Danny Moore

Title: Danny Moore
Author: ME!!!
Word Count: Almost 9,000
Warnings: A bit swearing, probably rate a PG
Author's Note: PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE review this and tell me what you think. I NEED to know.

Danny Moore

How did I meet Danny Moore? Not like most people—well that are still alive anyway.

It had been just another Wednesday night. Sitting on the couch, sipping my Dr. Pepper, served in a wine glass because I’m kooky like that. Alone—as usual. Well my dog was there too, but he’s not really boyfriend material. Surfing channels because there is never anything good on and if there is, it’s reruns and I’ve already seen it. I remember sighing, wishing my life was more exciting, wishing that the Dresden Files was still on, wishing wrestling hadn’t gone PG—really what’s the point of pro. wrestling if there’s no swearing and no blood?—wishing I wasn’t lazy and would actually cook food in my unused stove instead of microwaving it when I heard feet pounding down the hall outside my door.

Now I live in a part of town that while not bad, it’s not exactly good either. I’ve never had a break in—I don’t have anything anyone would want to steal—but I know people that have. And the walls are very thin—trust me on that, my neighbor has a very active… life…—so the running could have been anything from small children playing tag—not sure why I though this at the time, it was almost midnight—to a man running after his wife with a knife. I didn’t want to be involved either way, but I wondered if I could be bothered to get my lazy butt off the couch to peek outside and see what’s going on.

You must realize that all this happened in a matter of seconds. Me hearing the footsteps to me deciding that whatever was outside was more interesting than what was on T.V.

So, I heaved myself off the couch—my dog, Theta Sigma (don’t ask), glared at me and went back to sleep. I padded over to the window, but was startled when a pounding started on my door. I jogged over, checked the chain was on and opened the door.

Whatever I had been subconsciously expecting, it wasn’t what was before me.

A man stood, panting heavily, a cut on his head bleeding violently into his eyes. Cuts and scrapes littered his arms and hands. His suit, which looked like it was once expensive, hung in tatters so that he was nearly indecent. His eyes showed that he was clearly terrified.

“Help me! Let me in!” the man tried to fit in between the door and frame. Blood dripped inside the door from his hands. I tried to shut the door on him, but he held it open.

“They’re going to kill me!”

More footfalls sounded down the hall. The man turned, petrified, and stumbled away. Men covered in black holding high powered rifles ran past a few seconds later. I stood stunned, staring out the crack in between the door and frame feeling oddly safe because of the chain.

I was about to close the door when a man walked up. He had on a crisp cream suit with a matching fedora, a black feather tucked in the band. He was swinging a black tightly bound umbrella. His skin was lightly tanned. He peered at me with hazel eyes. Frowning at the blood smears on my door, he rapped lightly on it with his umbrella to break me out of my staring.

“May I come in?” An accent. Possibly English?

“Um, no.”

A small frown crease on his forehead, clearly he was not used to hearing the word no.

“I’d rather not stand in this—” disgust at his surroundings, “hallway any longer than necessary.”

“You may be here to kill me. How should I know who you are?” Misplaced confidence, I’m still not sure where it came from.

A deep chuckle issued from his throat. “Madam, more than half of all murders are committed by people who are known to the victims. I do not know you. Nor do I particularly care to. I simply wish to convey my deep regrets and apologies about besmirching your residence with disgraced blood.” Pause. “Now, may I come in?”

“Uh…” Speechless by his speech. Part of me realized that was probably the intended effect. “Sure.” Shutting the door, unlatching the chain, I let the strange man in.

He removed his hat on entering. I was taken back by his salt and pepper hair. I would swear he wasn’t over thirty-five. Same look of disgust on his face at his new surroundings. Theta looked up, growled, turned around, before going back to sleep. I remember thinking what a crap guard dog he was.

“Miss…” he began.

“Jocelyn Taylor. How do you know I’m not married? My husband could be coming home any minute.”

“You are not wearing a wedding band. There is no discoloration where one would habitually be if you had simply removed it. You are not expecting a significant other nor have you for quite some time as the condition of your flat clearly states.”

I put my hands on my hips. “What’s that supposed to mean?” even though I knew exactly what he was talking about. “Maybe I’m just white trash.”

“Dishes in the sink,” pointing with his umbrella. “A heavy layer of dust on all not regularly used surfaces. Your state of dress and neglect of regular personal grooming other than what is required at your place of employment, I would imagine.” Another pause. “However, there is a minimal effort at cleaning on the places where people are most likely to look so you do care about the appearance of your flat. Therefore, you are not what is colloquially called ‘white trash’. Also, while most lonely women choose cats, you have a dog. For protection, subconsciously, I would wager, as you feel, with no male figure in your life, vulnerable.”

I barely stopped my mouth from hanging open. I tried to pull myself together. “I thought you came in here to apologize,” a glare, “not to make fun of.”

He sucked in a deep breath, grimaced. “So I did. It was not my intention to smear your threshold with bodily fluids. The perpetrator shall be punished as will his guards. I intend to have it cleaned up tomorrow when you are more—” a breath—probably for dramatic effect…the bastard—“presentable and awake.” He inclined his head in a weird bow before putting his hat back on. “Equidem spero iste covenit nequendo conpeto interum.” He left and did his best not to touch the door.

I closed the door, looked to Theta. “What a freakin’ rude-o!” I feel that Theta rolled his eyes here. My bed was beckoning me, so I went.

            I was up making breakfast—scrambled eggs—the next morning. A knock on my door. I frowned about the possibility of my burned breakfast. Turning off the burner—great, now they were going to be cold and mushy—I walked over to the door. Open. Outside was a bunch of men who looked like they belonged in Thunder from Down Under.

            “Uh, hi?”

            “We’re here to clean your house, Miss.” Definitely from the Thunder.

            “Um…”

            “Danny Moore sent us.” Maybe English instead of Australian. Hard to tell.

            I’d heard of Danny Moore, but had no idea what he looked like or why I’d heard of him in the first place. I knew he had a lot of money. Millionaire. Billionaire? Didn’t really know. “Why would Danny Moore send guys to clean my house?”

            “He believes he is indirectly responsible for the blood on your door. He told you last night he would send us?”

            Comprehension and realization. “Oh.”

            The man smiled. “Can we come in there? We won’t get paid if we don’t get our job done.”

            Not one to look a gift horse in the mouth—especially when it’s so pretty—I let them in.

            In they came. Immediately started cleaning around me. I went back to cooking my eggs. I finished the cooking, sat down, started to enjoy them. Also to enjoy the unexpected entertainment.

            The men were quick. Effective. Also beautiful to watch. Theta wasn’t sure what to think. He hid under my chair. One of the men coaxed him out while cleaning the kitchen. I put my dishes in the sick with the rest—they were also being cleaned. I walked to the living room, flopped onto the couch. The men continued to work around me. Did I mention they were beautiful? At one point, lifting me—on the couch—to clean underneath it. They finished, quickly gathered up their things, stood by the door. A squeak of disappointment crept out of my mouth. They grinned, a few chuckled.

            “Um, tell Danny Moore thank you.”

            “If I see him I will,” the apparent leader said. It occurred to me that they probably hadn’t even seen Danny. One of his lackey’s probably hired them. I let them out, closed the door behind them. Not one second later my phone rang with a text message.

            I assume they did a good job.

            What the eff? Who is this?

            Please do not make me move you further down my intelligence scale.

            Oh, Danny… Why do you want to know?

            If they did not, I will have them moved to some other form of work more befitting of their abilities.

            Such as?

            Picked up trash by the side of the highway.

            Well they did a fantastic job. I only wish they could come clean every week.

            A pause before receiving the next text.

            They will be commended for their work and justly rewarded.

            The next Saturday—and every subsequent one—they came like clockwork. They didn’t talk much. They didn’t let me talk to them either. I figure I wasn’t allowed to get to know them for some reason. It confused me, but, hey, I was getting a free cleaning service by men who looked spectacular so who was I to complain?

            About a month after I met Danny, I was sitting at work when a chat box popped up on my computer screen.

                        J.Taylor: You look bored.

            It was—apparently—from me, which didn’t—and doesn’t—make sense. I looked around, but didn’t see anyone watching for my reaction.

J.Taylor: No one is watching you. No one at your employment is smart enough.

J.Taylor: Um… hi?

            Who is this? I wondered.

J.Taylor: Do not insult your intelligence again. I thought we had already been through this.

J.Taylor: Danny?

            After I sent it, I immediately saw the eye roll that inevitably followed. Even though he wasn’t here.

                        J.Taylor: How are you doing this?

                        J.Taylor: I have people.

                        J.Taylor: People?

                        J.Taylor: Yes.

                        J.Taylor: What is it exactly that you do?

                        J.Taylor: I occupy a minor position in the American Government.

                        J.Taylor: You are the American Government. I joked

                        J.Taylor: Meh. I could see the shrug and smile.

                        J.Taylor: Did you just say, ‘Meh’?

                        J.Taylor: No. I just said, ‘with extreme prejudice’. I typed, ‘Meh.’

                        J.Taylor: Who are you extreme prejudicing now?

                        J.Taylor: A CEO of a major corporation.

                        J.Taylor: Oh… uh, good for you?

                        J.Taylor: No, good for America.

                        J.Taylor: So, uh… meh, huh?

J.Taylor: Yes I believe your lack of proper grammar and penchant for using internet slang is creeping up on me.

I smiled. Yep, that’s right. I’m amazing like that.

J.Taylor: Your boss is coming. He is in a unpleasant mood and plans to yell at you if you have not finished the project he gave to you yesterday.

            I started panicking. I didn’t have it done. I have a Ph.d in procrastination.

                        J.Taylor: Don’t worry.

            Another screen with my project popped up. I scanned it and was surprised to see it was finished. It even looked like I had done it myself.

                        J.Taylor: I had some of my… what did you call them? lackey’s? finish it.

                        J.Taylor: Why?

                        J.Taylor: You have better things to do with your time.

                        J.Taylor: Not really. I felt slightly ashamed that I had nothing better to do.

J.Taylor: Frowning does nothing for your face. I would rather you did not do it again. Sitting there looking beautiful is a better thing to do.

            The chat box disappeared right as my boss reached me. He asked me something, but his words only sounded like the Peanuts adults. Shock, my brain area that was still working said.

            “Jocelyn, hello. Earth to Jocelyn. The man who signs your paychecks is speaking.”

            “Yeah, sorry. What did you want?”

            “The project? Is it finished?”

            “Uh, yeah. I’ll send it to you.”

            My boss seemed surprised—he knew of my doctorate—and wandered off to find someone else to yell at.

            I started receiving flowers. Sometimes at home. Sometimes at work. Sometimes I got stopped on the street. As soon as the ones I had started wilting I would get twice as many as I had before. I had no idea—at the time—how he knew when this event happened.

            About a month later—almost to the day, it was almost as if Danny had a date set apart each month to contact me—I was once again sitting on my couch with Theta when the doorbell rang. Theta and I glanced at each other. I got up to open the door. I opened it. Danny stood on my doorstep.

            He was wearing timeworn red and black leather pants with matching jacket. His black, scored, full face helmet was held under his arm. He was wearing scuffed black boots. His graying hair was sticking up in places while laying flat in others. He effectively—and I’m still on sure how he does it—pulled off good-looking helmet hair. His face had a slight sheen from sweat on it as if he had been riding his—I assumed—motorcycle for a long time even though it was early in the morning. All in all it was a very attractive picture.

            “Um, hello.” How was I supposed to deal with this?

            His right eye and surrounding muscles twitched slightly. I bet he hated that. “Hello.”

            A silence. An awkward silence.

            “Um… did you want to come in?”

            His nose wrinkled slightly. “I suppose I must.”

            I stepped back, he stepped inside. He looked around.

            “They have been doing a good job. Your flat is much better this time. I don’t feel dirty standing in it.”

            I frowned. “Thanks for insulting my cleaning skills.”

            He turned and a small smirk crossed his face. “I was not insulting your cleaning skills. You had not employed them.”

            I rolled my eyes. “Oh, thanks for insulting me, then.” But didn’t mean harm by it.

            Danny smiled. Brilliant white perfect teeth showed slightly between his lips. Beautiful. Beautiful? Where did that come from?

            I cleared my throat as he continued to survey my apartment. Theta slid off the couch, came over, sniffed Danny’s leg. Danny stiffened almost imperceptibally. Theta and Danny stared at each other for a moment before Theta placed his paw on Danny’s boot and wagged his tail. I smiled.

            “He likes you.”

            Danny bent down and gave Theta a self-conscious pat on the head.

            I laughed. “That’s no way to pet a dog. He likes it when you scratch behind his ears.” I bent down, too. Theta gave me a look that said, why-won’t-this-guy-pet-me-right?

            I scratched Theta behind his ears and stroked his back. I took Danny’s hand and showed him how to properly pet a dog. A ghost of a smile floated over Danny’s face.

            We pet Theta for a moment before standing up. Danny seemed much more relaxed. I cleared my throat.

            “So, uh, what can I do for you?”

            Danny straightened his back. He was at least six feet if not taller. He looked taller to my five foot four inches. “I came to inquire if you would like to go on a picnic with me.”

            My mouth opened to respond but no sound came out.

            Uncertainty came into his eyes. “If you would rather not, I will kindly leave your flat.”

            Still silence as my mind tried to make up it’s mind—don’t make fun of me, it’s a little slow, especially when someone like Danny (okay almost any man) asks me out—. Theta whined at the tension. Danny turned to leave.

            I put my hand on his arm. “No. I want to go.”

            Hesitation still lingered in his eyes, so I said, “Please take me on a picnic, Danny.”

            His face briefly entertained a smile before he told me to get dressed in something more suitable for riding a motorcycle. I hurried to get ready. When I came back out, he was sitting on the floor scratching Theta’s belly. I stopped before I said anything and just watched. Danny had a brilliant smile on his face. It almost seemed to be there absentmindedly, as if he didn’t know he was smiling. He didn’t know how inordinately happy a dog could make someone.

            I watched for a moment before I cleared my throat. I’ve never seen anyone stand up so fast. His face colored slightly before he took in my clothes.

            “You have never ridden on a motorbike, have you?”

            “No, why? Is this not good?” I thought I had chosen well. A well-worn pair of jeans with a tee-shirt on and my sneakers.

            “Do you not have anything in leather?”

            I smirked. “Ooo, kinky.” I paused. “But, no, I’ve never had any reason to buy any.”

            “We shall have to get you some. Come.” He held out his hand. I took it and we went out to his motorcycle after I locked the door.

            It was beautiful and—through the dust—gleaming. There was a few scratches on it. It was clearly well loved and ridden often.

            “What kind is it?”

            “A Ducati.”

            “Uh, is that good?”

            Danny smiled his smile he used for business transactions. “Yes. Very good.”

            Danny climbed on and did his best to help me on. He handed me a helmet that nearly matched his. I put it on as he was putting his on. He tapped his helmet.

            Can you hear me? A voice in my head said.

            “Um, yes?” Apparently there was speakers and a microphone somewhere in the helmet and Danny hadn’t had some sort of weird chip inserted into my head.

            Danny chuckled quietly as if he had read my mind and started the engine. I put my arms tight around him and help on as we took off.

            Our first stop was a store. Danny bought me a leather jacked that he had tailored to me with the promise that if I continued to ride he would buy me a whole outfit. We rode off again and rode and rode and rode and rode some more.

            When I was starting to get bored and slightly sore, we stopped. Danny got off and helped me off. I took off the helmet and looked around.

            “Where are we?”

            “Yosemite National Park.”

            “Isn’t that closed for renovations or something?”

            “Yes.”

            I opened my mouth to respond, but then realized it was Danny and he could do anything.

            We walked down a shaded path to a little glade. It was sunny and warm with a little stream trickling by. A picnic was laid out and ready for us. There was tons more food than I figured we could both eat if we were starving.

            “Is someone else coming?”

            “No.”

            “Why so much food?”

            “I wasn’t sure what you would feel like eating. I gathered food you seem to enjoy the most that would do well at a picnic.”

            “Oh…”

            Danny smiled and held out his hand. He helped me over some logs to the picnic and we sat down to eat. We didn’t talk much and Danny didn’t eat much. He picked at his food and watched me eat. To say it was disconcerting, is the understatement of the year. I was too hungry for the first few minutes to really care. Danny had a way of looking at you as if one look could tell him your entire life story and all of your secrets. He had brown eyes that would be either piercing or warm like melted chocolate.

            I stopped eating and looked at Danny. “Aren’t you going to eat?”

            “I don’t eat much. Slows down the brain processes.”

            I nodded as if I understood then shook my head. “What?”

            Danny smirked and raised an eyebrow as he placed a potato chip in his mouth.

            “How exactly do you  do your little thing?”

            “Little thing?” he asked obviously playing with me.

            I frowned. “You know what I mean.”

            “I simply observe what is around me and interpret the results.”

            I nodded again and still didn’t understand. Danny laughed. I won’t lie—I was startled by the sound having never heard him laugh like that before.

            “It’s alright that you don’t understand, Jocelyn. Not many people do.”

            “Uh…” I paused unsure if I should be insulted or not. I was saved from having to decide when Danny’s phone rang. He frowned and pulled it out. It was a text message. His frown deepened and he texted whoever it was back.

            He put his phone away and smiled at me, but the smile didn’t quite reach his eyes. “So where were we?”

            Danny opened the basket and pulled out a bottle of champagne. He popped it open and poured us two glasses.

            “I’ve never had champagne with a picnic before” Truth be told, I’d only had it once at a friend’s wedding.

            Danny smiled. “There is a first time for everything.” He handed me my glass and we hesitantly sipped. It was delicious, as, I expected, any food or drink of Danny’s would be.

            We were half way done with out picnic—I reasoned—when Danny’s phone rang again. It was a call this time. He rolled his eyes at me to show his displeasure at being interrupted again. He stood up and walked a few feet away. He tried to keep his voice to a minimum so that I couldn’t hear him. He started gesturing wildly, while still trying to keep them small. I admit it. I was amused. He got quiet before heaving a sigh. He turned around and put his phone away.

            “Sorry, Jocelyn.” He walked over, took my hands and stood me up.

            “What are you sorry for?”

            “I have been called away on business. I won’t be long, but I must leave.”

            “Well, why can’t I come?”

            “This does not concern you and I would rather not have you sullied by it.”

            “So I have to stay here? By myself?”

            “My body guards are here. You will be safe.”

            “I’m not worried about being safe. I’m worried about being bored. I’ll be bored – without you.”

            A genuine smile passed over Danny’s face. “I hope you will not be too bored. I will be back soon.” He turned to leave, but I stopped him, blushed and kissed his cheek. Danny grinned and kissed my cheek before walking away. I followed him a short ways and saw him get into a black Mercedes. I waited a little while before getting on the motorcycle. It was hard to keep out of sight when we were in the park, but once we got on the highway it was easy.

            We drove to an—I assume—abandoned warehouse. I kept back until everyone had gone inside. It was easy to sneak in. I hid behind some old machinery when I got as close as I thought I could get.

            Danny was standing in the middle of the room. A man was on his knees in front of him. He was nude with multiple bleeding wounds and bruises just beginning to purple. His feet looked as if they were injured from running on the ground without shoes. I don’t know anything about torture—okay a little, but not enough to know a bit—but I would say the guy had been tortured. A few bodyguards were scattered around the room—probably to catch the guy should he try to escape.

            Danny was talking to the man. I strained to catch the words, but they echoed too much in the empty building for me to understand what he was saying. Danny held out his hand to a nearby bodyguard and was handed a gun. It was bright and shiny as if he was cleaned regularly. Danny ran his hand along it and loaded it gently, almost caressingly. He hefted it easily as if he was used to having it in his hand.

            Running the gun along the man’s collarbone around to his back and back to the front, Danny aimed it at the man’s heart. The man shivered—whether it was fear or cold, I didn’t know. Danny smiled coldly at him before aiming at the man’s head and pulling the trigger. I didn’t see the brain and blood splatter out the back, I had my eyes closed. When I opened them, then man had a small hole in the middle of his forehead. He fell backwards with a thunk.

            I felt tears rolling down my cheeks as I slowly backed out of the warehouse. I had remembered that I wasn’t supposed to be there. Once I got out I ran as fast I could to the motorcycle. I rose back as fast as I could without getting pulled over for speeding—or crashing. I parked the bike and stumbled back to the clearing. I forgot about the logs that had blocked my way before, tripped and fell. A shriek forced it’s way from my throat as I fell to the ground. I cradled my arm and twisted around to lay on my back. I choked back a sob. Four or five bodyguards rushed over to me.

            “What’s wrong?”

            “Is it your arm?”

            “It must be broken.”

            “Should we call Mr. Moore?”

            I pushed them away. “No, no. I’m fine. Don’t call Danny. I don’t think it’s broken.”

            “Here let me see it,” the fifth bodyguard said. “Trust me, I’m a doctor.” I looked up at him. He looked to be about six feet tall before he bent down to look at my arm. He had short brown hair styled to—well it almost looked like anime hair, honestly—stick up in the front. He had soft brown eyes and didn’t look like he could be a bodyguard to me. He was tall and skinny, not unlike a fencepost. Then again, he did say he was a doctor so maybe he was just there in case someone else got hurt.

            I held out my arm and cried out when the bodyguard/doctor tried to move it.

            “I’m afraid it is broken.” He was pulling out his phone to call Danny when the black Merc drove up. Danny hopped out and rushed over.

            “What’s wrong?”

            “Miss Taylor has fallen and broken her arm.”

            “How?” Danny asked in a dangerously low voice.

            “I was running and I tripped over the logs.” I blushed and hoped my lie passed. I glanced up at Danny. “I’m sorry.”

            Danny bent down and helped me up. He brushed my tears away and dirt off me. “Let’s get you to the hospital.”

            I nodded and we got in the Merc. I assumed that one of the bodyguards was going to ride the motorcycle back to Danny’s—wherever that was and except for David, I seriously doubted any of them wouldn’t crush it. I tried not to cry as the pain intensified the further we drove. Every jostle of the road seemed to shake my arm violently. Danny frowned and urged the driver to go faster.

            I slyly looked at Danny and resisted the urge to scoot away. He would know something was going on if I did. He probably knew something was wrong anyway. He wasn’t going to kill me. I had known it was a possibility that he killed people. He had practically told me before. I just didn’t believe him. How could killing people be someone’s job? Besides hitmen, I mean.

            Danny looked so normal and nice. He didn’t seem the type of person who randomly killed people.

            We pulled up outside an old house. My brow furrowed. Why weren’t we going to a hospital. Maybe he was going to kill me after all.

            Danny climbed out and jogged around the car to help me out. He picked me up—easily—and started walking toward the house.

            “Where are we? Why aren’t we going to the hospital?”

            Danny only smiled and carried me into the house. It looked exactly as I expected. Old furniture was everywhere. We went into the back of the house. A bodyguard lifted up a rug and a trapdoor appeared underneath.

            I gave Danny a look. “A trapdoor? How Scooby-Doo villain of you.” Sarcasm is my defense mechanism.

            Danny ignored me. He tried to maneuver down the stairs with me in his arms.

            “I can walk you know. It’s not my legs that are broken.”

            Danny ignored me again.

            I smacked the side of his head softly. “Hey!”

            Danny turned to me, his eyes blazing before they softened.

            I cowered. “Sorry.”

            Danny’s face softened further. “I’m sorry.” He set me down, but didn’t let go of my uninjured arm. We walked—well, I hobbled trying not to move my arm—down the stairs to the cellar. There was nothing down there either. I mean, there was stuff down there, wine bottles, potatoes, old junk—there was a lot of stuff down there, but no hospital.

            Maybe he was taking me down here to kill me.

            The same bodyguard who opened the trapdoor walked over to a wine bookcase—wine case? Wine holder?—and moved a very dusty bottle. The holder slid smoothly out of the way. Beyond was a darkened hall.

            Danny nudged me down the hall and took my hand to lead me. I thought it was too dark to see, but Danny, apparently, knew the way. We came to a door and Danny put his hand on it. There was a hidden scanner on it which scanned his hand.

            The door opened up and a bright light filled my eyes. I closed them and let Danny lead me through the brightness. We came to another door—I assume since I still had my eyes closed—I opened them after we walked through the door and the lights had dimmed.

            We were in some sort of hospital. It was large and white and very clean. However, there was no doctor there. Maybe this was some sort of strange torture chamber?

            “Is this yours?” I asked. Dumb question, of course it was his.

            “Yes. I needed a place where I could take my employees where there would be no one to ask questions.”

            David walked into the room clad in doctor gear. He smiled at me. I hadn’t noticed before but his suit was dark brown with tan pinstripes.

            “I thought all bodyguards wore black.”

            Danny and David smiled. “I allow my employees to wear whatever they wish as long as it doesn’t call attention to them.”

            David pulled on some latex gloves. “Let me fix your arm.”

            It didn’t take long to plaster up my arm. Luckily, it was my left arm so I could still write and type. My job was safe. I had decided I would tell people that I had gotten in a motorcycle crash instead of tripped over a log. It seemed much more adventurous. Danny agreed that if anyone asked him about it—and we both agreed that it was virtually impossible for anyone I knew to talk to him—he would say he had lent me his Ducati and I had crashed it.

            David had given me a small shot of morphine—and I mean a small shot—but I was still loopy.

            Danny took my unbroken arm and helped me off the table I had been sitting on. “Would you like me to take you home?”

            I swayed slightly trying to decide if I wanted to spend more time with a murderer. Did I actually know he was going to kill me? What if that guy had been a serial killer? What if he was a drug lord? How was I to know who it was. A little voice in my head told me that Danny should have turned the guy into the police rather than actually kill him, but the voice was easily shushed by the other voices that said Danny was a good man and he was cute and, if I was honest with myself, rich. Also, that he possibly liked me.

            “No, well, I dunno,” I said because I didn’t want to go home, but Theta did need to be walked.

            “Theta has been walked by one of my employees,” Danny said.

            “I should probably go home and rest…” I trailed off.

            “What if we went and rested at my home?” Danny asked in a non-asking way.

            “Um… okay.” How could I pass up the chance to see Danny’s house? How many people had seen Danny’s house at his own invitation?

            Danny smiled and we made our way out of his secret hideout and back to the black Merc. We climbed in and drove further into the city and out the other side. It was starting to get dark and I was unable to see exactly where we were. We pulled up to a house—a mansion rather—and Danny helped me out.

            “You live here?” I asked. Another stupid question, but it just slipped out.

            Danny nodded. “I purchased it from an old man who had no children and was dying.”

            “Was he dying with a little help from you?” I asked before I could stop myself.

            Danny frowned. I could see his mind trying to figure out what I had meant. I gulped—more or less audibly. Do I tell him what I saw and risk him possibly killing me or let him work it out for himself and kill me because I wouldn’t tell him. I sighed.

            “I followed you. I saw what you did.”

            “Why would you do that?” Anger filled his eyes with betrayal as a nice crust. Here it come, I thought. I’m about to lose my life because of curiosity. Curiosity killed, not the cat, but me.

            Danny sighed and opened his arms to me. I hesitantly walked into them. So he was going to strangle me. Not how I would have planned to die, but at least it was at the hands of someone like Danny—a professional who would make it quick. I put my arms around his back as best I could and smelled his leather jacked. I love the smell of leather.

            A small sob broke from my throat and Danny tightened his arms around me before tilting my face up. He looked confused at my tears and wiped them away.

            “Please don’t kill me,” I said and buried my face in his jacket again.

            “Why would I do that?”

            “Because I saw you murder some guy.”

            Danny sighed around me. “That’s my job. Part of my job is to keep the American government safe, whatever the cost may be. If someone needs to be taken care of, then I must deal with it.”

            “But I know your secret now.” I admit I was confused. I would have killed me over this secret.

            “Joce.” He made me meet his eyes. “This may hurt, but who would believe you over me?”

            I paused in my silent crying and thought about it. It was true. Who would believe me over him? I was a nobody. A nobody with a dog. Right now, I didn’t even have that. My life wasn’t worth anything. So, I guessed that I didn’t really have anything to worry about in a round-about sort of way.

            Danny was watching me and smiled when I came to the conclusion that I was in no danger. I didn’t have to say anything, he knew.

            “Are you okay now?” He asked even though he already knew the answer.

            I nodded. “Yeah.” I cleared my throat. “So, you kill people for a living with an okay from the government?”

            “I do many things for my job. The American government doesn’t necessarily ‘okay’ what I do, but they turn a blind eye to what they believe is a compulsory evil.”

            Danny led me inside and sat me on a couch. He pulled a bottle of water out of a concealed fridge and tossed it to me. I managed to catch it with my good hand. He got out one for himself and opened it.

            I fiddled with him. “Are there other people like you?”

            “Yes, there are lots of Englishmen.” He smiled before taking a swig of his water.

            I rolled my eyes, but I was still nervous. “You know what I meant. Are there more people with jobs like yours?”

            Danny wandered over and sat down next to me on the couch. He took my water bottled and opened it for me. He looked at me for a long moment—deciding if I was okay with the information he was about to tell me, I suppose—before saying,

            “Yes, I am the only one with the American government, but Mark is my British counterpart and Rupert is my Australian counterpart.” He paused and glanced at me. “No, I won’t tell you their full names and no, there are many more than just us three that run the world.”

            I nodded. This information didn’t rock my world as I think Danny thought it would. I’ve never really cared who ran the country as long as it didn’t shake up my life too much. We sat in silence for a moment. Danny sat back against the couch and stretched his arm out behind me. I still sat on the front edge even though my body longed to relax—I had had a very emotional day and I had broken my arm, after all—back into Danny’s embrace.

            I turned to look at him—beautiful, dangerous and oh-so-inviting—and said, “So how long have people like you ran the world?”

            “World War Two, the first was Winston Churchill. We are rather more behind the scenes these days.”

            “What about all the subsequent wars?”

            Danny sighed. “Even if we all get along, that doesn’t mean the faces of our respective countries do. They start the wars without telling us or taking our advice against it. We cannot control every little thing that happens. You’d be surprised at how many wars we’ve stopped. Also, often the countries that so,” he cleared his throat, “not ver nice things, don’t have people like me.”

            I gave into my impulses and scooted over to him. I cuddled into his embrace and laid my head on his shoulder.

            “Any more questions?”

            “Not that I can think of,” I mumbled, my words obscured by his body which I had buried my face in. I felt his body tighten and shake with silent laughter.

            “Would you like to still watch that movie?”

            I nodded. “Of course.”

            “Would you like to change into something more comfortable?”

            “Will you take me home and bring me back?”

            “No, there are clothes here that will fit you.”

            “Okay. Where are these clothes?”

            Danny stood up—I stopped myself from squeaking in loss of my living warmth—and helped me up. He led me through his house—sadly, I was too tired to notice the expensiveness of it—to a room. He opened the door and led me over to a large walk-in closet.

            “There are plenty of clothes in here that will fit you.” He gently removed his arm from mine and left. I looked at the clothes. There were lots and lots of them. More clothes than I think I’ve ever had in my life. I pulled out a pair of sweatpants and a large t-shirt.

            The pants were easy enough to get on. I’ve had enough practice pulling pants on and off one handed—you try pulling clothes on and off with wet fingernails and not smearing them—to get them on and off. It was much more difficult to get my shirt on and off over my cast.

            After what seemed like forever—to me—and all I had managed to do was get myself tangled up with my arms stuck above my head. A knock sounded on the door. “Are you alright?”

            I made a non-committal noise and struggled to get myself untangled. Danny stuck his head in the room, but hadn’t seen me yet.

            “Can I help you?”

            “Um.” I stopped and pondered. Did I want Danny to see me without my shirt on? I needed some help that much was obvious. Still…

            “Yes,” I saw his foot step into view. “But wait.” I paused. How do I saw this without sounding stupid? … There isn’t a way. “Close your eyes and keep them closed. No coping a feel either.”

            Danny had his eyes closed when he turned the corner, but there was a smirk on his face. Not a cold smirk, Danny is the only person I know that can smirk warmly.

            “I apologize if I… grope you as I don’t know where you are.”

            I had managed to get one of my arms free and directed his hands to my waist. He help them there for a moment an unreadable emotion on his face before softly moving them up my side. He was careful as he got to my ribs and slid his hands around my back and so as to make me sure that he wasn’t going to try any funny business. His hands traveled up my biceps and untangled me from my shirt. He held it in his hands for a moment before saying,

            “Do you need my help getting another one on?”

            It didn’t take me long to decide that if I had needed his help getting one off, I was probably going to need his help getting one on. I nodded, then remembered he had his eyes closed and said yes. I picked up the shirt I had chosen and I handed it to Danny. He felt the material and smiled. He fiddled with the shirt until he thought he had it a way which he could get it over my head. With both of us working together, it didn’t take us long to get my new shirt on.

            Once Danny had pulled the shirt all the way down, he opened his eyes. He smiled that brilliant smile.

            “You look beautiful. Especially when wearing my t-shirt.”

            I looked down at the shirt I had chosen. It was an Oxford t-shirt. I hadn’t really looked at the front when I picked it out. I had only thought it felt nice to the touch. Now that I actually looked at it, I could tell it was from repeated washing that it felt so soft.

            “Did you want me to choose a different shirt?” I asked rather stupidly.

            Danny only gave me a look. He took my hand and led me back to the living room. He had pulled down—or had someone else pull down—a very large screen. It took up most of one wall. A cupboard on the opposite end of the room was open showing a projector.

            Danny sat me down on the couch and walked back to the projector. He started it, grabbed a nearby blanket and flopped—yes flopped—down on the couch next to me. He took hold of a remote and pushed a button. The projector came on and Danny picked the movie button that showed on the screen.

            “What would you like to watch?”

            “What do you have?”

            “I have everything. Anything that you might want to watch and if I do not have it, it won’t take me long to get it.”

            I racked my mind for a movie he might not have, just to see if I could.

            “What about A Streetcar Named Desire?”

            He gave me a look that said I wasn’t trying hard enough.

            “Nosferatu?”

            Another look.

            “The Gold Rush?”

            Another look.

            Now that I thought about it, I really didn’t know any obscure movies.

            “Bedroom and Hallways? Different for Girls? Maurice?”

            Danny smiled. “Better, but I still have them.”

            “Really?” Random British movies that were relatively obscure and he still had them. I resolved to watch them sometime. But now I wanted to see if he would watch a complete chick flick with me. What was a good one? I could easily pick a Jane Austen movie. The six hour long Pride and Prejudice would work well, but the way I was feeling right now, I was going to be lucky to last through a normal movie.

            “Can we watch Bridget Jones’s Diary?”

            Danny grimaced for my sake. “Why not Lord of the Rings? It has pretty men in it too.”

            “True, we can watch those next time. Now, I want to watch Miss Jones.” I hoped there was a next time.

            Danny scrutinized me for a moment. He heaved a dramatic sigh. “Fine, we’ll watch Miss Jones.”

            He went through his movies until he found the one we wanted. Apparently, either he had all his movies digitalized or a jukebox sort of thing.

            Danny put his arm around me and I pulled the blanket up around us. I was warm and comfortable. I snuggled into Danny’s embrace and settled down to watch the movie.

            The last thing I remembered was Mark Darcy helping Bridget with dinner. Danny picked me up—I know because I was vaguely awake. I thought about making a fuss about being carried, but I was warm and sleepy. It had been a very emotional day and I didn’t want to deal anymore. I figured Danny would take me home or something to that effect.

            The next morning, I stretched and accidentally smacked Theta, who whined at me to go back to sleep. I shifted and opened my eyes. This wasn’t my room. This wasn’t my bed. These weren’t my clothes. But that was Theta. I sat up very confused. I was obviously still in Danny’s house. I didn’t know anyone else that had that kind of opulence. Why was Theta here? Why was I still here?

            A knock sounded on the door and Danny looked in.

            “May I enter?”

            I nodded.

            Danny opened the door and came in. He was wearing Wranglers and a light blue and gray rugby shirt. He sat on the bed next to me and smiled.

            “How was your night?”

            “Um… fine?”

            Theta army crawled—he really is a lazy dog—over to Danny and wagged his tail. Danny scratched him behind his ears for a moment before I spoke.

            “Uh… what’s going on here?”

             Danny gave me a confused look. “I am scratching your dogs ears before I ask you to breakfast. Theta is being a happy dog. You are still wearing my clothes sitting in one of my guest beds. What specifically are you referring to?”

            “Why did you do this?”

            “You were asleep,” Danny replied, still scratching Theta. “It was simpler to let you sleep here than to take you home.”

            “How did Theta get here?”

            “My employee who had been taking care of him yesterday brought him here.”

            “Why?”

            “I’m confused about your question. Why did I have Theta brought?”

            “Uh, sure.”

            “I believed that you would like to wake up with your normal sleeping companion.”

            “Um, okay. I guess that’s a good idea.” I was still more than a little confused, and I’m pretty sure Danny knew I was still confused – but I let it go. Danny smiled and stood up.

            “Get up. Get dressed and I will come get you in,” he looked at his watch, “half an hour? Is that long enough?”

            “Um, yeah, but where am I going to get some more clothes?”

            “Oh, I had your wardrobe brought over,” Danny said and picked some invisible lint off his shirt. “I believe they are in the closet.”

            I got up and walked over to the giant wardrobe. I opened it. All my clothes were in there—I didn’t have many really, but it made me think that I had a small amount—hanging up. Some looked like they had been ironed. I never ironed my shirts and the nice button-up ones frequently got wrinkled.

            “Wow… uh…why?”

            Danny looked in my eyes briefly before sitting down again and petting Theta. “I knew you were going to need clothes today.”

            I nodded, not totally believing him. “Okay… well…” I paused to let him leave. He didn’t get the hint. “Okay… you need to leave now.”

            “Oh, yes, excuse me,” Danny said, his face coloring slightly. He left and closed the door behind him. I walked over and locked it before going and taking a quick shower. I was hesitant to use the beauty products because they seemed so expensive, but since Danny had pretty much moved me into his house, I figured that I had more than enough reason to use anything I wanted. There was a large supply of make up near the mirror, but I was too lazy to put any on. There were so many different kinds of lotion, I didn’t know which one to choose. I eventually choose a vanilla scented one, lathered myself up and got dressed. It was much easier this time when I wasn’t hopped up on pain pills.

            I was drying my hair—if I don’t, it gets all frazy—when Danny knocked. I didn’t hear him, obviously, so he came in. I looked in the mirror and saw him pick up his discarded Oxford shirt. He took a deep whiff before looking at it. I couldn’t decide whether this was majorly creepy or kinda sweet. Maybe a bit of both. I needed to talk to him about this moving me into his house though.

            He put the shirt gently back on the bed and walked over to me. I stopped the hairdryer and waited for him to speak. When he didn’t, I turned around and stared at him. He tried to star me down, but eventually got squirmy. He dropped his eyes to the ground.

            “You can’t just move me into your house.”

            Danny squirmed some more.

            “We barely know each other and you didn’t ask. I have a job to go to.”

            “Is that why you’re mad? Because I didn’t ask?”

            “There are many reason why I’m mad.”

            An awkward silence ensued for a moment. Danny didn’t dare say anything for fear of making me madder. I wasn’t sure what to say to him so I didn’t speak either. I sighed.

            “I suppose you’ve gotten me off of work.”

            Danny motioned at my arm. “They gave you time off to get well.”

            “So what are we going to do today?”

            A smile pricked at the corner’s of Danny’s mouth. “Would you like to go to see a film?”

            I shrugged. “Not really.”

            Danny thought for a moment. “Would you like to go to the park?”

            “And do what?” I wasn’t going to make this easy for him.

            Danny shrugged. “Take a carriage ride?”

            I shook my head. “No. Sounds boring.”

            Pausing, Danny looked to the floor and then at me. “How would you like to go to England?”

            I turned around to look at him. I still didn’t want to give him hope, but going to Europe was on my bucket list. I tried to keep the joy out of my eyes.

            “Where would we go? I don’t know anything to do in England.” That was a lie.

            Danny grinned. “You’re in luck. I grew up there. I know all the places to go.”

            I pretended to ponder over it before nodding my head. “I suppose we can go.”

            Danny moved as if to hug me, but patted my shoulder instead. “Then we shall go at once.”

            “What about my job? And Theta?”

            “I’ll take care of it. You will have your job when we return if you still want it and I will have my most trusted servants take care of Theta.”

            I nodded. “Okay. When do we leave?”

            “As soon as you want to.”

            I couldn’t hold my excitement back any longer. “Then let’s get going!”

            Danny smiled. “Pack a few clothes and we’ll go.” He left me to pack.

            I wandered around and opened all the closets in my guest toom and finally found a suitcase. I set it on the bed and wandered to my clothes.

            I wondered if this is going to lead anywhere. Does he want me to be his girlfriend? What’s he going to do to me when he gets bored of me now that I know his secrets? I thought and sat down on the bed. Am I really going to go to England with this man I hardly know? The smart thing would be to leave him and get on with my life. Then I wouldn’t be in danger of losing it. I started putting clothes in the suitcase. But life wouldn’t be nearly as fun or adventurous. I threw caution to the wind, finished packing and went to find Danny.