The last thing Alyssa Mcgreen remembered before total darkness had engulfed her was her apology to her father. She had not gone through college at her full potential and gotten any jobs expected of someone with her kind of money and intelligence. The time that she had chosen to spend with her father was very limited since she left him a month after her eighteenth birthday. She earned money by doing odd jobs and designing computer programs, websites, and general mainframe patch ups.  Soon though she felt again the burning of her lunges as they were starved of air but water bubbled out from her mouth. This made her coughs and gag while she tried to regain consciousness and an idea of where the Hell she was. Warm lips pressed against her own as someone pushed on her chest, â€˜CPR?â€™ She thought dumbly as she weakly pushed the person away from her and managed to turn on her side so that she could spit out more of the water that had filled her lungs.<br/><br/>When that was finished she laid there panting with her soaking wet white hair plastered to her face and scalp. Her black clothing clung to her body very uncomfortably and all she wanted to do was go home, get dressed, and sleep. There was a big monkey wrench in that little plan though which she finally acknowledged when she turned her green eyes onto him. Her hands and feet were now unbound but sore from being tied so tightly, and the side of her face still stung from that hit that Ricardo had delivered to her, â€œYou know the strangest people.â€ It was the first thought that came to mind but the shock to her was that she let her French accent slip and instead spoke in her true accent which was a light Irish lilt with American dialect. There was no point in acting like she had not just done that and he had finally see her face. She knew she should not have kissed himâ€¦ he was bad luck.<br/><br/>Grinning from that thought she pushed herself up but stayed absolutely still when she saw his hand cuffs, â€œYou would really arrest me when you have no proof of who stole the painting?â€ She should really have said switched but he would find that out later on his own after the painting was examined. In all honesty she did not think anyone could tell if it was the real thing or the fake since she was not stupid enough to put a calling card on it or anything like that. In the distance she could heard the sirens of police cars getting closer which made her start to panic slightly. She kept her face and voice calm though when she spoke, â€œListen, I can help you get the painting back from Ricardo.â€ The on his face said he did not believe her and he reached for her hand but she inched away from him, â€œI am fully immersed in the underground trading! I could track him down faster than you can without raising suspicions. If any of the traders see you they will run for the hills or chomp down on a suicide pill.â€ The slight hesitation in his eyes was all she needed to bring this one home and judging by how upset he had gotten when she was hurtâ€¦<br/><br/>She moved closer to him once more with a slightly pained look in her eyes, â€œI cannot help you behind bars and I think you owe me a little bit. I was injured because of your acquaintances.â€ She knew that he had been beat up as well but she was the best at looking frail and weak. Never did she fully confront Markelo head on and opted to always run away from him and escape in some elaborate way. Right now with her lightly rubbing the wrists through her black gloves and the obvious red mark on the side of her face she looked completely like a victim. The sirens got louder making her eyes quickly flick from him and to the only road a car could get in from, â€œChoose quickly detective because if I am arrested I cannot and will not help you.â€