"Mornin', Walter Mitty, got those shoes yet?"
The sound of drinks clinking each other made Veronica turn around to Sara's judgmental eyebrows, one raised much higher than the other. She glanced at the tray that had just been pushed in front of her.
"I'm sorry," said Shannon's ditzy voice, "I wasn't paying attention."
Veronica tried a small giggle.
"Figures." Sara had a hand on her hip and another on the bar. "It's kinda hard serving cocktails when you're busy makin' eye babies with the boss."
Veronica blushed in spite of herself. It was just a shared glance, really, before Logan slipped into the Red Room; but maybe she hadn't been as discreet as she thought.
Better play it safe though.
"I don't know what you're talking about." Veronica giggled as she lifted the tray on to the bar and made her way to the opposite side.
Nothing says, "tell me more" like denial does.
"You wanted your prince, and I guess you found one," Sara spoke as she wiped glasses with the precision and speed of a well-oiled machine. "I'm surprised. Mr. Lester's 'dates' don't tend to last long around here."
"Oh? He takes a lot of girls home?" She just had to ask.
"Here and there," Sara huffed, quickly counting the glasses she'd wiped, "they usually disappear soon, since he's an eternal bachelor. You're the longest one yet. Congratulations, princess, guess your fairy godmother showed up just in time to sprinkle fainting powder on you."
Veronica didn't miss the sarcasm in Sara's comments. Unromantic though she be, matter-of-fact Sara did notice a lot of things. Shannon Mayfield's sudden fainting spell, Mr. Lester's rescue, and his quick pardon for how she had followed him to the alley last week did paint an inevitable damsel-in-distress scenario.
"I'll serve these drinks." Veronica took off, trying to ignore the disdain on Sara's face.
Veronica's mind refused to calm down as she maneuvered between clusters of people in the now-familiar club. Even if it had just been a quick question, there was something vaguely uncomfortable about using Sara to gain insight into Logan's life. It wasn't that she couldn't keep herself updated with his habits over the years. Nothing spells access to information like F, B, and I. She had to admit, albeit unwillingly, that refusing to check up on him had been a deliberate choice.
The thing is, keeping tabs on someone - no matter how casually done - means running the risk that someone significant to you has ceased to find you significant to him. And as much as I like risks, those aren't my type.
Add the occasional tabloid cover to the equation, and one gets Veronica Mars in her full-throttle stoicism.
Veronica almost jumped when she felt a strong hand grip her upper arm. She fought every instinct to turn and punch her aggressor in the face and, instead, slowly looked behind her.
In the many shadows caused by the club lights, she vaguely made out Logan's form. His free hand motioned for her to be quiet.
She nodded, acknowledging his presence. He tugged her - drinks and all - into the corner after him.
The distance was just a few strides for him, but probably many more for Veronica, as they stepped passed several corners partially covered by shimmering curtains. The Marines was laid out in the form on an amoeba, with crooks and curves galore. The floor plan provided privacy for the many tabloid-sought customers, and it also made the underground club look more spacious than it was.
After two more turns, they stopped in front of a wall painted in postmodern patterns of black and white. Veronica placed her tray on a side table nearby.
Logan checked around him; then he quickly placed his palm flat on a black polygon on the wall. The polygon instantly transformed into a screen of numbers.
"Scan complete. Please enter access code," a barely-audible voice announced from a hidden speaker.
7580-0922-8371-2311
Logan procured the 16-digit code from memory as he pressed the numbers. His peripheral vision caught a small smile on Veronica's face. He turned and quirked an eyebrow. "Someone told me the best codes are completely random," he quipped.
She smiled just a little wider.
After a mandatory five seconds, a section of the wall - just one meter in width - slid magically open.
Logan could hear a small gasp from Veronica as they quickly stepped into the dark space that was 90% screens and gadgets. The wall sealed back behind them.
I'll impress you yet.
There were two tiny pin lights in the very contained space, but sufficient light poured in every direction from the 50 screens laid out all over. The long desk in front of them was almost completely covered in monitors, keyboards, and countless other peripherals. Logan pulled out one of the two swivel chairs present and placed himself in the other.
"Welcome to the security hub." He gestured around him with a smile on his face. Veronica looked almost impressed. He could get used to this. "I should've taken you here sooner, but it's almost impossible to keep everyone out."
Veronica slowly sat down on the empty chair while her eyes continued to take in every image on every screen - live encounters from every corner of The Marines. She nodded slowly.
Logan glanced at his watch. "We have ten minutes. I'll play you what you need. It might take lesser men longer to find out that there was no real bomb threat, but our team would be done in ten."
Well-prepared, he nimbly pressed a few keys. The screens in front of them merged into one big image.
"The security team uses an encryption that disallows any copies to be made of the files. So we can only play it here," he explained as he typed in password after password. "We also don't keep any footage here that's older than a week, and I currently don't have an excuse to retrieve the files from Hearn."
"He keeps the old files?"
Logan's heart skipped at the first time he heard her voice for the evening.
How does she keep doing this to me?
"We all keep something different for calculated leverage and accountability," Logan answered, trying to concentrate. "Each owner gets his own thing. I keep the land titles of The Marines; Morris is the manager; Marks's law firm provides legal counsel; Hearn keeps the security tapes; and Larkin keeps all the financial records."
Veronica nodded. A new image loaded on the screen.
"And this," Logan stood as he spoke, "is the footage from the evening Ashley Lu was attacked."
Veronica jumped up instantly, her eyes glued to the screen.
Man, she's hot when she's investigating.
His eyes trailed down her petite frame and how she leaned forward so intensely with her hands on the desk. His mind travelled back for a brief moment at how she had first helped him with finding his mom all those years ago, then of how she helped him identify Trina's boyfriend, and then how he had helped her not get dragged into a Camelot Motel room with a dishonest federal agent - and, of course, what all that had led to.
Almost ten years, Logan Echolls, and you're still as smitten as you've ever been.
He tried to turn back to the screen.
Veronica seemed to know just when he did.
"She's been with him all night," she pointed out at the dancing couple on the screen. "Ashley was a 21-year-old grad student, not quite the heiress like Tanya; but with her father's law legacy, she was a well-known party girl who had her share of admirers. This guy, however, seems to be particularly taken with her. They've danced three songs together already, and he's whispering in her ear."
Logan nodded, trying to follow her words.
I'd love to whisper in your ear, my dear.
"Tanya was raped before she was murdered. Ashley wasn't. Instead, when we found her in the alley, there was three grand in cash missing from her wallet, and all her jewelry - worth another two grand - was all gone. Do you think the security team could've gotten them first before calling you?"
"No," Logan responded. "They're paid well; we've never had problems. And honestly? If they were to take anything, a dead GHB victim would be too attention-grabbing of a target. There are plenty of other careless millionaires to steal from around here."
"Okay." Veronica continued to study the screen.
She's taking my word at face value for once? Wow, bring out the champagne, man.
Trying to contribute, Logan scrutinized Ashley's dance partner on the screen.
"He doesn't look like he needs the money either," he remarked. "His watch alone would buy a house, and that Armani beauty is too well-tailored to have been borrowed."
Veronica smiled for a bit, probably amused at his observations. "I agree."
The two watched in silence as Ashley parted with the mystery man. When the man turned to leave the dance floor, he glanced up at the camera for a brief moment.
Veronica and Logan caught their breath collectively.
Logan exhaled first. He looked at Veronica.
"It's not him," he whispered, carefully observing her face.
She relaxed and nodded, her eyes never leaving the screen for a moment.
Logan sighed.
I should never have made friends with Mercer Hayes. A look-a-like today, a nightmare tomorrow. She deserves relief.
A minute later, Ashley stood up from her seat on screen, her gait extremely erratic. Her arms flailed while she moved, and her footing took several steps to secure. Another minute later, she stumbled out of The Marines.
"Was it in her drink?" Veronica asked out loud.
Logan quickly rewinded the footage. Ashley had only taken one cocktail, a standard glass directly off the normal rounds. Several others had gotten similar drinks from the same tray with no effect.
Next to him, Veronica knitted her brow.
"Scan complete. Please enter access code." A soft female voice penetrated the small room.
They both jumped. Logan glanced at his watch.
"Shoot, I lost track of time!" He looked up apologetically. "We have about eight seconds. I have reason to be here, but not you."
Logan quickly restored the screens to their normal surveillance modes. Together, they scanned the room in vain for hiding places, even for someone as small as Veronica.
One number at a time, they listened to the access code being punched in.
Five seconds left.
Logan looked back at Veronica. She looked as uncertain as he felt.
Should I, should I -
On an impulse, he grabbed her by the shoulders and pressed her against the back wall. He picked up her hands and placed them on him - one on his waist and the other on his shoulder. He leaned down close to her ear.
"Don't scream," he whispered.
As the door slid open, he attached his lips to her neck.
Veronica gasped involuntarily as the warmth that started on her neck flooded through every single nerve she owned. Her eyes fluttered close. Her arms pulled him closer, pressing her body tightly against his. He responded instantly, his hands weaving around her and pressing her close. Suddenly, there was something extremely difficult about standing upright.
Logan's kisses were not deep or intense, but the soft, tender movement of his wet lips on her skin wiped off every coherent thought. Within two seconds, she was kissing him back, her own punctuated kisses trailing down behind his ear. Their faces turned towards each other, never stopping their train of kisses.
When their mouths connected, there was no nightclub, no security hub, and no inopportune employee. There was no Lance Lester or Shannon Mayfield. She tried to form her thoughts, but only one came -
Don't stop. Do not stop.
A deep moan escaped from Logan's throat, causing her limbs to shudder. Their lips parted; their tongues met. Suddenly, there was no more pretense, and their bodies snaked around each other like they always did.
Somewhere behind Logan, a faceless security officer mumbled something highly akin to "Sorry, excuse me," but she was too pre-occupied to find out.
Logan's tongue caressing hers, Logan's hands wandering up her sides, and Logan's firm body pushing her up against the wall - there was no other thing in the world. There was nothing else that mattered.
But a minute and a dozen kisses later, he set her gently on the ground and pulled away.
Logan, why -
Her thoughts halted at the expression on his face. His eyebrows were low, his eyes pained, and his lips pressed together; he looked - guilty. Did he never mean for that to happen?
Then as quickly as her rationale had vanished, it came pouring back. She was on a case; Logan was her informant. He was a club owner; she was a waitress. He was kissing her as a cover-up; and she - she had reciprocated as if her life depended on it.
"Ronnie, I - "
She pushed him away, punched the red button by the door, and ran as fast as she could.
It's kinda hard when you're busy makin' eye babies with the boss.
Sara's sarcastic words hammered in her brain as Veronica panted in the dim storage room. She threw her head back against the closed door. If Logan hadn't stopped them, who knew what real babies could've been made?
Veronica shut her eyes tight. A room full of wine cases was a very bad choice of location for emotional release.
She breathed in. What had she been thinking? For the past few days, even during the couple of nights she'd crashed at his place, she had everything completely under control. There were glances, there were smiles, and there were a couple of goodnight hugs. But even then, she had stayed in place. She was, after all, a federal agent under assignment.
But tonight, for some reason, she lost it. One touch of his lips to her skin - and she had forgotten everything she was supposed to be. She had successfully faked many relationships for cases before, even fooled a dirty old man that she was a high school dropout. But tonight - it suddenly stopped being about her case. Suddenly, it became about her.
And there you have it, the story of my life. Veronica Mars stuck in between - in between the right and wrong side of the tracks, between boyfriend and best friend, between love and anger, and between work and the rest of my life.
She buried her face between her arms. Her pager buzzed.
"Yeah?" Her voice was deplete of energy as she mumbled into her receiver.
"When are you getting the heck out of there?" Seth's high voice came bellowing over the line.
Veronica scoffed. "I'm fine, grandma, no missing limbs."
"The last thing I hear is Echolls telling you about number codes. Then you lost connection. What was I supposed to think after 20 minutes of dead silence?"
"That maybe it's none of your business?"
"You know it is, Agent Mars."
"And you know I don't care, Agent Perkins."
An exasperated sigh came through the line. "Veronica, let's be reasonable. I already agreed to let Echolls help you. I didn't even tell Agent Stone that you stayed over at his place. But Echolls knows who you are; you have to be careful. For all you know, he might be involved in this whole thing. He could be playing your feelings against you."
"Logan won't," she snapped. "And I don't have any feelings for him."
"Okay, okay, fine - let's say he won't and you don't," Seth tentatively conceded. "But he's still a suspect, Veronica - "
A knock on the door had Veronica abruptly cut off her call. She stood up and threw open the door.
"Miss Mayfield, Mr. Lester wants you in the Red Room."
A/N: And finally, I found time to finish the chapter. Happy new year to all! :) My warmest thanks to all my readers, with special mention to Bondopoulos, Angelpete87, kerali, nikatsu, viki, Piper Sky, Dramamomma19, dbsavmlvr, jaybeans, hansongirl14, irma66, Sunkissu9, NorCal91, hugsandpuppies, and BeWitchingRedhead36. Thank you so much for the encouragement! Hope to hear everyone's thoughts :)