Dead or Alive (2 page)

Remy almost laughed.  Talk about what?  There was nothing left to talk about.  Did they think he was a complete idiot?

He wasn’t an idiot. He was now a man with nothing to lose.

"I'll kill her,” he croaked.  The looks on the faces around him, and the way the woman in his arms seemed to have stopped breathing altogether, proved that they all believed him.  They all believed he would kill this beautiful angel in his arms.

Violet could feel his warm, strangled breath against the back of her ear. She began shaking from head to toe.

Remy felt her body quivering against his own.  It was curved up against him just right. He held her taunt, right at her rip cage, just below her pert breasts.  It had been so long since he'd touched a woman. If he had to die today, this was surely the way to go. He was momentarily entranced, but only momentarily.

"Violet--let her go you son of a bitch!”

Remy’s eyes flew to a young Italian kid who had one fist clenched around a camera, and the other around a small pocket knife, looking about ready to commit murder himself for the woman Remy now knew as 'Violet.’

"Miles. Don't be stupid.  Get down on the ground," Violet said, as calmly as she could.

Remy was shocked when she spoke, and pressed the gun into her skull with more force. "Shut up,” he demanded.

Violet was the one who’d dragged Miles in here in the first place, and she’d never forgive herself if something happened to him.  When Miles didn’t comply with her demand, she blubbered. "Please, Miles, just get down on the ground!”

“I said shut the hell up.”

Violet pressed her lips together, jamming her eyes shut in relief when Miles finally got down.  Her eyes popped back open when another officer cried out.

"Archibald! Drop the gun or we
will
shoot!"

Remy didn’t comply, losing his breath when at least twenty more cops came barreling up the stairs.  Recalling the exit door he’d seen behind him, he took one step back. Everyone flinched, but no one took that shot.  Keeping his back to the wall, he took another slow step back, then one more after that, taking her with him until they were full on walking.  Walking!  He was going to walk right out of the building with this woman.  All along he'd been wrong.  The gun wasn't what held the power, the hostage was.

They made it to the exit door, with every cop slowly following after them, each attempting to talk Remy down.  His fingers dug into Violet’s heaving ribcage.  With every step they took, the curve of her plump ass brushed against his orange prison pants with more and more force.  He blinked rapidly, his breath picking up.  Was this her strategy?  To distract him with her beautiful body?

If it was her strategy, it was brilliant.  And it was working.  Remy swallowed hard, willing himself to focus.

"Back up!" he cried to the dozens of officers surrounding him, guns drawn.  Some moved back, others didn't.  Frustrated, Remy fired two quick rounds in the air. Wails and hollers filled the room, and the woman in his arms almost collapsed to her knees, but he held her steadfast, pressing the barrel of the gun to the side of her waist this time. “Back the fuck up!"

This time, the gun wielding officers listened. Slowly, guns still pointed directly at him, they began to back away. Some tried to reason with him, and others looked anxious to kill him right where he stood.  Clearly there was a commanding officer somewhere who was ordering them to hold their fire.  If an innocent female reporter was killed in a police shoot-out, with cameras all around, it would be all their asses on the line.

At that point, Violet wanted them to take the risk.  She would’ve told them, but the lingering shock of this lunatic setting off the gun had left her too stunned to speak.

Remy backed up into the exit door.  It clicked open, and he dragged Violet in with him.

The door slammed closed.

***

Violet’s chest heaved, and sweat droplets began to form on her upper lip as she climbed the exit stairwell, never losing sight of the hand gripping her shoulder, or the gun pressed to the small of her back.  She could hear Remy struggling for air behind her as well.  They’d circled at least five stories, and she was silently thanking god for the gym across the street from her house.  The Stairmaster was her favorite machine, and Violet was sure she could out-climb this bastard any day, if that’s what it came to.

Regrettably, they reached the top of the stairwell in under a minute, and were met with a bright red door.  The sign on the door was perfectly clear.

RESTRICTED AREA

ALARM WILL SOUND

VIOLATORS WILL BE PROSECUTED

It was a sign that did not apply to her captor.  Sounding an alarm was surely the least of Remington Archibald’s worries.

Keeping a firm hold on her shoulder and the gun to her back, Remy shook her.

“Door.” he ordered.  He could faintly hear the sound of many feet climbing the stairs below them.

Violet could hear it, too.  She gingerly placed one hand on the door handle, pressing her other hand against the cold steel.  “This is a ten story building.  We’re on the roof. There’s no way you’re going to get out of this, Archibald.”

The footsteps grew louder, more pronounced, with each passing second.  Remy wasn’t blind to the fact that she was stalling. He pushed the gun harder into her back and leaned in, pressing his lips against her ear.

Violet’s body rolled with chills when his gravely voice rang softly in her ear.

“I don’t want to kill you, Violet, but I will.”

The way her name sounded coming from him sent an arctic freeze across her spine.  Before she could stop herself, she was pushing open the door to the rooftop.  They stepped out into the brutal humid sunlight, and Violet’s heart completely deflated at the sight that awaited her.

She knew, right at that moment, that all hope was lost.

Directly in the middle of the rooftop, a mere ten feet away, was an empty police helicopter.

2

Violet couldn’t believe her eyes.  What was sure to be her key to freedom from this madman--getting trapped on a rooftop until help arrived--turned out to be anything but.  From her limited research into his case, she knew Archibald was a former captain of the A380, a monster of a plane that held nearly 800 passengers. Surely he could get this baby bird off the ground with ease, and even more surely, he would take her right with him.

“Walk.”

He was jamming that damn gun into her side again.  Violet huffed while allowing him to push her towards the empty aircraft, praying desperately that the police would bust through the doors of the roof at any second.

“There aren’t even any cops up here. Why can’t you just let me go and fly out of here on your own?”

“Shut. Up.”

Violet jammed her lips together.  Apparently Archibald wasn’t much of a talker. Even so, gun or not, if he told her to shut up again he was going to receive a quick knee to the groin.

“Don’t tell me to shut up.”

Remy leaned closer to her so his lips were next to her ear once more.

That deep voice warmed her skin.

“I said shut the hell up,” he whispered. “Door.”

With a sigh, Violet reached for the chopper’s door handle, then hesitated.

"You know what?" she asked, turning to him and catching his eye.

It was his eyes.  Something about those soft blue pools had Violet convinced this man wasn’t a monster. "I don't believe you would shoot me."

Remy immediately raised the gun from her waist to her head. For the first time, she realized his hands were shaking.

"I really don't think you would..."

He raised the gun, but he didn’t fire. "Stop,” he demanded. "Don't make me do this, Violet."

That was the moment.  The second he said her name without a hint of anger in his voice, or his eyes--that's when she knew he'd never shoot her.  Not even if he wanted to.  He couldn't.

She pushed past him, managing to slither out of his reach as he went to grab her, before racing towards the door of the roof as quickly as her legs would allow.

"Stop!” he screamed, holding up his gun to her retreating figure.  Her curls flew in the air behind her as she ran, and it took everything in him to cock his gun, arming it for the first time that day.  “Violet stop, stop or I’ll shoot!”

She hadn’t gotten far, and in her haste she tripped on her heels and fell hard to the ground.  Recovering quickly, she stood on wobbling legs and continued running. She didn’t even think to kick off the sky high heels that were slowing her down. She was so desperate to escape him she couldn't think one logical thought.

An overwhelming guilt hit Remy and he contemplated just letting her go.  She didn't have any part of this, anyhow, and he
could
fly that chopper out on his own.  His mind raced.

No.  He couldn’t let her go, yet.  Nothing would stop the authorities from shooting that plane right out of the sky if he was the only person in it.  He still needed her, even if only for a little while longer.

He itched to chase her, but he couldn’t move too far from the helicopter.  The cops would be there any second, and he’d have to make a quick getaway, preferably with her next to him. Desperate, Remy did the only thing he could think to do.

With every sprint Violet took, her nylons tore a little more.  She continued to trip and stumble her way towards the door of the roof as fast as she could go. It was like a dream where her legs were made of lead, and salvation was always
just
out of reach.  When the door came within reaching distance, her heart soared.  He was going to let her go.

When a shot rang out, she was sure she'd imagined it.  She hadn't.

The bullet exploded into the wall not even a foot away from her, sending shards of brick and mortar shattering to the ground like glass.  She froze in mid run, eyes wide.

The bastard had shot at her.

She turned, slowly, on her heel, until she was facing the helicopter, and the man she'd just bolted from. The dirt and ash from the wall clung to her sweat soaked face as she took in his determined eyes.

Remy took one haggard breath, unable to believe his bad luck.  Of course he’d snatched the one woman crazy enough to run from a gun-toting convicted murderer. He’d known her for less than three minutes, and she was already the most hard-headed woman he'd ever met.

"The next one won’t miss,” he warned.  "Walk to me now."  He commanded, taking the gun off of her only long enough to motion for her to come closer.  His voice rose exponentially when she didn’t instantly move. “Walk to me
now
!”

Defeated, Violet began making her way back toward the helicopter, arms still raised.  Her skirt was sitting at insane angles on her body, and both arms of her blazer had fallen off her shoulders.  Her hair was caked with dirt and sweat, and was beginning to take on its natural curl from all the abuse she'd put it through.  For that alone, she could have killed this man.

Once she was within reaching distance, Remy grabbed for her with that long, long arm, tugging her back to him.  He took the back of her neck and led her toward the plane with the gun at her back.

“Ouch.” Violet cringed. She attempted to look back at him, but the gun pressed against her spine, and the shot he’d just fired, made her afraid to make any more sudden movements.  “You’re hurting me.”

“Do you have a death wish?” he growled, reaching past her. "I'm going to open the door.  If you try to run I will shoot you. Don’t make me hurt you." He threw open the chopper door. “Get in.  Now.” He couldn’t believe it when she hesitated.  He wasn’t sure which of them was more insane.  Him, the gun-toting maniac who’d just been convicted of first degree murder, or her, the bold and brazen hostage who had bigger balls than any man he knew.

Violet stumbled into the chopper, struggling to pull down her short skirt as she did.

But not fast enough for Remy to miss a flash of her hot pink thong.  He, once again, had to remind himself of the situation at hand.

As he climbed in behind her, another shot rang out, and Violet screamed, sure that Remy had decided to kill her right there in that helicopter, sure that he'd shot her.  Remington Archibald had just
shot
her, and she was dead.

When the pain never came, and she realized she was still breathing, Violet's eyes fluttered open to find Remy's teeth clenched tight, eyes watering, clutching his leg.  Outside the chopper window, dozens of cops who’d been forced to stand down in the courtroom were now closing in on them swiftly.

He'd been shot!  The orange prison uniform he wore was quickly staining with blood at his thigh, but he managed to drag his leg into the chopper, and out of the line of fire.  He screamed the whole way, slamming the door shut.

She was about to run.  She almost did, but the moment she made the move for the handle of her door, Remy managed to fight past the pain and raise the gun.

"Don't!" he wailed through clenched teeth before triggering the locks.

No one could get in now.  It was a police helicopter so surely it was bulletproof.  Even if the cops outside had a clear shot at Remy, they would never penetrate the glass.

It was official, wherever it was Remington Archibald planned on going, he was taking her there with him.  With one hand, he pulled open the dashboard of the aircraft, exposing a plethora of colorful wires.

He fiddled with those wires for what seemed to be mere seconds, faster than she could manage to think a single thought, and before she knew it the plane was roaring to life.

Remy took the reins with ease, and as the legs of the helicopter left the ground, and they began to steadily ascend into the afternoon air, he reached over and tugged her arm. “Get in the back.”

But the force of his pull was too strong, and she tumbled across his lap.  With effort, Violet lifted her head from where it was smashed into his crotch, and looked up to him, legs bent, ass in the air. Their eyes met, and she saw something.  A look.  A look she'd become very familiar with in the few years since she'd blossomed into an acceptable woman.  Desire.  It wasn't until she saw that desire in his eyes that she realized she’d fallen face first into his lap.  Her mouth was
pressing
against him.  For a fraction of a second, he appeared to be in a different place entirely.

Remy lost all sense of reality.  God, it had been so long, and she was nothing short of amazing, feisty as hell, chest heaving, tiny sweat droplets hanging onto the tip of her little nose and her eyes--so much fire in those big brown eyes.  He couldn't tear his eyes away from this woman.

This
, he thought,
this is what I'm fighting for.

When Violet suddenly slammed her fist directly into the quickly growing bloodstain on Remy’s leg, he threw his head back and howled in pain, dropping the gun between his thighs.

The chopper began a rapid descent as Remy released the controls, and clutched his leg, which had gone white hot with pain.

Swallowing back a terrified scream as the chopper dropped from the sky rapidly, Violet immediately clawed for the weapon.  When she had it in her hands, she was momentarily startled by its weight.

Remy quickly took her wrist in one hand, flinching against the pain in his leg, and grabbed the top of the gun with the other, turning it away from him and towards the windshield.  He attempted to pull it away from her, knowing it was only a matter of seconds before the plan crashed and they were both dead.  He had to get this bird under control, and this maddening woman was not going to make it easy.

Violet cried out and pulled back, refusing to relinquish the gun.

"You’re going to get us both killed, damn it, I'm not going to hurt you,” he screamed right in her face, his eyes taking on a tidal wave of fury that sent a chill down her spine.  It made her clutch what bit of the gun she had even tighter. With her free hand she clawed, slapped and punched at him with all her might.  He blocked every blow with relative ease.

In the end, Remy was the bigger one, the stronger one, and it was a losing battle.  Quickly, he was back in control of the gun and had it trained at her head once more, immediately taking the controls of the helicopter, getting it level with the ease of an expert.  Just like that, it was steady, and they were once again ascending rapidly into the clear sky.

Violet collapsed against the door behind her.  Soon, the officers scattered on the rooftop below looked like tiny ants from her window.

“Fuck.” She swallowed past her exhaustion.  “Please just let me go.”

Remy was exhausted, too, and the bullet in his leg was doing nothing to help that. He was now
supremely
aware that any sort of physical contact with this woman was a terrible mistake.  A mistake he would never make again.

“You’ve been shot. Your leg is gushing blood.  You're only going to get so far--"

"Shut up."

She jammed her lips together.  The truth was, Violet didn’t know how to shut up, and that was apparently true even when she had a gun to her head.  She forced herself to look away from him, realizing there was no longer any point in fighting.  They were high in the sky now, and there was no longer any hope for escape.

As Violet got lost in the
whoosh-whoosh-whoosh
of the helicopter’s propellers, she prayed that this would all end quickly.

***

Remy kept the gun trained at Violet as they coasted through the darkening sky. He motioned to her with the gun. "Put on the seatbelt."

"What?"

"The seatbelt.  Apparently you're a flight risk, so I'm asking you to put on your seatbelt."  He didn't have the energy to physically make her do this, but he hoped that didn't show.

She scoffed to show her disapproval, and then did what she was told.

He waited until the complicated belt was fastened properly, before allowing the gun to fall.  Holding it up had suddenly become what felt like an impossible task. He groaned as he readjusted his leg. For several seconds, he sat in silence, staring straight ahead. "Damn it, woman."

Violet’s eyes took in the forest of trees flying rapidly by outside of the window, hundreds of miles below. They were clearly flying over an area of land where no other civilians would be.

“I can’t risk letting you go right now. I need you, all right?  The police won’t shoot me down because they know you’re in here with me. I promise I'll let you go as soon as we’re on the ground.  I promise you."  He looked right into her eyes as he made his vow.

Her eyes flew to him in surprise when he began explaining himself with no prompting from her.  "Oh you promise, huh?"  She raised her eyebrows, her sweet brown eyes taking on a raw cynicism. "That's really a weight off of my shoulders, since you've proven yourself so trustworthy thus far.  Why the fuck should I trust you?"

He threw her a look, trying to breathe past his swirling head.  He really, really wished she just wouldn't talk.  He squinted his eyes at her, wondering if there was anything in that chopper he could gag her with. "You've got one hell of a mouth on you, you know that?  It’s not ladylike."