Alexie tried to make him understand, "John.... I'm sorry... I didn't want to do it... but you know him... he threatened my family, even my grandchildren if I didn't inform him when I heard from you. You know how he is... I had no choice, John....."

"And neither did I, Alexie... I trusted you... and you swore to me, if I ever needed anything or if I wanted out, you'd help me. Damn you... "

The gun leveled toward his face, Alexie pleaded for mercy, "John... no, don't.... come on.... we're old friends... just knock me out and I'll cover for you. I'll make sure you have time to get away. I swear it!"

His hands were shaking slightly; this would not come easily, but he had long ago learned to do what was necessary, regardless of how it felt. "I should kill you, I really should you know... I trusted you... you two faced lying prick..."

"John... please...you know my wife is sick....don't do this...." Alexie pleaded anxiously, both hands in the air to emphasize his sincerity and his vulnerability.

As he was about to soften, two thugs appeared out of nowhere, from behind his friend, guns drawn. Shots rang out, the staccato sounds ricocheting off the walls. Marlena, who was not one to take orders without question, screamed in terror. John instinctively pushed her back outside and out of harm's way, before rolling to his left and ducking behind an arm chair. With four more shots to empty the clip, all three of his opponents were lying on the ground moaning. John was the only one standing and that was debatable. Stabilizing his balance by holding on to the frame of the door, he wiped the gun clean of his prints and dropped it, watching with strange detachment as it hit the floor near his dying friend.

"Lady... it's now or never... " John said as he stepped outside, his tone threatening, his sudden hold on her wrist more than casual, as if he didn't really plan on giving her a choice after all. He did need a hostage, maybe now more than ever, she reminded herself.

Having just seen, or rather mostly heard him gun down three men, one of who was supposed to be a close friend, with scarcely a moment's hesitation, Marlena was terrified. But there was something about his eyes, those piercing blue eyes that told her he wasn't going to hurt her, not really. It was an elemental sense, almost instinctual, against all the dictates of logic. He was rough with her when they first left her hotel room, but now... there was some difference. Maybe it started with what he'd witnessed happening to her the other night. It didn't matter. What counted was that he was different somehow, and she sensed he wouldn't harm her. On the contrary, she believed that if it became necessary, he would die to protect her.

She nodded almost imperceptibly, and they were off in the darkness.

Just as he was essentially dragging her into the cool night air, she smiled with uncommon warmth, a warmth to which he was not accustomed. His world was dark and cold, his heart ruled with the need for dominance and control, his life choices motivated by the emotions of fear, anger, and vengeance, his hands meant mostly for killing.

Snapping out of whatever place his mind had taken him, he asked her casually, "What are you smiling about.. this is hardly the occasion."

She did it again, saying simply one word, "You..."

"Why... what'd I do that could possibly make you smile... is my fly open or something?" he said in jest, shooting a quick glance at his groin at the same time as he was strengthening his hold on her forearm. Laughter, a sound he didn't hear too often, and especially not since that horrible night one month ago. There was little cause, or so it seemed. Her presence was having its affect.

She chuckled at his joke and forged ahead, "Oh.. it's something I saw just now.. something in your eyes. No matter what the magazines and newspapers might have to say, you're no cold blooded killer, I know that now."

"How do you *know* that!" he said, his voice a harsh threatening whisper. "You just watched me kill."

"Simple... that was self defense.... I'm more interested in the fact that you came back for me... and tonight...you could have left me with him... but you didn't. Why?" she challenged, amusedly observing him while he searched his brain for an answer that would put her off. Not finding one right away, he averted his gaze so as not to see her eyes gloat.

Referring to the two other men he'd just shot down, John replied, "Because of them... they were trying kill me... and they would have gone for reinforcements. I couldn't let them get away." Seeing that she wasn't convinced, he shared an afterthought, "And... because you know too much....I couldn't take the risk."

She shook her head and confronted him, without even looking at him, "Liar!"

"Don't you call me that!" he shouted at her, at the same time as he whipped her body around to face him. It seemed wrong, terribly wrong and he reacted very strongly, shocking both of them, but that reaction went unspoken. "Besides... I'm not lying.. Some things... just aren't.. right...." It was hard to admit that... he'd never cared before. Why did he now? What was it about this woman?

Forcing back a smile, she spoke more quietly, "You came back to save me and just now, you pushed me out of the way when the shooting started. Why don't you just admit it... it's not so horrible, feeling some compassion."

Now came the excuses, he tried hard to sell them, but she wasn't buying, "No, it was.. practical... I still need you... I mean, because... you're a doctor..."

"Oh, I see... so you risked being even more injured seriously, or perhaps killed... because you needed my medical expertise... Mmm hmm... sounds reasonable to me... "

His hand almost went to the wounded place, but didn't. Can't show any weakness... not even to a woman...a doctor at that. His sharp intake of breath was enough, "Yes... I was... knocked down back there.... when my... when Alexie and his men tried to take me out."

Her surprise was hard to hide, but inside she almost smiled because it confirmed her tentative conclusions. "He and those men... they shot at you first, didn't they?" she asked, knowing the answer.

"That's a fact...it was them or me... I chose to live." Why did he feel the need to temper what he said...he usually reveled in it... killing someone before they did the same to him. Once it was clear the person was an enemy or an obstacle to be overcome, there was even an exhilarating rush that came with it sometimes. No apologies. But there was some difference this time, being with this incredible looking woman with the hazel eyes that glistened under the street lamps.

"Good choice to make, if you can... "

This time he read something in *her* eyes... she was assessing him again and it made him so nervous... "What... "

"I didn't say anything else... " she said, working hard to take advantage of the timing.

"Yea... well, sometimes it's what you don't say lady... now what's on your mind, Doc?"

She chuckled. Why did every man she met insist on calling her that short moniker which in some ways negated her credentials and experience. "You surprise me sometimes, that's all."

"Oh, so I'm unpredictable... you like that in a man?" he said with a leering grin as they neared the Ranger Rover. Reaching a hand toward her face, he garnered the expected reaction. She flinched and he caught it, though to most it would have been unnoticeable.

"No... not really...it's just that... well, back there at the hotel... I thought that..."

He was nodding his head, as the reason for the change in her expression was making itself known. "Oh, I get it... you think it means something that I shot them in self defense, instead of just offing them..."

"In a nutshell, yes..."After focusing his eyesight in the darkness, making sure the way to his vehicle was clear, he cautioned her, "Don't put stock in that... I just did what I had to do...both times. If they hadn't fired on me at that exact moment... I would have taken them out eventually."

He was making excuses again, "I suppose....but I think maybe you're changing and you don't like it... or maybe.... you're finding out who you really are..." she said, giving him some idea of what she was thinking, for the first time.

She was messing with his mind... offering possibilities he'd never considered, could never allow himself to see in the dark world in which he circulated. Again, he reacted with intensity to her assertions, "No, NO, I'm not! I could *still* kill you," he threatened, pressing the gun he'd just retrieved from his vehicle against her side, making her gasp with fear. The inner tension faded, and he breathed a sigh of relief. He was the one in control of the situation now, the one who had the power... that's the way it should be.

Even so, she didn't back down, continuing to challenge him as he ushered her rather roughly into his Range Rover, "Yes, but you won't. You just said it yourself... you need me... and from the looks of that blood on your shirt... pretty soon you won't be conscious. You'll have to trust me again."

He glanced at it... she was right about that too. The bandages the unnamed physician put on it weren't holding up too well, not after he'd been running, rolling and firing a weapon at several armed gunmen. "I do..." He stated it as a matter of fact with penetrating honesty, honesty that frightened him and made him look away again. Everything inside him screamed that he shouldn't, or couldn't trust anyone. And every part of his tortured weary soul longed to surrender to the incredibly beautiful creature sitting next to him as he started the engine and prepared to pull out into the hustle of midnight traffic in Paris.

Again she laughed... "You amaze me... you just tell me you could kill me any time you want, and yet you would trust me to take care of you when you're unconscious. What makes you think I won't run.. and go to the authorities, now that I know who you work for?"

So, that was it; she had seen the tattoo. He looked her over for a beat and then laughed too, replying with confidence, "Lady... you're the not the only one who's been paying attention here. You had your perfect chance and didn't take it. I know you well enough to realize that you won't do it now either. I sure as hell don't know why... but it's pretty clear that even when you're scared to death, you...care. "

It was unnerving to have him be so accurate in his assessment of her. How was it that this crude angry man could see inside her heart? It was futile, but she denied it anyway, and quite powerfully, "No, I don't! I don't care about you, I *hate* you! You threatened me, you dragged me out into the streets of a strange city...at gunpoint! You were working for Stefano Dimera and I could *never* care about you! I care about staying alive, for my..." She slapped her hand across her mouth, realizing what she'd almost revealed of herself.

"For your... what? Ah, so you do have a family, a man maybe, and children too?" He smiled with wicked satisfaction. "Oh, now that changes things, doesn't it?" He had some leverage... she cared about the folks back home and she wanted to go to them. He could get her to do anything if he made her believe she could leave him when it was over. Maybe it was true and maybe it wasn't. She decided not to reply and they rode in silence for awhile as John contemplated his next move, finding a safe place to lay up and heal.

John knew he had nothing left in Paris. Gina was dead... the place was crawling with international law enforcement and Stefano was out to get him, ever since he discovered the couple's plan to escape their life of crime under his cruel tutelage. No doubt the man wanted John to pay for the betrayal, not to mention Gina's death. It seemed the Old Man fancied that Gina was in love with him and might one day make a life with him. Now she was dead, and his art theft ring destroyed, before he had obtained all of the pieces he'd wanted.

Besides that, John was his number one operative when it came to the buying and selling of arms around the world, and the manufacture and distribution of various and sundry illegal substances. His fearless exterior and his unmatchable skills as a marksman, among other things ensured those aspects of the business ran very smoothly. Stefano had to be beside himself with pure black rage at having been betrayed by his most trusted comrade, a man he had uncustomarily treated like family.

But, that life was over. John sighed wearily, wondering what his future held in store other than fighting for his survival on a daily basis. He thought that those days were long past him. If he dwelled on it for any length of time, there was a tiny part of his heart that knew the truth, which was that he'd been running from something all of his life. Maybe, just maybe... this amazing American woman could help him find a way to stop, and maybe she could give him what he needed most.

Snapping out of the foolish wishful thinking, he yelled at himself for even allowing the thoughts to occur, 'No, no... I'm never going to need anyone like that again! There can never be another, John! NEVER!!' he screamed inside his mind as he saw once again what he couldn't bear to see. Gina falling to the ground, and the pool of blood forming around her fallen body.... Lights flashing, sirens blaring out their warning cry in the dark of night.... A man saying what his ears couldn't bear to hear, "She's dead... Oh, My God.... Princess Gina is dead!"

"Watch out!"

He snapped to attention at the terror in her voice and turned the wheel just in time to swerve out of the way of an oncoming truck. "Whew... sorry about that..." he said, wiping a bead or two of nervous sweat from his brow, and covering his sadness as best he could.

"Yea.... So am I... what were you thinking about that you lost control like that?" Marlena said, catching her breath, studying him closely. Maybe the wound was even worse than she thought and he was growing too weak to drive, or maybe it was something else entirely, something he'd been carrying inside for a long time...

"Nothing... nothing that concerns you anyway.." he said in frustration with himself more than her inquiry, waving off her concern for his physical condition as she made a move to check out his bloody shirt. "I'm fine.. I'll make it to where we're going... if that's what you're asking."

"Yes it does concern me. Whatever it was... I can see from the look on your face that it was... very upsetting and it almost caused us to have an accident. Do you want to talk about it?" she asked, almost touching him... almost. There was such a depth of pain behind his eyes, pain she suspected had so much more to do with his history than the bullet wound in his belly.

He couldn't help but meet her warm gaze, for a moment and it was pure gold, her hazel eyes filled with compassion. She spoke to him with such tenderness. She did care and she wanted to help him. Instinct told him that if there were ever a person who could, she was the one.

But it was too much for him... he couldn't let himself be vulnerable, so he shut down, his breathing quickening from the effort it took, "No...I.. don't. Look lady... I know you're a head doctor and all... and you think you've got me figured out... but let me tell you something... you have NO idea what you're dealin' with here... so let's just forget about it. I'll keep my eyes on the road from now on and you, keep your mouth shut, okay?"

"Where are we going anyway?" she asked, unable to curtail her inquisitive nature.

He glared at her and didn't respond. She was about to speak again, when she let out a tired sigh instead, realizing it was futile. Whatever was going on inside the mind of this complicated intriguing man, the discussion was closed for the time being, so she decided to let it go.

There were moments when it seemed as though there was a window or a door opening up, a window to his wounded soul and other times when there was a door that slammed shut as soon as he realized what was happening. He most definitely peaked her curiosity and there was something about him that was endearing in spite of his angry exterior. She sensed that he'd been deeply hurt many times and learned to cover the pain with anger and violence, to pursue life with reckless abandon and never look back, staring death in the face almost daring it to take him. He was running from the pain, as if the distance would make it go away. She had suffered her own losses and realized long ago that no matter where she went, no matter how far from home she was, either literally or figuratively, the pain always followed. Maybe she was the one who could reach inside to where he hurt.