Chapter 1: Animal I Have Become

"Miss Reisert, I think it's time you started telling us the truth about this incident."

Lisa Reisert bit her lower lip, her brow furrowing. "What do you mean?" she asked the officer, shifting uncomfortably on her father's sofa. She shifted her gaze between the two cops sitting across from her, trying to read their blank expressions. She still couldn't believe that they were accusing her of lying, even though this was the third day of said accusations.

Lisa gripped her dad's hand tightly, clenching her jaw in an attempt to fight back frustrated tears. She had been an idiot to think that Jackson Rippner would have let her go so easily. He had attempted to destroy her life, and it seemed that even in death, things didn't change- now he was intent on dragging her down to Hell with him.

Officer Weiderich sighed. "We've been over this. There was no Jackson Rippner on that flight. There was, however, a Jim Richards, who is now dead, and who as far as we can tell has no connections with any sort of terrorist organizations. An innocent man." An innocent man. Lisa's upper lip curled in distaste. Forget the 'innocent' part, she had started to doubt that he was even a 'man.' Obviously, he had set her up to take the fall for his plan, and she couldn't imagine any sane human being so willing to murder children and tear apart the lives of actual innocent people.

She shot to her feet, livid. "So he used an alias! Why would I willingly call Cynthia and have Keefe's room number changed unless I was part of a plot to kill him and his family?" Weiderich started to reply, but she cut him off. "And if I was part of a plot, why would I then call it off?" Joe Reisert rose and placed his hands on his daughter's shoulders, trying to calm her. She would have none of it though, and shrugged off his touch. "And then frame an innocent man-" she spat the words out as though she had taken a drink of spoiled milk "-as the actual terrorist? How is that more logical than Jackson Rippner, a professional, traveling under a fake name?"

A week ago, Lisa would never have talked like this. She would have addressed the situation calmly and rationally. But that was before Jackson shattered her cool, shiny exterior and left her to meld the pieces back together with hot flame. "Oh!" she continued, raising her hands in exasperation. "And if I was making up a name, Jackson Rippner? Jack the Rippner? Really?!" The officers watched her, unfazed. Lisa deflated, losing her momentum. She crossed her arms, staring defiantly at the two men.

"It is not my place to tell you what your motives were, Miss Reisert. But you are being placed under arrest and you will come with us down to the station."

Like hell, Lisa retorted in her own mind, but Weiderich was not finished.

"As will you, Mr. Reisert."

Joe held up a defensive hand, the other still tight on Lisa's shoulder. "Now hold on-"

"Absolutely not!" Lisa cried, interrupting her father, "He has nothing to do with it!" She shook her head briefly as she realized that would be interpreted as a confession that there was an "it" to be associated with, blanching.

The other poker-faced officer, Murphy, spoke for the first time. "Miss Reisert," he began, "We are under orders from Keefe. We are not from Miami PD." Lisa's eyes narrowed. What the hell was that supposed to mean? She didn't see what difference that could possibly make. Surely the federal government had to follow the same rules as police? "So for both your sakes, why don't you acknowledge the very real danger you are in and understand that the longer you resist, the worse it will be." Apparently they don't.

He placed his palm the grip of his gun. Lisa paled, eying her dad. He had a look of confusion written all over his face. She knew he was in way over his head. Joe Reisert was not used to being threatened, whereas Lisa had extensive experience. One lesson Jackson taught her was that it was best not to waste time asking questions and more important to resolve the situation. Sometimes that involved shoving a pen through a man's trachea.

"We all know there is no Jackson Rippner and there never was," Murphy continued, and Lisa realized that as far as they were concerned, she was just a mute target. They never really responded to her explanations and questions. "We suspect that you devised this plot to gain Keefe's trust and make it easier to assassinate him in the future without suspicion."

That was the biggest crock of shit Lisa had ever heard. Jackson's plan would have worked had she not intervened, as evidenced by the gaping hole in the Lux Atlantic.

Lisa opened her mouth to say so, but Murphy wordlessly silenced her. He drew the gun, but held it at his side, the barrel aimed at the carpet. For now. "However, if you and Mr. Reisert do not cooperate and come with us now, we have been given permission to eliminate the threat." He nodded toward Joe, whose face was flushed with anger at this point. "He is coming along for collateral." Murphy softly emphasized the last word, his trained eyes narrowing in on Lisa's.

Not again. Never again. Lisa Reisert was done. She was not going to let her father be used against her anymore. She felt the rising rage in her chest turn to a crushing wave of adrenaline. She shoved her father away from her and launched at Murphy in a feral rage, catching the man off guard and knocking him over. The man fell back, his head smashing on the wooden arm of the chair he had previously been sitting in. He did not get back up. A crimson halo of blood seeped into the rug around his head, and his eyes stared blankly at the ceiling.

She saw Weiderich pull his gun and aim for her. Time froze. Lisa stared into the barrel of the gun and stiffened, preparing for the bullet. If she was marked by Homeland Security, there was no way out of it. At least if they killed her now, her father would be safe.

But the bullet never came. At least, it didn't hit her where she expected. She closed her eyes as a wall of force slammed into her slender body, sending her hard toward the hardwood floor and crushing the air out of her lungs. She didn't have time to feel that pain before she felt the explosion of tearing flesh as the bullet entered her left shoulder. She was alive, but on fire, and she still couldn't breathe. She opened her eyes and immediately wished that she hadn't.

The dead weight on her chest was literal. Joe Reisert had lunged right after her, and he had taken the bullet through his throat. Her first instinct was to close her eyes again and just wait for the next bullet. Her father, the loving man who spent too much of his time worrying about her, the only anchor left in her life, was dead because of her. What did she have to live for now?

"Ever since, I've been trying to convince myself of one thing, over and over."

"That it was beyond your control."

"No. That it would never happen again."

Jackson's smooth voice whispered the unspoken words, shattering her resignation yet again. The sound of his voice gave her the power she needed as the wave of adrenaline came back, this time a crushing tsunami.

So don't let it.

The bastards had killed her father, and now they would kill her. She turned her head slightly and reached for the gun previously knocked out of Murphy's hand. She peeked over her father's shoulder and fired at Weiderich, hitting him in the arm. She fired again as he recoiled, hitting him below his rib cage, and again, this time getting him in the chest.

Lisa rolled out from under her dad's body, wincing as he fell all the way to the hardwood floor with a dull thump. Lisa flinched, recalling the last time she had heard the sickening sound- when Jackson hit the ground behind her, a fatal bullet in his chest.

She stood over Weiderich, kneeling down slowly as she studied him. With one hand aiming the gun at his head, she reached a shaking hand closer to the large man and placed two fingers on his throat. No pulse. She turned to Murphy, who still hadn't moved. She aimed the gun for him, firing one shot into his head with an involuntary whimper. She grabbed Weiderich's gun from the floor and stashed both weapons in her purse.

She had to leave. Swallowing hard, Lisa knelt by her father's body and tentatively reached into his pocket, pulling out his new wallet. She quickly rifled through it, grabbing the cash and placing the wallet gently back into his pocket. She threw the cash in her purse as well and darted for the front entrance, grabbing Joe's car keys and the house keys from the dish on the end table as she did.

Lisa ran out the door, half expecting that she was going to be greeted by an entire force of men with guns trained on her. Instead, she saw only Miami sunshine, rows of peaceful homes, and her dad's SUV parked in the driveway. She jumped in the car and drove away, tires squealing on the asphalt.

Lisa's lungs burned as she gasped in cold air. It felt like her first breath since her father had slammed into her. Daddy...Tears flooded Lisa's green eyes, tumbling in free fall down her cheeks. She wiped them roughly from her flushed skin. No. Her father would not have sacrificed himself so she could break down and give up. You stole his money. She tried to banish the mocking voice, knowing that she had taken the money because she needed it. No...you need it.

In the forefront of her mind, Lisa knew she had to survive. She had to stay strong. The only way to do that was to keep a clear head. She tore her heartbreak away from her core, feeling as much pain as if she was severing her own flesh. She couldn't deal with her dad yet. She couldn't afford to grieve properly. She was on the run, blindly moving toward an unknown destination.

So...how was it? ConCrit definitely welcome!