As usual my many thanks to my committed reviewers, and any first timers -
I SO appreciate them! Here's my next chapter. I'm not sure when I'm going
to get my Christmas shopping done - I'm spending all my time at the
computer!!
Chapter 10
It was well and truly dark by the time they arrived back at Fogle Towers, the rain Max had predicted earlier, falling heavily through the sky, caught in the car's headlights like thousands of sparkling diamonds.
The mechanical, rhythmic whirring of the windshield wipers beat a steady tattoo on Max's troubled thoughts.
She had said very little the rest of the way home.
Sensing a little of what she was thinking, Logan said gently, "Well, the first part of the drive was relaxing."
"Yeah, well we should never have gone out in the first place," Max snapped back at him. "What the hell was I thinking of?" she berated herself.
"You were thinking a drive in the fresh air would be a good idea," said Logan evenly. "That's what 'normal' people do."
"Yeah, well maybe we're not normal."
Max jabbed vindictively at the button for the penthouse.
It was a quiet ride in the elevator to Logan's apartment, each of them preoccupied with their own thoughts.
Max had taken every precaution when they'd returned to the parking lot, refusing to let Logan out until she'd done a thorough check of the area, despite his protests.
"Max, this guy could have taken me out any time he wanted to."
"Don't talk like that!" she'd rounded on him, angrily.
"Max. I hardly think being gunned down in a parking lot is his idea of style. The guy's a showman - theatrical."
"Yeah, well I'd like to show him a few 'theatrical' moves myself!" With that she got out of the car, and in a voice that brooked no argument said, "Wait here till I give the all clear."
Logan waited impatiently, drumming his fingers on the steering wheel. "You quite done?" he'd asked with a hint of sarcasm when she returned.
"For the moment," she replied coolly, her eyes still scanning the area as she spoke.
She knew there was a certain amount of truth to what Logan had said, going by the previous MO, but if there was one thing she'd learnt at Manticore, it was never underestimate your enemy, and you could never put a value on the element of surprise.
Her primary goal was to see Logan safely to his apartment, and, if she had her way, make sure he stayed there until this mess was sorted out.
She waited with growing nervousness as Logan set up his wheelchair and transferred to it. Favouring his sore arm, it took him that little while longer and she was almost ready to damn his pride and take matters into her own hands, when finally he was ready, and they made their way, with a silence that spoke volumes, to the penthouse.
Bling was there to greet them when they came in. "Well, you two have a good ... time?" he went to ask, but stopped short when he saw their somber faces.
"You had trouble?" he asked instead.
"You might say that," replied Logan, wheeling past him, laptop on his knee.
Max watched Logan head into his computer room, a look on her face that was hard to read, and then turned to Bling, "I'll fill you in on it if you make me coffee."
*********************************************************
Going in search of Logan some time later, Bling found him sitting in front of the huge windows in the living area, his face pensive.
He looked up when he saw Bling.
"I need to change the dressing on your arm. D'you want me to do it now, or after dinner?"
"Later'll do," was the disinterested reply.
Bling went to walk away, but turned as Logan said, "Bling."
The trainer looked down at the man in front of him. He thought he knew what was coming.
"Max filled you in on what went down this afternoon?"
Bling nodded.
Logan spun around so that he was fully facing him. "Bling," he said with some difficulty, "I don't exactly have a good track record with bodyguards."
"Since when was changing a bandage life threatening?"
"You're not making this easy for me," complained Logan.
"You wanna fire me?" challenged Bling.
"Bling ..." said Logan uncomfortably.
"You don't like my cooking?"
Logan just looked at him.
"Good, then if you make your way to the table, we can have dinner." Thus putting an end to the conversation he turned and walked away.
************************************************************************
You would hardly describe dinner as a sparkling affair.
Logan seemed to poke at his dinner rather than eat it.
Max ate hers, but spent a good deal of the time staring out the window she was facing.
Between the two of them, Bling had a hard time getting any sort of conversation going.
It was during one of the frequent, long and painful silences that Logan's cell phone rang.
Pushing himself back with his arms he let himself roll back from the table, and spun around so that his back was turned towards the others.
Eating her meal, Max could naturally hear Logan's side of the conversation.
"Hey Matt ... Really?... That's great ...You think he's on
the level?...Good ... When?" At this point Logan paused for a second, before
replying: "Sure, what time?... Monday 4pm ... Okay, I'll hear from you."
Putting the phone back in his lap, Logan returned to the table. The meal before him was suddenly very interesting.
Feeling Max's eyes on him, he eventually shot her a quick look.
It was the opportunity she'd been waiting for. "Was that Matt Sung?" she asked him, in a polite voice.
"Uh huh." Logan returned to studying his food.
"You wouldn't have arranged to meet him at anytime in the near future?" she asked, a hint of provocation in her voice.
"As a matter of fact, I have," replied Logan, unable to keep the sharpness out of his own.
Without a word, but a look that said everything, Max abruptly got up and took her plate to the sink, where she proceeded to wash it and anything else at hand, with great vengeance.
Bling gave Logan a long, slow look.
"Do you think that's wise?" he asked in a low voice.
"I think it's important," Logan contradicted him.
********************************************************
Bling cleared the remainder of the dishes from the table, and then returned to Logan who was staring moodily out the window. In his hand he carried bandages and other paraphernalia. Logan, seeing his intent pulled a face, but slipped his right arm out of his sleeve, frowning slightly as he did so.
Gently Bling unrolled the current bandage on Logan's arm, revealing the long slash mark that went three quarters of the way down Logan's upper arm, the dark stitches adding to the grotesque appearance of the injury.
He wasn't entirely happy with what he saw. "You're going to need to rest this arm a bit more if you want it to heal quicker than this."
"I'm doin' the best I can," Logan bit back.
Looking around for his scissors, Bling realized he'd left them on the kitchen counter.
"Max, would you mind bringing those scissors over here?" he called.
He saw Logan throw him a very annoyed look, which he blithely ignored.
"Here you go Bling."
Max handed the scissors over, at the same time unable to resist having a look at Logan's arm. It was far worse than she had suspected. She felt that familiar twist in her stomach, her eyes momentarily meeting Logan's. Something of her concern must have shown in her eyes, because Logan immediately said, "It looks worse than it is."
Controlling herself, she waited till Bling had finished his ministrations, and was packing them up in the kitchen.
With an angry gesture towards the arm she spat out, "And you want to go out and meet Matt Sung? 'You got a death wish?"
"Matt Sung has set up an interview with an informant who has solid information on Heinrich Bueller."
"So! I'm supposed to care?"
"Heinrich Bueller happens to be the man behind a major crime syndicate operating here in Seattle, and I've been trying to arrange this for 6 weeks." Logan's frustration was beginning to show.
"Then surely another few days won't matter until we sort this bitch out!"
"It's all about fear Max. This is what he wants - he's a player." Through his anger, Logan tried to sound like the voice of reason.
"Damn straight it is. And you know something - it's working," said Max with cool sarcasm.
"Well, I for one, am not going to be dictated to by an emotion!" Logan didn't bother to hold his anger back now.
"Well what about some old fashioned common sense!" Nor did Max.
"Well I haven't noticed YOU putting your life on hold every time some goon from Manticore shows up!"
She wanted to say – But I'm not in a wheelchair, with every crime boss in the city looking for me!!
As she bit back the words, a revelation hit her with a force that stunned her: it wasn't because Logan was in a wheelchair that she worried, she worried simply because he was Logan.
Logan had been more accurate than he knew. It 'was' personal - it was all about 'him'.
The force of the emotion scared her. "You're losin' it girl!" she thought to herself.
Logan watching her had no idea what was going through her head, but all he could see when he looked at those brown eyes was that she was distressed, and once again he knew he was the cause of it.
"If you're so intent on playing bodyguard, you could always come along." As far as invitations went, it was hardly gracious, but then, Logan wasn't one to give in easily.
"Yeah, sure," replied Max, suddenly confused about everything. All she knew was that it was dangerous to be in his presence.
"I guess you've got some Eyes Only stuff to do on this guy. I'll leave you to it."
Turning around she added, "I know Bling's here tonight, but after today, I think it would be a good idea if I stayed as well."
Logan shrugged. "Have it your way."
******************************************************************
Logan sat at his computer and tried to work, but for some reason his mind was having a hard time processing the information before him. He told himself it was the constant twinge of pain in his arm every time he moved it, rather than the fact that Max was playing chess with Bling in the next room.
Instead of the computer screen he was seeing: her face, her relaxed pose, her hand moving the chess piece with precision, the confident little half smile that played upon her lips, her eyes regarding Bling, waiting for his next move.
At that thought he hit the key with unnecessary force, only to realize that he'd exited the screen he'd wanted and had lost some important unsaved information.
"Dammit."
"You okay in there?" came Bling's voice.
"Sure. Fine," Logan replied darkly.
He could hear them laughing now, Bling acknowledging his defeat.
"You play a good game." Her voice was complimentary.
Bling laughed again. "I know I'm not up to Logan's standard."
"I don't know, you seem to make all the right moves."
Logan rubbed at the back of his head, then moved to touch the mouse, hesitated, frowned again, looked at the screen unseeingly, and then tapped spitefully with his backspace bar as he removed the information he's just entered.
*How was it she could make the simplest words sound so provocative!*
"Go figure!" he muttered, answering his own rhetoric.
Going back to the screen, he realized after some minutes, that he was only staring at it blankly again. Giving up life, the universe, and everything as a waste of time, he shut down the computer, and wheeled himself around to where they were playing.
"I'm goin' to bed," he announced abruptly.
Without missing a beat, Max said, "Good night."
Bling got up, excusing himself to Max.
"I don't need any help," Logan's words halted him.
"That's what I'm here for," answered Bling patiently.
"I'll shower in the morning."
Not willing to press it, judging by Logan's attitude, the trainer simply said, "Well, just call if you need me during the night."
Not wanting to be reminded in front of Max that even the simple act of turning over in bed was difficult for him with his arm so sore, he mumbled a good night and left them to their game.
****************************************************************
Logan looked over at the clock beside his bed. Squinting without his glasses, the numbers appeared slightly blurred, but with frustration he read them to be 3:57 a.m. He wondered what had induced him to go to bed so early - well, early for him anyway.
He remembered his last thought being, "I should change my position," when he realized he was jolting awake again.
Just in that infinitesimal fragment of time between waking and sleeping, two words crept into his consciousness, and the final files were pulled back to reveal that which had been locked in his memory since he was a student at Yale.
TBC
Chapter 10
It was well and truly dark by the time they arrived back at Fogle Towers, the rain Max had predicted earlier, falling heavily through the sky, caught in the car's headlights like thousands of sparkling diamonds.
The mechanical, rhythmic whirring of the windshield wipers beat a steady tattoo on Max's troubled thoughts.
She had said very little the rest of the way home.
Sensing a little of what she was thinking, Logan said gently, "Well, the first part of the drive was relaxing."
"Yeah, well we should never have gone out in the first place," Max snapped back at him. "What the hell was I thinking of?" she berated herself.
"You were thinking a drive in the fresh air would be a good idea," said Logan evenly. "That's what 'normal' people do."
"Yeah, well maybe we're not normal."
Max jabbed vindictively at the button for the penthouse.
It was a quiet ride in the elevator to Logan's apartment, each of them preoccupied with their own thoughts.
Max had taken every precaution when they'd returned to the parking lot, refusing to let Logan out until she'd done a thorough check of the area, despite his protests.
"Max, this guy could have taken me out any time he wanted to."
"Don't talk like that!" she'd rounded on him, angrily.
"Max. I hardly think being gunned down in a parking lot is his idea of style. The guy's a showman - theatrical."
"Yeah, well I'd like to show him a few 'theatrical' moves myself!" With that she got out of the car, and in a voice that brooked no argument said, "Wait here till I give the all clear."
Logan waited impatiently, drumming his fingers on the steering wheel. "You quite done?" he'd asked with a hint of sarcasm when she returned.
"For the moment," she replied coolly, her eyes still scanning the area as she spoke.
She knew there was a certain amount of truth to what Logan had said, going by the previous MO, but if there was one thing she'd learnt at Manticore, it was never underestimate your enemy, and you could never put a value on the element of surprise.
Her primary goal was to see Logan safely to his apartment, and, if she had her way, make sure he stayed there until this mess was sorted out.
She waited with growing nervousness as Logan set up his wheelchair and transferred to it. Favouring his sore arm, it took him that little while longer and she was almost ready to damn his pride and take matters into her own hands, when finally he was ready, and they made their way, with a silence that spoke volumes, to the penthouse.
Bling was there to greet them when they came in. "Well, you two have a good ... time?" he went to ask, but stopped short when he saw their somber faces.
"You had trouble?" he asked instead.
"You might say that," replied Logan, wheeling past him, laptop on his knee.
Max watched Logan head into his computer room, a look on her face that was hard to read, and then turned to Bling, "I'll fill you in on it if you make me coffee."
*********************************************************
Going in search of Logan some time later, Bling found him sitting in front of the huge windows in the living area, his face pensive.
He looked up when he saw Bling.
"I need to change the dressing on your arm. D'you want me to do it now, or after dinner?"
"Later'll do," was the disinterested reply.
Bling went to walk away, but turned as Logan said, "Bling."
The trainer looked down at the man in front of him. He thought he knew what was coming.
"Max filled you in on what went down this afternoon?"
Bling nodded.
Logan spun around so that he was fully facing him. "Bling," he said with some difficulty, "I don't exactly have a good track record with bodyguards."
"Since when was changing a bandage life threatening?"
"You're not making this easy for me," complained Logan.
"You wanna fire me?" challenged Bling.
"Bling ..." said Logan uncomfortably.
"You don't like my cooking?"
Logan just looked at him.
"Good, then if you make your way to the table, we can have dinner." Thus putting an end to the conversation he turned and walked away.
************************************************************************
You would hardly describe dinner as a sparkling affair.
Logan seemed to poke at his dinner rather than eat it.
Max ate hers, but spent a good deal of the time staring out the window she was facing.
Between the two of them, Bling had a hard time getting any sort of conversation going.
It was during one of the frequent, long and painful silences that Logan's cell phone rang.
Pushing himself back with his arms he let himself roll back from the table, and spun around so that his back was turned towards the others.
Eating her meal, Max could naturally hear Logan's side of the conversation.
"Hey Matt ... Really?... That's great ...You think he's on
the level?...Good ... When?" At this point Logan paused for a second, before
replying: "Sure, what time?... Monday 4pm ... Okay, I'll hear from you."
Putting the phone back in his lap, Logan returned to the table. The meal before him was suddenly very interesting.
Feeling Max's eyes on him, he eventually shot her a quick look.
It was the opportunity she'd been waiting for. "Was that Matt Sung?" she asked him, in a polite voice.
"Uh huh." Logan returned to studying his food.
"You wouldn't have arranged to meet him at anytime in the near future?" she asked, a hint of provocation in her voice.
"As a matter of fact, I have," replied Logan, unable to keep the sharpness out of his own.
Without a word, but a look that said everything, Max abruptly got up and took her plate to the sink, where she proceeded to wash it and anything else at hand, with great vengeance.
Bling gave Logan a long, slow look.
"Do you think that's wise?" he asked in a low voice.
"I think it's important," Logan contradicted him.
********************************************************
Bling cleared the remainder of the dishes from the table, and then returned to Logan who was staring moodily out the window. In his hand he carried bandages and other paraphernalia. Logan, seeing his intent pulled a face, but slipped his right arm out of his sleeve, frowning slightly as he did so.
Gently Bling unrolled the current bandage on Logan's arm, revealing the long slash mark that went three quarters of the way down Logan's upper arm, the dark stitches adding to the grotesque appearance of the injury.
He wasn't entirely happy with what he saw. "You're going to need to rest this arm a bit more if you want it to heal quicker than this."
"I'm doin' the best I can," Logan bit back.
Looking around for his scissors, Bling realized he'd left them on the kitchen counter.
"Max, would you mind bringing those scissors over here?" he called.
He saw Logan throw him a very annoyed look, which he blithely ignored.
"Here you go Bling."
Max handed the scissors over, at the same time unable to resist having a look at Logan's arm. It was far worse than she had suspected. She felt that familiar twist in her stomach, her eyes momentarily meeting Logan's. Something of her concern must have shown in her eyes, because Logan immediately said, "It looks worse than it is."
Controlling herself, she waited till Bling had finished his ministrations, and was packing them up in the kitchen.
With an angry gesture towards the arm she spat out, "And you want to go out and meet Matt Sung? 'You got a death wish?"
"Matt Sung has set up an interview with an informant who has solid information on Heinrich Bueller."
"So! I'm supposed to care?"
"Heinrich Bueller happens to be the man behind a major crime syndicate operating here in Seattle, and I've been trying to arrange this for 6 weeks." Logan's frustration was beginning to show.
"Then surely another few days won't matter until we sort this bitch out!"
"It's all about fear Max. This is what he wants - he's a player." Through his anger, Logan tried to sound like the voice of reason.
"Damn straight it is. And you know something - it's working," said Max with cool sarcasm.
"Well, I for one, am not going to be dictated to by an emotion!" Logan didn't bother to hold his anger back now.
"Well what about some old fashioned common sense!" Nor did Max.
"Well I haven't noticed YOU putting your life on hold every time some goon from Manticore shows up!"
She wanted to say – But I'm not in a wheelchair, with every crime boss in the city looking for me!!
As she bit back the words, a revelation hit her with a force that stunned her: it wasn't because Logan was in a wheelchair that she worried, she worried simply because he was Logan.
Logan had been more accurate than he knew. It 'was' personal - it was all about 'him'.
The force of the emotion scared her. "You're losin' it girl!" she thought to herself.
Logan watching her had no idea what was going through her head, but all he could see when he looked at those brown eyes was that she was distressed, and once again he knew he was the cause of it.
"If you're so intent on playing bodyguard, you could always come along." As far as invitations went, it was hardly gracious, but then, Logan wasn't one to give in easily.
"Yeah, sure," replied Max, suddenly confused about everything. All she knew was that it was dangerous to be in his presence.
"I guess you've got some Eyes Only stuff to do on this guy. I'll leave you to it."
Turning around she added, "I know Bling's here tonight, but after today, I think it would be a good idea if I stayed as well."
Logan shrugged. "Have it your way."
******************************************************************
Logan sat at his computer and tried to work, but for some reason his mind was having a hard time processing the information before him. He told himself it was the constant twinge of pain in his arm every time he moved it, rather than the fact that Max was playing chess with Bling in the next room.
Instead of the computer screen he was seeing: her face, her relaxed pose, her hand moving the chess piece with precision, the confident little half smile that played upon her lips, her eyes regarding Bling, waiting for his next move.
At that thought he hit the key with unnecessary force, only to realize that he'd exited the screen he'd wanted and had lost some important unsaved information.
"Dammit."
"You okay in there?" came Bling's voice.
"Sure. Fine," Logan replied darkly.
He could hear them laughing now, Bling acknowledging his defeat.
"You play a good game." Her voice was complimentary.
Bling laughed again. "I know I'm not up to Logan's standard."
"I don't know, you seem to make all the right moves."
Logan rubbed at the back of his head, then moved to touch the mouse, hesitated, frowned again, looked at the screen unseeingly, and then tapped spitefully with his backspace bar as he removed the information he's just entered.
*How was it she could make the simplest words sound so provocative!*
"Go figure!" he muttered, answering his own rhetoric.
Going back to the screen, he realized after some minutes, that he was only staring at it blankly again. Giving up life, the universe, and everything as a waste of time, he shut down the computer, and wheeled himself around to where they were playing.
"I'm goin' to bed," he announced abruptly.
Without missing a beat, Max said, "Good night."
Bling got up, excusing himself to Max.
"I don't need any help," Logan's words halted him.
"That's what I'm here for," answered Bling patiently.
"I'll shower in the morning."
Not willing to press it, judging by Logan's attitude, the trainer simply said, "Well, just call if you need me during the night."
Not wanting to be reminded in front of Max that even the simple act of turning over in bed was difficult for him with his arm so sore, he mumbled a good night and left them to their game.
****************************************************************
Logan looked over at the clock beside his bed. Squinting without his glasses, the numbers appeared slightly blurred, but with frustration he read them to be 3:57 a.m. He wondered what had induced him to go to bed so early - well, early for him anyway.
He remembered his last thought being, "I should change my position," when he realized he was jolting awake again.
Just in that infinitesimal fragment of time between waking and sleeping, two words crept into his consciousness, and the final files were pulled back to reveal that which had been locked in his memory since he was a student at Yale.
TBC