she’s dining with one of America’s most wanted almost doesn’t cross her mind. That is until many bottles of wine later, after he’s slapped several hundred dollars on the table and they’d stumbled out into the chill of the night, then into a sleek black Lamborghini. 

 

Once they’ve pulled off and the restaurant is long out of view, it hits her that she’s sitting on plush leather seats most likely purchased form drug money or pointing a gun to another person’s head. It makes her shiver and her fingers, unconsciously, brush against the wires taped to the various places on her body, behind her ear, on her inner thigh, and her mid back. She’s definitely fidgeting now, but he doesn’t seem to notice, leaned back in the upmost nonchalance as they cruise the emptying streets. 

 

She’s ready to get this over with, now. The darkness seems to bring about the danger in him, and when he catches her studying his side profile and sends her a devious smirk, she swallows, but is cotton dry. So, at the next red light she whips out her phone, trying to remember the number the detective had urged her not to save in her mobile device. 

 

“Who are you calling?”

 

It’s an innocent enough question that has her laughing a bit forced and a lot uneasy as she tries to decipher the expression on his face. 

 

“I have several missed calls from my assistant. Something must have went wrong at the business meeting tonight.” 

 

She’s a little proud of how quickly she comes up with a sufficient lie, but more so panicking at the flash in his eyes. It happens so quickly she almost doesn’t catch it, but she figures it can’t be good. However, in the blink of an eye he’s smiling again, disarming, and he turns to fiddle with something in his pocket off to the side.

 

She quickly dials in the rest of the number, but her hand wavers over the call button.

 

“Business on a night like this? Wouldn’t want to spoil the fun, would we?” 

 

Just as she presses the call button he whips around, and all she can do is blink before he plunges a syringe in her chest. It’s filled to the brim with an acid green liquid which he dispenses vigorously. The effects are immediate, the phone slipping out of her grip as she gasps, eyes suddenly too heavy.

 

Everything blurs, but she can distinctly see his coy smirk, before everything goes black.

 

 

_

 

 

She wakes up twice. 

 

The first time it’s to the darkness of the car. They’re pulled over and only when she finally opens her eyes, blinking slowly does she notice the red and blue lights flashing in the rear view mirror. Her hearing comes slower than her vision, but once she fully comes to, she opts for glancing to her left.

 

 Kai is explaining something to an officer, smiling pleasantly so, looking anything but a top class criminal. The officer nods along, seemingly buying whatever lie Kai is spewing, but his gaze wonders to her when he sees her blinking to awareness. The light from the flashlight being shoved in the window is momentarily blinding and she squeezes her eyes shut. 

 

“And what about her?” The officer asks, leaning further in the window, raking the flashlight slowly over her face. She blinks slowly at him in return, still very much paralyzed. 

 

“Oh, her? Don’t worry officer. My girlfriend is a little drunk. Too much wine.” He whispers the last part as if it’s some big secret, he and the officer sharing a laugh. Her stomach lurches.

 

“I just need to see your license and registration, then you two can be on your way.” 

 

Briefly, she wonders if Kai will really give the man his actual license, or a fake. What would happen after that? The anticipation is driving her mad.

 

Kai turns around and twists into the backseat, fumbling with his wallet and a few scattered papers. The light is flashed on her face once more, and she figures this is an opportunity to escape, but she can barely move, much less speak. Instead, she tries to relay her panic with the minimal facial muscle she can move. It's an awkward twitch of her eyebrows, but she guesses it's enough by the way the officer's brows are furrowed, but just as he opens his mouth to say something, Kai whips around, license and registration in hand. He gives them one last glance before grabbing them and returning to his own vehicle. 

 

Kai takes this opportunity to whisk out another syringe, clear liquid sloshing inside, and jab it into her thigh. Still paralyzed from the last injection, all she can do is watch, with lidded eyes. 

 

Whatever he's injected her with has slowed her heart rate considerably, and a sense of dizziness hits her full force. 

 

The last thing she sees is Kai shoot her a lopsided grin as he shifts the gears and speeds off, the red and blue lights long forgotten as she out once more. 

 

 

 

 

 

The second time is to runny white clouds and bright blue skies.

She wakes up much quicker than last time but is just as disoriented. Still, her eyes dart rapidly to take in her surroundings.

She's on an airplane.

Cramped in the middle seat no less, the aisle seat and window seat bare. In fact, the entire plane appears empty, but the various accessories, glasses, shades, and liquor, tell her otherwise.

All too soon a dark haired boy appears, doe eyes hidden behind round glasses perched on his nose. He's fiddling with an iPad, apparently speaking with someone behind him, but stumbles, almost dropping it, when he sees her dazedly staring up at him.

"She's awake"

His voice sounds thousands of miles away, but he's staring at her so intently. She stares back, but only because she has no other choice. She's still paralyzed, cramped in the airplane seat.

The man opens his mouth to say something else but a figure emerges, brushing past him. Her eyes widen considerably when she realizes its Kai, holding out another syringe, filled to the brim with a maroon liquid.

He doesn't waste any time, stabbing her quickly in the arm, dispensing the foreign liquid.

The plane jerks to the left as her eyes droops once more and the last thing she sees is the concerned face of the raven haired man, and Kai's crinkly eyed smile before she blacks out for the final time.

 

 

 

 

---

Note(s):

(1.) A Scarface quote: