He licked his lips and moaned, shifting uncomfortably from where he had been slumped against the car window.

" About time too. "

Christie's voice cut through his sleepy daze. He turned to her.

" We're still driving? " he demanded incredulously. " Evading assassins seems remarkably similar to taking a road trip. "

She didn't answer.

" Where are we going? Or are we just going to keep driving until the assassins get bored? " he asked, looking at their surroundings. They seemed to be coming into a larger city. The sun had risen and there were plenty of people on the streets. Not as late as midday, but certainly after eightish.

" I was not tired until I closed my eyes, " he commented, massaging the bridge of his nose and trying to shake the last vestiges of drowsiness away.

Still no answer.

" Seems very nice weather today, don't you think? "

" Do consciousness and chatter go hand in hand for you Brad? "

Brad raised his eyebrows and smirked.

" As much as consciousness and grumpiness do for you, Christie my friend. "

" I think you'll find Brad that my grumpiness correlates not so much with my consciousness as yours. " Christie paused and flicked him a half-glance. She sniffed a couple of times. " You smell. "

He assumed a wounded expression and opened his mouth to protest before deciding that she had a point.

" It is only to be expected when I have been running around hiding for the past few days with a lady who seems to consider any shower her exclusive territory, " he insisted defensively.

" Oh and you don't have a tongue in your head to say: Hey Christie, I'm beginning to stink like I've stuck my head in a compost heap, mind if I borrow the bathroom for five minutes? "

" I asked at the last hotel, remember? But you said no. So it is your fault. "

" What I remember is the comatose assassin on the floor. Surely even you can figure out why I said no shower under those circumstances? "

Brad scowled and sank back down into his seat, now painfully aware of the rather unpleasant odour that surrounded him.

" There were three comatose assassins on the floor at the hotel before that, " he remarked snidely. " Are they your calling card? So people can say: Aha! Christie the assassin was here! You can tell by all the unconscious hitmen. "

" If you'd rather I leave them conscious that's fine by me. "

She pulled the car over and turned the engine off. Climbing out of the car, she grabbed her rucksack and laptop and started off down the street. Brad watched her uncomprehendingly. She swung back round and fixed him with an irate glare.

" Are you coming or not? "

He scrambled out of the car and ran after her, dodging people as he went.

" So where are we going? We do have a plan? " he asked, falling into step beside her.

" Leave it to me. I know what I'm doing and I don't appreciate questions. I'm helping you so all I need you to do is what I tell you and keep quiet, or at least as quiet as you can. "

" Shut up and obey then? " Brad verified in a neutral tone of voice.

" That's the way it's got to be. This is why I work alone. "

" Are you sure it's not just because no-one else can stand your sunny disposition? " he asked in an undertone.

Christie seemed to know her way around the town and was leading them towards the centre of the city. There were more and more people around and Brad found himself constantly weaving in and out. Christie on the other hand seemed to cut a swathe through the crowds. It appeared that, subconsciously, everyone recognised a predator and moved out of her way.

She led him onto a street of shops and then paused in thought as she considered each one. Eventually she caught hold of his wrist and they made their way into a large department store. Christie moved purposefully through the aisles and into Men's wear. Brad fought a sinking feeling in his stomach.

" While I understand you do not want to dress in ribbons and lace, isn't all this a little butch for you? " he asked casually, fingering a pair of black linen trousers.

" Cute, " she threw back, unimpressed. She caught sight of the trousers he was absent-mindedly admiring and picked them up. She held them against him, examined them briefly, then put them over her arm and moved away.

" So I smell and I dress badly, is that what this is about? " Brad asked, trailing after her.

Christie was currently holding a cream cotton shirt and a brown t-shirt against him, apparently unable to decide.

" No, you smell and your clothes smell worse. There's no point in you washing if you're just going to put those filthy rags back on. "

" Filthy rags? " Brad repeated in outrage. " I will have you know I like these clothes very much. "

Christie fumed and rolled her eyes, putting the shirt back but keeping hold of the t-shirt. She looked around and then located the shoes.

" I'm sure if they were clean they'd be fine. But they're not and I would much rather buy you new clothes than wash your old ones. "

She picked up a pair of brown leather sandals and held them up for Brad to see.

" Like these? " she asked.

Brad was still processing her last comment but nodded blankly.

" I will buy my clothes, not you. I came for help, not charity, " he said sharply after a moment's consideration.

Christie smirked, her bright eyes glittering.

" Touched a nerve have I? " She shrugged and handed the clothes over. " Have it your way. But try them on first. "

" Just because I do not have a regular job, and I would like at this juncture to remind you that your job hardly classifies as such either, it does not mean I am without income, " Brad explained firmly as he allowed Christie to usher him into the changing room and pull the curtain closed.

She leant against the wall outside and folded her arms across her chest.

" Oh yeah? " she called back. " So what do you do? "

" Random good deeds. "

She snorted in laughter, then stared coldly at the man who had just exited the next cubicle and offered her a tentative smile.

" Sounds like it pays well, " she threw back once they were alone again.

" It pays enough, " Brad answered confidently.

" I imagine it was in the course of one of these good deeds that you made the acquaintance of Mr Delacroix? " she asked lightly.

" If you told me more about him I might be able to give you an answer to that. And damn it woman, how did you know what size I am? "

" Part of my job is sizing people up. It comes in handy both when I'm working and when I'm shopping, " she answered with a shrug. " And I'll tell you about Delacroix but not here. "

There was a lot of rustling in the cubicle and Christie shook the curtain impatiently.

" Well come on out, " she demanded.

The curtain was ripped back and Brad stood there with a sullen look on his face. Christie looked him up and down, approving of her choices. His broad shoulders filled the t-shirt admirably, the short sleeves showed off the taut muscles of his arms and the colour set his golden skin off remarkably well.

He looked… good.

" Those'll do, " Christie said briskly, turning away rapidly and stepping back. " Now get changed again. I need to get something for me. "

Brad pulled the curtain shut and began redressing.

" Do you smell as well then? " he asked. " I hadn't noticed. "

" No I don't, but even if I did I imagine you'd be too smothered by your own stench to notice. " She pressed her hands to her cheeks and wondered why she was flushed. " And keep your nose to yourself, " she added.

" Ah, Christie, you are so sweet. So ladylike. "

He re-emerged and they headed to the counter. Christie surveyed the crowds speculatively as Brad pulled out his wallet and took out some cash.

" I suppose you thought I would try and pay with a credit card, huh? But I am not so stupid, " Brad said smugly. " I know they could track me down by my bank transactions. "

" They don't need to, " Christie said casually. " Joachim's just over there. "

Brad spun round to look as Christie raised a hand in a lazy wave at the hitman.

" Damn, he's really not bad, is he? " Brad asked, wondering why Christie was so relaxed.

" Oh don't kid yourself. He loses a little of my respect every time I see him. If our roles were reversed, if by some staggering roll of the dice you'd managed to get this far, I would make sure that you were dead long before I allowed him to spot me. "

Joachim was moving towards them quickly, his eyes fixed not so much on Brad as Christie.

" Sorry Christie, I think he may be a little angry at you. "

She took her eyes off Joachim and looked at Brad, surprised.

" Why's that your fault? "

" Because the things you did that made him angry, you did for me. "

" I knew what I was agreeing to when I agreed to help you. You think I didn't realise that I might tread on a few toes in the process of giving you a hand? "

Despite the fact there was a decidedly irritated hitman closing in, Brad found himself only able to think of what Christie had just said. He had considered it all a fun game and had only recently realised what he was asking from Christie when he had asked her for help. It turned out though that she, on the other hand, had known entirely that in helping Brad she would be risking her own life. And she had said yes.

" I suppose you think that was funny? " Joachim demanded when he reached them.

Christie gave a surprisingly sweet smile.

" My mother always used to say: Fool me once shame on you, fool me twice shame on me. "

Joachim pulled a face.

" Well there won't be a third time, " he snarled.

" I was frankly amazed that there was a second, " Christie said innocently.

The hitman turned to look at Brad. There was a barely concealed spark of fury in the man's eyes yet Brad found himself completely unafraid.

" Hello, " Brad offered finally.

" So how much are you paying her, huh? How much to get the hound to run with the fox? "

" I'm not sure I like that analogy Joachim, " Christie commented in a cool voice.

" I couldn't give a damn what you like Christie, " Joachim threw back, eyes still locked on Brad's face. " Or maybe it's not money you're paying her, hey? Couldn't say I blame you, if that's the case. Christie may like to play with the big boys but she's still just a pretty piece of flesh, don't you think boy? "

A surge of anger shot through Brad and he was about to lunge forward and tackle the man to the ground when Christie's cool voice sliced through the sudden haze of rage.

" Yeah, he's a guy and I'm not, s'pose that must be it, " Christie agreed lazily. " But you know Joachim, if I'm just a pretty piece of flesh that doesn't say much for you now does it? Considering I've outsmarted not once but twice in this little game already. "

" It ends here Christie, " Joachim said firmly, finally turning back to her. " I came to see you face to face out of courtesy. Now I'll take Mr Wong and finish up business, and you can just finish up your shopping. Interfere and it'll be the last thing you do. "

Brad waited less than five seconds for Christie's response. She laughed in Joachim's face.

" Very menacing, " she applauded him. " Now be serious. You don't really want to mess with me, do you? So why don't you do us both a favour and go back to Delacroix and tell him that I want to see him. I'm willing to come to him, he can name the day; we can have that dinner he offered me, but I want a postponement on the hit until I've spoken to him. "

There was a silence for a long moment as Joachim considered Christie carefully, obviously searching for the trick.

" You want to see him? " he repeated doubtfully. " Why? "

" That's for him and me, " Christie said with a smile. " Now you can try and take me on which neither of us really wants, not to mention the fact you'd be risking your employer's ire by not passing on a message to him that he might be interested in. Or you and I can part on good terms, you can speak to Delacroix, let me get my business done and then re-evaluate the situation. "

The silence this time was much shorter and less dangerous. Joachim nodded finally.

" Fair enough Christie. Just so you know though, if this is a double-cross I will hunt you down and make you regret it. "

" Sure you will, " she agreed reasonably. She paused, looking thoughtfully at Joachim before adding, " Dealcroix's past his best. Perhaps you'd do well to look for different career opportunities. Why don't you have a little word with Rufus Brejniv? I hear he's looking for a reliable operative. "

Joachim nodded curtly.

" I'll bear that in mind. See you Christie, I'll be in touch. " He looked at Brad and smiled tightly. " And I'll be seeing you too Mr Wong. "

He turned smartly and left the shop.

" What are you going to say to Delacroix? " Brad asked finally as he followed Christie into the Ladies wear section.

" Like I said, that's between him and me. "

Christie was even quicker in choosing her own clothes. She had picked up a pair of jeans and a long white shirt and had moved on before Brad had even thought of his next question.

" Will Joachim stick to his word? "

" Probably, but there's no reason to take stupid chances. So don't think you can wander off. "

Brad noticed that they appeared to be in the section devoted to evening wear.

" Am I taking you out to dinner? " he asked hopefully.

" No, Delacroix is, remember? "

" So I'm helping you choose a dress for you to go out on a date with the man who wants me dead? Have I got that right? "

" In one, " Christie congratulated him, considering a long green dress with a mid-thigh split. She put it back on the rack and moved on.

" Won't jeans and a t-shirt do? " he asked sullenly.

Christie threw him a long-suffering look as she rejected a red halter neck.

" Hurry up Christie. If I do not have a shower soon people are going to start keeling over. "

" I'm in charge, not you, " she reminded him.

Her eyes suddenly sparkled as she grabbed a black silk dress up.

" This is it, " she stated. Before Brad had even got a chance to look at it properly she had started for the changing rooms.

She disappeared into a cubicle and Brad hung around morosely wondering how things had panned out the way they had. Christie hitting on Joachim had been one thing but going for dinner with this Delacroix was something else altogether. He listened to the sound of women's chatter that surrounded him and the distant rustlings of material and zips. After a few moments. Christie made a small noise of approval and Brad heard once again the sound of a zipper.

" Aren't you going to show me? " he asked petulantly.

Christie pulled the curtain back and gave an impatient Voila gesture.

The dress was unlike anything Brad would have chosen for her. He had commented earlier about ribbons and lace and while this had neither, it was most definitely ultra-feminine. Bereft of her boots, she stood barefooted and a noticeable two inches shorter than Brad. The black of the silk contrasted with her smooth white skin and cloud of white hair. This was a delicate, fragile Christie that he had never imagined existed.

Still, the scowl rather ruined the effect.

" That's very nice, " he commented when he found his voice again.

" Glad you approve, " Christie said sourly, retreating back into the changing room.

Brad swallowed and reminded his heart to keep beating. Christie may have mellowed a little but she still showed no signs of romantic interest. None whatsoever. Indeed, the overall effect of Brad forcing his way into her life was that she was going out on a date with someone else. She was going to go out wearing a dress in which she looked heart-stoppingly beautiful and eat dinner with a man who Brad would swear was not good enough for her, and Brad would sit at the hotel and wait for her to come home, all the while wishing she'd stayed just a minute more with him, and then when she did return, he would have to say thank you. He would have to say: Thank you Christie for trampling all over my heart to save my skin.

--------------

Christie booked them in to yet another hotel and Brad began to wonder what it felt like to have a real, honest-to-goodness home. Bohemian he may have been, but certainly not a nomad. Christie ushered him up to the room and threw her things down on the double bed that Brad had rather hopelessly ignored.

" Strip then, " she demanded briskly, holding out her hands.

" Has anyone ever told you what a romantic soul you are? " Brad asked, fingering the buttons of his shirt uncertainly.

" No. Hurry up. "

" You first, " Brad ventured nervously.

A decidedly dangerous expression crept onto Christie's face.

" I swear Brad if I have to spend one more moment in your atmosphere of stench I'm going to suffocate. So take your clothes off so I can send them to be burnt. "

" I think you're exaggerating about the smell, " Brad argued defensively. " You did not complain at all yesterday and stenches the like of which you are complaining about do not suddenly appear over the course of twelve hours. It takes weeks for them to build up. "

" I'm no expert on smells. I just know you need a shower and your clothes are a health hazard. So strip. "

" This is just a ploy to get me naked, " Brad insisted seriously.

" That's right, " Christie agreed tetchily. " All I want is to see your body and this is the only way I could think of. "

" Well it won't work. I refuse to be manipulated like this. "

" Oh damn foiled again, " she cursed tonelessly, dropping her hands and starting to set up her laptop. " Well fine, just don't be long in there because I need a shower too. "

" Heaven forbid you don't use a shower to which you have access, " Brad grumbled as he went into the bathroom.

He peeled off his clothes and had to admit, if only to himself, that they were pretty pungent. But he'd been running since his house had exploded three weeks ago. He hadn't stopped anywhere longer than a single night and more often than not he'd been sleeping outside. Showers were a luxury he had given up in his single-minded pursuit of Christie, the woman he loved and the first name to flash into his head when he had realised there were people trying to kill him.

And how much further forward was he? While Christie had proved herself strong, capable, determined, she resolutely persisted in her absolute disinterest in him and all he had was a name: Delacroix.

Dropping the clothes into a bundle on the floor, Brad turned the water on and stepped in to wash away the weeks of acquired grime.

Christie carefully pulled the trousers and t-shirt out of Brad's shopping bags. She refolded them immaculately and laid them out on the bed to wait for him. Realising what she'd just done, she shook them out and threw them back down casually.

If she was not careful, she was lining herself up for a big fall. Was she losing her grip? Yes, he was good-looking. Tall, well-built, gorgeous eyes she could spend forever and a day studying… Christie pulled herself up on that line of thought and tried to get back onto a more practical course. Good-looking, yes, no question. A sense of humour that not only was she learning to accept but even appreciate. And he thought so much of her. Not scared, he'd said, but disgusted when he thought she'd betrayed him.

She took a shuddering breath and tried to get her wayward emotions back under control. Distantly she could hear him singing that damn drinking song, his voice deep and resounding in the shower. A warm, powerful voice. A voice she liked. In the instant that she realised that she was not irritated by his singing, Christie realised also that she was in big trouble.

Brad surveyed his hair glumly in the mirror. It hung around his shoulders like a dead animal. While Christie's hair was a perfect white, shocking and striking all at once, Brad's tended towards a very light grey and made him look more disreputable than he did already. He plaited it again swiftly, leaving any knots in that wouldn't be untangled in less than a few seconds. He dried himself and then tied the towel around his waist.

He left the bathroom and saw Christie perched on the windowsill, toying idly with her gun and staring down at the street below. His new clothes were lying rumpled on the bed and he could only too easily imagine Christie simply emptying the bag out over the bed. Her own purchases were draped over the back of a chair and the dress was on a hanger behind the door.

Brad tried not to look at the dress too long. He only had to close his eyes to remember the sweep of material as it clung to some curves and brushed over others, the blackness of the silk against her skin, her strange eyes watching him with a half curious, half impatient look…

He tore his eyes away from the dress and looked at Christie.

" Bathroom's free, " he told her.

She nodded absently and brushed past him, picking up her new jeans and shirt as she went. Hearing the rush of water and trying very hard to keep his imagination under control, Brad discarded the towel and slid on the new clothes. The new material felt good against his clean skin and he found himself once again considering Christie's fine choice of clothes for him. He wanted to make a cup of tea but the room lacked a kitchenette. Feeling very much at a loose end, Brad settled for sitting where he had found Christie. He was considerably bigger than her and found it much more difficult to stay balanced on the small perch.

He knew he had no right to be feeling quite so put out. She wasn't interested In him. It was hardly her fault. Despite that, she was helping him out of a life-threatening situation. He hadn't offered her money, or indeed anything as payment. She was doing it out of the goodness of her heart. Wasn't she? Paranoia was obviously catching.

What had Brad overheard Bayman say of Christie? That she'd tear your eyes out as soon as look at you? Something like that. But that didn't seem to be true. There had to be something else to her, or why was she doing this?

Brad sighed and listened to the abrupt termination of the water. It was a surprisingly short shower for Christie. Normally she was at least half an hour. He listened to the sound of her movements and resisted the familiar urge to go to her and explain to her why she should love him. These last few days he wasn't so sure himself.

She came out with her hair damp and slicked back, dressed in her new shirt and jeans. She looked suddenly very young. She looked like a young woman in her early twenties who was just getting ready to spend a lazy summer's day in the city. Nothing like the lethal and highly paid killer Brad knew her to be.

" So why are you an assassin? " he blurted out.

She didn't even look at him.

" I'm good at it, " she responded disinterestedly, checking her rucksack for all her belongings.

" Have you tried horse-riding? "

That got a look. A what-the-hell-are-you-talking-about? look but a look all the same.

" It is just, " Brad explained rapidly. " you could be good at that. And then you could stop killing people and be a show jumper instead. A champion one. "

" That's a very interesting and… random thought, " Christie allowed.

" Or maybe, I don't know, a lawyer. You could do that. "

She was back to not looking at him. And maybe Brad was imagining it but he was pretty sure he could detect a stiffness to her shoulders.

" My life isn't broken. Stop trying to fix it, " she said coldly. She was involved with an examination of a stiletto knife that she had removed from her discarded boots.

" But you could be happy. You do not have to be… " Brad faltered as she spun around to face him, the knife still in her hand.

" Do not presume to know whether I am happy or not, " she told him emotionlessly. " I have made my decisions and I stick by them. Whether you agree with them or not is your own concern. If you find that your morals won't allow you to continue in my company, there's the door, " she said, pointing with the knife.

She turned back and began strapping the stiletto to her lower leg. Bad watched her, desperately searching for the words that would somehow make this better.

" Please, Christie, my friend. If I have hurt you I am sorry. But what you are doing for me is not the action of the cold-blooded killer you present to the world. I only want to help you, and if you are unhappy then I want to make you happy. But if you truly are happy… "

" Which I am, " she told him firmly.

" Then I am happy. I would not dream of coming into your life and disturbing you. "

You already have! she wanted to shout. She wanted to hit him and tell him to make her angry again. Anything but his calm, concerned eyes on her.

The room suddenly felt very small to Christie. She needed to get out. Grabbing the only thing that was important, the laptop, she slipped her gun into its familiar place at her hip.

" I need some fresh air, " she said quietly, pulling the door open.

Brad nodded, sighed and sat down on the bed.

" No, " she said patiently. " You can't stay here alone. It's not safe. You have to come with me. "

" Are you sure? " Brad asked, moving to his feet even as he spoke.

" Trust me, " she said with a half a smile.

" With my life, " Brad answered. " But this is just a walk we are taking, yes? "

He stepped out of the room after Christie.

" You can never be too sure, " she replied grimly, shutting the door firmly.