This chapter includes Prompt 7 - A fist fight that lands someone in the hospital and Prompt 5 - A kiss that leads to a whole lot more

Paula sat curled in the tub chair watching Chase asleep in the bed. She had tried to start out sharing, but she couldn't get to sleep. The idea of a killer lying next to her, and a body on the other side of the door, was too much, so she had crept from the bed and gone to the chair.

Her eyes grew heavy and she dozed. When she awoke, the bed was empty, and she sat up with a start. A noise from the next room drew her to the door, and she opened it slowly, peering inside.

"So, you slept after all." Chase was reading a paper and drinking a coffee. "You didn't look all that comfortable. Lucky there was a chair though, the floor wouldn't have been pleasant."

She came part way in, looking around. No mess. No dead body. The bed had been made up and folded back. The only sign of anything having happened were three holes in the apartment door.

"What time is it?"

"Going on ten. There's a coffee, but it might have cooled some."

"I didn't hear you get up. How long--"

"Got up at seven. I didn't want you walking in on last night's mess."

She stared at him. Was that consideration she heard? "Where is . . .? She waved her hand toward the bed.

"That's all taken care of. You want the coffee or not?"

"I haven't washed or rinsed my mouth . . ."

"Fine, I'll drink it. You can get one when you're ready."

"I didn't mean- thank you for thinking of me. It's just--"

"So go wash and rinse - and put on some clothes. We'll go and get some breakfast . . . or brunch.

She turned and went back to the bedroom, closing the door with a touch of annoyance. Of all the- the- she slipped out of her nightgown and marched into the bathroom.

Twenty minutes later she came back to the living room, dressed and ready to go out.

Chase looked at his watch. "Brunch it is."

Her face flamed and her eyes burned.

******

The white noise machine was activated along with the exhaust fan, and except for the clink of water glasses, the occasional smoker's cough, and one voice, the room was tensely silent. General Bragg, Majors, Winter and Steadman, the three military representatives, sat stony-faced as Doc Reagan made his report.

Sanford Whitthall tossed his pen on the table and swore aloud. "This- this is what we get from the mighty CIA? A missing assassin along with his intended target and a missed deadline that has cost--"

"The money is irrelevant." General Bragg snapped. "We need that drug, and we needed it yesterday, Reagan."

"Don't you be telling me what's irrelevant," Sanford barked back. "Without my money your drug would still be on the drawing board."

"We should have just gone ahead and had the FDA fast track it. You could have manufactured it and if there were complications afterwards, you could pull it and go on with your experiments. But we would have what we need for ours." Major Winter stated in his parade ground voice.

SLAP! The noise from the CEO's hand hitting the table brought the room back to silence.

"Arguing what should have been is unproductive in the least. The question before us, is what do we do now?"

"I have more people tracking my man's last known position. His phone is off - likely smashed, and there is no way to track it. Since he hasn't reported in, I can only assume he was compromised." Reagan offered.

"More of your people," Sanford scoffed. "My mother could have done a better job."

"Then maybe we should have sent her." Reagan shot back, rising from his chair.

"Maybe we should have!" Sanford jumped up and charged Reagan.

"Silence! Stop it!" The CEO looked on, aghast.

Sanford grappled with Reagan shoving him back against the wall, Frantic fingers grasped at suit jackets in a bizarre dance, and the grunts accompanying each stumbling move bespoke the condition of the two combatants. Chairs squeaked as others in the room moved to pry them apart, and as Sanford was pulled back, arms pinned, Reagan landed a seriously hard punch to his face.

A hastily concocted story satisfied the paramedics who were summoned to transport Sanford to the hospital. Reagan declined, keeping his fist in a bowl of ice water in the company's cafeteria.

The meeting adjourned, awaiting news, if any, from the CIA operatives.

******

Paula bit into a piece of melon and closed her eyes, swallowing the juice and licking her lips. Across the table, Chase was savaging a small steak with his knife, brow furrowed.

"The deadline passed, so I guess we can all go home?" She offered.

Chase looked up, fork poised with the chunk of steak. "Guess again, Miss Howard." He ate the piece of meat, watching her puzzled frown.

"Why? There's no reason to carry this any further. We made them miss getting approval, and now I can contact the FDA with my concerns."

"You slay me, Miss Howard." He put his knife and fork down and took a sip of water. "They sent a killer after you - two if you count me - and that was to keep you from doing exactly that. You think because you delayed their plans that they're just going to line up to shake hands and say, good game?"

Her cheeks pinked, and her mouth set in a line.

"There are more people out looking to find out what happened to John--"

"Who?"

"John Semple. The man who tried to kill me."

"You knew him?"

"By reputation. The point is he is a loose end for them. They have to know what happened, and trampling over us won't be a concern."

"But I can go to the police."

"I think you need watering again." He shook his head and went on eating.

The comment stung, as she recalled the earlier insult to her intelligence.

"Very well, what is it you think we should do?"

"Finish brunch. Get our stuff and check out, then get a car."

"To go where? Why leave the apartment?"

"To your second question, because I killed a man there. As to the first, because we need to go on the offensive."

******

Paula packed up the few items she had in the bag from the clothing store then checked for keys, makeup, tissues and other denizens that haunted the bottom of her purse.

"I have everything, and I wiped down the room as you suggested." Her attitude was one of aggravation over his orders. She watched him go over everything again, tapping a foot with displeasure.

"Was I not proficient enough for you?"

He finished up and cracked a grin at her expression. "There were some places I touched that you didn't."

She glanced at the fold away bed and gave a slight cough. "Of course. What about the holes in the door?"

"Can't do much about those." He swept the room with his eyes once more then reached for the doorknob.

"What about a calendar or something?"

"The holes go right through, Paula." He opened the door and pointed.

"Well they'll know we were here--"

He placed his hand on the back of her neck and pulled her face to his. It was such a surprise, and it happened so quickly, she just took it - feeling the taste of his lips on hers. The moment passed, but the sensation clung to her mind.

"Oh, my. I do love to see young people in love." The elderly woman smiled as she passed them, making her way to the elevator.

When she was gone, Chase released Paula and steered her into the hall, closing the room door.

"Sorry," he said, "didn't want her seeing our faces."

The words shocked her, and she moved woodenly down the hall after him. It was a ruse? She touched her lips absently; shaking her head and watching him stride ahead of her. Her mind swirled and she fought to scrub the idea that something between them had definitely changed.