Hell Bent

“Miss Drake, please. Sit down. It’s high time you learned what’s going on here.”

“Wh-what?” Annabelle muttered some more. Jack’s grip on her arms hadn’t let up. And now she felt his breath across her ear as he spoke to her softly.

“Bella, sit down. We do need to talk.”

In the corner, Sam smiled away, clearly enjoying the exchange he’d been so looking forward to observing.

“I’m ashamed of you, Jackie. This is uncalled for.” Beatrice was glaring at Jack, her arms crossed over her chest where she sat beside Clara, who was looking from her father to Annabelle to Sherry, an air of distinct discomfort about her. This situation was a little too personal – and a little too adult for her tastes.

“Really, Thane.” Sherry came forward from where she was standing, and shook her head reprimandingly. “You’ve behaved unforgivably,” she said softly.

Annabelle’s eyes widened further as she watched the Homer holocaust demon come closer. What had she just said? Had she just called her own husband by his last name?

But Jack didn’t say anything and, when Sherry gently took Annabelle’s arm out of his grip, he grudgingly let go.

No. Don’t let her get me…

“Come on, sweetie. Let’s go talk.”

But Annabelle couldn’t move. Her new riding boots were glued to the floor beneath her.

She just managed to shake her head when Beatrice stood up and walked over to them as well, taking Annabelle’s other arm. Annabelle glanced over her shoulder at Jack. His expression was helpless.

At last, she found her feet moving and the four of them left the room together to walk down the hall toward another of the mansion’s many renovated rooms. All she could think about was the way Sherry’s hand felt on her arm. It was strong. The woman was a brute. She was going to rip Annabelle’s head completely off of her shoulders.

And Jack was just following along, not doing anything to protect her!

Some birthday.

When they’d shut the door behind them, Sherry and Beatrice let go of Annabelle and Sherry moved away from her to take a seat on the bed. Beatrice leaned up against the dresser by the wall, once more crossing her arms over her chest and glaring at Jack, who, for his part, remained standing beside Annabelle.

As if he was afraid she would run at any second.

Which she just might.

“Annabelle, relax,” Sherry sighed from where she sat on the bed, crossing one leg over the other. “Jesus, Thane, you could have at least given her a drink or something. Soften the blow a little.”

“I didn’t know you were going to be here this afternoon, Sherry,” Jack replied, grinding the words out through clenched teeth. “Would have softened the bloody blow a little had you warned me of that fact.”

Sherry shrugged. “Sam said to come along. Besides, I wondered whether you were all right when you didn’t show up at the condo. The Colonel’s men get to you?” She asked, nodding toward his waist and leg.

Annabelle’s brow furrowed as she followed the exchange. How did Sherry know Jack had been shot? And in the side and leg? She must have been talking to Sam. Of course, he would tell her that her husband had been hurt.

“I don’t know,” Jack sighed, running a hand through his hair. Annabelle turned a surprised expression on him. Despite everything, he was being calm about this situation? But he ignored her look and continued. “Maybe Osborne’s direct hires. Whoever they were, though, they were able to find us when they shouldn’t have been.”

“You’re being tracked somehow,” Sherry nodded sagely.

“Yes, but I can’t bloody figure out how.”

“Oh my God.” Annabelle finally spoke. The words just came out. Because, in that moment, she realized that Sherry knew what was going on. She knew everything that was going on. How was that possible? And, wasn’t she supposed to be in Rome or something?

Everyone in the room stopped talking and looked at her.

Sherry’s gaze shot to Jack, as did Beatrice’s. Jack sighed and walked around Annabelle so that she was facing him.

“Bella, it’s time you knew the truth,” he began. “Sherry isn’t my wife because we love each other. She’s a hired gun.” He paused a moment, allowing the information to sink in. Annabelle’s gaze flitted to Sherry, who smiled, and then back to Jack.

He went on. “Maria was in the Business as well,” he told her, referring to the woman he’d been married to before Sherry. “They’re covers,” he said softly, cupping her face in his hands. “Nothing more.”

Annabelle stared up at him for a long time.

Too long.

Jack swallowed, his blue eyes pleading. “Bella, I didn’t tell you because-”

“Let me go, Jack.” Annabelle spoke the words very, very softly. Jack almost shivered. But he slowly removed his hands and let them fall to his sides. And then Annabelle turned around, opened the door, and quietly left the room.

Jack put his face in his hands.

“Sucks to be you, Thane,” Sherry said as she stood from the bed and moved up alongside him. “But I’ll tell you this much. The longer you let it go, the worse it’ll get.” Then she brushed past him and left the room after Annabelle.

When they were alone, Jack put his hands down and turned to his ex-wife. “What do I do, Bee?”

Beatrice’s expression softened, going from angry to sympathetic in the space of seconds. She stood and made her way to her ex-husband, taking his hands in hers. “You go to her, Jack. You make her understand, tha’ even if what you did was wrong, you did it all for the right reasons.” She stared up at him for several long moments.

He pulled her into a hug and placed a kiss on her head. “Thank you,” he whispered, and then let her go.

She smiled warmly and gave his hands one last squeeze. “’S all ri’, Jack.” She let him go and moved around him, turning the door knob and cracking it open. But before she stepped out, she turned to him one last time. “And, for God’s sake, Jack, don’t lie to her any longer.”

When Jack left the room a few minutes later, it was to find that the group had split up, each going their own way. It gave him only a moment’s pause to find that Clara and Dylan were together in the entertainment room, which had once been the servant’s quarters. It had since been outfitted with a large flat-screen TV and one of his men had obviously dropped off a Wii during their stay there. The two teenagers were battling it out with boat loads of zombies in dark forests in the Wii version of Resident Evil IV. Jack watched them for a moment and then sighed. As long as they were busy being unnecessarily grisly and violent instead of having sex on the couch, he was letting it slide.

He moved on, coming to the kitchen. Sam was popping open the fridge as Jack walked in.

“Wanna beer?” the Texan asked, without even looking up.

“No, thanks.” Jack leaned up against the counter. Sam knew he didn’t drink, but he still always offered. “Where’s Sherry?”

“Took off. Had a job to do. Says you owe her a drink, by the way. She hated scaring the bejeesus out of Annabelle.” Sam turned around, a grin on his handsome face. “She says you made her out to be the ogre.”

Jack blew out a long sigh and ran his hand through his thick hair. It was definitely becoming a nervous gesture.

“Where’s Annabelle?”

“She went into that room the two of you were occupying earlier.” Sam screwed the top off of a distinctly dark beer and took a swig. “How’d she take the news?”

“You have to ask?”

“Nah,” Sam shook his head once, his smile broadening. “Not really. Just wanna hear you say it.”

“You’re a right bastard, Sam,” Jack told him, shaking his head. “I don’t know if she’ll ever forgive me for this