"Bulletproof Love" by galaxyMafia

At half an hour to midnight, Gabrielle Union turned onto the private road leading towards the mansion, gripping the wheel of the Mercedes, speeding over the tree-lined, gravel road. It was dark out, the moon eclipsed by thick, heavy storm clouds. She parked the car at the front door, grabbed her backpack and reached down to secure the nine millimeter in the ankle holster strapped to her right calf. . .
Only the gun wasn’t there – it would never be there again. . .
I won’t need this
Take it anyway.
Gabrielle shook the memory away, and got out of the car.
A resentful, melancholy washed over her but, she refused to give into it. Sure, her marriage was in the toilet and her television show, “Nightstalker”, had been cancelled by ABC last month but, she would be fine. . .she’d get through it.
And this too shall pass, she thought.
Now that she was an out-of-work actress again, she’d been forced to go back to the one thing she knew she was good at. . .
Stealing diamonds from people who’d never deserved them in the first place.
And this time, that devious sonofabitch Wentworth Miller wouldn’t stop her.


Outside, the wind had picked up, whipping her hair across her face, and the scent of rain hung in the air. As she closed the door, she heard the distant rumble of thunder.
With the key given to her, Gabrielle entered the mansion, stepping into a wide, expansive foyer. It was stuffy in the house, warm and cloying. They’d told her that the house had been without electrical power since the IRS had come to take everything six months ago.
Adjusting her eyes to the darkness closing in around her, she reached into her backpack and took out a high-powdered flashlight.
Splashing illumination along the deserted, empty hall ahead of her, she headed to the right, into the gallery. Along with the key, she had been given blueprints of the house. Supposedly, the diamonds were hidden in one of the house’s nine bedrooms, although they hadn’t been able to confirm that for her.
Gabrielle walked across the marble floor of the empty drawing room. Recalling the blueprints in her mind, she knew that there were three bedrooms on the first floor.
Wiping perspiration from her neck, Gabrielle hurried through the Drawing Room, heading for the bedrooms on the first floor.



Wentworth Miller had secured a floor plan of the house from the real estate agent who had sold the Palm Beach showplace five years ago.
According to the filed he’d swiped from the agent’s receptionist, an over-sexed, under-dressed sixty-something who’d been too busy trying to indiscreetly flash him peeks of her tits instead of paying attention to him, the house was modeled after an Italian villa, built around a large stone courtyard surrounded by open loggias, and featuring a majestic fountain and pool.
Dressed in black pants, a black T-shirt and black baseball cap, he stopped the gray BMW station wagon he’d rented earlier in the day in front of the stone steps that lead into the laundry room at the rear of the house. He cut the engine, grabbed a flashlight from the glove box, checked the clip in his nine millimeter and got out of the car.
Behind him, the wall of tall trees and flowering shrubs that separated the house from the next estate swayed and rustled in the wind. He stood at the door to the laundry room, pulling a copy of the floor plan from his back pocket, consulting it, asking himself where he would hide loose diamonds, and vaguely wondering if Gabrielle would really be here tonight as they’d warned him she might be. . .
Gabrielle Union. . .
The finest piece of milk chocolate he’d ever had the pleasure of tasting.
It had been five years since their last encounter, when she was the starlet on the rise and he was completing an indentured servitude at Border’s. Now, the tables, as they said, were turned.
Wentworth’s show, on FOX, “Prison Break” was a break-out cult hit, and had garnered him critical praise and slavish adoration from millions of women across the country. Gabby, on the other hand, had experienced a recent reversal of fortune. Her show had been cancelled and he’s heard she was divorcing her husband. . .
Hmmm, Wentworth mused, a wry smile playing at the corner of his lips. Now that Gabby was unencumbered, maybe they could pick up where they never should have left off.
Wentworth picked the lock, opened the door and went inside.
It was hot and dark, musty.
He cut his flashlight on, and looked at the floor plan.
If he went to his right once he exited the laundry room and then followed the long hallway to the kitchen, he could go through the kitchen, continue through a room called the Butler’s Pantry, and then into the Dining Room as he headed over to the east wing of the property, where the bedroom suites were located.



Thunder followed the lightening.
Wentworth went up the staircase, heading towards the master bedroom.
Does the lightening bother you?
You’ll think I’m silly. . .
No, I won’t. . .
I don’t like the thunder. . .
He left the bedroom to the right of the hall and headed across to the opposite bedroom. Half-heartedly, he shined the beam around the room. He was tired, hot, thirsty, frustrated, wondering if he’d made a mistake, wondering if he was in the right house. Maybe the IRS had already come, already taken the diamonds, maybe he was just wasting his fucking time.
He went into the bathroom, wondering why he was searching for the diamonds. It wasn’t like he needed the money. His show was doing well, other projects and endorsement deals were in the works. . .
He sighed. . .
The truth was, he knew exactly why he was looking for the diamonds. . .
Because wherever there were diamonds to steal, there was Gabby. . .
More than anything, he wanted to see Gabby again. . .even though he’d hurt her, even though he’d ruined things between them with his lies, his betrayal. . .
Wentworth stopped at the entrance to the closet. . .



Gabrielle closed the closet door in the master bedroom, and walked across the room to the bathroom.
Lighting flashed, brightening the room, and she jumped, gasping, her heart pounding. . .
Are you afraid of the thunder?
No. . .the lightening sometimes bothers me. . .
Soon after, she felt raindrops against her face as Went pulled her close to him.
Gabrielle closed her eyes for a moment. . .opened them and walked over to the bathroom.
Why the hell was she thinking about that bastard Went?
After what he’d done to her, the only thing she wanted to do was plunge a knife in his chest, and rip out his heart.
Behind the double doors, she checked the toilet, the pipes, the cabinets, the floor for any loose tiles that someone might have put the pouch of diamonds beneath.
Lightening flashed, reflecting in the mirror, and she jumped again as the room was swallowed in darkness again.
She took a step forward. . .something, like a current of electricity, ran through the length of her body, her knees buckled beneath her and she grabbed the basin for support, trying to catch her breath.
Massaging the spot between her eyebrows, she took a deep breath, trying to calm down, shining the flash light in front of her, trying to figure out what the hell had just happened to her. . .
. . .Went was still kissing her. . .
She should have pulled away from him by now. . .he wasn’t supposed to be kissing her, she didn’t want him to kiss her. . .but. . .
It was heady. . .she felt as if he were smothering her, breathing with her. . .it was a current of electricity.
She dropped the flashlight on the tiled floor. . .



What was that. . .?
Wentworth stood inside one of the closets of the master suite.
Had he heard something? Was it the wind again. . .
Lightening flashed again, spilling into the room through the glass doors leading out to the balcony, and then thunder.
Wentworth walked out of the closet, heading slowly towards the bathroom, the beam from his flash light growing dim. . .he stopped, hitting the barrel of the flash light against his palm. . .was the damn thing about to go out. . .?
He shined it on the floor, watching the dimness diminish into darkness. . .



Gabrielle dropped to her knees on the floor in the darkness, taking her backpack off, unzipping it, reaching inside, fishing around for more batteries.
When she’d dropped her flashlight, the battery hold had opened and the batteries had scattered across the floor.
She sighed, continuing to dig in the backpack, trying to calm down, trying to ignore the feeling that there was something in the darkness surrounding her, something watching, something waiting. . .
There’s nothing there, she told herself. . .there was no reason to look over her shoulder. . .she wouldn’t find anything. . .



As he walked closer to the bathroom, the smell intensified. . .
. . .you smell nice. . .
He walked through the damp blanket of darkness. . .until he reached the bathroom.
The smell was stronger. . .and he felt something. . .like energy. . .like. . .



Abandoning her search for the batteries, Gabrielle stood up slowly. . .her heart pounding, her hands trembling. . .
It was so dark. . .almost pitch black. . .she couldn’t adjust her eyes to the blackness. Her fingertips touched the basin and she backed up against it. . .
Was there something there. . .
She opened her mouth. . .but, nothing came out. . .



Wentworth reached out, touched the wall. . .backed himself up against it. . .
It wasn’t just a smell. . .it was a fragrance, swirling around him, inviting and terrifying at the same time. He inched along the wall. . .the air in front of him seemed charged, galvanized somehow. . .
He reached out, his hands settling on the frame of a door. . .



Gabrielle made her way along the edge of the basin. . .telling herself that nothing was there, it was just the lightning, just the thunder. . .she just needed to get out of the bathroom, get out of the house. . .
Just forget about the job. . .forget about the money. . .
She grabbed the door frame, peering into the darkness before her, trying to see as she walked through the doorway, out into the bedroom. . .



Wentworth walked through a doorway.
Trying his flash light again, he smacked it against his palm. . .dim light flickered. . .it was a weak illumination but, it was enough light to see the copy of the floor plan. . .and a few minutes later, he regained his bearings and figured out that he was in the dressing room of the master suite. . .


Gabrielle stopped in the middle of the room, checking her backpack once again. . .
Within minutes, her hand closed around the package of batteries. She opened the batteries, worked them into the flash light and cut it on, splaying light around the room in chaotic arcs, trying to remember where she was, looking for. . .
Looking for what. . .?
The goddamn boogey man?
Chiding herself, she headed out of the master suite. As she passed the closet, she slowed down a bit. . .
The closet door was open. . .
Hadn’t she closed it. . .?


With the dim flash light, Wentworth looked around the dressing room, realizing that he’d wasted his time, that he was too late, that he had been lied to. . .
The diamonds weren’t here. . .
And neither was Gabby. . .
It didn’t matter that he hadn’t found the diamonds. . .but, he was disappointed that he hadn’t encountered Gabrielle. . .
Tired, and hot, he decided he would go back to his hotel room at the Breakers, take a hot shower, get some sleep and maybe in the morning, Gabby would be out of his head. . .
Sighing, he left the master suite, heading down the stairs. . .


Gabrielle opened the double doors to the drawing room, and closed them behind her, walking toward the opposite set of doors that lead out to the gallery.


Wentworth opened the doors to the drawing room, staring ahead of him. . .
Was that. . .?


Gabrielle froze, hearing the doors behind her opening. . .
Someone was there. . .behind her. . .
She turned, looking over her shoulder. . .


The light was dim but, Wentworth could still make her out, as he shined the flash light on her. . .
Gabrielle. . .less than twenty feet ahead of him, staring back at him.
He called out to her.
She started to run.
Wentworth took off after her. . .he had to get to her before she got out of the drawing room. . .he had to catch her. .
Gabby was less than a foot away from the doors heading out of the drawing room when Wentworth caught up with her, grabbing her backpack, pulling her back against him.



Gabrielle screamed, trying to struggle away from Went. . .
Why wasn’t she surprised to see that asshole. . .?
“Get your goddamn hands off me!” Gabrielle yelled, slamming her elbow into Went’s gut. She heard him grunt, and his hold on her relaxed a bit as he tried to recover.
Pushing away from him, Gabrielle raised her leg, punching the heel of her foot against his abdomen once. . .twice. . .landing another kick in the center of his chest, sending him sprawling back, failing his arms, tripping over his own feet, stumbling to the floor.


Wentworth couldn’t breathe. . .he couldn’t fucking breathe. . .
That bitch. . .
Damn, was she still that pissed off at him. . .? That last kick she’d given him, he was sure one of his goddamn lungs was punctured. . . Staggering to his feet, gasping for air. . .Wentworth reached around behind him, pulled his nine millimeter from the waistband of his jeans and fired a shot after her. . .

copyright 2005 - galaxyMafia. . .tune in next Monday for the second installment of "Bulletproof Love"