Chapter 15: Codename: Blackheart Chapter Fifteen

Once I park in the underground parking lot, I curse the fact I’ve left bloody hand marks all over the steering wheel. Goddammit! I really didn’t want stains in my car. I quickly grab a bottle of water and some tissues from the glove compartment, wipe down the steering wheel and clean up my hand. I’ll do a more thorough job later. Now I just have to get this guy into my apartment. 

I grab my leather gloves and put them on to disguise any more blood that may trickle down my arm. I then get out, get into the elevator, and stop at my floor. But instead of going to my apartment, I rush and knock on my neighbour’s door. I’m aware of who all my neighbours are; leave no stone unturned, as they say. After a moment, I hear someone walk to the door, followed by silence, then the sound of chains moving.

“Rachel? I didn’t know you were in town. Is everything okay?” asks fifty-two-year-old John Anderson as he opens the door. Retired construction worker, divorced, two children, both who live out of home. Lovely guy, and very friendly. Looks a lot like James Brolin thirty years ago. I mostly try to avoid people, but sometimes you bump into neighbours, and you just have to go with it. I became friendly with John six years ago. He knows me as Rachel Macintyre; twenty-nine-year-old flight attendant. Which explains why I’m rarely home.

“Yeah, I’ve been home for the past couple weeks. I’m sorry I haven’t stopped by to see you, it’s just um… well, I have this boyfriend you see, and this is my first time off in a while, so we’ve been spending a lot of time together,” I say bashfully. 

He gives me a warm smile, “Good for you. About time you met someone. You’re a lovely young woman, any man should be happy to have you,” he tells me in a fatherly way. I’m not even acting when I beam up at him, he’s just so damn nice. I mean, I’m far from a lovely woman, but it’s still touching.

“Thank you, John, you’re too kind. Speaking of my boyfriend, we went out earlier tonight and he had a few too many. He’s now passed out in the back of my car. I hate to ask, but could you help me carry him upstairs?” I ask guiltily. 

He laughs boisterously. “I’ll gladly help you. As long as you promise to give him an earful tomorrow,” he says with a wink.

“Deal,” I chuckle. We get in the elevator and head down to the garage, the whole while I’m keeping my injured arm out of his line of sight. Once we reach my car, I open the back door and John just laughs.

“Oh yeah, he’s out cold alright. What was he drinking?”

“Vodka. He seemed to think ten shots was a good idea. He hasn’t thrown up… yet. I fear for my bed sheets and carpet,” I say, cringing. This makes him laugh again.

“I’m sure he’ll regret it in the morning, but let’s get your fella to bed.” I nod in agreement. 

John pulls Lowell out of the car and we both put him over our shoulders to support his weight. I shut the door, lock my car, and we carry him to the elevator. Technically, John is assisting in an abduction, but he doesn’t need to know that and whatever I may be, I’d never let anything come back to him. Not that I ever plan on getting caught. We make it back to my apartment where I let us in and guide John to my bedroom where we toss Lowell onto the bed. 

“I really owe you for this, John. Name it and it’s yours,” I say appreciatively. 

He waves his hand dismissively, “Don’t mention it. Gives me something to tell the kids when they call,” he says with a grin.

“You be sure to remind those kids that if they don’t visit you they’ll deal with me,” I threaten. I’m not even joking. John is the sweetest man, and his sons hardly ever visit. I want to punch them both. 

He gives me a gentle smile, “Will do. You take care of yourself, Rachel, and good luck with this one,” he laughs. “Call me if you need anything,” he says as he lets himself out.

“Thank you!” I yell just as I hear the front door close. 

As soon as he leaves, I get Lowell out of his jacket, tossing it on the floor. I position him in the middle of the bed and get to work on restraining him. I bought some bed bondage restraints a few days ago just for this occasion. With quick work, I cuff his ankles and his wrists. 

Once I’m sure he’s secure, I walk to the bathroom, take off my gloves, my jacket, and my bulletproof vest, and examine my arm. Good news is, the bullet just grazed me, which I suspected. I grab betadine and bandages, clean up my wound and bandage it. Injuries come with this line of work; it all just becomes mind over matter. Once you learn how to block out pain it becomes second nature. Course, not all pain can be blocked out. 

When I’m all cleaned up, I walk back into the bedroom and see Lowell is still out to it. His head is going to be killing him when he wakes up and I need him coherent. I walk back into the bathroom, grab a couple painkillers, and then go out and grab a bottle of water from the fridge. I come back and place the pills and water by the bed before I sit down beside my intended prey. I take a moment to examine him up close, reaching out and moving a lock of hair out of his face. I have to admit, as far as bait goes, he’s very handsome. 

After a few minutes of doing some additional work, I decide it’s time to wake Sleeping Beauty up. I go into my bathroom, grab smelling salts from my first aid kit, and return to the bedroom. Placing the little packet under his nose, I snap it and after a second his head instinctively jolts away from the smell of ammonia, his eyes flying open. I place the packet by the bed and sit back down next to him.

“Wha… where am I?” he asks, disoriented. He tries to sit up but quickly registers that he’s restrained and begins fighting against the restraints, panicking. “What the hell do you want? Let me go!” he shouts. 

Ignoring his struggle, I open the bottle of water and pick up the painkillers from beside the bed. “Take these,” I say flatly. 

He looks at me with distrust, glancing between me and the pills. “Hell no! You have me tied to a bed and you just expect me to take some random pills? They’re probably poison,” he spits venomously. 

I put the bottle of water down, pull the gun out of my waistband, and casually hold it in my lap. “This is a gun. You already saw what I did to the man in the alley. If I wanted you dead, a single bullet would do the trick,” I explain casually.

“Unless you want my death to look like an overdose or something,” he retorts. 

I actually smirk at that. “Touché,” I say as I tuck my gun back into my pants. “But I have questions and you have answers, so for the time being I have no plans to kill you,” I explain as I pick the water back up. 

“So you might kill me later then,” he deduces.

“Yes,” I answer flatly causing him to gulp. I hold the pills to his mouth. He analyses me nervously and then slowly opens his mouth. I place the pills on his tongue, carefully lift his head, and help him sip the water. “That will help with your headache,” I inform him as I put the lid back on the water and place it by the bed while he watches each of my moves intently.

“What do you want from me?” he asks cautiously.

“Peyton Grigoras used you as bait to get me out in the open and kill me,” I say in a detached voice.

“I don’t know anything about that,” he says, keeping his eyes on mine. He’s not a terrible liar, but he’s not great either. They say that when someone is lying they can’t look you in the eye. While it really all depends on the person, in most cases, liars actually tend to maintain eye contact. This is so they can observe if their lies are working or not. “Please let me go. I swear I won’t tell anyone anything. I have a wife and a child, please.” I snort at that comment. “What’s so funny?” he asks with a frown.

“Where to begin? First of all, never say that to someone sent to kill you. That won’t save your life, it would just get your loved ones killed. Second of all, you neither have a spouse nor children. You’re not even unknowingly someone’s baby daddy” I answer in an aloof manner, his eyes widening in alarm. “So, let’s try this again. Why were you helping Grigoras to kill me?” I ask with more force.

“I only helped because he threatened me. I didn’t want any part of this; I still don’t. I didn’t ask to be dragged into this,” he spits angrily. 

I look at him carefully for a moment before I just nod, satisfied with his answer. “I believe you.” 

He looks at me in surprise and the room goes silent for a moment before he speaks. “What can I do to stop you from killing me?” he asks with fear in his voice.

“Absolutely nothing,” I tell him matter-of-factly. Let’s see how honest he’s willing to be. “How long have you known Grigoras?” 

His features harden, “I barely know him,” he says through gritted teeth. Well, this is an interesting development. He loathes Grigoras. I can work with this. I get up and begin taking off his shoes.

“What are you doing?” he asks in surprise. I don’t answer since it’s pretty obvious. 

“The pills will help you sleep. I’ll check in on you tomorrow.”

“You’re just going to leave me like this?!” he yells in shock as he starts thrashing.

“I could kill you if you’d rather.” He goes silent at that and stops thrashing. “That’s what I thought. Goodnight, Alec Lowell,” I tell him, watching as he slightly flinches at the sound of his name. I step out and close the door behind me. I walk out to the living room and glance over at the software on the coffee table and see it’s managed to retrieve some deleted files from Alec’s phone, including one single text chain. Let’s see what you were trying to hide.