Veronica knew she shouldn't be there. Staring down the dingy stretch of filth, lined with damp warehouse walls coated in moss and grime, she felt inherently out of place. But in the end recon was recon and she had been in worse places than down a dark alley with only a can of mace and a tazer for company—after all she'd sat the PSATs.
As she heard a rustling behind a nearby trash can Veronica wished really hard that she'd taken Backup rather than leaving him in the car. Okay, so he wasn't the most stealth of companions, but what girl didn't feel better with an ex-police dog three times her size on the end of a leash? Veronica certainly didn't know any.
The air was damp, the beginning of fall, and as her breath huffed silently from between her lips Veronica tightened her grip on the tazer, trying to keep her footsteps as silent as possible. She had promised her dad that she wouldn't do anymore tailing over the summer—but really, if he didn't realize that she had lied then he wasn't as good of a detective as he thought he was.
In fact if he thought that he could take off out of town for three days and trust Veronica not to do anything rash or irresponsible then he just hadn't been paying attention for the last seventeen years or so.
Eighteen soon, she thought.
Not that there was anything particularly exciting about turning eighteen for Veronica. She would still be living with her dad, she would still be attending high school, she would still be investigating the seedy underbelly of Neptune's finest. But hey, maybe she would win the lottery now that she could actually play and all.
Or maybe I'll lose all my money and end up heading to Vegas in a last ditch attempt to win some back… oh, wait. I'm not Logan.
Veronica hadn't seen the boy in question since he wheedled some of his inheritance early and managed to blow almost all of it in the first two months. Lucky for him that Trina had control of a good amount of Aaron's finances and he wasn't left high and dry waiting for the rest of his mommy's money to drop in his lap. The two of them had taken off as soon as confirmation came through that it would be at least another three months or so before their father's trial started and they were needed to testify.
Duncan said he didn't know where Logan was. Veronica had done a little research of her own and quickly discovered the name of Logan's hotel and his room number. She'd never done anything about it, but knowing where he was seemed to help.
Veronica knew that he had changed his cell phone number because before she actually got a clue she had been listening to an electronic voice tell her that his phone's message memory was full—every day. She had left most of them.
Then she had grown a spine, gotten her pride back and stopped begging him to call.
Veronica knew Duncan had Logan's new number but he wasn't letting on. She wondered when he had started to forget that she was smarter than the average bear.
Voices sounded from round the corner of the building and Veronica threw her back against the wall, clutching her camera to her stomach tightly—her chest pounding as the sounds approached her. Ducking into the shadows behind a row of dumpsters she wrinkled her nose in distaste at the smell and started to fiddle with the lens, getting the camera primed for some incriminating photography.
The things I do…
Just as she psyched herself for the figures to approach Veronica heard the creaking of a rusted metal door and the muffled exchange of greetings drowned out by techno music blaring from the inside of the tin box building.
Dammit!
As a loud clang sounded she pushed the camera back into her bag and pulled out a shaggy turquoise wig, quickly pulling it over her ponytail and checking her reflection in a small vanity mirror before scanning the side of the warehouse for an open window or an abandoned fire escape.
**
Just as she fell face first onto the dirty, cracked tile of an unused girls' bathroom on the second floor, Veronica's cell phone started to vibrate in her pocket. Quickly fishing it out of her skirt she checked the screen for the caller's identity and, satisfied, picked up the call, whispering quickly.
"Hey, Wallace. What's up?"
"You were supposed to call half an hour ago."
"Right. Sorry, things went a bit off plan."
"Girl, your dad's gonna kill you when he gets back."
"Wallace, chill. I've got it under control, he'll never know."
"So where are you?"
She scanned her surroundings quickly, keeping her voice low as she replied, "A tastefully decorated bathroom at the illustrious Kats Klub."
"You're going to get yourself a reputation."
"Too late." She grinned wryly into the receiver.
"You want me to head out there? You know I'll be your dad's first target if you come back in more than one piece."
"No, it's cool. I'm a big girl, Wallace."
"More like a tiny, stubborn one."
"Hey, I'm not tiny."
"You better still have two arms, two legs and all your teeth when you get back here, Mars."
"All my teeth?"
"Didn't you watch Alias?"
"Uh, no?"
"Just keep your head down."
Veronica smiled into the dusty mirror tacked to the wall in front of her, fingering the synthetic blue wig with her free hand. "Can do," she smirked. "Later, Wallace."
"Later, V."
Veronica made a few last adjustments to her wig, locking it in place with a couple of pins before she drew herself up, radiating confidence as she pushed open the creaky bathroom door and stepped out onto the upper walkway—almost pushed backwards by the pulsing music that beat thickly through the room.
The shaky metal walkways vibrated to the pounding beat as a Technicolor neon lit the room in ugly shades of blue and green—pink clashing through them.
Veronica's lips tilted up in the slightest smirk as she strode forward with an air of confidence only properly captured by someone who has a disguise on, a camera in their bag and your ass on the line.
Pushing through the throngs of artificial people in their PVC and bleach Veronica quickly made it to the edge of the walkway turned balcony and scanned the lower deck looking for any sign of her man tonight. Edward Delaney was her target and she could have sworn it was him using the side door earlier—now all she had to do was find him. It wasn't long before she spotted him and his entourage.
And Bingo was his name-o. Come on, Teddy, smile for the camera.
She slipped behind a pillar, discreetly snapping a few shots from overhead as the group disappeared into a side room.
**
Veronica threw her canvas messenger bag onto the couch soundlessly, sinking down after it. The light in the apartment was a dingy grey—night illuminated by the moon shining faintly through the window. She pulled herself up after a moment to flick on the light, retrieving the phone while she was at it. After glancing quickly towards the clock she dismissed the time and dialed a familiar number anyway.
Wallace sounded groggy. "Hey there, Superfly."
"Wallace, how's things?"
"Not much different from the last time you called, what's up? You get lonely over there 'cause you know my mom'd still love to have you here."
"Yeah, that wouldn't be awkward. Would we wear our footie pajamas?"
"Girl, you know I don't have footie pajamas so I don't know why you keep bringing it up."
"You can keep up that pretence, Fennel. But when our parents get hitched and we have to share a room the truth will be discovered."
"Uh, uh. I ain't never sharing a room with you. You can share with Darrell."
"How generous."
"You know it. Now are you gonna come over or do I have to drive out there and drag your ass."
"Neither, my ass is good here, thanks. Got some pictures I need to get off my camera, got my door locked up tight and my pit bull in the kitchen. I think I just need some quality time with my bed. It's been a while."
"Well make sure you get reacquainted. Still got all those limbs?"
"I'll see you tomorrow, Wallace. Limbs and all."
"Now that's what I like to hear."
The line was silent for a moment before she spoke again, her voice hesitant. "Wallace?"
"Yeah?"
An evening of impromptu reminiscing about the boy who left her for the summer and the boy who helped him because it gave him a clear shot at her had left Veronica feeling a little disillusioned. It didn't seem to matter who she was or wasn't with, or whether or not Logan and Duncan were more trouble than they were worth.
Hmm, when did it become Logan and Duncan rather than Duncan and Logan? Let's hope there's not some kind of symbolism in that. Last thing I need is English homework encroaching on the rest of life.
She paused again, fingers wrapped around the phone tightly as she forced a light vibe into her voice making the shake into amusement rather than deep-set nostalgia and disappointment. After all, no one really wants to be left behind.
"You know how in college everyone talks about their high school relationships ambiguously." Veronica fingered the various applications perched on the counter in front of her, fingers skimming the glossy paper as she attempted to gloss over the feelings they inspired in her. All goal and no means.
"Huh?"
Veronica raised her pitch ever so slightly, a breathy tone coming through. "So, one time there was this guy…"
"Right."
"Well, when I try the 'there was this guy' approach people are gonna pull out magazine clippings and ask 'which one?'"
"Stop dating guys that make it into the gossip column then."
"They weren't there before we dated."
"Then maybe it's something about you, girl. You attract trouble."
"Not trouble so much as controversy."
"Anyway, I doubt anyone will care who you dated in high school."
"Are you kidding me? With Duncan Kane and Logan Echolls as notches on my bed post I'll need my own rumor mill to deal with the sheer volume."
"I did not need to know about the bed post."
"They're not really…"
"I'm not listening!"
"I mean—"
"Stop! You're going to be my sister, I don't need to know."
"Hypothetical notches, it's not like I go round carving all my conquests into my bed."
"You have a waterbed, you start poking holes and you're gonna get wet—oh God, I did not just say that."
Veronica's face was bright red from trying not to laugh, her bottom lip held tightly between her teeth to try and quell the growing pressure in her chest.
"Night, Wallace."
"Get some sleep, Veronica."
**
A cold seemed to creep through the air, flooding the darkness with apprehension. Dust filtered through what little light was left and painted over the minimal furniture in an ominous coating of neglect. Dark enveloped most of the man's facial features as he slid into a dust-covered seat at the head of the table. "This one's hush-hush boys—everything on the down low. If anything about the client gets leaked there'll be serious trouble."
Two other men in the room seemed to relax a little at his words. One stepped forward cockily, popping his neck as he inclined in the way of the first man. "We're professionals, D."
"That's why I'm trusting you with this," he clarified generously. "We can't afford the deal to go down badly."
The last man moved towards the second, coming up equal as he assured the first, "We don't disappoint. They want to play it like this; we'll take the game to them."
He nodded firmly. "That's what I like to hear."
**
The thing about summer is that it tends to cough up plenty of free time when your boyfriends hate you and your friends don't really exist as much more than acquaintances and a boy who can only take so much of you at a time. Veronica loved hanging out with Wallace, but as the days got hotter and longer and the air became drier she found herself in the badly air-conditioned offices of Mars Investigations more and more. She liked it, the chase, the conclusions—and of course it meant she got to spend more time with her dad.
Well she would if he wasn't constantly roaming the country chasing down bail jumpers and wayward spouses. Infamy is good for the bank account it seems. Not so much for quality family time though.
A frustrated breath huffed from between Veronica's over-glossed lips. Slow days generally ended with her painting on the sticky substance repeatedly—just for something to do. After all, it's not like she had anyone to lick it off for her. Rolling her eyes she pushed that thought to the back of her mind and eyeing the phone, decided that it was time to find something to do before self-pity and pining kicked into her system, fully fledged.
Pulling herself laboriously out of her own chair she pushed through the frosted glass into Keith's office, moving quietly (out of habit more than anything else) as she headed to the safe. The combination was the same and she unlocked it quickly, punching in the numbers to her birthday with a tiny smile on her lips. She loved her dad. Although she had failed to get any truly incriminating shots of Edward Delaney and co. she did know that they were an important case for her father. He had laid out the basics for her—sketchy characters, drugs rings, faux-gangster mentality. They sounded like a bad wannabe movie that would head straight to DVD once the critics got their hands on it—Veronica wasn't worried.
If she could take on Clemmons and the paparazzi then she could deal with the 'mob'. After all, she had the advantageous state of being small, easy to hide, easy to blend in. And of course like any teenage girl she wasn't above using her considerable charms and pretty, white teeth to get her what she wanted. Flutter some eyelashes, flash some pearly whites, mould the putty formerly resembling the male species into something useful.
Poking her head into the safe she took stock of the few manila folders and the one lockbox. There didn't seem to be anything of any interest and Veronica quickly noted that none of the files related to the Delaney case at all. Her face creased into a controlled frown.
Which is strange… What doesn't dad want me to see?
Letting herself fall into the large desk chair she spun round a little, scanning the room for anything that might hold more information about the case. She was bored, she needed something to do, if Logan didn't come home soon she thought she was going to go stir crazy trying not to think about him. Thinking was fine when you had a stimulus right there in front of you, when your subject was in a whole other state then it started to get pathetically like longing. And she did not long for Logan Echolls. If she could stop longing and pining and dreaming about Duncan—her openly proclaimed first love—then she could forget that Logan had ever had his hands on her, his mouth against her, his tongue tripping down her neck…
Veronica needed to go on a field trip. Stat.
The interior of her car was warm and sticky despite the top being down. Sunlight glowed into it abundantly making the metal hum and the leather swell. Veronica sank into the driver's side, the backs of her bare thighs sticking to her seat with the light sheen of perspiration that already peppered her skin.
Veronica flicked a hesitant gaze back towards Mars Investigations. She thought about how long she was going to get grounded. She thought about Logan's hands on her thigh. She hit the gas and got the hell onto the road.
**
The crick in Veronica's neck was threatening to blossom into a fully developed headache if she didn't move soon. For the past three hours she had been camped out in her newly refurbished Le Baron with a warm soda and an eye on the sunlit door of the club from the night before. In theory a little tailing had sounded like a good resolve for her problems but three hours alone in the quiet of your own car actually gave you a lot of time to think. Veronica silently cursed her brain.
Finally—finally—someone emerged from the side fire escape. Veronica instantly recognized him as one of the entourage from the night before and kick started the engine waiting for the opportune moment. He slid stealthily into his car and started down the road—not rushing. When he was almost on the peripheral of her vision Veronica followed, heart beating that tiny bit faster. Hands clenching the wheel in concentration.
It was maybe half an hour to forty-five minutes later that Veronica realized where they were headed.
You have got to be kidding me. Apparently Nevada is nice this time of year.
If she wasn't driving down a heavily populated road then Veronica would have just stopped the car right then and banged her head against the steering wheel until she knocked herself out. She took a deep calming breath and prepared herself for an attack of teenage musings.
The universe hates me. Runaway-ex-boyfriend-in-the-same-state hates me.
Throughout her inner monologue of melodramatic woe Veronica kept a close eye on her tailee, trying to make sure that he didn't spot her in the rear view mirror. Thus far her tactics seemed to be working and he wasn't looking too suspicious—it made Veronica wonder why she was even bothering to follow him in the first place.
Let it never be said that I don't thirst for knowledge. Clemmons, be damned.
**
Veronica didn't really feel anything until the first blade sliced cleanly into her flesh, so professionally that just a trickle of blood stained her skin. Shock numbed the pain of being barreled into her tailee's car. Horror numbed the pain of being pulled into a dark room and thrown into a chair where she was tied down. Fear numbed the first few kicks and punches.
The demands for information fell on deaf ears and her PI cool cracked and Veronica found herself in tears. She didn't know when she blacked out, but when she woke up she was alone—untied and in a locked room.
Looking towards the tiny window she once again thanked whoeve that she was petite and began to pull her weary body towards the only visible escape route.
Fear paralyzed her and Veronica fell through the shattered glass only to spy a male figure on the other side of the new room, facing away from her amidst the carnage of the apparently burnt out warehouse she appeared to be confined to. The door was open and if there was any kind of mercy he wouldn't have heard her spectacular fall from grace, but then when had things ever gone easily for Veronica Mars?
He turned around as she scrambled to her feet.
**
"Logan?" she gasped. Her hand came up to cover her split lip automatically. She had no idea he was involved with Delaney and his lackeys.
His head snapped round at the sound of her voice. "Veronica?" He was visibly shocked, his eyes creasing into concern as he noticed the trickle of red between her fingers.
Self consciously she wiped the blood away, leaving a faint stain across her jaw—never breaking eye contact with the boy across from her.
Neither one of them seemed to be willing to make the first move forward as Logan took in her surprising appearance, stockings full of holes, a pair of shoes with only one heel, a shirt with three missing buttons and a cracked open, crimson stained mouth.
"Why are you—"
"What happened to you?" he demanded, jaw set.
Her voice wavered as she explained, "The people you're dealing with, they're not good people, Logan."
"They did this?"
She nodded.
"But why?" he looked torn. It was obvious that Logan knew little to nothing about the men whose space he was currently inhabiting with Veronica.
"I can't talk about it here; I need to go before they come back."
As she moved to push past him Logan grabbed one of her hands, noticing the rope burn coating her wrist. "What did they do to you?"
She tried to be flip in response to the dark look in his eyes and the overwhelming desire to throw herself straight into his arms and cry until it was okay again, "Standard interrogation techniques—don't worry I still have all my own teeth."
"Huh?"
She tried to smile. "I told Wallace no one else would get that."
"What the hell are you talking about?"
"Alias," she replied absentmindedly, hobbling without a full set of heels. If the floor hadn't been covered in crushed headlight glass and the remainders of boarded up windows then she would have taken her shoes off—as it was Veronica thought that she had been through enough pain for one day. She winced when Logan caught her shoulder, spinning her round to face him as his fingers pressed a potential bruise.
"I have to go, Logan," she pleaded.
He was still touching her and the distraction was almost as painful as her injuries. She should be running. He looked desperate as he spoke, "You haven't answered my questions."
"I don't owe you anything," Veronica kept her voice controlled, pulled slightly away from him to make her point. "You made it perfectly clear you didn't want anything to do with me."
Logan's hand stayed firm on her shoulder.
"Let me go."
"Tell me what's going on."
Her tiny, battered hands came up between them to push firmly against his chest, trying to knock him away. A losing battle really."Logan, get off of me!"
He clamped a hand across her face, smothering her mouth. Veronica was about to bite down when Logan leveled his face to hers.
"Shhh!"
She rolled her eyes, taking a deep, labored breath. Quickly he removed his hand and seeing the resolve on her face, took a step back—his hands rose in defeat. She nodded slight gratitude and headed for the thick, iron door. As she reached it Veronica seemed to come to some sort of conclusion and kicking off her shoes she dashed back across the room, pulling Logan's face towards her.
His mouth was open in shock and she took no time covering it with her own, lips parting hastily as a rushed tongue pushed into his mouth desperately. Her bruised fingers curled around his neck and Logan's arms wrapped around her battered waist so tightly that the pain came back full force. Veronica broke away, letting her voice flutter against his mouth—"bye"—before she ran back to the door, grabbing her shoes off the floor and jetting out of the building before Logan could think to stop her.
Outside Veronica didn't stop running. She had no real idea where she was and maybe rather than jumping him she should have grilled Logan for some information but as far as she was concerned as long as she was running in the opposite direction of the burnt-out warehouse then she was heading in the right direction. Not for the first time since she had woken up Veronica's mind wandered to Backup.
Heads roll if anything's happened to him.
She knew that it was absurd to worry about a dog when she was pretty sure she had broken glass in the soles of her feet and maybe a bruised rib or a sprained wrist but Veronica couldn't help the dry pressure that swelled in her throat when she thought of someone hurting Backup—or worse, never seeing Backup again. As long as she was worrying about him then she didn't have to worry about herself, or Logan.
**
Veronica sighed, searching for her dad's number in her phonebook as she leaned against the outside wall of a diner—trying to take some of the pressure off her aching feet.
"Hello?" Keith's voice sounded very far away to her, even though they were now back in the same state.
"Hi, dad."
"Veronica? Is everything okay?"
"Do you think you could come pick me up?"
"I'm in Nevada, honey. What happened to your car?"
"I don't know. But I'm in Vegas right now."
"What?" Keith didn't sound happy at all.
Veronica hesitated, her voice hopeful, "I might have run into a little trouble with some surveillance."
"A little trouble?" his tone was instantly concerned.
"I'm fine, dad, I am. I just don't have my purse or my car."
"Where are you? I'm on my way now."
She quickly filled him in on some street names before dead air filled her receiver and Veronica headed inside the small diner. She fell into a booth and rested her eyes against the heels of her hands—trying to relieve the pressure inside her head, to fight the exhaustion rotting away in her chest. She looked awful, but how many self-respecting hole-in-the-wall diners complete with plastic booths would kick her out for drinking coffee in her disheveled clothes and grimy skin? She had change in her pocket—that was about all. She could just be recovering from a three day bender—maybe. As Veronica realized that she was barefoot and beaten in the middle of a strange part of a strange town tears started to break through her teeth-gritting resolve.
She was seventeen and alone and her ribs ached. Suddenly the world was a lot less fun. Suddenly she wished she'd stayed with Logan.
**
"Veronica—"
"I know: grounded for the rest of my natural life."
"I think you need to stop the detective work, honey."
"But, dad—"
"No. No 'buts'. Don't you see how serious this is?"
"I made a mistake but I've learned," she turned to face him, her resolve clear, "I won't be that careless again."
"Veronica, I can't. I love you. I won't let you put yourself in that kind of danger again."
"So no big cases," she bargained. "I could still help; you can't handle everything at the office on your own."
"If, and I mean 'if' Veronica, you go back to that office you're demoted to answering the phones. Nothing else."
"I could keep taking pictures. You don't have time to be out catching every lecherous creep in Neptune and we need the money."
"You let me worry about money."
"I'll be careful," she swore.
"Like you were today? Do you know what they could have done to you, Veronica? You got off easy and I'm still driving you to the emergency room."
"But, dad—"
"No, you listen to me. Veronica, I don't want you anywhere near Delaney, his associates, the Sheriff's department or my office."
Veronica swallowed tightly.
"Veronica?"
"Yes?"
"Do you hear me?"
"Luckily my eardrums were left intact."
"Don't get smart with me, this is important."
"Yes it's important, but you're not being fair."
"Fair? You think it's fair that I have to leave work to drive my seventeen-year-old daughter to the hospital because she was stalking mob bosses on her own?"
"He's hardly a mob boss…"
"Veronica."
"I heard you; I don't have to like it."
Keith sighed, letting the matter drop. "How're you feeling?"
"Fine," she replied shortly.
"Veronica…"
She sighed, "Like a truck hit me."
**
Veronica tried the last combination, unsurprised to see that it no longer opened her dad's safe. Without hesitation she headed to the desk, rummaging quickly through the scattered pages for something that could hold the new code.
Eventually she found it, scrawled on a post-it stuck underneath the surface of the desk. Standing well away from the front as she opened it, Veronica was pleased to find the safe booby trap free. Rummaging inside she quickly found a large manila folder and a lockbox. Pulling both out, she set them on her dad's desk quickly scanning the front labels.
It's almost too easy. So, what's the haps, Daddio?
Veronica's eyes went wide as she flipped open the folder, perusing the contents hastily. Her mouth dropped in shock and she froze over a page, staring at the photograph tacked in. She shouldn't be surprised. She shouldn't be surprised; she'd seen the evidence in person. Somehow it was always more overwhelming on paper.
**
Veronica stormed into her father's office, seeing red. Slapping a photocopy down on the desk she demanded, "Why is there a picture of Logan in a file marked 'Delaney'?"
"Veronica, I thought I told you to leave that case alone."
"How is he involved?" Her hands were shaking she was so angry.
"Veronica—" Keith's voice held a warning tone.
"I need to know, dad! These are not good people."
"No, they're not which is why I want you to forget about the case and let me handle it."
She sucked in a deep breath as she replied, "I can't do that."
"Veronica, Logan's not involved."
"So, you're just using him as a bookmark? You have his room number, credit card numbers, what's going on?"
Keith sighed, relenting. "Trina Echolls owes a few people up and down the west coast favors. She needs to get them repaid before they come to light and ruin her father's chances at trial. She owes one of those favors to Delaney."
"And Logan—"
"—Doesn't know," he finished for her. "He's just there to make the whole trip look more credible."
"Then we need to get him out of there, it's dangerous." Her eyes were wild, a perfect match for her voice which quivered with frightened determination.
"I know, honey. But he's not in any immediate danger and if we swoop in now with no proof we might as well give them all a get out of jail free card."
"Trina could go to jail?"
"Drug trafficking at this level?" he nodded. "Yes, she could go to jail."
"But what about Logan?"
"Veronica, trust me. Everything is under control; it's going to be fine."
"I don't believe you."
Veronica kept her gaze steady as she headed for the door, grabbing her coat off the chair behind her desk. Keith watched from the window as Veronica practically sprinted to her car, wiping her face with the back of one hand as she pulled away from the curb.
She tried to pull herself together once she got into her car. She had neglected to tell Keith that she had seen Logan, that he had been looking pretty damn involved at the time. Somehow it didn't matter. After seeing him she shouldn't have been surprised when he turned up in her father's files, but it had still been like a kick in the gut.
So much of my life is… she mused.
**
Veronica rode with the top down, sun streaking her windswept hair as she drove with one arm resting against the door. The air was a syrupy mix of anticipation and humidity which would be smothering if not for the artificial rush of cool air coming somewhat steadily from her car.
Dust kicked up around her tires, the ground crumbling and gritty in the wake of beating rays of sun. Perspiration coated Veronica's skin with a light sheen and she wiped her face trying to stave off the heat as one hand found a bottle of lukewarm water on the passenger seat. She took a casual swig, pressing the sports cap back down with her teeth as she threw it back onto the seat—settling in for a long ride.
The road stretched out lazily—seemingly endlessly—before her car. Veronica's fingers drummed over the warm metal of her car door, fingertips leaving tiny, sweaty marks against the paint work. The heat was incredible and she could almost imagine the paint cracking and chipping off underneath her fingernails, leaving dirty smudges across the tips of her fingers.
**
The small apartment seemed to be empty when he opened the door. Silence flooded out into the hall and Veronica suddenly felt very small, engulfed in the doorframe. She bit her lip precisely as dark eyes watched her.
"Veronica," his mouth curled round the word like it was difficult. Logan wasn't shocked to see her. He seemed… bemused, as if he had won a bet with himself. There was that faint sliver of fear that he seemed to hold close to any encounter with her but Veronica was well aware that hurt isn't fleeting and she would probably have to deal with that silver glint for a good long time if she continued to look at that particular boy. Trust has to grow a little.
"Hi."
"What're you doing here?"
"I…" she trailed off, at a loss for words. It wasn't so easy to explain how you were feeling when you didn't know how the emotions fitted together yourself.
"Hey," he breathed, stepping forwards.
"I needed to see you."
"Yeah?" He looked a little shocked at her revelation and Veronica didn't know whether or not to pat herself on the back.
She nodded, continuing almost silently, "Yeah."
Logan opened his mouth to speak when she cut him off, "Logan, you're in trouble."
"You're telling me," he smiled.
"I'm serious."
"So am I. 'Trouble' is kinda an understatement."
"What the hell are you doing with the guys from the warehouse?"
"What do you mean?"
"The men you went to see the other day." She tried to catch his gaze properly, to gauge any possible lies.
Logan looked confused. "I wasn't there to meet anyone. Trina wanted me to pick up a package for her…" off Veronica's disbelieving look he continued, "Since she pretty much controls the money we're playing nice."
"She's using you."
"As her pack horse, yeah."
"No, Logan, it's not like you're picking up a pair of shoes for her. You could go to jail for this stuff."
"It's fine, Veronica." He stepped forward, brushing a flurry of fingertips down one of her arms soothingly. She jerked away from his touch.
"It's not, Logan." She breathed tightly, wincing at the pain still present in her bandaged ribs.
He swallowed, hard. "Veronica…"
"Don't." She could feel the glaze of tears start to form in her eyes as he moved closer, one hand coming up to her face.
"What did they do to you?" he mumbled close to her lips.
She swallowed the tight knot in her throat, "doesn't matter."
His thumb smoothed over the edge of her cheekbone as warm, damp lips pressed softly over her mouth.
**
Veronica gasped sharply as Logan peeled the filthy cotton away from her breasts, the thick, humid air cool in contrast to her damp tank top. His thumb shocked over her nipple, pulling it to a painfully sensitive peak as his mouth settled on her neck—sucking firmly, his teeth taunting the delicate skin sporadically. Her body was covered in bruises, one more wouldn't be noticed.
Veronica ached, tight frustrating pulses flooding her muscles, working their way between her legs as Logan worked her neck raw. She couldn't help the low groan that plied itself from her chest as the blood vessels broke beneath her skin and his tongue soothed over her pulse. His mouth was impossibly hot and slick, a melting quality that urged on her breathy sighs as the beat of her blood quickened under his attention. His hands were still on her breasts, brushing, stroking the skin with just enough pressure to catch the aroused sounds half-way up her throat.
**
Her pants lay on the floor. Her top was crumpled underneath them. His clothes were somewhere near the edge of the bed and Veronica had lost all semblance of thought by the time he had slowly eased her panties down her legs.
She wheezed slightly against her battered ribs. Logan pulled away, as if to climb off of her. "You can't do this."
Veronica grabbed his shoulders, pulling him back to her and trying to ignore the pain that caused her midsection. "I can do this, I am doing this."
She ground her hips up into his, releasing a low groan from Logan's throat. When—braced on his arms above her—he still refused to move, she repeated the action. "Move!"
"Wait."
Much to Veronica's disappointment, and frustration Logan rolled off of her onto his back. She didn't have long enough to make more than a short whimper as his hand came around her, dragging Veronica to straddle him. She opened her eyes as he pushed into her again, gripping tightly to his shoulders for balance as she adjusted to the sensation.
Her body was already tender from her 'interrogation' but this heightened feeling was threatening to cause her to pass out as Logan lifted her up, urging Veronica to start moving.
She flexed her leg muscles, gaining enough traction to pull upwards. Logan's eyes shuttered closed as he finally got the friction his dick was craving. She clenched around him and he clenched his teeth in response—desperate to hold on through her erratic spasms.
It hurt, she couldn't deny it. Not because it was her first time—because it wasn't—but because her whole body was pulped. She kept moving though; the friction delving past the immediate pain as her arousal grew, clouding out the rest of the pain.
His fingers stretched lazily up her leg fuelling the tremor of her quaking thighs. A shiver coursed the length of her spine as his hand got closer and closer, teasing along her thigh sadistically.
She felt a tight stretching ache begin to form between her legs—pulling at her muscles until they gave way into a slick, shuddering mess. Her chest moved erratically with her ragged pants, the hot air hitting Logan's neck rhythmically as he continued to thrust, his pattern faltering with her climax.
**
Veronica was almost half-way back home—sure Logan was still asleep—when her phone rang. For a good ten minutes she fully intended to ignore it, sure it would be her dad, furious. When she chanced a look at the display Logan's name was shown clearly and she felt a sharp intake of breath hit her injured ribs from the inside. She hadn't intended to leave him, but then she hadn't intended to sleep with him either and that wasn't something she was willing to face at that particular time—not when she had so much else to be worrying about. Like being grounded forever and chased by pseudo-gangsters.
When she had a clear path off the road and the phone was still ringing Veronica pulled over and snapped the call on.
"Hello?" she answered nervously.
"You left."
"Yeah…" Her breath was wobbly and the extended pause made her grasp for some kind of adequate explanation—it was just a shame that there was none. And Veronica knew that, she'd been the one left in bed before. Maybe somewhere really deep inside she had thought it would be nice to be the one leaving. Shame she had quickly worked out that it felt just as bad.
Logan spoke again before she could offer any of her half-hearted reasoning, "They took Trina."
"What?"
"She's missing. You're right, Veronica. They're not good guys, they have her, I know it."
"I'll be right there."
"Where are you?"
She paused, hesitant. "Road out of town."
"Yeah," his voice was bitter; part of Veronica didn't feel like he had any right for it, "figures."
She pleaded, "Logan…"
"Don't."
She nodded quietly into the receiver in resignation. "Okay."
**
The sickening crunch of bone reverberated throughout the room and Logan's heart trip-hammered inside his ribs as the agony flooded up his fingers, overtaking his hand. As the second finger was pulled back the wrong way he caved, his eyes wet—unable to stop the tears that spilled over as his broken fingers were jarred again and again without the proper support.
"Look, kid. I'm gonna ask you one more time and then I'm gonna have no choice but to make the rest of you match—" He gestured to the hand that Logan was now cradling in his lap. "One last time: where is your bitch of a sister? She think she can just hire a PI and we won't find out? No one fucks with us."
"I…don't…know," Logan patronized.
The man smirked. "Wrong answer."
**
The dark closed in around her, muggy and heavy. A thick ache penetrated her skull as Veronica shook her head awkwardly trying to kick-start her vision. Soon she realized that the dark was artificial, created by a rasping band of cloth bound tightly around her face. Veronica could feel the now familiar sensation of rope holding her arms and legs to the limbs of a cold, hard chair and as she tried to move a creaking sound gave her away.
"Veronica?"
Logan's head shot up from where he was slumped in the corner of the room, untied. His hand was still cradled delicately in against the denim in his lap but his attention was fully on the girl struggling against her binds not more than ten feet away from him.
"Logan?" her voice was breathy with hope and desperation.
He stood slowly, approaching her with carefully measured steps so as not to scare her. He took note of the blindfold once again, grimacing as his gaze swept over the tight knots at the back. "Yeah," he kept his voice low, confidential. "It's me."
"Oh, thank God. Can you untie me?"
"I can't."
"Did they tie you up too?"
"No."
"Then…" He swallowed audibly and Veronica didn't take his pause to be a good thing. "Logan?"
"Got a couple broken fingers. I can't undo the knots."
The breath caught in her chest as she inhaled sharply. "Are you okay?"
"I probably don't look too pretty."
"How's your hand, is it just the one?"
"A few fingers on my right hand, I don't know, one might just be sprained."
"Logan, I need you to try and pull off this blindfold, even just the front."
The boy nodded redundantly taking a step into her personal space and crouching down until he was face to face with Veronica. She shut her eyes in anticipation as she felt his fingers work awkwardly under the tight band of cloth—easing it away from her face. She winced.
The rough material abraded the delicate skin at the top of her cheekbones and over her eyes, pulling harshly until her face was red and slightly raw. It took a few minutes of uncomfortable rearranging but eventually Veronica could feel cool air against the back of her eyelids and slowly allowing her eyes to flutter open Logan came into focus in front of her—pale face, wet eyes, disheveled hair.
Automatically her hands reached out to him and the jarring crack of wood on concrete as her chair lifted ever so and replanted reminded Veronica that her hands were indeed still tied. His hand was still by her face, pushing stray strands of hair—mussed by his attention to her blindfold—away from her eyes with careful fingers.
"Are you okay?" she whispered.
**
Logan flashed her a quirk of his eyebrows when Veronica unceremoniously yanked his shirt out of his pants. "Excuse me?"
His question was answered quickly enough when she lifted a drab looking paper file and a small plastic bag, plastering the first to his chest under the cotton polo shirt and the second into the top edge of his waistband where it was well concealed. "This outfit has no pockets," she shrugged with a waif-like smile.
"So how do we explain our great escape if they find us?"
Veronica's face was set into firm resolve as she searched for a weak spot around the edge of the window, perched precariously on the two chairs—balanced one of top of the other. "We just hope we don't have to."
**
Veronica gasped down the phone, trying not to cry so desperately that it actually hurt to swallow. "Dad? Dad, I'm so sorry—"
"Veronica?" Keith's voice sounded down the line.
She nodded, forgetting for a moment that he couldn't actually see her. Continuing, "Me and Logan are on our way back to Neptune. I got the Delaney files."
"What?" Keith exploded. Quickly his tone changed to deepening concern, "Are you okay?"
There was a lengthy pause as Veronica let the static crackle down the line, not sure how to answer. Eventually she replied, "I am now."
"Veronica?" Keith didn't sound impressed as he prompted her for more information.
"Logan broke a few fingers." She admitted finally, hastily adding, "They didn't do anything to me."
"This is it, you know that, right? No more detective work." He told her firmly.
"Yeah," she lied, glancing over to where Logan was cradling his hand again, agony painted over his features.
After another moment of awkward silence she finished, "I have to go dad, we're nearly there but I'm taking Logan to the hospital."
"I'll meet you there, be safe, honey."
"Will do. I love you, dad."
"Love you too; now get your butt back home."
"Working on it," she smiled, hanging up the phone and throwing it into the backseat.
**
Creaking footsteps resounded against the cold stone slabs as a dark figure paced the room with tight determination. His whole body was held tense, hands clasped behind his back as he shook his head in disgust. "A high school senior?"
The two men standing before him swallowed nervously, almost in unison. Their heads ducked to authority.
"I got the majority riding on this and you slip up to a high school senior?" he repeated, the disappointment evident in his tone.
"D, she's not a real senior—works for some PI agency over in Neptune."
"She's eighteen isn't she? You let a five foot nothin' little girl take off with our files!" Delaney's voice rose to a startling crescendo, shocking the two men straight from their shamed postures—hunched in embarrassment. "My Grandma could have handled her better than you two."
"But D, you're Grandmother's dead."
"Exactly, you boys don't fix this by tomorrow and you might find yourself in a similar condition."
**
Logan found himself supporting most of Veronica's weight as the staggered together into the reception of Neptune Memorial Hospital. Looking around they saw the busy room flooded with various injuries—none quite as bad as the bleeding that was soaking round the edges of their clothing. Veronica was distracted by the task of clinging to Logan—desperately trying to hold her shivering form upright—when she was alerted to reality by a sharp gasp.
It didn't take very long before they were ushered into a small examination room. They were taken in together, mostly because Veronica refused to release her tight grip on Logan's blood-stained shirt and he in turn was reluctant to release her from his loose grip.
**
Even the waiting room was void, clinical. Logan had never really waited for someone in a hospital before and it was not turning out to be a pleasant experience as his gaze darted edgily to the door—waiting for Veronica's father to arrive.
Finally he let himself fall into a stiff metal chair, his hands pulling frenetically through his hair. If they had found Lilly in time to sew up her head, if the gaping wound had been mostly superficial and the filthy red had wiped off with a cloth instead of settling in the concave sore—if she hadn't been dead before she hit the ground then he would have waited for her.
If his father's stabbing hadn't attracted media attention almost immediately and there had been room in the ambulance then maybe he would have waited around for him too. Maybe. But he didn't, he went back to the pool house and sat in the dim light that reflected off his shimmering pool flicking jelly beans from tall-stemmed margarita glasses across the room to knock on the wall. Watching them slide down to a small pile on the floor.
And of course, if they had ever found a body to try and resuscitate when his mother swan-dived, something mostly alive and just a little waterlogged, then he would have waited for her—elbows prone on his knees, head in his hands, much like he was now. But none of the what-ifs or could-have-beens changed the fact that he was pacing a small badly carpeted room, his footsteps like felt rasping in his ears as he waited to find out what was going to happen to Veronica Mars. Logan didn't know what he was supposed to do.
Keith's voice was a cross between empathy and amusement when he looked towards the boy, intoning, "It's just stitches, Logan."
He looked up, flushed and embarrassed to be caught. "I've never really spent much time in these places."
"Understandable, nobody likes to."
"I'm sorry. About what happened," Logan murmured.
Keith nodded. There was no point in answering something so rhetorical.
**
It felt strangely domestic to be back in his bedroom, even more so when Veronica was there with him—not that he was complaining. Veronica had decided quickly enough once she was released from hospital, which hadn't really taken long at all, that she was going to be checking up on Logan constantly. And the kind of treatment he was getting was much better than anything Logan had ever experienced within the walls of a hospital so he was willing to let her continue playing nurse—even if maybe he didn't deserve it.
Logan fumbled over the button on his jeans, unable to free it with only his left hand. "I miss my hand."
"Let me help you with that," she breathed into his collarbone.
"You can't just do ev—" his voice cut off sharply as Veronica quickly loosed the button, slipping one small hand down inside his pants.
He groaned slowly, deeply as she wrapped her hand around him, her other hand reached to his hip to push the jeans past his thighs roughly. Once they were down around his knees she leaned into him heavily, a whimper of frustration escaping his lips as her hand left him. Veronica rolled her eyes, pushing Logan backwards onto the bed as she licked her palm thoroughly. He closed his eyes, moaning at the sight and then the feel as her damp, sticky fingers wrapped around him once more—gripping tighter as she squeezed roughly.
She stroked firmly up and back down his length, moving to straddle the bottom of his legs. The heat between them was building and Veronica flattened her sweat-slicked palm against him as her other hand trailed down his stomach until he was clasped between the heels of her hands. His good hand reached blindly for her, knotting into her hair and dragging her mouth to his. Veronica's rhythm broke only slightly as Logan's tongue pushed into her mouth—no teasing as her hands inspired desperation through his body.
"Oh God, Veronica—" he gasped against her open lips, the words pressing into her tongue.
She felt his body tighten beneath her hands, his whole form pulling taut as his stomach muscles jerked. As he settled a slow warm calmed the spasms, lulling Logan into a sleepy state of satisfaction.
Logan's eyes remained closed as he let himself sink into the cool, soft sheets while Veronica slid off of him, moving to his side as her fingers quickly zipped him back up. He threw one arm carelessly over his face and although her fingers brushed it gently Logan couldn't muster the will to remove it and open his eyes, instead focusing on the warm contact.
"Logan?" her voice was thick with something and he forced himself to lower his arm slightly, to open his eyes and put a name to the emotion. Her affection-soaked voice was just too tempting to refuse.
He sounded hoarse, his throat dry from the gasping, panting breaths he had shallowly drawn as her hands played him, "Yeah?" He was drained, exhausted.
"You okay? How's your hand." She nodded to where his bandaged hand lay idly on the bedspread, having kept mostly out of the fray.
Logan tried not to laugh in response, unable to stop the slight chuckle that spilled from his lips. "Don't feel a thing," he lied with a smile, ignoring the dull throb in his injured fingers. He sighed—sated—as he let his eyes close again, leaning back into the mattress while he murmured, "I should break a bone more often."
She kissed his throat, following the taut line up his jaw with her tongue. "Don't you dare," she warned as the barely there contact made him groan.
Logan's fingers clutched fruitlessly in the sheets, moving to grasp the soft cotton of her shirt, a much more pleasurable pursuit. She gasped as his fingertips dug into the hollows of her spine. His hand slid down a little further, fingertips resting just inside the waistband of her jeans, thumb stroking at the exposed skin by her hip. His injured hand ached to grasp hold of her but the pain flooded back every time it lifted off the bed.
As she reached his lips Veronica's mouth opened sweetly. Her tongue ran the edge of his mouth and the aching anticipation of part-contact built within him. Veronica wasn't easily pinned down—Logan figured he would probably try anyway.
**
The light that filtered strongly through the filthy glass illuminated Edward Delaney as he stuffed some small packets into a large brown envelope. His shirt sleeves were turned up in desperation and the small man looked like a deer-in-headlights—he wore the classic 'You Underestimated Veronica Mars, Sucker' expression and his head snapped up on his neck as Keith Mars strolled into the warehouse.
He smiled in a parody of warmth. "I think we have some business to finish."
"I don't know what you're talking about; I got no business with you, old man."
Veronica stepped out from the doorway, revealing herself. "Hey there, Teddy. I wouldn't talk about my dad like that. I mean you've got to be pushing forty-five yourself, right?"
Delaney spluttered, dropping the envelope onto the long centre table. "What the hell are you doing here?"
She pressed her lips together in a sarcastic rendition of a smile. "Well, Ted—I can call you Ted, right?—my dad was really anxious to meet you after he found out what happened to me. And hey, we told a couple friends, all got together, and they were so excited to meet you I figured we'd just take a little field trip. Right, dad?"
"Sure, honey."
Delaney hesitated, his gaze darting around to the nearest exits. It seemed a little redundant really as the Sheriff's department slowly stepped forward, covering all routes of escape. Veronica took a slight step towards Delaney, held back by Keith's fierce hand.
"Everyone, this is Edward Delaney. Teddy, meet my good friends from the Sheriff's department. I've got a feeling you guys are gonna be getting to know each other real well…"
Delaney fumed, his face burning an embarrassing shade of red even as the rest of his skin paled milk-white in resignation. It was only moments before he was cuffed and several deputies were heading for the upper rooms in the dilapidated building—searching out his accomplices.
"You little—" he was cut off as the cuffs tightened in response to his verbal attack on Veronica. She only smiled harder. He continued, "You can't pin this on me, you got nothing!"
It was then that Logan decided to move into the warehouse, a quick raise of his eyebrows to Veronica in greeting. "Dude, my sister's no entertainer but hey—she's ready to sing."
He shared a wink with a beaming Veronica who was biting her lip to stop from breaking into full stomach-clutching laugher at her victory—because no matter who was involved or what measures were used to put the men behind bars it was still her victory.
Veronica fluttered her fingers as the men were guided forcefully into the back of a Sheriff's department cruiser. "Buh-bye, boys."
Keith's hand was a supportive weight on her shoulder and as she looked across the crime scene she saw Logan grinning at her—warm and alive. Veronica's head tilted shyly as she couldn't help but return the smile, her mouth splitting into a crescent comfort. The air seemed denser—more tangible—as he began a slow trail towards her. Veronica darted a quick glance over her shoulder and Keith nodded, patting her arm before he moved away to talk to a few deputies. The gesture gave Veronica space that she appreciated, especially as she tried to suck in the dusty air with lungs that still held a dull ache—her chest tight in anticipation of the boy moving lazily towards her.
When he stopped Logan was very close to being toe-to-toe with Veronica. One foot pushed into the dusty wreckage of the ground, one hand stuffed into his pocket. His chin was tucked down very slightly, evening out their eye lines and Veronica swallowed at the steadfast gaze he locked on her—so disparate to his shuffling, shifting body language.
Finally he spoke, voice hoarse from the waiting, "Nancy Drew ain't got nothing on you."
Veronica couldn't help the bemused chuckle that slipped past her lips at the seriousness of his tone. She inched closer. Logan's hand brushed her cheek, his fingers heavy against her gritty skin. Her breath was soft and warm near his mouth as she declared, "Well you're no Ned, but you'll do."
His hands moved to her shoulders, running the length of her arms lightly. Her skin buzzed from the contact. He stilled. She watched him closely. Letting her eyes fall Veronica took a quick step back out of his personal space blowing out a frustrated breath. Logan's hand almost immediately moved to the back of his head, running through his hair—full of nervous energy.
Veronica's bottom lip slipped between her teeth as she turned back to him. Her gaze was thick and daring once more. Her eyes alight with possibilities "Feel like sticking around for a while?"
"I don't know I was gonna go help Treen score some coke," he smiled self-deprecatingly, his tone dry.
She cocked an eyebrow inquisitively. Inviting, "Once you get done with that maybe I'll see you around."
Before Logan could respond she had turned on her heel, slipping into her father's car and disappearing from sight in a fluid motion that felt too much like a dare. Logan had never really been able to resist a challenge—not this kind. Pressing both hands deeply into his pockets he shook his head, amazed by himself. He was so predictable. One day, one day he was going to stop letting Veronica Mars play him like a game she always won.
Yeah, and one day he was going to give E! that in-depth interview they wanted so badly. He turned away, moving towards his next mission—charm a deputy for a ride.
**
Veronica's flashlight flickered traitorously. The dingy street was almost pitch-black, plastered with a dead-and-dying smell that permeated her nostrils acridly. She heard the scream—grip tightening on her mace—and started running. The dark closed in as the beam of her flashlight hit the ground. The light pounding of her feet echoed against the dirt and she hopped the side of her car—forgoing the door—hitting the gas for a quick get-away.
Slipping through the dead, dark streets with a camera full of pictures, a can full of mace and a smile full of her own teeth Veronica relaxed into the seat—adrenaline pumping.
Orange beams dripped sickly from the streetlights as she turned onto the main roads, coating her skin in a sporadic neon glow. The pools of oil on the road strained against their rainbow gleams, the slicks merging with the night-damp road. Filthy road signs caught on the faint lines of her headlights. Neptune's dark was alive with light. The filth illuminated reluctantly, accidentally. Veronica gunned the engine.
Despite her small stature she took the stairs to her apartment two at a time, launching herself up the flight and towards her easily opened door. Keith's car was missing from the parking lot. Logan was asleep on her couch.
She moved silently past him, leaving the lights as they were. In her bedroom Veronica connected her camera to her laptop—pulling the quick-job pictures onto the hard drive.
She picked a shot and smiled to herself—a smile that can only properly be captured by someone coming home late at night, with a camera full of evidence and your ass on the line.
Oh, yeah. She grinned wickedly. This is never going to get old.