Good Fences - Chapter Seven
So, evil henchman with a gun… Here we go…
Chapter Seven
The man had positioned himself carefully so that the weapon digging into Chloe's ribs was hidden from anyone who might approach. The concierge couldn't help either. He was around the corner and wouldn't see them until they moved toward the front doors.
"I'll have to talk to security about who they let in here," Oliver said quietly, low and angry.
"Shut it, Queen. Let's take this outside." The man's fingers were digging into her arm. He pulled and she had no choice but to follow. Obviously, Oliver had come to the same conclusion. He moved where the gunman motioned and headed toward the rear of the building.
"So you want to tell me what this is about?" Oliver asked.
"It's about you not learning your lesson," the man replied.
"I was never good at paying attention in school. There were so many more fun things to do."
The gunman dug the barrel of the gun into Chloe's side and she gasped, stumbling as he again pushed her forward.
"Chloe?" Oliver's voice was deadly.
"I'm ok," she said, but couldn't hide a wince when the gun was pressed again into her ribs.
"Outside, Mr. Queen," the man ordered, and Oliver obeyed. He pushed the door open and they exited the building into the alley behind it, shielded from view by several large dumpsters.
"Let her go," Oliver said. "I'll do whatever you want. Just let her go."
The man's grip on her arm became punishing to the point Chloe was afraid the bone would snap and she let out an involuntary cry. This had to be the man who'd attacked Oliver in the parking garage at Luthorcorp. He was simply too strong, inhumanly strong, and Chloe found herself newly afraid for Oliver. This man had already hurt him badly, and he was apparently here to finish the job.
"Stop!" Oliver exclaimed. "This isn't necessary."
"Apparently it is," the man shot back. "I thought I'd already made my point. You will continue Mr. Luthor's business arrangement with my employer."
"And I thought a dislocated shoulder would have taught you that I don't appreciate Moretti's tactics."
The man holding Chloe growled angrily. "Listen good, Queen. We already have one of your people, but my employer is concerned that you might not care enough about your workers to make you sign the deal, so I'm gonna hold on to this sweet little thing until you get back from your meeting. Something tells me you do care about whether this one stays in one piece. Just go, do what he tells you and this'll all be over."
Oliver's grim expression was beginning to worry Chloe. That expression usually led to some highly emotional and often questionable decisions. "Why don't you quit pointing that gun at her and maybe I'll think about it."
The man pulled the gun away from her, instead aiming it squarely at Oliver's chest. "You like this better?" he sneered. "I don't mind putting a few holes in you to get the point across. Don't worry. I'm a good shot. It won't be fatal."
Oliver's gaze met Chloe's and in that instant, they came to an immediate agreement. Chloe brought her high heel down on the man's foot, using every bit of strength she had. He shrieked, involuntarily releasing her as he staggered back a step.
"You bitch!" the man howled, and she could have sworn his eyes had the faintest green glow. He backhanded her viciously and for a second Chloe thought he'd hit her so hard he'd snapped her neck. As it was, the blow turned her and she slammed into the dumpster behind her, face first.
She heard Oliver grunt, followed by a metallic skittering noise and she guessed he'd managed to smack or kick the gun away from their attacker. More sounds followed of flesh on flesh, but she couldn't see anything for the stars blurring her vision.
Chloe tried to turn toward the sounds of the fighting and slowly, the shapes came back into focus. Oliver was ashen, bleeding from a cut above his left eye and badly favoring his already damaged ribs and chest.
"You think I don't know what you are?" Oliver said, using the one pain-free stalling tactic still available to him, his mouth.
The only answer was a flurry of punches and kicks so fast that Chloe could barely follow. Oliver's breathing was labored, but he kept pace, brushing most of the blows aside, although too many made it through his guard.
"You spent some time around meteor rock, huh?" Oliver gasped out. "You work in one of Luthor's labs maybe? Exposure made you a little stronger? A little faster?"
The gunman grunted, circling, trying to get a better angle for another attack. "I had a good job until your people started shutting down Luthor's projects. You fired me along with everybody else and Moretti was the only one left who appreciated my… skills."
"You're right," Oliver snarled. "I don't approve of having hired killers on the payroll."
The hitman lunged toward Oliver, clearly aiming for his ribs, but Oliver turned at the last second, and instead landed a brutal kick to the man's groin. The man fell to his knees in obvious agony.
"I don't care how strong you are," Oliver said through panting breaths, "you're still a guy." He turned toward her and held out a hand. "Come on!" he said urgently. "Let's go!"
"I will kill you for that!" the man shouted from behind them. "Orders or no orders!" He moved too fast to be normal and blocked their way out of the alley. He pointed at Chloe. "Better yet, I'll kill her!"
Oliver immediately turned and pushed Chloe backwards, shoving her between the wall of the building and one of the huge dumpsters, in effect blocking any access to her, except to go through him. "Do not come out!" he ordered. "No matter what, you stay back there."
"Ollie, look out!" she screamed, but it was too late. His inattention had cost him. By focusing on protecting her, he'd left himself open to attack.
The other man released a bruising punch to Oliver's lower back, throwing him toward Chloe. He slammed into the dumpster and had to grab it to keep from falling. He spun just in time to catch another jab, this time to his ribs. He doubled over, but still managed to stay on his feet.
Somehow, by the third blow, Oliver rallied. He blocked the next few and landed a few of his own, but Chloe could see his tenuous strength wasn't just flagging. It was failing.
Chloe pulled out her cell phone and dialed Clark. She knew Oliver wouldn't like it, but they were past that. Oliver was dying to protect her. That, she would not allow. She'd played that game before and lost. It wouldn't happen again. Not if she could help it.
"Hello?"
"Alley behind the Clocktower. We need help!" she said desperately, and she knew Clark would be able to hear the sounds of a fight in the background.
Only a second later, there was a gust of wind and faster than she could see, their attacker was face down on the ground, unconscious, and hog-tied using some sort of twine Clark had grabbed from somewhere.
Oliver staggered and fell back with a clang against the dumpster Chloe was still using as a shield. He slid to the ground, almost wheezing, his breath was sawing in and out loudly. Chloe quickly wiggled out from behind the dumpster and knelt beside him. He had his arms wrapped around his chest as if trying to physically hold himself together. His eyes were closed and he looked ready to pass out at any second.
"Oliver?" she said tentatively. "Ollie, can you hear me?"
Clark knelt on his other side and she noted he was in his full Blur outfit. She couldn't help but notice how impossibly strong and healthy he appeared in contrast to Oliver who was so much more vulnerable to attack. Yet, it had been Oliver, plain human Oliver, who'd pushed her behind the dumpster and stood between her and a trained, meteor-infected hitman with a personal grudge.
"What happened?" Clark asked. "Who was that guy?"
"It was the man who attacked Oliver yesterday. He's just been waiting for another chance."
"Why?"
"I'll explain later," she said, more concerned about Oliver than anything else. "Can you drop this guy off at the police station? I'm sure he's wanted for more than this. I need to get Oliver back up to his apartment and call Emil."
Clark frowned at the dismissal, once again glancing between Oliver and Chloe and not liking what he was seeing, but nodded nevertheless. She knew she would have to smooth his ruffled feathers later about what had happened, as well as reassure him that Oliver hadn't purposely dragged her into danger. Clark had a nasty habit of yelling at other people for putting her in harm's way and excusing when her outings for him landed her in the ER.
There was another gust of air and the hitman was gone as well as Clark. She turned her attention back to Oliver. His breathing had eased somewhat, but his face was lined with pain and his eyes were still closed.
"Boyscout gone?"
"Yes."
Oliver pursed his lips. "Good. I could hear him glaring at me."
"You could hear it?"
"His glare is very loud."
Chloe smiled. "It is, isn't it?"
Oliver's eyes opened slowly and he blinked several times to get them to focus on her. Abruptly, he sat up straighter, grimacing in pain, but his gaze still on her.
"Are you all right?"
"What?" He was beaten to a pulp, sitting in a filthy alley, barely conscious and he was looking at her worriedly.
Oliver reached a hand up and brushed the back of his fingers across her cheek. As soon as he did, she realized it was stinging. She brought her hand up and felt blood on her cheek. Either the man had torn the skin when he'd struck her, or she'd cut it when she slammed into the dumpster.
"I'm fine, just a cut and a few bruises. You're the one who's a mess." Oliver didn't look appeased, but he didn't have the energy to fight her. "Come on. Let's get you upstairs."
Chloe put an arm beneath his and helped him get to his feet. He made a horrible noise that was halfway between a gasp and a whimper and it was so unlike him that she hardly knew what to do. Oliver downplayed injuries or just flat out refused to acknowledge them. Either that or he used them shamelessly to get her to take care of him, but that was only when it was clearly superficial. The more serious it was, the less he said.
"Ollie?" she asked worriedly. When he didn't answer, she pulled out her phone to call Clark and tell him to come back.
Oliver immediately reached out and stopped her from dialing. "What time is it?"
Her eyes widened in disbelief. "You can't seriously think you're still going to that meeting."
Oliver shook his head. "This has to end." He looked down at her, a faint smile on his strained expression. "Trust me. I do have a plan."
"So do I. The Feds are already compiling a case against Moretti. You let them do their jobs."
Oliver straightened, wincing as he did. "That's weeks away. My people are still in the line of fire. You are. I can stop that."
"With a meeting," she said, every bit of her skepticism showing.
He glanced down and took in the sorry state of his ripped and filthy clothing. "Well, maybe not like this. It doesn't exactly scream power suit, does it?"
Chloe huffed in exasperation. "Ollie."
"Help me change?"
She bit back what she really wanted to say, as well as what she wanted to yell at him for being so unreasonable. If she was lucky, she would get him back upstairs and he would pass out, rendering their argument moot.
"Come on," she said begrudgingly. She put her arm around his waist and he rested his arm across her shoulders, hissing in pain at the movement. "You ok?" He simply nodded and together, slowly, they headed back into the building.
"This'll be my third suit today," he panted. "One more and we'll hold the record."
"I'll make sure Guinness knows."
"I'm sure they'll be very impressed. You can call them while I'm at the meeting."
"Since when is meeting with a kidnapper and a murderer something to joke about?" she snapped, perilously close to losing control of her temper. This was beyond Oliver being stubborn or proud. This was suicide, and totally unnecessary. The Feds were going to take down Moretti's organization. They just needed to hold out for a few weeks. Given a few more hours at Watchtower, she could probably cut that down as well.
"You know you're pretty hard on a bunch of gangsters when you're the one who hit me with a truck. They at least had the courtesy to just try to kill me outright."
"It's all in the intent," Chloe deadpanned. "The truck was a three ton educational tool."
"Ah. It's a fine line, apparently." Oliver laughed at his own joke, then groaned, wrapping his free arm tighter around his chest.
"Happy now?" she asked. "Even your own sense of humor thinks you're a moron." She kept her voice down, though, since they were walking back toward the elevator and the concierge was looking at them curiously. She didn't think he'd actually looked at them earlier when they left since they were headed out the back.
"Don't worry," Oliver murmured. "He's used to seeing me come in hung-over and bloody."
"That's not reassuring, Ollie."
"Hazard of the playboy life." Oliver waved toward the man and raised his voice. "Hey, Stevie. Kids ok?"
"They're a handful," the concierge said easily. "Long day, Mr. Queen?"
"Something like that."
Chloe guided Oliver around to the elevator, then hustled him inside. She let him lean against the back wall and stepped away from him.
"You still mad?" he asked lightly.
"Yes."
"Do you know how much I want to kiss you right now?"
Chloe looked up and stared at him in disbelief. "You've lost it."
"Maybe." He grinned. "You're still sexy when you're mad."
Chloe just glared, although she could feel herself weakening. It was nearly impossible to stay angry with him. "Shut up, Ollie. I'll help you get to your meeting. You don't have to butter me up."
"I still want to kiss you."
Chloe stepped closer, their bodies just barely touching and she looked up at him. Oliver stared at her mouth hungrily, but didn't move.
"You can't bend down, can you?" She smiled wickedly.
He sighed. "I think I might die if I move again."
"That's too bad," she whispered. She stood on her tiptoes and placed a light kiss on the very tip of his dimpled chin. The elevator stopped at the penthouse. "Come on, hero. Let's get you ready for your meeting."
The finale's next... maybe tomorrow if I buckle down…
Chapter Eight