Chapter 3
I’m a little lamb who’s lost in the wood
I know I could, always be good
To one who’ll watch over me
Lex Luthor stood in his office, his back to the visitor. “This better be good. It’s late.”
“Oh, it’s better than good, Mr. Luthor. You won’t be disappointed.” The dark suited figure waited for Lex to turn around and face him. He didn’t. The visitor continued. “But, since the information I have is even more valuable than we’d expected, I want double the price.”
At this Lex did turn around. He smirked. “You’re lucky to be alive. You came here to kill me, and as I recall you were the one who almost ended up dead. If it weren’t for me, saving your sorry excuse for a life, we wouldn’t be having this conversation.”
“If it weren’t for me, you’d never have known that Ms. Sullivan appears to have… shall we say, a close connection, to the Green Arrow. I can deliver both of them to you. That alone deserves twice the amount we’d originally agreed upon.”
Lex contemplated this as he strode over to pour himself a drink. He had long been after the Green Arrow. Somehow it didn’t surprise him that Chloe would be involved with the Emerald Archer. Lex poured the scotch from the crystal decanter into a glass. “Have you discovered what her ability is yet?” he asked, swirling the liquid around briefly, then turning to his visitor.
“No, but that won’t be difficult.”
Lex raised the tumbler to his lips, downing the drink in one swallow. He savored the burning warmth as it traveled down his throat. “Find out. Then we’ll talk again.” He moved to exit his office. “Now if you’ll excuse me, it’s been a long day.”
“We’ll be in touch,” the visitor said. And Lex watched as the man became invisible, disappearing before his eyes.
* * * * *
Chloe couldn’t sleep. Every time she closed her eyes, images of the video replayed in her mind. She felt used, violated, stripped of human dignity. She kicked off the covers, and turned onto her side trying to find a more comfortable position. If it hadn’t been for Oliver’s discovery of her name on that file, who knows where she’d be now, instead of his guestroom.
Oliver. He’d dropped all of his responsibilities, flew from Star City or wherever he had been in the world, and come to her. He’d come to Smallville just for her, to warn her, to offer his protection. She wondered why he’d do such a thing for her, when he could have easily sent someone else, or called her to tell her what he’d found. She supposed he was merely being a friend. Yes, friend. That was all he was. A friend in the way that was almost adversarial and challenging. She matched wits with him constantly, she sometimes found him arrogant and cocky. Of course, it didn’t hurt that he was entirely six foot three inches of blonde Adonis. But nonetheless, he was simply a friend. Chloe wouldn’t allow herself to continue thinking in any other vein. It would be pointless.
Besides, Chloe thought she’d had enough of men for awhile. Her on again-off again relationship with Jimmy had turned disastrous after he’d proposed marriage. Chloe hadn’t been expecting his proposal, and in fact had only recently considered breaking it off with him. She found him too needy, too insecure, too clingy. She didn’t like who she was when she was with him. Jimmy could be sweet, but he was immature. More like a boy than a man. The final break up had not been pretty, and Chloe had closed her heart for now. It was better this way.
Chloe flopped onto her stomach. She then realized that sleeping seemed a fruitless endeavor and rose from the bed thinking to get herself a glass of water from the kitchen.
Oliver couldn’t sleep. He sat in his living room in the overstuffed chair, his bare feet perched up on the coffee table, crossed at the ankles. He could only imagine what Chloe must have felt seeing herself in the video, never having known or remembered the event. He’d decided to call the other League members after she’d gone to bed, wanting to round up the entire team. The mysterious phone call from Chloe’s stalker had given him chills. He wanted the bastard.
Oliver raised his head as he saw her walk toward the kitchen sink. She hadn’t seen him there in the dimness. He watched her silently. The only illumination in the kitchen area came from one recessed light above the sink. She was wearing one of those tiny tank tops and pajama short sets. The lack of brighter light did nothing to hinder the unconscious movement of his eyes over her petite, curvaceous form from head to toe and back again. He’d never seen her wearing so little, and Oliver felt his pulse pound faster. After drinking some water, she put the glass in the sink, and then moved to sit on the stool at the counter, where he had a perfect side view of her. Her shorts hiked up further as she sat, giving him a view of leg from ankle to hip. As she was about to place her head in her hands, she stopped, looking up, noticing him, and Oliver suddenly felt as though he’d just gotten caught like a fox in a hen house.
“Oliver,” she uttered in surprise, suddenly feeling self-conscious.
He stood up and walked toward her. “You should try to sleep. I’ve got plans for you tomorrow.”
Chloe swallowed tightly. She’d never seen him shirtless before, and tried to keep her eyes focused on his face as he came near and not on all those lean, toned muscles. “You do?” At least he was wearing gray sweat pants, thank goodness. Sweat pants that happened to hang low on his hips. Her eyes darted back up to his face, and she hoped he couldn’t see the sudden flush in her cheeks.
“I do,” he said, his hands now resting on the countertop, leaning on his arms.
“I was thinking about going to the ISIS foundation tomorrow.”
“Why?”
“I want to cross-reference the names on the list, with people in the ISIS data base. If any one of them have come to ISIS, then we’ll know who they are, how to reach them. There’d be a way to protect them from… from….” Chloe couldn’t continue, and looked down at her lap, but Oliver knew what she meant. And again she amazed him in the way she thought of these things.
“Hey.” At the sound of his soft voice, Chloe felt a gentle comforting hand on her shoulder, and looked up at him. “Don’t worry. We’ll find this guy. But if you go anywhere tomorrow, someone goes with you. The rest of the team should be here in the morning.”
She looked down again, nodding. Oliver’s hand lingered, then rubbed her arm up then down in a slow, soft caress. Chloe felt his eyes on her. “What plans did you have for me tomorrow?”
“You’ll see. Go get some sleep.”
Chloe slid from the stool, and now she really had to tip her head back to look up at him. “Oliver?”
“Yes?”
“Thank you. For everything.”
Oliver simply nodded, and watched her walk away.
* * * * *
Chloe wiped the perspiration from her forehead.
“Harder,” he ordered.
She pressed her lips together determinedly, her eyes narrowing in concentration, grunting lightly as her taped right fist connected with the heavy bag. Oliver stood behind the bag, holding it steady, watching her intently. She was a tiny thing compared to him. He’d guess that he had at least a foot in height over her, and probably about a hundred pounds more body weight than she did. But earlier she had gotten in some good hits, and she could pack a punch. She’d been a scrappy fighter, Oliver had discovered, but he wanted her to be able to handle herself better. So he had spent the morning teaching her evasive movements and ways to get out of a hold or position. Now he wanted to concentrate a bit on her fighting style. He hoped she never had to be in a situation where she’d have to fight, but he’d feel better knowing she could do even the slightest bit of damage, even if it were just enough to get away from an attacker.
“Again, harder,” Oliver urged.
“That’s what she said,” Bart quipped from the sidelines, as he munched on a sandwich. Chloe shot him a look. “What? I love The Office! Awesome show. You should watch it sometime.”
Chloe hit the bag one last time, the impact pushing Oliver backward. “Good. Now go hit the showers. Bart’s going with you to ISIS while I take care of a few things,” he said without looking at her. He then left the room abruptly.
She saluted his retreating form. “Yes, sir,” she muttered sarcastically. He certainly was being very bossy and very distant with her this morning. After his show of concern last night Chloe noticed he’d seemed very uncomfortable being near her. It was almost as though he didn’t want to touch her, which was rather difficult considering he’d had to show her how to escape from various holds an attacker might use. He seemed tense, ill at ease, and aloof around her suddenly.
She didn’t have time to ponder his mood. She wanted to get to ISIS and copy the visitor data base. She showered and dressed quickly. When she emerged from the guest room, she saw Oliver and Bart talking quietly. Bart nodding at whatever Oliver said. Oliver handed something to Bart, and Bart pocketed it quickly.
“Get back here as soon as possible,” he told her as she approached, again not meeting her eyes, and again he turned away quickly. “And don’t let her out of your sight, Bart,” he called over his shoulder.
“Gotcha, boss,” Bart called back, then turned to Chloe raising a brow mischievously. “Ready for the ride of your life?”
Chloe tore her confused gaze from Oliver’s back, turned to Bart and smiled. “That’s what she said.”
* * * * *
Chloe was finishing up at ISIS, waiting for the last file to be copied. She told Bart that she’d only be a few moments longer, and so he’d gone into the waiting room area to get something from the vending machine. No one else was in the building except for the two of them, and it was locked from the inside. There was no way anyone could get inside without being noticed.
“Hello, Ms. Sullivan.”
Chloe turned sharply to see the barrel of a gun pointed directly at her face, wielded by a man wearing a ski mask.
“Not a sound, or I kill the kid. Now, come with me.”
End Chapter 3
No comments:
Post a Comment