Chapter 5

The part of the christian holy book that insists that there's no peace for the wicked could be wrong if translated literally.

The wicked derive unfiltered joy and peace from whatever it is that they do. The thrill, the high emotions. It is like performing in a little orchestra and being the concertmaster. It is a feeling above high clouds, the tingles on their feet and the swelling of their hearts when they perpetrate a pure act of evil thoughts.

One could insist that the Bible is wrong in that context, but can one deny that in the place of wickedness is uneasiness? The feeling of being watched? The fear of anybody besting you? Most importantly, the fear of being served your own medicine, with your own cup?

The wicked has no genuine peace. They come close, yes, but even in their deepest slumber, their own shadow haunts them and paints gory pictures of what could go wrong and the possibilities are too much.

Christian Gerard jerked from his sleep earlier today. His mind doing one twenty miles a second. It seems like his fears we're catching up with him or maybe it was pre-auction jitters. He had the most confusing dreams, oh they held promises of his darkest acts catching up with him.

It was a shadow chasing after him, with it's arms outstretched, one a sabre, the other a pistol and out of its mouth came vile things. So shaken up and drenched in sweat, dawn saw him in the frail arms of Camille.

Now as he walked the halls of his own mansion and his people greeted him, he couldn't conjure a smile or a less worried expression. He had instructed Eben to thoroughly scrutinize his mafia members, he needed to catch a mole that day.

It dawned on him that he had heard nothing about 'the outlaws' but Dominic said something that nagged at him that morning.

'They want you down, you think I'm the only one giving information out?'

At that moment he had just one regret, he regretted beating Dominic to a point of unconsciousness. 'his mind is giving him an easy way out' the doctor had said about his unconscious state.

He assembled his men, the ones that nothing could be found on that would mean betrayal to him.

"Retrace Dominic's steps. Find out where he has been for the past seven months, who he has met and find me this fucking Elijah Smith and Roman Witt. I don't care what you have to do, who you have to do it to. I want that information and you have seven days to do it", he barked at them before storming out of the meeting area.

A hasty last minute decision had him racing down the road to his mansion that held the abductees.

The abductees had been freshened up, groomed and ready for the auction.

"How prepared are they?", He asked a woman with a thin build and a nasty expression on her face but one couldn't deny how pretty she was.

"They are ready for tomorrow boss", she answered, her Italian accent thickening her R's.

"And Freya McIntyre?", He asked.

"She is a tough one but she will behave tomorrow", the woman replied, promise of hell for the woman who had seemingly given her a tough time.

"Take me to her"

The woman led him up the stairs to a room on the far end end of the east wing. He dismissed her at the door and knocked before going into the room to see Freya gazing out to the beautiful garden beneath her window that was burglar proofed.

"Beautiful day hmm?", Christian perched on a desk.

Freya shrieked and jerked around to cast a withering glare at him.

"There's something called privacy, daddy and mommy didn't teach you?", She snapped, causing Christian to laugh.

"Oh they did, but I just have a hard time learning just like you who despite all odds have not learnt not to speak out of turn. We are more alike than we know", Christian mused.

Freya watched him closely, his unfocused eyes, unsteady breathing pattern and stiff body language, she wanted to put her hand on what it was.

"I guess so. Both hardheaded and troubled", she replied.

"That's where you're wrong sweetheart", Christian smiled at her, feeling the need to defend himself.

"No?", Freya stared intently at his eyes.

"So you're not a scared little boy? Your facade is almost as fragile as your fear", Freya taunted and the glint in his eyes told her that she struck a nerve.

She also expected his attack when his orbs darkened and his body shifted into full defense mode.

Christian's fingers wrapped around her neck, choking her with the tight grip of his fingers causing her to clutch his arm.

"You've got more to say?", He hissed, tightening his grip.

Her face reddened as she clawed on his arms then a genius idea came to mind. Taking his flustered state in, she sent a harsh kick to his knee with the pointed edge of her shoes, causing him to hiss painfully and shove her to the ground.

Freya sucked in a harsh breath as her head collided with the hard ground, she could feel the warm trickles of blood on her scalp. She put her hand in her hair and brought out her slightly bloody hands to examine, a glare in her eyes.

"Oops. Maybe I won't be your shinning star anymore. Damaged goods and all", she said, a sly smile on her face.

"Maybe then I'd get to keep you", Christian sneered, loving the fear that quickly passed through the lady's eyes.

"Isn't this the point where you should be careful what you wish for", he taunted her.

Hearing nothing else from her he turned on his heels and barged out of her room.

Christian Gerard always has the last word, he would almost die if he didn't but he couldn't deny the fact that this woman got into his head and brought him to the brink.

Freya didn't enjoy her peace that much before Eben came into the room, a wry look on his face.

"Yeah go on ahead and come in without knocking", Freya mumbled.

Eben ignored her jabs and went to help her up but Freya's trained hands after two kids swiped down on Eben's hand and smacked it, probably a whole lot harder than she would smack her kids.

"You are one unique lady", Eben murmured.

"What do you want?", Freya asked instead.

"Gloria's okay", Eben mumbled again.

Freya's head snapped up at him.

"I'm not trying anything with her. I see how you are with her", Eben assured quickly when he caught the meaning of the glare directed at him.

"Do you also see that she's a child?", Freya asked.

"See I have no say over all these things, stop attacking me", Eben snapped.

"The cat's got claws afterall. You aren't just one stuttering piece of work that works for him are you?", Freya asked him.

Eben looked at her as if she was mad maybe Freya was mad indeed. Few months away from home and forced to live like a criminal could have gotten to her finally.

"Get some sleep. You'll need it tomorrow", Eben answered instead and walked out of the room, leaving Freya alone.

••••••••••••••••••••

Sydney sky was having a hard time holding it in. The rain beat down harshly on the city as the clouds darkened more. It seemed like it would stop for a while, only to come back with more torrent.

Everybody who had plans for the day stayed indoors as nature took over the day, choosing to assert it's dominance over all.

While the city grew darker and darker, Stephan's expression grew even darker than the rain as figurative smoke came out from his ears.

"No no no, Alan I am here to vacation. Send someone else", Stephan said into the receiver of the phone he held at hand.

His figure loomed over the ceiling to floor windows as he admired the calmness that the heavy downpour brought.

Stephan's nature allowed him to appreciate when everyone is quiet, when the city is not so busy, the smell in the air when the rain beats down on the earth. He felt like he belonged somewhere then, when nature interacted with each other, the rain to the earth, to the air that carries the sweet smell of that communication to the plants that gets the dirt washed off them and the animals that hides out under these trees, he felt a sense of belonging.

When he didn't hear anything from the other side of the call he knew that Alan Poza was not taking no for an answer. He sighed, pinching his nose in an attempt to rid himself of the building frustration.

"What's your obsession ith this woman anyway?", Stephan asked.

Only some days ago Alan was particularly nonchalant about what happens in the American mafia but all of a sudden he shows interest in a woman who happens to be dear Freya.

"It's something about her. Buy her, at all costs", Alan instructed.

"And who's pocket is getting the bill here?", Staphan asked.

"Consider this an act of good deed", with that Alan dropped the call.

Staphan sighed and slumped in his chair.

"Who are you, Freya McIntyre?", He whispered into the silent room.