dancing on the edge of the precipice (1/1)
Title: dancing on the edge of the precipice
Author: tromana
Rating: R
Characters: Jane/Lisbon
Summary: [AU] Jane needs to work out what Lisbon's intentions are. She has to stop herself from falling for him.
Disclaimer: Not mine. A line of this is even borrowed from The Lion King. That's how little I own.
Spoilers: None
Notes: Written for 15genres1prompt. Genre: noir. Also for mentalistprompt: table G (not anymore)
dancing on the edge of the precipice
She flicked the ash from her cigarette before stamping it out with the sharp point of her stilettoed heel. As she sauntered along the dank passageway, her tight crimson red dress clung effortlessly to her curves. She really was a vision of beauty, what with that dress, her shining chocolate brown curls and her ruby red lips...
The easy smile that traced across her delicate features was forced, however.
He could tell that from just the one glance.
Not that he had taken just the one look at her, mind. If she was going to dress to kill, then she had to expect more than a few admiring glances to be shot in her general direction. There was precedence, after all. And really, only a certain type of woman dressed that way in these parts.
Extinguishing his own cigarette, he hurried to catch up with her. He was bored. Life had long since stopped providing him with certain luxuries and she seemed like ideal recompense. Or at least, like she would be willing to show him a good time, if only for a brief period of time.
She eyed him warily; understandable given the fact he had given her little warning of his approach. Her eyes quickly flicked up and down, giving him the casual once over before they settled on his face. Unlike many, she wasn’t afraid of a little eye contact. That was intriguing to say the least. Many women found his penetrating gaze overwhelming and gave in to the automatic urge to glance away. The very fact that she could maintain it and not only that, but look impatient for him to actually engage her in conversation, was all the more alluring.
Eventually, she huffed an impatient sigh, cocked her head just so to the left and planted her hands on those rather curvaceous hips of hers.
“Well?” she said, sounding a little irritated.
Silently, he offered her another cigarette. She shook her head, her hair bouncing off of her shoulders. Shrugging noncommittally, he slipped the packet back into his vest pocket after he’d selected one for himself. She watched as he made a grand gesture out of fishing out his lighter. He was only faintly surprised that she hadn’t grown impatient and gotten her own out of her purse. Then again, she wasn’t exactly the type to be helpful. Look, but do not touch and all that jazz. The flicker of a flame gave him brief warmth against his freezing fingertips, but was soon out once more. It was, however, present long enough to set his cigarette alight.
With a smile, he took a deep drag of it. He breathed out through his mouth and they both watched as the smoke wisped its way back into the night sky.
Then, he took the time to regard her some more. His first looks, they had all been based on her physical form, the way she exuded sexual prowess. Now he was that little bit closer, he wanted to take the opportunity to work on what was going on in that pretty little mind of hers. Find out exactly what it was that made her tick.
For that was how he enjoyed spending his time. Working out how people worked, what their strengths were and more importantly, what their flaws and weaknesses were. After all, that was where he made his money. That was how he gathered his information to sell whatever con it was he was trying to sell. That was how he fooled so many people and made his fortune.
Except, now, the people of this dried up town were beginning to wise up to his antics. None of them were illegal, so they hadn’t had cause to get him arrested. They were immoral, perhaps, but there were no laws against being an amoral charlatan. He’d checked repeatedly, just to be sure. After all, laws changed to fit the society, not the other way around, contrary to popular belief.
“You’re new in town,” he stated after a while.
She rolled her eyes. It didn’t take a psychic to work that one out.
“And?”
“Just unusual, is all,” he said honestly.
With a quick glance away, she started to walk onwards. Clearly, the conversation was boring her; it wasn’t stimulating enough. He smiled. That was a good thing. This meant she was going to be a challenge. He hadn’t had one of them in a while. Conquests that surrendered too quickly, too easily took half the fun out of the situation. And he thrived upon making things fun. Without that, he grew bored and irritable.
“How so?” she inquired. Just politely enough not to seem rude, but abrupt enough to suggest that she didn’t want her time wasting. He had to keep this brief he wanted to keep her interested.
“People get attached to places,” he replied, again with the noncommittal shrug. “And the locals don’t tend to like to be disturbed. Visitors never stay long.”
“I never said I was going to stay long, did I?”
“No, you didn’t,” he agreed.
She fell silent again. It wasn’t exactly companionable, but then again, it didn’t imply discomfort in the situation either. No, he considered that his mystery woman was simply aloof, which was different to the kind of woman he was used to dealing with.
The question was what had made her so aloof, so distant from the world? What personal trauma had meant that she thought that this was the ideal mode of living? There was nothing worse than being lonely; he knew that for a fact. His loneliness had meaning, however. He was on a quest, for vengeance, for blood. Couldn’t let other people get involved in such depravity as that. It wasn’t fair to drag them down, for a start. Especially so if it wasn’t their choice.
But that didn’t stop him from seeking out people as a distraction, an interlude during the quiet periods. Sometimes, he needed reminding just what it was to be human. There was nothing like the brief touch of human flesh. The warm, secure and regular touch of feminine hands was something he’d been deprived of since the death of his wife and daughter.
“So what brings you to this godforsaken hole?”
“If you think this is a godforsaken hole, then why do you stay?”
“Ah, deflection. Clever,” he remarked.
“I try.” A coy smile traced over her features. Yes, he liked that a lot. “Well?”
“I have my reasons.”
“And maybe I’ll tell you mine if you let me buy you a drink sometime.”
Her hand rested gently upon the handle of the motel door. The look in her eye suggested she was sorely tempted, or so he hoped. After all, she couldn’t have gotten all dressed up for no apparent reason and the night was still young. However, she shook her head firmly and pushed the door ajar. Obviously, he had to try harder.
“You never answered,” he stated as she took a step inside.
“Maybe I’ll tell you if you buy me that drink some other time,” she answered back, twisting his words straight back at him. “I’m busy, Mr. Jane. See you around.”
As she walked away and upstairs, he watched her through the frosted glass window. The way she sashayed meant she quite obviously knew that she had a captive audience, that he was watching her every move. She didn’t want to give away all of her secrets, not just in the first, brief encounter. She wanted to keep something hidden back, just as he did.
Grumbling, he extinguished his cigarette butt and turned away. The moonlight cast shadows down the silent street. Stuffing his hands in his pockets, he ambled away, his mind full of jumbled thoughts.
Jane had never told her his name. How the hell had she known it?
And more to the point, he’d never caught hers, either.
That, he surmised, was probably intentional.
xxx
She kicked off her heels, wincing as she did so. If there was one thing she hated more than being forced to wear stilettoes, it was the blisters that resulted. Tentatively, she touched her red raw heel, wincing as she did so. When her fingers came back a sticky crimson - her blood - she sighed. Perfection always came at a price.
Still, at least she had succeeded in stage one of her plan: ensnaring one Patrick Jane. And it had all been so easy. Her boss had warned her that Jane was as con artist by nature, as slippery as an eel but she had been skeptical. Regardless of all his attributes thanks to his job and training, there was one thing he couldn't change and that was the fact he was man. She had learned when she was young -- too young some might have said -- that men were interested in one thing and one thing only. That, of course, was sex. It just took a little time to build up a certain facade, a particular image and she could have many a man as putty in her hands.
That was a skill she oft found herself abusing in her role as a private investigator. It was also one of her key selling points, one of the painfully few reasons she managed to get jobs in this day and age. Sometimes, the very concept of women working still seemed stuck in the dark ages, never mind in a role as male dominated as investigations. It saddened her, in a way. She knew she was amongst the best of the best in her chosen profession and yet, for the simple fact she was born a woman, a good many of her potential clientele passed her over in favor of a man.
Not this client, however. He had used her on a fair few occasions and always paid a healthy wage, certainly significantly more than the usual going rate. She had never actually had the opportunity to meet him face to face but she knew that he was the same person based on the rather unique way he chose to sign his letters and instructions.
Not with a signature or even just initialing, but with a bright red smiley face.
She had taken to referring to this specific client as Red John, for what else was she supposed to call him?
Picking up his latest letter, she reclined on the bed, resting her head on the duck down pillow. The moon provided her with just enough light to be able to read; there was no point in switching on the lamp light and having that fierce brightness offend her so With a critical eye, she re-read each and every instruction, making a mental note of what she was meant to be doing next.
Winning his trust.
Making him fall in love with her.
Bringing him back to Sacramento, California.
Finding damning evidence of how and why this man was a charlatan and a crook. Something, anything that could bring him down in the eyes of the law.
All in all, it was a relatively simple task, as far as she was concerned. It was slightly unusual in her line of work, but simple all the same. It just required a woman's touch and the ability to not grow too attached to the man. Otherwise, that would cloud her judgment; stop her from carrying out her task as quickly and efficiently as she ordinarily would. And that would never do.
Pulling the duvet over her lithe form, she didn't bother to remove the red dress. As far as she was concerned, it was little more than negligee anyway. Instead, she closed her eyes and tried to switch off her racing mind. She had achieved task one with overwhelmingly simplicity. That was always a good sign.
xxx
With a cocktail stick, she fished the olive out of her margarita and placed it teasingly between her swollen lips. Jane watched with eagle eyes as she took her time chewing it, before swallowing and taking a long sip of her drink. The devilish look in her eyes suggested that she knew full well just how much she was teasing him and that she didn’t care. She was determined to torture him for as long as feasibly possible. Almost as if it were her job to act in such a provocative manner.
He had met with this woman more than fifty times in the past few months and he still found her just as intriguing as the first time he'd clapped eyes on her. That, of course, was no mean feat. For a start, his distractions were usually a lot more fleeting and meaningless. There was just something about her which made him keep coming back for more.
Jane considered that it was most likely the fact she was one of the very few women who knew just how to say no to him. That was a very rare accolade, for his devilish good looks - the blond curls, the dazzling smile - made most women go weak at the knees. Unless, of course, he had swindled them in the past and then they generally avoided coming within a two hundred meter radius of him.
Then there was the other, far more important matter.
Teresa Lisbon, as he now knew she was called, appeared to be just as interested in him as he was in her.
She was still yet to tell him precisely why she was in town. However, all clues suggested that it was for him and him alone. Jane had caught her talking to various individuals, trying desperately to dig up the dirt on him. And naturally, with a flick of her dark brown hair and a pout of her sultry lips, she denied it. Claimed that his roguish, scoundrel past only intrigued her and made her want to know what she was getting into. After all, he seemed awfully intrigued by her, as well…
He'd have believed her if her tells hadn’t been so damn obvious. The way she blinked a little too fast, how she couldn't hold his gaze whenever she did so, and the defensive folding of her arms.
That meant there was only a handful of reasons as to why she was investigating him so thoroughly and none of them good.
He was determined to find out exactly why and tonight.
If that meant speeding things along and seducing her, then so be it.
xxx
She craned her head back and arched her spine as she did so. That gave him the perfect access to the tender flesh of her neck - one of her particularly weak spots - a situation which he promptly abused. As he teased her skin with delicate butterfly kisses along her collarbone, she found her self-control weakening. Her whole body hummed with anticipation and they hadn't really gotten anywhere yet.
This was not good.
It was never a part of her plan. Get him to fall under her spell, to fall in love with her, yes, but the feelings were never meant to be reciprocated. She was meant to stay cool and aloof, remain the lonely wolf.
She could never do her job if she let herself got attached to the marks. If she did, then that would be so terribly unprofessional. And that just wouldn't work.
So what the hell was so different about Patrick Jane? What was it about him that saw her free falling and doing nothing to stop it? If anything, on occasion, she could have been seen to be actively encouraging it.
Where the hell had her self-control gone? It had always been so damn easy for her to separate work from any feelings in the past.
Lisbon knew just how dangerous Jane was. Her dossier on him contained enough damning evidence as it was. She should have been trying to make a swift getaway, not luring him into her bed.
But despite all of her work for Red John, despite everything she knew about Jane, it happened all the same.
When his lips came crashing down on hers, she met them and matched his fervor. The kiss was as raw and savage as it was passionate. Each of them found themselves battling for supremacy, with tongues dueling, teeth nipping and biting and hands raking over naked flesh.
And when one of his skillful hands finally descended down over her exposed abdomen and lower still, she found herself biting hard on her lips to stop herself from gasping out in sheer ecstasy. She didn't want to give him the pleasure of knowing exactly what she liked or risk giving him reason to expand his already over-inflated ego.
Instead she made a private mental note stating that this was exactly why she had not resisted, just as she should have and had been able to do so up until this point.
xxx
He traced circles over her alabaster skin smiling as she slept peacefully. It was a mindless activity, but he was more than happy to indulge in the touch. After all, it had taken him a good long while to talk, to coerce, to persuade her to join him in bed. Months. Normally, when he set his mind on somebody or something, he got it pretty damn quickly. But this woman, this trophy, had taken all of his powers of persuasion.
Jane wasn’t the most patient of people but even he was aware of just how much she was worth it. The reward was testament to the amount of energy he’d spent on her.
After she’d dozed off into her quiet slumber, he’d vacated her bed for a while. This wasn’t a cheap motel, he knew that for starters, so he wanted to find out just how she could afford such rates. Lisbon hadn’t seemed to show any real desire to seek out employment since landing in this dump. Instead, she appeared to spend most of her time poking her nose into his business, something which he didn’t much appreciate. That was the kind of subterfuge he operated with; having it inflicted upon him settled uneasily on his soul.
But he’d found out a great deal of useful information in his brief search. Though she had always attempted to be fiercely private, sometimes a woman just ended up wearing her heart on her sleeve. In Lisbon’s case, that meant the bedroom. She didn’t appear to think it necessary to keep anything hidden from view there.
The letters were resting upon the bedside table and Jane attempted to avoid looking at them. He’d spent a good twenty minutes reading them all, absorbing each and every detail. Of course he didn’t have her replies to these correspondences, but they told him enough to fill in the gaps.
What had shaken him the most was precisely who they were from.
His nemesis, his opponent, his adversary.
Lisbon’s employer was the man who had ruthlessly slaughtered his wife and daughter, just because Jane had told the world the truth about him.
Did that mean he had just sold his soul to the devil? Had he crept into bed with the enemy? He’d been growing so very fond of her as well. Jane liked the quirk of her lips whenever he amused her so. The way she folded her arms defensively whenever she felt offended or nervous or uncomfortable for whatever reason in a situation. How she stubbed out her cigarettes using the sharp point of her heel, almost as if it were second nature for her to do so.
And though she hadn’t been all that willing to open up, it had never crossed his mind that she could have been out to do wrong, to haunt him on behalf of greater powers.
But that was mostly because he didn’t think she was evil. No, she seemed to have no clue whatsoever who or what she was working for. She needed the money and he was one of the few people to pay for her services. Female private investigators were painfully rare and there was a good reason for that. Women didn’t want their husbands falling for them. Men didn’t like feeling like they’d been bettered by the fairer sex.
So, she’d had to take what she could get.
He couldn’t blame her for that, after all, that was how he’d lived his life too. Except, he’d never claimed to make an honest living out of it, whereas she did. Jane knew full well the moral ambiguity of his standings. That pretending to be in contact with the deceased to make a quick buck was almost as low as you could get.
However, there were no guarantees that Teresa Lisbon actually knew what Red John did with the evidence she gathered on his behalf. She didn’t necessarily know that her employer was a killer, that he used anything she gathered to make people’s lives a living nightmare.
Nor did she know that Red John had already killed Jane’s family. That he hadn’t required her expertise to discover that he had been a family man.
As she mumbled incoherently in her sleep, slowly beginning to wake from her sleep, he formulated a plan.
This woman required educating and fast. He was confident that he would be able to save her from herself (and Red John) with just a few choice actions and words.
He knew he didn’t need to do it. Normally, his gut instinct would have been to cut somebody like that down to size. However, this time was different. This time he felt like he had reason to help her and not just because he was physically attracted to her and she challenged him.
Despite every intention not to be, he’d grown increasingly fond of his petite, fierce private investigator.
Jane just couldn’t bring himself to tar her with the same brush he ordinarily would have done. He just couldn’t.
xxx
Her hand flew to her mouth at the sight.
The bodies were long gone; it would have been ridiculous if they were still present, decomposing and disintegrating, but it didn’t take much for her to imagine them.
Jane had kept the master bedroom in the exact same way as he’d discovered it on that fateful day, excepting stripping the bed of the sheets. Blood had seeped through the long-gone bedclothes, however, and the mattress was stained crimson. How could anyone have done such a thing? Especially to an innocent child, that had been ruthlessly slaughtered due to her father’s fallacy.
Lisbon had never known much about Red John. She had investigated him on the sly, of course. It would have been foolish for her not to know what she was getting herself into. However, as violently private as she was, he was even more so. Despite being one of the best at her job (as she was very proud to admit to being), she hadn’t been able to find hide nor hair on her near-silent employer.
Until now, of course.
Reluctantly, she tore her gaze from the old mattress and stared bitterly on the wall. It was just like the way he signed his correspondences. Except larger, of course, like a blown up copy that had been transferred onto the magnolia wall. And, more importantly, daubed in deep red blood. The tang of iron present in the room was more than tangible. It was almost overwhelming.
When it all grew too much, she made a hasty retreat out of the room in order to prevent herself from vomiting.
After a while, Jane closed the bedroom door and joined her out in the front yard. The moon cast shadows over his face as she looked up at him, shaking as she did so. How the hell was she to know that Red John’s hands were covered in blood?
That was, if this was the work of Red John at all. And even then, it was always possible that Jane himself was that figure shrouded in mystery. This could have been so convoluted trick to expose him, to bring her closer to him.
To finish her off the way he’d done so his family?
“The local cops know. They haven’t been able to do a thing.”
“Oh really?”
“Yes. Why would I tell them if I did it?”
“Are you sure you’re not psychic.”
“Don’t be ridiculous; it’s written all over your face.”
Lisbon frowned. She didn’t like the fact that Jane could practically read minds, even if he claimed not to do so. How else had he been able to swindle so much money out of the innocent before they clued into just what he’d been doing and why?
“I didn’t send you those letters, Teresa,” he said, honestly. “But I do like your tenacity.”
“Thanks, I guess,” she replied dubiously.
They fell into an uncomfortable silence, staring up at the stars twinkling in the night sky. Their innocence was almost offensive, considering the revelations that she’d had to endure. Lisbon had always prided herself on working for the good of people, of giving them answers when all hope was lost. To discover that somebody had abused her principles so thoroughly was sickening to the stomach. Then, there was the fact that she hadn’t been able to carry out her job as privately as she’d have liked. Patrick Jane had seen through each and every one of her plans. Nobody had done that before; they were usually too distracted by the façade she presented them with to care about what else she was doing.
She felt weary, tired. Her whole world had been turned upside down and now, she didn’t know where to move. If Red John had slaughtered Jane’s family before she had even come on the scene, which suggested that he was quicker, cleverer than she had ever anticipated. Lisbon wanted to get even with him, but knew that he would realize her intentions almost immediately. If Jane could see right through her, then Red John, who had years of knowledge and experience working with her, would be able to tell immediately. And if she didn’t finish off her task in hand, what did that mean for her eventual fate? Whatever that would be, she sensed there would be certain amount of finality to it. Death, to put it very bluntly.
“What do I do?”
“Run. Run away and never return.”
If the situation hadn’t been so dire, she would have laughed at the ominous tone in his voice.
“Why?”
“It’s the only chance you have, Teresa.”
“And how do you propose I do that? It’s impossible to just disappear.”
Gently, he allowed his hand to cover hers. She didn’t flinch at the touch, there was no point. If anything she found it comforting. It reminded her that, despite her mistakes, she was still human. Still flawed. Jane had made some terrible errors of judgment in his life and so had she. It was forgivable to do so. And besides, it wasn’t as if she hadn’t tried to uncover some of the secrets of Red John.
“I never said you were going to have to do this alone, did I?”
She smiled weakly.
“And what about Red John? We can’t let him get away with this.”
“We’re not just going to be running. We’ll bring him down, too.”
“You make it sound so easy.”
“It won’t be, but we’ve got to try.”
Author: tromana
Rating: R
Characters: Jane/Lisbon
Summary: [AU] Jane needs to work out what Lisbon's intentions are. She has to stop herself from falling for him.
Disclaimer: Not mine. A line of this is even borrowed from The Lion King. That's how little I own.
Spoilers: None
Notes: Written for 15genres1prompt. Genre: noir. Also for mentalistprompt: table G (not anymore)
dancing on the edge of the precipice
She flicked the ash from her cigarette before stamping it out with the sharp point of her stilettoed heel. As she sauntered along the dank passageway, her tight crimson red dress clung effortlessly to her curves. She really was a vision of beauty, what with that dress, her shining chocolate brown curls and her ruby red lips...
The easy smile that traced across her delicate features was forced, however.
He could tell that from just the one glance.
Not that he had taken just the one look at her, mind. If she was going to dress to kill, then she had to expect more than a few admiring glances to be shot in her general direction. There was precedence, after all. And really, only a certain type of woman dressed that way in these parts.
Extinguishing his own cigarette, he hurried to catch up with her. He was bored. Life had long since stopped providing him with certain luxuries and she seemed like ideal recompense. Or at least, like she would be willing to show him a good time, if only for a brief period of time.
She eyed him warily; understandable given the fact he had given her little warning of his approach. Her eyes quickly flicked up and down, giving him the casual once over before they settled on his face. Unlike many, she wasn’t afraid of a little eye contact. That was intriguing to say the least. Many women found his penetrating gaze overwhelming and gave in to the automatic urge to glance away. The very fact that she could maintain it and not only that, but look impatient for him to actually engage her in conversation, was all the more alluring.
Eventually, she huffed an impatient sigh, cocked her head just so to the left and planted her hands on those rather curvaceous hips of hers.
“Well?” she said, sounding a little irritated.
Silently, he offered her another cigarette. She shook her head, her hair bouncing off of her shoulders. Shrugging noncommittally, he slipped the packet back into his vest pocket after he’d selected one for himself. She watched as he made a grand gesture out of fishing out his lighter. He was only faintly surprised that she hadn’t grown impatient and gotten her own out of her purse. Then again, she wasn’t exactly the type to be helpful. Look, but do not touch and all that jazz. The flicker of a flame gave him brief warmth against his freezing fingertips, but was soon out once more. It was, however, present long enough to set his cigarette alight.
With a smile, he took a deep drag of it. He breathed out through his mouth and they both watched as the smoke wisped its way back into the night sky.
Then, he took the time to regard her some more. His first looks, they had all been based on her physical form, the way she exuded sexual prowess. Now he was that little bit closer, he wanted to take the opportunity to work on what was going on in that pretty little mind of hers. Find out exactly what it was that made her tick.
For that was how he enjoyed spending his time. Working out how people worked, what their strengths were and more importantly, what their flaws and weaknesses were. After all, that was where he made his money. That was how he gathered his information to sell whatever con it was he was trying to sell. That was how he fooled so many people and made his fortune.
Except, now, the people of this dried up town were beginning to wise up to his antics. None of them were illegal, so they hadn’t had cause to get him arrested. They were immoral, perhaps, but there were no laws against being an amoral charlatan. He’d checked repeatedly, just to be sure. After all, laws changed to fit the society, not the other way around, contrary to popular belief.
“You’re new in town,” he stated after a while.
She rolled her eyes. It didn’t take a psychic to work that one out.
“And?”
“Just unusual, is all,” he said honestly.
With a quick glance away, she started to walk onwards. Clearly, the conversation was boring her; it wasn’t stimulating enough. He smiled. That was a good thing. This meant she was going to be a challenge. He hadn’t had one of them in a while. Conquests that surrendered too quickly, too easily took half the fun out of the situation. And he thrived upon making things fun. Without that, he grew bored and irritable.
“How so?” she inquired. Just politely enough not to seem rude, but abrupt enough to suggest that she didn’t want her time wasting. He had to keep this brief he wanted to keep her interested.
“People get attached to places,” he replied, again with the noncommittal shrug. “And the locals don’t tend to like to be disturbed. Visitors never stay long.”
“I never said I was going to stay long, did I?”
“No, you didn’t,” he agreed.
She fell silent again. It wasn’t exactly companionable, but then again, it didn’t imply discomfort in the situation either. No, he considered that his mystery woman was simply aloof, which was different to the kind of woman he was used to dealing with.
The question was what had made her so aloof, so distant from the world? What personal trauma had meant that she thought that this was the ideal mode of living? There was nothing worse than being lonely; he knew that for a fact. His loneliness had meaning, however. He was on a quest, for vengeance, for blood. Couldn’t let other people get involved in such depravity as that. It wasn’t fair to drag them down, for a start. Especially so if it wasn’t their choice.
But that didn’t stop him from seeking out people as a distraction, an interlude during the quiet periods. Sometimes, he needed reminding just what it was to be human. There was nothing like the brief touch of human flesh. The warm, secure and regular touch of feminine hands was something he’d been deprived of since the death of his wife and daughter.
“So what brings you to this godforsaken hole?”
“If you think this is a godforsaken hole, then why do you stay?”
“Ah, deflection. Clever,” he remarked.
“I try.” A coy smile traced over her features. Yes, he liked that a lot. “Well?”
“I have my reasons.”
“And maybe I’ll tell you mine if you let me buy you a drink sometime.”
Her hand rested gently upon the handle of the motel door. The look in her eye suggested she was sorely tempted, or so he hoped. After all, she couldn’t have gotten all dressed up for no apparent reason and the night was still young. However, she shook her head firmly and pushed the door ajar. Obviously, he had to try harder.
“You never answered,” he stated as she took a step inside.
“Maybe I’ll tell you if you buy me that drink some other time,” she answered back, twisting his words straight back at him. “I’m busy, Mr. Jane. See you around.”
As she walked away and upstairs, he watched her through the frosted glass window. The way she sashayed meant she quite obviously knew that she had a captive audience, that he was watching her every move. She didn’t want to give away all of her secrets, not just in the first, brief encounter. She wanted to keep something hidden back, just as he did.
Grumbling, he extinguished his cigarette butt and turned away. The moonlight cast shadows down the silent street. Stuffing his hands in his pockets, he ambled away, his mind full of jumbled thoughts.
Jane had never told her his name. How the hell had she known it?
And more to the point, he’d never caught hers, either.
That, he surmised, was probably intentional.
xxx
She kicked off her heels, wincing as she did so. If there was one thing she hated more than being forced to wear stilettoes, it was the blisters that resulted. Tentatively, she touched her red raw heel, wincing as she did so. When her fingers came back a sticky crimson - her blood - she sighed. Perfection always came at a price.
Still, at least she had succeeded in stage one of her plan: ensnaring one Patrick Jane. And it had all been so easy. Her boss had warned her that Jane was as con artist by nature, as slippery as an eel but she had been skeptical. Regardless of all his attributes thanks to his job and training, there was one thing he couldn't change and that was the fact he was man. She had learned when she was young -- too young some might have said -- that men were interested in one thing and one thing only. That, of course, was sex. It just took a little time to build up a certain facade, a particular image and she could have many a man as putty in her hands.
That was a skill she oft found herself abusing in her role as a private investigator. It was also one of her key selling points, one of the painfully few reasons she managed to get jobs in this day and age. Sometimes, the very concept of women working still seemed stuck in the dark ages, never mind in a role as male dominated as investigations. It saddened her, in a way. She knew she was amongst the best of the best in her chosen profession and yet, for the simple fact she was born a woman, a good many of her potential clientele passed her over in favor of a man.
Not this client, however. He had used her on a fair few occasions and always paid a healthy wage, certainly significantly more than the usual going rate. She had never actually had the opportunity to meet him face to face but she knew that he was the same person based on the rather unique way he chose to sign his letters and instructions.
Not with a signature or even just initialing, but with a bright red smiley face.
She had taken to referring to this specific client as Red John, for what else was she supposed to call him?
Picking up his latest letter, she reclined on the bed, resting her head on the duck down pillow. The moon provided her with just enough light to be able to read; there was no point in switching on the lamp light and having that fierce brightness offend her so With a critical eye, she re-read each and every instruction, making a mental note of what she was meant to be doing next.
Winning his trust.
Making him fall in love with her.
Bringing him back to Sacramento, California.
Finding damning evidence of how and why this man was a charlatan and a crook. Something, anything that could bring him down in the eyes of the law.
All in all, it was a relatively simple task, as far as she was concerned. It was slightly unusual in her line of work, but simple all the same. It just required a woman's touch and the ability to not grow too attached to the man. Otherwise, that would cloud her judgment; stop her from carrying out her task as quickly and efficiently as she ordinarily would. And that would never do.
Pulling the duvet over her lithe form, she didn't bother to remove the red dress. As far as she was concerned, it was little more than negligee anyway. Instead, she closed her eyes and tried to switch off her racing mind. She had achieved task one with overwhelmingly simplicity. That was always a good sign.
xxx
With a cocktail stick, she fished the olive out of her margarita and placed it teasingly between her swollen lips. Jane watched with eagle eyes as she took her time chewing it, before swallowing and taking a long sip of her drink. The devilish look in her eyes suggested that she knew full well just how much she was teasing him and that she didn’t care. She was determined to torture him for as long as feasibly possible. Almost as if it were her job to act in such a provocative manner.
He had met with this woman more than fifty times in the past few months and he still found her just as intriguing as the first time he'd clapped eyes on her. That, of course, was no mean feat. For a start, his distractions were usually a lot more fleeting and meaningless. There was just something about her which made him keep coming back for more.
Jane considered that it was most likely the fact she was one of the very few women who knew just how to say no to him. That was a very rare accolade, for his devilish good looks - the blond curls, the dazzling smile - made most women go weak at the knees. Unless, of course, he had swindled them in the past and then they generally avoided coming within a two hundred meter radius of him.
Then there was the other, far more important matter.
Teresa Lisbon, as he now knew she was called, appeared to be just as interested in him as he was in her.
She was still yet to tell him precisely why she was in town. However, all clues suggested that it was for him and him alone. Jane had caught her talking to various individuals, trying desperately to dig up the dirt on him. And naturally, with a flick of her dark brown hair and a pout of her sultry lips, she denied it. Claimed that his roguish, scoundrel past only intrigued her and made her want to know what she was getting into. After all, he seemed awfully intrigued by her, as well…
He'd have believed her if her tells hadn’t been so damn obvious. The way she blinked a little too fast, how she couldn't hold his gaze whenever she did so, and the defensive folding of her arms.
That meant there was only a handful of reasons as to why she was investigating him so thoroughly and none of them good.
He was determined to find out exactly why and tonight.
If that meant speeding things along and seducing her, then so be it.
xxx
She craned her head back and arched her spine as she did so. That gave him the perfect access to the tender flesh of her neck - one of her particularly weak spots - a situation which he promptly abused. As he teased her skin with delicate butterfly kisses along her collarbone, she found her self-control weakening. Her whole body hummed with anticipation and they hadn't really gotten anywhere yet.
This was not good.
It was never a part of her plan. Get him to fall under her spell, to fall in love with her, yes, but the feelings were never meant to be reciprocated. She was meant to stay cool and aloof, remain the lonely wolf.
She could never do her job if she let herself got attached to the marks. If she did, then that would be so terribly unprofessional. And that just wouldn't work.
So what the hell was so different about Patrick Jane? What was it about him that saw her free falling and doing nothing to stop it? If anything, on occasion, she could have been seen to be actively encouraging it.
Where the hell had her self-control gone? It had always been so damn easy for her to separate work from any feelings in the past.
Lisbon knew just how dangerous Jane was. Her dossier on him contained enough damning evidence as it was. She should have been trying to make a swift getaway, not luring him into her bed.
But despite all of her work for Red John, despite everything she knew about Jane, it happened all the same.
When his lips came crashing down on hers, she met them and matched his fervor. The kiss was as raw and savage as it was passionate. Each of them found themselves battling for supremacy, with tongues dueling, teeth nipping and biting and hands raking over naked flesh.
And when one of his skillful hands finally descended down over her exposed abdomen and lower still, she found herself biting hard on her lips to stop herself from gasping out in sheer ecstasy. She didn't want to give him the pleasure of knowing exactly what she liked or risk giving him reason to expand his already over-inflated ego.
Instead she made a private mental note stating that this was exactly why she had not resisted, just as she should have and had been able to do so up until this point.
xxx
He traced circles over her alabaster skin smiling as she slept peacefully. It was a mindless activity, but he was more than happy to indulge in the touch. After all, it had taken him a good long while to talk, to coerce, to persuade her to join him in bed. Months. Normally, when he set his mind on somebody or something, he got it pretty damn quickly. But this woman, this trophy, had taken all of his powers of persuasion.
Jane wasn’t the most patient of people but even he was aware of just how much she was worth it. The reward was testament to the amount of energy he’d spent on her.
After she’d dozed off into her quiet slumber, he’d vacated her bed for a while. This wasn’t a cheap motel, he knew that for starters, so he wanted to find out just how she could afford such rates. Lisbon hadn’t seemed to show any real desire to seek out employment since landing in this dump. Instead, she appeared to spend most of her time poking her nose into his business, something which he didn’t much appreciate. That was the kind of subterfuge he operated with; having it inflicted upon him settled uneasily on his soul.
But he’d found out a great deal of useful information in his brief search. Though she had always attempted to be fiercely private, sometimes a woman just ended up wearing her heart on her sleeve. In Lisbon’s case, that meant the bedroom. She didn’t appear to think it necessary to keep anything hidden from view there.
The letters were resting upon the bedside table and Jane attempted to avoid looking at them. He’d spent a good twenty minutes reading them all, absorbing each and every detail. Of course he didn’t have her replies to these correspondences, but they told him enough to fill in the gaps.
What had shaken him the most was precisely who they were from.
His nemesis, his opponent, his adversary.
Lisbon’s employer was the man who had ruthlessly slaughtered his wife and daughter, just because Jane had told the world the truth about him.
Did that mean he had just sold his soul to the devil? Had he crept into bed with the enemy? He’d been growing so very fond of her as well. Jane liked the quirk of her lips whenever he amused her so. The way she folded her arms defensively whenever she felt offended or nervous or uncomfortable for whatever reason in a situation. How she stubbed out her cigarettes using the sharp point of her heel, almost as if it were second nature for her to do so.
And though she hadn’t been all that willing to open up, it had never crossed his mind that she could have been out to do wrong, to haunt him on behalf of greater powers.
But that was mostly because he didn’t think she was evil. No, she seemed to have no clue whatsoever who or what she was working for. She needed the money and he was one of the few people to pay for her services. Female private investigators were painfully rare and there was a good reason for that. Women didn’t want their husbands falling for them. Men didn’t like feeling like they’d been bettered by the fairer sex.
So, she’d had to take what she could get.
He couldn’t blame her for that, after all, that was how he’d lived his life too. Except, he’d never claimed to make an honest living out of it, whereas she did. Jane knew full well the moral ambiguity of his standings. That pretending to be in contact with the deceased to make a quick buck was almost as low as you could get.
However, there were no guarantees that Teresa Lisbon actually knew what Red John did with the evidence she gathered on his behalf. She didn’t necessarily know that her employer was a killer, that he used anything she gathered to make people’s lives a living nightmare.
Nor did she know that Red John had already killed Jane’s family. That he hadn’t required her expertise to discover that he had been a family man.
As she mumbled incoherently in her sleep, slowly beginning to wake from her sleep, he formulated a plan.
This woman required educating and fast. He was confident that he would be able to save her from herself (and Red John) with just a few choice actions and words.
He knew he didn’t need to do it. Normally, his gut instinct would have been to cut somebody like that down to size. However, this time was different. This time he felt like he had reason to help her and not just because he was physically attracted to her and she challenged him.
Despite every intention not to be, he’d grown increasingly fond of his petite, fierce private investigator.
Jane just couldn’t bring himself to tar her with the same brush he ordinarily would have done. He just couldn’t.
xxx
Her hand flew to her mouth at the sight.
The bodies were long gone; it would have been ridiculous if they were still present, decomposing and disintegrating, but it didn’t take much for her to imagine them.
Jane had kept the master bedroom in the exact same way as he’d discovered it on that fateful day, excepting stripping the bed of the sheets. Blood had seeped through the long-gone bedclothes, however, and the mattress was stained crimson. How could anyone have done such a thing? Especially to an innocent child, that had been ruthlessly slaughtered due to her father’s fallacy.
Lisbon had never known much about Red John. She had investigated him on the sly, of course. It would have been foolish for her not to know what she was getting herself into. However, as violently private as she was, he was even more so. Despite being one of the best at her job (as she was very proud to admit to being), she hadn’t been able to find hide nor hair on her near-silent employer.
Until now, of course.
Reluctantly, she tore her gaze from the old mattress and stared bitterly on the wall. It was just like the way he signed his correspondences. Except larger, of course, like a blown up copy that had been transferred onto the magnolia wall. And, more importantly, daubed in deep red blood. The tang of iron present in the room was more than tangible. It was almost overwhelming.
When it all grew too much, she made a hasty retreat out of the room in order to prevent herself from vomiting.
After a while, Jane closed the bedroom door and joined her out in the front yard. The moon cast shadows over his face as she looked up at him, shaking as she did so. How the hell was she to know that Red John’s hands were covered in blood?
That was, if this was the work of Red John at all. And even then, it was always possible that Jane himself was that figure shrouded in mystery. This could have been so convoluted trick to expose him, to bring her closer to him.
To finish her off the way he’d done so his family?
“The local cops know. They haven’t been able to do a thing.”
“Oh really?”
“Yes. Why would I tell them if I did it?”
“Are you sure you’re not psychic.”
“Don’t be ridiculous; it’s written all over your face.”
Lisbon frowned. She didn’t like the fact that Jane could practically read minds, even if he claimed not to do so. How else had he been able to swindle so much money out of the innocent before they clued into just what he’d been doing and why?
“I didn’t send you those letters, Teresa,” he said, honestly. “But I do like your tenacity.”
“Thanks, I guess,” she replied dubiously.
They fell into an uncomfortable silence, staring up at the stars twinkling in the night sky. Their innocence was almost offensive, considering the revelations that she’d had to endure. Lisbon had always prided herself on working for the good of people, of giving them answers when all hope was lost. To discover that somebody had abused her principles so thoroughly was sickening to the stomach. Then, there was the fact that she hadn’t been able to carry out her job as privately as she’d have liked. Patrick Jane had seen through each and every one of her plans. Nobody had done that before; they were usually too distracted by the façade she presented them with to care about what else she was doing.
She felt weary, tired. Her whole world had been turned upside down and now, she didn’t know where to move. If Red John had slaughtered Jane’s family before she had even come on the scene, which suggested that he was quicker, cleverer than she had ever anticipated. Lisbon wanted to get even with him, but knew that he would realize her intentions almost immediately. If Jane could see right through her, then Red John, who had years of knowledge and experience working with her, would be able to tell immediately. And if she didn’t finish off her task in hand, what did that mean for her eventual fate? Whatever that would be, she sensed there would be certain amount of finality to it. Death, to put it very bluntly.
“What do I do?”
“Run. Run away and never return.”
If the situation hadn’t been so dire, she would have laughed at the ominous tone in his voice.
“Why?”
“It’s the only chance you have, Teresa.”
“And how do you propose I do that? It’s impossible to just disappear.”
Gently, he allowed his hand to cover hers. She didn’t flinch at the touch, there was no point. If anything she found it comforting. It reminded her that, despite her mistakes, she was still human. Still flawed. Jane had made some terrible errors of judgment in his life and so had she. It was forgivable to do so. And besides, it wasn’t as if she hadn’t tried to uncover some of the secrets of Red John.
“I never said you were going to have to do this alone, did I?”
She smiled weakly.
“And what about Red John? We can’t let him get away with this.”
“We’re not just going to be running. We’ll bring him down, too.”
“You make it sound so easy.”
“It won’t be, but we’ve got to try.”