Wow, great chapter, Crystal!
It's great right from the start. What a tense, heart-stopping opening. Somebody is going to attack someone. Good thing "someone" wakes up easily:
He’d always been a light sleeper.
That was one of his more valuable attributes. It had saved his life — and the lives of others — more times than he cared to remember.
Knock, knock.
This time was no exception.
Of course - there is that "knock, knock" thing.... Do killers knock?
The soft sound startled Scardino out of a fitful doze. His hand automatically moved to the concealed nine-millimeter at his side and his gray eyes scanned the room, sweeping Mayson’s sleeping form.
Dan Scardino is the "someone" who has been roused out of his sleep. Mayson Drake is the "someone" who is the likely target of the attack. Assuming, of course, that there is an attacker there in the first place.
The bad guys don’t usually announce themselves anyway, he thought grimly, hauling his protesting body out of the unforgiving plastic chair.
Like you said....
He crossed the room and pulled the door open a few inches.
“Morning, Kent.”
“Agent Scardino,” the reporter replied with a brisk nod. “How is she?”
The "intruder" is Clark! No, Mayson is not in danger. Not this time.
“Well, let me know if there’s anything I can help with,” Scardino said, his eyes locked with Clark’s.
“Will do.” Clark shoved his fists in the pockets of his khakis. “Is she — uh, is she all right?”
Scardino let out a long breath and drew his brows together. “She’s handling this really well, considering,” he finally conceded. “Mayson’s tough — I could tell from the second I stepped inside that room. But we can all handle only so much, you know?”
Clark's question was unusually insensitive, but then he was undoubtedly feeling awkward in front of Scardino. The agent's answer was very good, though.
Clark sighed. “I know.”
“I think she’s gonna be okay, Kent.”
The corner of Clark’s mouth quirked into a hesitant smile. “I hope so. She’s a good friend, and an even better lawyer.”
You show Clark's concern, and his relief, beautifully.
Clark smiled and checked his watch. “Look, I have to get to the office, but could you tell Mayson I stopped by?”
“Sure.” Scardino grasped Clark’s hand in a firm shake. “Let me know if you find anything on Intergang.”
“I — ” Clark paused and his eyes narrowed, almost imperceptibly. “I’ll be in touch.”
The falter in his voice and the surprise that flared behind his guarded eyes were all the affirmation Scardino needed. Kent and his partner were onto something, all right. He just needed to know what that something was.
Hmmm. Dan Scardino was not "dropped behind a wagon", as we say in Swedish. That's to say, he isn't blithely naïve about the ways of the world. He sized up Clark relatively accurately, though of course not perfectly so.
Clark paused and ran a hand through his hair. “You’re probably right.”
She raised an eyebrow. “Probably?”
Despite himself, Clark flashed her a tired smile. “Probably definitely.”
“Definitely definitely.” She gave him a grin of her own before turning her attention back to the documents spread on the table.
Adorable!!!
“He came by this morning.”
Mayson frowned and painstakingly dug a plastic spoon into her Jell-O cup, mindful of the cumbersome IV taped to the back of her hand. “Who?”
“Him,” he said simply, leaning back in his chair and lacing his fingers behind his head. “Kent.”
She froze, damning the warmth that flooded her chest at Clark’s name.
“Well,” Scardino prompted, “don’t you want to know what he wanted?”
She didn’t answer. Instead, she stared at the jiggling red mass inside its clear plastic cup for a long moment before she realized her hand was shaking.
I've never been a great fan of Jell-O myself, but rarely has it seemed more nauseating than when you describe how Mayson is absent-mindedly staring into her clear plastic cup full of a "jiggling red mass" inside. Yeeech!!! Of, course, poor Mayson has lost all her ability to concentrate on food after Scardino mentioned Clark's name.
He shrugged. “I can’t shake the feeling there’s something there.”
Mayson blew out a short breath. She was quickly losing patience with Agent Call-Me-Daniel and his cryptic one-liners.
“Something where?”
“Between you and your boy Friday.”
Your Boy Friday! That's really funny, but - do I detect a note of jealousy here?
She flushed and picked up the plastic spoon again, toying with it.
Scardino chuckled humorlessly. “Thought so.”
“You thought wrong. He’s in love with — with someone else.”
The tiny hitch in her voice twisted his gut. “Oh.”
“Yeah,” she whispered, her voice husky. “‘Oh’ is right.”
Poor Mayson. And, actually, poor Dan.
He shifted closer to her. “I — Mayson, I’m sorry.”
She lifted her red-rimmed eyes to meet his gaze and set the spoon back on the table with a small, sad smile. “Nothing takes the taste out of hospital food like unrequited love, huh?”
Jell-O and unrequited love. Now
that's an impossible combination.
Scardino groaned and ran his hands through his dark hair. “Well, I’m a world-class jerk.”
“That you are.”
He chortled. “Gee, thanks.”
“It’s all right.” She eased back onto her pillow, stifling an unbidden yawn. “You were just curious. Clearly, it was all a not-so-clever ruse to see if I’m single.”
But I like this conversation. They are really relaxing around each other. They seem to like one another.
“It’s guilt,” Mayson interrupted gently. “He feels guilty that he doesn’t return my feelings.” She blinked drowsily. “He’s that nice of a guy.” Her voice softened and her eyes closed involuntarily. “Con — whatsit, considerate,” she mumbled.
"He's that nice of a guy" - I'd never have dared to use that expression myself. My sense of English grammar is too uncertain and too rigid.
“Good news, sleepyhead.”
Mayson blinked, trying to clear the mental fog that muddled her thoughts. “Ugh,” she muttered into her pillow, recoiling from the bright light shining through the blinds.
Scardino laughed. “You’re just a regular Little Miss Sunshine.”
She mumbled something unintelligible.
“It’s probably best that I didn’t hear that, huh?”
Mayson groaned. “Five more minutes?”
How sweet.
“’Fraid not. You’ve been released.”
Her eyes snapped open and she winced at the sudden assault on her pupils. “Really?”
“Yep,” Scardino nodded. “Into my care, of course.”
Her eyes widened incredulously.
“Don’t look so pleased, you’ll inflate my already dangerously healthy ego.”
“Y-you — no,” she sputtered. “You’re kidding.”
“Serious as a heart attack,” Scardino replied, lifting one hand solemnly. “Scout’s honor.”
I love how you write this, the interplay between them, their words, their reactions.
She rubbed her side gingerly. “Oh, God. What fresh hell — ”
“Watch your language, young lady,” Scardino cut in. “This is a hospital.”
“How convenient,” Mayson growled. “You’re about to need immediate medical attention.”
Scardino gave her his most charming grin. “I think this is the beginning of a beautiful friendship.”
Casablanca! Crystal, I love how you use Humphrey Bogart's famous line here!
“I’m not treating you like a child,” he said in what he hoped was a soothing tone. “All I want to do is heat up your dinner.”
“Now you’re just placating me,” she mocked. “And you don’t know where I keep the saucepans.”
Scardino paused. “Damn. You’re right. Where
do you keep the saucepans?”
Mayson stifled a laugh that jostled her broken ribs and she winced. “I thought you were supposed to be observant. Isn’t that how you got this job?”
He rolled his eyes. “Of all the damsels in distress, I had to get stuck with you.”
“You’re just lucky like that,” she shot back, easing onto one of the four barstools by the counter. “They’re in the bottom cabinet next to the stove.”
“See? Now, was that so hard?”
“Yes.”
Oh, wow! Crystal, I love their bantering!
Mayson groaned. “Of all the government lackeys with a hero complex, I had to get stuck with the mentally challenged one.”
“Hey, now,” Scardino admonished, pouring the soup into the kettle, “there’s no need for name-calling.”
Mayson gave him the most saccharine grin she could muster. “It’s all part of my charm.”
Scardino looked at her for a long, silent moment. “The bruises look a lot better, you know,” he said quietly. “The edges are starting to fade.”
Mayson ducked her head, embarrassed. “Yeah.”
“You can talk to me, you know,” he offered nonchalantly, stirring the soup with a wooden spoon. “You don’t have to. But I’m — well, I’m here.” He cleared his throat. “You know, for you. If you want to talk about what happened.”
Mayson balled her right hand into a tight fist, momentarily overwhelmed by the kind gesture. “Thanks.”
And this is just wonderful - how Dan suddenly stops joking around and becomes serious, and how deeply that touches Mayson.
The last part of this chapter is brilliant. Consider the way it starts off in almost the same way as this chapter started:
He’d always been a light sleeper.
That was one of his more valuable attributes. It had saved his life — and the lives of others — more times than he cared to remember.
“Don’t — ”
This time was no exception.
It starts off
almost the same way as the opening of this chapter. Almost. There is no
knock, knock here. There is a
"Don't - " instead. That makes a big difference. About as big a difference as there is between, oh, Clark Kent and a hitman from Intergang, for example.
The strangled plea startled Scardino out of a fitful doze. His hand automatically moved to the nine-millimeter beneath his pillow and his gray eyes scanned the shadows in the living room, then darted to the hallway. Mayson’s bedroom lay just beyond.
He heard a muffled footstep and the quiet squeak of Mayson’s mattress.
And then he was moving, swift and stealthily toward the dark, open doorway.
Should’ve reminded her to leave a light on.
Scardino could feel the cool night air rushing in Mayson’s open window.
It had been closed when they’d turned in. He’d made sure the entire apartment was secure before settling down on the couch.
Oh, damn. It's for real this time.
Scardino attacks the intruder....
Scardino and the stranger were locked together, each straining to get their fingers on the trigger.
Scardino grimaced and pulled the gun closer toward him, but the intruder half-twisted again, knocking the federal agent off balance.
He gritted his teeth, struggling with everything he had to keep his right fist from slipping down the butt of the weapon.
And then the gun went off, its report reverberating through the room.
“No!” Mayson’s scream echoed in his ears, louder than the gunshot.
He waited for the pain.
Oh! Oh, damn! Crystal, you can't leave us here. Come back with more ASAP!
Ann
EDIT: I just remembered that Scardino was going to expose Mayson to danger in order to try to capture the people who wanted her dead. Is it Scardino's fault that someone has broken into Mayson's apartment and tried to kill her? If so, how will that affect the budding relationship between Scardino and Mayson? (I can just imagine how
I would have reacted....)
Then again, there is something strange about the intruder. Did he really try to kill Mayson? If so, shouldn't he have been able to do so long before Scardino had time to interfere?
