Gregson family Casino, 45 miles outside of Seattle….
Research into Peter Gregson's activities had progressed at a slow, but steady pace. Logan and Max had been within the casino for nearly five days, and during that time Logan had been invited to attend many dinners and late-night parties with the Gregsons' inner circle.
Max had been nearly inseparable from the dark haired, light eyed Peter, who seemed completely enthralled with her. Given the possibility that someone in Gregson's set might have attended Logan's cousin's wedding and remembered Max as his date, the two had met under the pretext that they were exes, who'd had a brief and unimportant relationship. Thankfully, their interaction during Bennett's wedding served to confirm this report – with gossip mills buzzing with how chummy Logan and Daphne had been.
For his part, Logan felt himself constantly on edge. There was something about Gregson's use of Max's real name and Max's use of her real attitude that made the mission seem uncanny. Watching Gregson constantly touching Max, and her rare flirty replies was also … unnerving. In some ways, Logan felt like he was watching what his own relationship with Max might have been like if he really was just a bored rich kid and she was just a beautiful smart ass.
Fortunately, neither was what they appeared to be. It took two days for Logan to break into the casino's surveillance system, but now he was able to hack into their control room and mess with the feed to their monitors. This gave Max and him the ability to meet up during off hours and brief each other on the mission.
"Hey. Coast clear?" ask Max as she slid through the door frame.
"Hey Max, yeah everything's good. According to the casino's surveillance, you're spending the next two hours napping."
"You know it still creeps me out that they got cameras in the rooms. I mean, until you got a good look at their system I was giving the guys a regular peep show after showering."
"Yeah not exactly big on the whole privacy accommodation."
"I guess I should be grateful they don't have cameras in the bathrooms. They'd have some twisted individuals applying to work here."
While they had been talking, Max had unceremoniously flopped herself on Logan's bed.
"Mmm… this is much better than mine. I think Peter purposely gave me the most uncomfortable bed in the damn hotel, hoping to lure me to greener pastures. Unlucky for him, those don't necessarily mean his."
Clearing his throat, Logan asked what had been on his mind for days: "You okay on that front? He's not being aggressive or anything?"
"Nah, I mean for a man who's supposedly this amazing lady killer, he seriously needs to work on his make-out skills. I felt I was losing a game of tonsil hockey last time he got me alone. But he definitely lost the game of grabby hands."
Max smiled reassuringly at Logan, before taking out the file she brought with her.
"I brought you a present."
"Yeah, looks like Gregson already gave you one," Logan gestured to the new pair of earrings Max was wearing, before reaching for the file in her hands.
"Yeah, I think I got them for letting him stick his tongue down my throat. Wonder what I'll get if I let him cop and feel," Max's was going for a good laugh, but the sight of Logan's raised eyebrow and flushed face made her feel like she'd get stumbled on a new form of entertainment.
Sitting up slightly to get a better view, Max continued in a breezy tone: "Mmmm…. I was thinking I could definitely use a matching necklace, maybe even a bracelet. How much do you think those go for?"
Logan didn't answer, just held her with an increasingly intense stare.
Exploiting tactical advantage, Max asked in a slightly pouty voice: "What's a matter Logan? Jealous you didn't make me your quid pro quo genetically enhanced lover when you had the chance? I also work for motorcycle parts."
When again he didn't answer, Max couldn't help but wonder what the result of this would be. Maybe a lecture on the seriousness of their mission? Or perhaps a scolding on her mercenary tactics? Hell, he might even snap at her, which would be a good excuse to vent some of her frustration at him for putting her in this set up.
Standing up and walking over to the mirror, Max purposely brushed her hair behind her ear as if to stare at her new possession. Now employing a blatantly insinuating tone, Max tried again: "You know Logan, you did tell me I could keep whatever jewelry I earned."
Logan's response wasn't any of the scenarios Max had anticipated. Rather than saying anything he stood up and moved directly behind her, leaning slightly into her exposed ear. Holding her eyes in the mirror with a searing look, he whispered huskily: "But what's the fun if he's not any good?"
Their eyes clashing, Max couldn't control the slight shiver that ran down her spine, but she did manage to control her face. As she turned around within the circle of Logan's body, Max felt determined to win this round of mirror-seduction.
Putting her lips within easy reach of his, she murmured: "Maybe he's better at the other things."
"Like what," replied Logan, as he leaned just a millimeter closer to Max, "wiping out small villages?"
Smiling slightly at his reply, Max used his comment as an out, physically and mentally retreating back to the safety of business, as she stepped around him to reach for the discarded file. Max replied in a more neutral tone: "Well actually, it looks like his uncle is the one who takes point on that."
Proceeding to dispel the tenseness, Max continued: "According to the intelligence I've gathered, Pete is just the frontman, it's Uncle Silas who's handling the business with the South Pacificians. That's why we haven't been able to gather any concrete data on the location of the strike until now."
Examining the file, Logan asked: "This is incredible Max, nearly enough to go to the military with, but how did you get it if Gregson isn't on the take?"
"I was at one of their business luncheons this afternoon and noticed all the subtext that was going on. Seemed pretty obvious the Pete wasn't in the know. So when they were handing out business reports, I swapped Pete's copy with one of the more "informed" members. The results of which you have in your hands. Getting a hold of Peter's copy wasn't difficult."
"This is great, between these documents and the surveillance photos we have the link between the responsible parties and solid evidence on the plot." Looking at Max, Logan gave her his familiar 'we've saved the world smile. "We're almost there!"
Looking back again, Logan continued: "Hmm… nothing about the location of the strike though."
"Logan, from what I can gather their passing out finalized versions of the "business" reports tomorrow, which should contain the missing data. There is also some sort of formal black-tie dinner party, so if I can't get the information during the day, we can pay a visit to Silas's room tomorrow night. But either way, tomorrow is our best chance to finish this."
After copying the files, Logan turned back to Max.
"Hmm… once we have the information we can hightail it out of here. Are you ready to have a sick grandmother Max?"
Giving him a genuine smile, Max answered: "Hell yeah. I'm tired of this party. Business magnates can be such a bore. Oh, and Logan… if you ever put me on another mission like this I will so hurt you. I'm made for ass kicking not ass swishing if you get my drift."
"Point noted." He replied, with a truly happy look now. "How about when we get back I make you a very delicious and fancy apology dinner."
"Mmm.. sounds good. In the mean time, I'd better get these papers back to junior. Besides, tomorrow is a big day, we need to get our rest. Even I'm tired."
"Sounds like a plan, good night Max, and remember, be careful."
Max just smiled at him and turned to leave.
After reaching the door, Max turned slightly. "Logan?"
"Yeah?"
"I'm not returning the earrings."
With that Max was out the door.
XXXXXXXXXX
Sleep didn't come easily to Logan that night. Laying in bed, his mind accosted him with all the different avenues of thought it had currently been processing.
Of course there was the Eyes Only mission. Despite their earlier levity, they both knew just how serious this assignment was. The report had indicated that the clients were demanding a test run on a population of at 10,000 individuals in order to prove the effectiveness and range of the chemical war agent. It also indicated that the demonstration was scheduled for early next week. The consequences if Max and him failed were catastrophic.
They also both knew that tomorrow was probably their best bet at retrieving the information. Once plans had been finalized, the responsible members would quickly disperse, making it nearly impossible for law enforcement agents to catch them.
Logan was also nervous about Max snagging the plans. If the earlier switch in documents was noticed before tomorrow's exchange, then additional precautions would be implemented for tomorrow. And despite his proof that Max could handle nearly any situation she was placed in, Logan also knew that they were currently in a security lock box, with dozens of armed guards protecting their variety of bosses. No, if something went sideways, Max would be hard-pressed to get out alive.
Shifting to his side, Logan's mind drift to the security images he'd seen earlier. He'd watched over the monitors to make sure Max replaced Gregson's files safely, prepared to barge in with back-up if the situation called for it. It had actually been a close call, Max had just gotten everything back in order when Gregson emerged from the bathroom. Of course, the logical explanation for Max's presence was her desire to see him.
Logan hadn't meant to watch. He had determinedly avoided monitoring Max's and Peter's previous encounters to keep his emotions from overriding his senses. He'd been honest enough with himself to recognize that watching Max in another man's arms would mess with his judgment.
And he'd been right, as Gregson bent Max over his arms in an attempt to deepen the kiss, Logan had continued to watch Max's face for any signs of emotion. He didn't know what he expected to see, of course she needed to look like she enjoyed it, but Logan couldn't help but wait for the smallest detail of displeasure, detachment, something to let him know she hated this.
Of course she hated it, his brain screamed at him, hadn't she told him as much that afternoon? Still, Logan continued to watch for some sign, his entire body coiling with suppressed emotions as he noted Gregon's hands begin to rove, and his attempt to push Max toward the bed.
As Max let herself be pushed back, her foot had deftly stumbled a bit and she tumbled backwards out of Gregson's hands and onto the floor. She had grabbed her ankle seemingly showing signs of pain. When Gregson turned his back to get the bucket of ice and a towel, Logan had seen it. The slight, barely discernable grimace of dislike that passed over Max's features. He's own features spread to a grim smile and he had torn his eyes away from the spectacle, once more confident in Max's abilities to handle the situation.
Sighing to himself, Logan shifted onto his other side. He was angry with himself for watching; he felt like a twisted voyeur. As much as he hated to admit it, Logan knew Bling had been right. Letting Max take on this job was too close to home.
With nothing else to distract him, Logan had finally been forced to consider the underlying emotional state that made him more willing to risk Max in a warehouse of armed men than in the arms of a wealthy, unscrupulous businessman.
His introspection included his reaction to the events of Kendra's dinner party. There was no doubt that he felt betrayed by the revelation that Max might have been with another man since meeting him. He had lingered at her apartment, wanting to ask her about it, but knowing he couldn't. Upon reflection, he had even had to deny himself the outlet of anger. Just because Logan had perceived them to be in a kind of undisclosed relationship of sorts didn't mean Max did. He didn't have any claim on her, even if at times they seemed…connected.
No, the truth was whatever dance they were doing was destructive, slowly eroding Logan's peace of mind. When consciously considering it, he could pinpoint certain moments when he thought they'd danced close enough to nearly meet: the time in front of the cabin; the first time he'd regained the ability to walk; before their anniversary; right before he'd regained the ability to walk permanently. Each time, one of them had been responsible for pulling away.
The most recent time had been his own fault. Logan couldn't forget what he'd felt when she'd returned with a cure he didn't know existed. He had been relieved to see her alive, angry at the danger she'd put herself in, immensely grateful that she'd obviously cared so much so do this for him. He remembered pulling her into his lap, anxiously running his hands over her arms and hair to make sure she was okay, that Manticore hadn't somehow gotten to her during her brief visit.
She had looked so… accepting of his embrace, so tender even. Closing his eyes, Logan remembered the exchange:
"Max, don't you ever, ever do something so stupidly reckless for me again. I couldn't deal if I lost you for trying to do me some crazy favor." Impulse had made him reckless in his speech.
Max's voice had been nearly tearful, "I had to Logan; I had to fix this. It's because of me you were shot, if I hadn't been so…" she hadn't finished, just looked at him as a tear streaked down her face. "I needed to do this," she whispered.
Her admission had felt like someone knocking the wind out of his lungs or like waking from an amazing dream only to find you were trapped in a jail cell. She felt guilty? Is that why she'd come back to him? Continued to help him? Had dinner with him? Played chess? Did she feel like she had been paying back some cosmic debt?
God, he'd felt like such a chump. The meaning behind her intense stares suddenly looked back at him in the form of guilt and pity. He couldn't take it.
Gently he'd pulled her up from his lap. He firmly stated: "Max, this wasn't your fault. It was never your fault, and I have never blamed you for it even for one second. You don't owe me anything."
His words were sincere, but Max shifted uncomfortably as if she could sense something else behind them. She looked slightly confused, but had nodded: "Well either way, it will be better soon."
He'd gave her a small smile in return, as the lump had settled in his stomach. And with the cure, he realized, she'd soon be gone too.
That had been four months ago, he speculated. Things hadn't changed, except for a slight distance on his side. Recently, he'd even felt himself dancing back toward her. Finding reasons to call her over or have her stay after dinner.
And this mission, and the events of the recent few weeks, which had so ruthlessly pushed the thought of sex to the forefront of his mind, had forced Logan to see that no matter what Max's reasons for being near him were, his own were decidedly "like that."
Who was he kidding, Logan asked himself. He'd always been incredibly attracted to her, undoubtedly physically, but also psychologically. He was fascinated but what made her tick. He'd wanted to be something to her that she had never had: protector, friend, provider.
And if he was perfectly honest, Max had become something of the same for him. He felt, in some ways, that he belonged to her. Maybe it was Max's need to create a family with whoever she connect with; or the way she refused to let him keep things in neat, separate emotional boxes. But the results were that Logan felt he had certain obligations to Max. Not only in regards to her safety, but also in personal matters. For instance, since Max had come into his life, Logan always had this distinct sense of guilt when other women came on to him. He had never once, in over a year since his short reunion with Valerie, considered starting up a relationship with another woman. There simply wasn't space in his heart or room in his refrigerator.
Realizing how dangerous his thoughts had become, Logan once again turned on his back and willed himself to sleep. Tomorrow was too important to not be sharp. Besides, his thoughts had gone here in the past, only to be shifted back to their proper place by the light of the day. He just needed to do some intense workouts when he got home to clear his mind and quell his bodily urges. Not any easy task when he remembered Max's shiver in front of the mirror…
XXXXXXXX
For Max's part, she'd had no trouble going to sleep. In fact, she'd found herself yawning and stretching before she was even able to lie down. Immediately, the unconscious had leapt up and snatch her into its claws.
A familiar dream accosted Max. The black helicopters and hummers circling her location, the escape that forced her to dispose of some Manticore soldiers. The one lone soldier who Max made strip…,
If Max had cared enough to ever analyze this particular dream, she would have found a great deal to curse in her fucked up psyche.
But at that moment, the only thing her lust-addled brain could focus on was the warm body of the soldier sprawled out beneath her. As had become the pattern of her last few cycles, the figure eventually transformed into Logan, and Max woke with a jolt.
At the best of times, Heat was an unwelcome occurrence that panicked her. But here alone, far away from Original Cindy and the safety of her apartment Max nearly had a panic attack.
Panting heavily, Max's brain kept screaming: God no!! Not now, not here!!