"What exactly is all this?" Ryder asks as he stands in the storage locker with me, staring at boxes and tables of stuff.

"Things I either never finished or just never tested," I reply as I look for a specific box.

"You made all this?" Ryder questions as he picks up another taser that was sitting on one of the tables.

"Yeah," I reply as I dig through the stacks of boxes.

I don't catch his reply entirely, but it sounds suspiciously like, 'Seems like you really like tazing people.'

"What exactly is this is?" Ryder asks me as he holds up a syringe.

"Nano trackers," I reply. "They stay in the bloodstream for two weeks. Then they just dissolve without a trace."

Ryder actually looks impressed. "Cool," He says as he turns the syringe over in his hands. "Do they have to be injected, or could someone, say, ingest them?"

I nod as I continue my search. "Yes, they could be ingested instead, but they wouldn't stay in the body as long."

Ryder picks up another syringe and turns it over in his hands.

"I wouldn't play with that one if I were you," I mutter absentmindedly.

"Why not?"

"Because that one doesn't have Nano trackers in it."

"Then what's in it?"

I debate lying to him. It's not as if it would be a big lie anyway. It wouldn't cause any harm. In the end, I decide to stick with the truth.

"Well, I don't want to call it poison, because it's not exactly that but-"

"Forget it," Ryder cuts me off. "I don't want to know."

I smile as I find the box I'm looking for, only vaguely paying attention to Ryder. I set it on the table and open it up, digging through the various gadgets inside.

Ryder picks a bullet out of the box. "And why are you making bullets, exactly?"

"It's not really a bullet," I tell him as I take it from his hands and put it back in the box. "And it has a fifty-fifty shot of doing what it's supposed to do or just blowing up."

Ryder grimaces. "What is it supposed to do?"

"It's basically a really high powered taser. When fired from a gun it'll basically turn into a kind of dart-like projectile."

"Does it need a specific gun to work?"

"No. Just whatever gun can fire that size bullet."

I pull out the device I'm looking for. It's round like a sphere and completely metal. I turn it over a few times in my hands before sliding it into my backpack. I also take a pack of what looks like trays of mints and a watch.

Ryder eyes me curiously. "What did you come for?" He asks.

I shrug. "Just some stuff."

I figure Ryder's going to continue pressing me on it, but he doesn't. Instead, he just shrugs. I walk past him to go back to the car, but he stays and lingers for a little while longer.

When he finally comes walking out of the storage locker, his hands are shoved in his jacket pockets, his sunglasses are back over his eyes and he's smiling widely.

He looks like the cat that ate the canary. And it doesn't take a genius to figure out he's taken something for himself.

I let out a resigned sigh, knowing there's no way I'm getting him to put back whatever it is he's taken. And it's not as if I can use brute force to make him do it either, he's stronger and bigger than I am. "What did you take?"

He has the nerve to feign confusion. "What?"

I narrow my eyes at him in a threatening way. "What did you take?" I repeat.

He smiles widely, no longer bothering to pretend he doesn't know exactly what I'm talking about. "Don't worry about it, carrot top."

I raise my eyebrows and fix him with a look of disbelief. "If you took something you intend to use against me, I'd like to know."

Ryder shrugs nonchalantly. "I don't completely intend to use these against you, but if you force me to I just might."

I groan and turn on my heel, walking off toward the car. Ryder hooks a finger through the belt loop of my jeans and pulls me to a stop. He takes the car keys from my hands and then releases me.

"I'm driving this time," He says as he slides the keys into his pocket.

"Why?"

"Because I can see clearly."

I glare at him. "There was nothing wrong with my driving."

"Not yet," Ryder agrees. "But there's a first time for everything."

He brushes past me as he walks to the car. He's soon to find out that he's no longer in possession of the keys.

He gets to the car and goes to pull out the keys, only to come up empty.

I twirl them around on my finger.

He takes his sunglasses off so I can see the look of utter irritation on his face. "How do you keep doing that?"

I smile. "I'd tell you, but then I'd have to kill you," I reply, quoting his words from when I asked him how he managed to find me.

He narrows his eyes at me, but there's a spark of his devilish mischief shining in his eyes. "Give me the keys, rusty."

I glare at him. "What's the problem with letting me drive?" I ask. Control freak, I add silently.

"I'd like to live a little longer."

"Who's to say I won't kill you for not letting me drive?"

"You could try," Is all Ryder says as he slides his sunglasses back on over his eyes.

I unlock the door nearest to me and climb into the passenger, and then climb across to the driver's seat.

Ryder knocks on the driver's side window. "Get out of the car, matchstick."

I start the car up. I watch Ryder's shoulders rise and fall as he lets out an overexaggerated sigh. I roll down the window and lean out toward him.

"You can get in the passenger seat or the back."

"Or," He says. "I can shoot out the tires."

"That just creates more problems for both of us."

He pulls his gun from his waistband and makes a show of checking it over. He aims it at the car tires.

I debate the consequences of running him over.

I take the keys out of the ignition and throw them at him. He catches them a second before they make contact with his face. I curse him out as I slide over into the passenger seat.

"Now was that so hard?" He asks me.

I glare at him. "The next time I get hold of the keys, I'm going to run you over and leave you."

Ryder gets that evil smile on his face. "Considering how hard you were trying to get me to stay, I don't think you'd actually leave."

I want to strangle him. Not enough to kill him. No, just enough to make him pass out so he can then spend the remainder of our journey in the trunk of the car.

"I'd still run you over though," I tell him.

He laughs. "That, I don't doubt," He replies with a smile.

"Why is that amusing to you?" I question.

His smile gets a little wider. "Cause I think you and your threats just might be growing on me," He pauses. "Although, I think I might have to file a restraining order if you keep throwing yourself at me."

I feel my cheeks turn red and I fix him with a murderous glare.

His only response is a devilish smile.

"You're the devil," I tell him.

His smile gets even wider. "Don't I know it."

***

The address I have for John is not what I was expecting. It's a two-story house in a friendly and family oriented neighborhood. The lawn is trimmed and neat, flowers are planted under the windows and a few more are in pots scattered along the front porch. There are white curtains hanging in the windows, the house itself is a brick red kind of color and the roof a dark brown. The trim around the house painted white.

The whole house gives off a very welcoming and homey feeling. Which is not what I'd expect from John. As a matter of fact, this whole house is the total opposite of what I'd imagine for him. I had been thinking something along the lines of the Batcave.

I stare at the house a while longer, wondering if I got the address wrong. I finally let out a sigh and push open the car door, hopping out and walking up the driveway. Ryder follows suit behind me.

I knock on the door and stand back. My heart's beating fast and my palms feel sweaty as I wipe them on my pants. My nerves are going haywire and panic is starting to set in as I wait for the door to open.

And then I'll be face to face with arguably one of the world's most deadly men, who I managed to piss off the last time we had interacted. Luckily, he has never seen my face before so there's a good chance he won't immediately shoot me on sight.

The door opens and I suck in a sharp breath. Praying that I did, in fact, get the address wrong. I realize immediately that I didn't as I come face to face with John. Though I had never seen him in person, I had seen pictures of him. So, I recognize him right away just based off his pictures.

He's Latino, but where exactly he's from I haven't the slightest idea. He's lean and muscled, his hair his pulled back into a small ponytail at the base of his neck, his hazel eyes assessing, and various tattoos snaking up his arms and disappearing under his shirt. I'm not sure of his age but he looks like's in his early thirties. And his real name is not something I'll ever know. He doesn't use it. As a matter of fact, he doesn't even go by a name. Everyone who ever worked with him just started taking to calling him John Doe, and the name stuck.

His eyes are narrowed in suspicion as he stares at me and takes his time in assessing if I'm any threat to him. He moves on pretty quickly but takes a much longer time assessing Ryder. No doubt he could probably pick him out as law enforcement if given enough time to study him. Since I prefer that doesn't happen and cause us a million more problems, I intervene.

"Hi," I say as I step in front of Ryder, blocking John's view of him.

John's assessing gaze goes back to me. "Can I help you?" He asks as he leans in the doorway of his house.

I don't know how to answer him. "Yeah," I finally say as my mind goes over everything I could possibly say to get him to listen to me without resorting to shooting me. And also, I still don't want to give away who I am to Ryder. I've been having enough problems lately.

"You and I worked together in the past," I tell John. "and I kind of needed your help now."

John frowns at me and confusion shines in his eyes as he looks at me again, trying to decide if he does actually know me. He shakes his head. "I don't remember you, sorry." He goes to close the door and I put my hand on it. His eyes narrow dangerously.

I remove my hand from the door. "Sarah sent me to talk to you. She said you could help me," I tell him.

He eyes me curiously again. "Sarah who?"

"Sarah Smith."

Recognition flashes in his eyes and he looks at me surprised and then with suspicion. "How do you know Sarah?"

I look over my shoulder at Ryder before lifting the edge of my shirt enough for John to see the tattoo. "We ran with the same crowd," I say.

John visibly relaxes his on-guard stance before tensing up once again. "Why would she send you to me?"

I resist the urge to groan. John's just too damn suspicious. Given his line of work, I can't exactly blame him.

"She said you could help me, and you and I have worked together in the past."

John looks at me doubtfully. "I'd remember you," He states simply. "I don't forget a face."

"Yes well," I say, not sure how to continue exactly. "you and I never actually met face to face."

The suspicion in his eyes doesn't go away. "What did you say your name was?"

"I didn't," I reply and I hold out my hand. "I'm Nicky."

He just stares at me and makes no move to shake my hand. "I don't know you," He states flatly, going to close the door once again. "Have a good day."

"I know you. John Doe," I say quickly. "If you wanted me to, I could go through and list everything I know you've done."

His arms cross over his chest and he takes a step toward me, trying to intimidate me. And totally succeeding. "Who are you exactly?" He questions me.

I stare at him. There's only one answer that'll get him to even remotely listen to me . . . that is, if he doesn't kill me first. One answer that will clear everything up. One answer that will get me in ten times more trouble than I'm already in.

I turn to look at Ryder. He's tense and on alert, sizing John up, but when he feels my gaze on him he looks at me instead. He must see something in my expression because the guarded look in his eyes turns to wariness and confusion as if asking me what I'm thinking.

"Who am I?" I question as I shake my head and turn back to look at John, who's looking at me in a similar way to Ryder, only with more caution than wariness. I blow out a long sigh and run a shaky hand through my hair. I let a look of confidence, of defiance, cross my face as I stare back into John's eyes, my head held high, my gaze not fearful in the least. Even though I was completely panicked just seconds ago.

Maybe I should still be panicked. Maybe I should be fearful, but instead, I'm focused, determined. And preparing myself for what's about to happen.

I stare John back dead in the eyes. "I'm Nicolette Moore."

Time seems to slow as I see Ryder move out of the corner of my eyes and in no time at all he's pulled his gun and is aiming it at me.

John moves just as quickly, pulling his gun. Only, he aims his gun at Ryder.

I find myself moving without even thinking. Moving between the two of them. I don't know if I move fast enough.

I hear a gunshot. I feel a burning pain. And then my world's going black.

I promise the next update will be soon-ish. Probably. Mostly depends on how much homework I have this week.

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