Lamont doesn't bother to straighten up as he lunges for her again. This time Grace's not quick enough and he catches her heavily with his shoulder. She staggers backwards but manages to keep her feet as she brings her knee up into his throat. He catches her arm though and takes her down with him as he crashes to the ground, a grunt of pain filtering through his traumatized vocal cords.
Grace tries to wrench her arm free, but his grip is surprisingly strong as he regains his equilibrium. She silently curses Marlena's weakness as she stumbles backwards, Lamont retaining his grip on her arm and he yanks her back so that she is pinned to the ground beneath him.
Panic swells within her as she feels his heavy weight crushing her. It is far too a familiar feeling and she has to get a firm grip on her emotions. She can get out of this, this time she's not some weak, helpless innocent that needs rescuing.
"Well Gracie," he sneers maliciously as his hands grip her wrists like shackles. "No-one around to save you this time, is there?"
"I don't need to be saved..." She grunts as he shifts his weight further onto her. "From you.... Or *anyone*." Her eyes are fiery with disgust, even in the dim light of the warehouse.
"You're a dreamer Gracie," she can feel his breath, hot and fetid against her cheek and it makes her want to gag. "You've gone soft. We both know it. So why don't you just give in and enjoy it?" He tries to kiss her but she turns her head and struggles beneath him.
"You fucking *bastard*!" She gathers all her strength and sinks her teeth into the soft flesh of his forearm.
"*Damn*! You *bitch*!" Lamont screams as she rolls away from him and gains her feet. He cradles his arm as he turns to face her, his eyes blazing, lips drawn back in an animalistic snarl. "I'll get you for that you bitch!"
"Go on then," she laughs, brushing the wisps of hair from her face. "Do your best."
Lamont pushes himself to his feet and rushes at Grace again but the pain from his arm is distracting and she sidesteps him. She catches him painfully in the midriff with the heel of her boot before unleashing a knee into his throat again. She follows it up with several blows that Lamont can't even determine the origin of as he crashes to the ground with a loud cry of pain.
He's still lucid enough to see her foot though as it flies toward him and he catches it before it connects. With a monumental effort, he yanks on her ankle, pulling her to the ground too. However, she simply tumbles away, pulling herself from his weakening grasp before she sends the heel of her palm into his face. He can vaguely hear the splintering of his nose before the pain envelops him.
Grace crouches beside him as he writhes in agony and she wipes the blood and dirt away from her own face with the back of her hand. "Oh yeah," she chuckles, "you're a *real* man."
Reaching under her sweater, which is torn on one elbow, she pulls a small pistol from a holster. She stands and goes to her coat, eliciting a small metal tube from an inside pocket. With an audible click, she fits the silencer to the barrel of the gun and moves back to where the Roman Brady imposter lies in a fetal position on the filthy ground.
She crouches down again and jerks his hand from his face. He moans, but he has no strength left to fight her as she caresses his left cheek with the frigid metal of the gun.
"Thanks for making this *so* much more enjoyable," her voice is soft and insidious and it slithers into his tenuous consciousness like a venomous snake. "It's been a lot of fun."
His eyes flicker open at the finality of her words and the panic and pleading in them is enough to make her sigh with pleasure. Slowly, she draws the silencer over his cheek and pushes it up against his temple, burying it in the graying hair there.
"No!" Lamont's heart his hammering against his ribcage as he struggles to edge away from her. But she grabs the back of the collar of his shirt and grinds his face down into the damp concrete.
"*Yes*."
The icy metal nuzzles his skin and he feels warmth permeate his jeans as he loses control of what little he has left in his bladder. "Afraid now Lamont?" she laughs coldly. "Well, call it payback."
She tightens her finger and there is a tiny fizz from the weapon. And then Lamont goes limp under her touch and the light recedes from his eyes.
Without a flicker of emotion marring her expression, she pushes herself back from the body and stands up. She scours the floor of the warehouse with cautious eyes and when she is sure that there is nothing to link her to this place, she turns and quickly and efficiently wipes the chair free of prints.
Carefully, she collects her gloves from the table and slips them on before she wipes the gun free of any incriminating evidence. She'll toss it in a dumpster outside the building and once the police find ?Roman Brady's' body, there will be nothing to connect his death to anyone. Let alone to her.
Grace bends over and picks up her coat, slipping it on over aching muscles. Taking a moment to flick her eyes over the warehouse for a last time, she slips out of a back door, blending easily into the darkness beside the river.
~
Craig Wesley is stifling a yawn at the black-tie dinner he and Nancy are attending at Tuscany when his pager sounds amid the noise of cutlery and crystal.
Excusing himself, he slips away from the table and dials the mysterious number that appears on the LCD of the small screen.
"That didn't take long." The sultry voice that answers evinces a discernible tightening in his groin.
"It usually doesn't," he replies coolly.
"Where are you?" she asks expectantly.
"At Tuscany." He looks over to where Nancy is talking to a member of the board.
"How long will it take you to get to the hospital?" she asks suggestively. "It's an emergency you know."
"Uh..." he looks at his watch. It's after nine and the traffic should be minimal. "Ten minutes. Max."
"Good boy." There is laughter in her voice and he can imagine the way she is smiling. "I'll see you there."
Craig swallows nervously as he closes up his celphone and he walks back to the dinner table. Leaning over, he catches Nancy's attention as unobtrusively as he can.
"Nancy, listen I have to go. It's an emergency."
"Aww, can't somebody else take care of it honey?" Nancy looks irritated. There's always *something*.
"No," he shakes his head without guile. "It's important. I'll see you at home, okay?"
"Oh." Her expression is now crestfallen. The idea of having to stay here without Craig isn't appealing. He leans over and drops a kiss on the top of her head and is gone before she can argue any further.
~
John sits in Abe's office, lost among the bustle of activity that clatters around him as he stares at the plain gold wedding band that encircles the third finger of his left hand.
He can still see the beautiful smile on Marlena's face as she slipped the ring on his finger....
This ring is a symbol of my love and fidelity to you. It's made of precious metal formed in the shape of a circle which has no beginning and no end. Like my love for you, it's precious and unending. As this ring encircles your finger always remember your love encircles my heart.
It was the happiest day of his life, the day he made Marlena truly his wife. If he is honest, she has always been the one his soul was committed to, but that day, he told the world that she is his, as he is hers. Forever.
He twists the ring around his finger, wishing to banish the memories of how he had lost the original symbol of her pledge to him, wishing that he could turn back time and make those memories not exist. He can feel the circle of her slim wedding band in the pocket of his shirt, close to his heart and the loneliness makes him want to die.
"John?"
Abe's voice intrudes on his thoughts and John lifts his head. "Yeah Abraham?"
Abe sees the pinching around John's eyes and he knows instinctively that his friend hasn't slept for days. He doesn't know what is going on between John and Marlena but he knows it can't be good. It concerns him, but he has more than just that to worry about now.
"Are you sure that you're up to this buddy?" he asks above the din outside the office. They're all gathering to search for Roman. And John swears that he wants to help, but his mind is anywhere but on the task at hand.
"Yeah, of course I am partner." John says, slowly climbing to his feet. "I gotta do this. For the Brady's. You know that." Abe nods silently and John shrugs. "Where do you want me?"
"With me," Abe knows John's reflexes won't be as fast as usual and he wants to be there to cover his friend in the event of any trouble. They're going out to *find* Roman, not lose another loved one.
"I thought you'd be in here co-coordinating Abraham," John's face betrays his surprise.
"Usually I would," Abe nods, chocolate eyes sober. "But Roman is my friend. I need to feel the pavement under my feet on this one, John."
"I understand partner," John does understand. Completely. There is nothing worse than being stuck behind a desk, feeling helpless when someone you care about is in trouble. "Well then, let's not waste any more time huh?" He pushes on the door that leads out of the office and Abe follows him without another word.