Note: No silent readers, please! This was supposed to be 1 story, and turned into a 10-part series because of all of the positive feedback. Please post feedback, it's what keeps us writing.
Disclaimer: I don't own any of these characters, etc. etc.
Time frame: Directly following Part 7.
Dangerous Games 8: Pickup
Max hung up the phone and stuck her pager in her pocket. Looking around to make sure no one was watching, she smiled.
//If I move fast, I can get the goods, go home and deal with Kendra, and still be on time to punch my meal ticket.//
Not wanting to waste time going for her catsuit, Max decided her biking clothes were good enough for the basic break and enter job. Logan had said the building would be deserted past five o'clock. She located the ancient walk-up with no trouble. Disarming the simple security system was a matter of re-routing a few wires, and the lock was picked with even less effort.
//So far it's all on target. Gotta love a man who can take good directions.//
Max bounced up all eight flights of stairs and located office 802. She jimmied the deadbolt and walked in, closing the door behind her. Office 802 had obviously started life as a large storage closet. The windowless space barely held room for the desk, chair, and filing cabinets that crowded up against the industrial cement-block walls.
//Maybe my day job isn't so bad after all.//
Still, everything was right on track. As instructed, Max located the target disc in the third drawer of the left-hand cabinet, and a blank in the fifth drawer. She powered up the computer, popped in the disc, and started the system on making a copy. It looked like it would take a few minutes for the antique PC to complete the job. There was nothing to look at in the cheerless office, and rummaging the drawers was out when the job was supposed to be undetectable.
//Logan sounded so cute on the phone. Asking me for help like he was afraid I would say no. I do owe him a personal favor or two.//
Personal favors... Things had certainly gotten personal in the last twenty-four hours. And she was starting to wonder if that was really such a bad thing after all. It had its benefits, as long as it was confined to its proper place...The computer whirred on as Max's mind started wandering. Thinking about the proper place for...personal favors. And Logan. The strength in his arms, wrapped around her back. The rasp of his stubble against her cheek, his lips on her neck, his fingers tangling themselves into her hair.
//A girl could get used to personal pretty fast.//
Still lost in thought, Max reached to pull the completed disc from the drive. And heard footsteps in the hall. The sound of doorknobs being tried, and locks being turned. The beep of a radio directly outside her own door. "Building's secure. I'm going to get a sandwich," a voice said, as its owner threw the deadbolt. A deadbolt which Max soon discovered had no knob or keyhole on the inside. And the bolt sunk too deep into the socket to be popped with a knife, unless she broke it entirely.
//Damn it, how old is this building.//
Max mentally kicked herself. This was where personal was going to get her. Locked into some drone's corporate rathole with no windows and no lock to be picked. She could have broken the door down, but the deal depended on secrecy.
//Somehow I doubt a smashed door hanging on its hinges is going to be overlooked.//
She picked up the phone and tried to dial Logan, getting only an annoying series of beeps. No outside calls, then. Shit. Somehow she had to get the guard back up to let her out. Her mind raced.
//When locked in a nest of worker ants, do as the worker ants do.//
Grabbing the Rolodex, Max flipped to the S's and dialed the internal number for building security. She got the answering machine and waited for the beep.
"Hello?," Max said, raising her voice an octave and adding a giddy lilt. "Security? This is Lisa, from the eighth floor? And I think I like, left a coffeepot on? In one of the offices? But I'm not sure which one? And I'm really worried that the building could burn down? And I'll lose my job? So if you could check it out I would really appreciate it?" Beep.
//Now lets just hope he's a fast eater. An hour of this and I'll chew my way through the cement.//
Max moved the tiny coffeepot to the corner furthest from the door, and turned it on. She slid the desk over a few inches to partially block the way, and sat down behind the door to wait. She was fuming. This was the second time in a week Logan had "forgotten" to mention a security guard. So maybe she'd been a little lax herself in scoping out the situation, but still, the man could be a little more careful.
//Maybe he's trying to make me late for dinner. Or just piss me off so I won't show up at all. That's it, he's having second thoughts about the whole damn thing and he doesn't have the nerve to tell me.//
Max sat as the minutes ticked by. She tried to clear her mind, to meditate, to focus on....How did she let him talk her into these things? He beeped her pager, she jumped. And then called him back and asked how high. She'd never let anyone control her, since she was nine years old. So why this guy? She must be slipping. Letting go of Manticore training was one thing, but mooning over some cyber crusader was another. There had to be something wrong with her.
//Forget that, Max, it's just the voice. Everything he says in that voice of his seems so damn reasonable. Not to mention charming. Comes with the job. Eyes Only pushed your pause button a few times even before you knew it was Logan.//
Max nursed her anger as she waited for the guard to finish what had to be a six-course banquet. Fuming, she ran that eloquent voice of his through her mind, over and over. **Probably the most singularly beautiful face I've ever seen," he said, in front of the mirror, brushing the hair from the back of her neck, "And now I think I know pretty much everything.**
**It's hard to imagine a genetically enhanced killing machine like yourself putting up with that.**
Now she was really working herself up.
**The mark of Cain.**
**You have that 'Logan I need a favor look on your face.**
//He never knew when to shut up, did he?//
**You know what, Max, I'm having a hard enough time dealing with the here and now. You want to go listen to whatever pie in the sky Dr. Feelgood's hustling, be my guest. Just leave me out of it, OK?**
**Yeah, well, Not everybody has a genetically engineered universal donor looking out for them.**
//At least that was better than killing machine. He was improving. A bit.//
**I'll miss you.**
Max's innate sense of fairness was taking control.
**I'm sorry about the other night...maybe Eyes Only has been a way of not having to think about the less pleasant aspects of my life.**
//So maybe I haven't been so easy on him either.//
**I love you and want whatever I can get from you.**
Max took a deep breath and let it out again, her face softening.
*It's a personal favor. And I would appreciate it if you could help me out.**
**Be careful, please?**
Max sighed.
//So he gets pissy sometimes. He's a man, he can't help it. I'll just have to give him the chance to make up for it. If I ever get the hell out of here.//
Just then, Max heard the beautiful sound of footsteps in the hallway, and doors being opened and shut. She flattened herself to the wall behind the doorway. The guard opened the door and spotted the light on the coffee pot. As he squeezed his elderly frame through the narrow passage she had created, Max slipped around the door, down the stairs, and out into the street. She climbed on to her bike and made her way to the second address on her agenda.
//Not too bad. Shouldn't be more than an hour late, especially if I can convince Kendra to settle for the short version of the story.//
"You Joe? I've got a delivery for you."
Joe looked Max up and down, an appraising leer on his face. "You here for the Cale pickup?"
"Yeah," Max handed him the disc. "Sorry to hear you lost your keys, hope this will make up for it."
Joe popped it into the computer, giving the info a quick check and laughing. "Looks like I'll be getting my severance package after all. Thanks." He reached into a closet and pulled out a small cardboard box. Max began to open it..
Joe stopped her. "It's all in there, you don't have to check up on me," he grinned, looking somewhere lower than her face. "I wouldn't want to ruin a good time, especially for a lady as pretty as you. Now I understand why you're boyfriend was so eager for a quick exchange."
//What the hell is in this package?//
"He's not my...oh, never mind. And by the way, you forgot to mention the building had security."
Joe shrugged, still staring at her breasts. "Who, Murray? Is Murray still there? I thought they retired him too. Sorry."
"Yeah, right," Max said, disgusted. "Whatever. I'm out of here."
She turned to leave and Joe's eyes moved to her rear. "That boyfriend of yours shouldn't send a nice little girl like you out to do his dirty work for him. You ever get sick of him, don't forget who's got an unlimited supply of what you're holding in your hands. Joe knows how to treat a lady."
Max walked out and slammed the door behind her.
//Logan dear, you have some explaining to do.//
Max rode a few blocks until she reached a working pay phone. She picked it up and dialed Logan's number. He answered on the first ring.
"Hey, it's me. I've got your special delivery. But I'm going to be a little late, I haven't gotten home yet. Something came up."
"Mind if I ask what?" Logan replied.
"Murray."
"Murray?"
"Yeah, Murray," she said. "Don't worry about it, I'll explain later. And, um, Logan?"
"Yes?"
"What's in this package anyway?"
"Patience," he counseled, controlling the eagerness in his own voice. "I know that's not your strong suit, but make the effort."
"I'm not going to argue," Max said, wanting only to shower and get the feeling of Joe's eyes off her skin. "I'll see you in an hour."
Logan thought of Max, the package, the dinner, and Bling's advice.
"I'll be waiting."
Disclaimer: I don't own any of these characters, etc. etc.
Time frame: Directly following Part 7.
Dangerous Games 8: Pickup
Max hung up the phone and stuck her pager in her pocket. Looking around to make sure no one was watching, she smiled.
//If I move fast, I can get the goods, go home and deal with Kendra, and still be on time to punch my meal ticket.//
Not wanting to waste time going for her catsuit, Max decided her biking clothes were good enough for the basic break and enter job. Logan had said the building would be deserted past five o'clock. She located the ancient walk-up with no trouble. Disarming the simple security system was a matter of re-routing a few wires, and the lock was picked with even less effort.
//So far it's all on target. Gotta love a man who can take good directions.//
Max bounced up all eight flights of stairs and located office 802. She jimmied the deadbolt and walked in, closing the door behind her. Office 802 had obviously started life as a large storage closet. The windowless space barely held room for the desk, chair, and filing cabinets that crowded up against the industrial cement-block walls.
//Maybe my day job isn't so bad after all.//
Still, everything was right on track. As instructed, Max located the target disc in the third drawer of the left-hand cabinet, and a blank in the fifth drawer. She powered up the computer, popped in the disc, and started the system on making a copy. It looked like it would take a few minutes for the antique PC to complete the job. There was nothing to look at in the cheerless office, and rummaging the drawers was out when the job was supposed to be undetectable.
//Logan sounded so cute on the phone. Asking me for help like he was afraid I would say no. I do owe him a personal favor or two.//
Personal favors... Things had certainly gotten personal in the last twenty-four hours. And she was starting to wonder if that was really such a bad thing after all. It had its benefits, as long as it was confined to its proper place...The computer whirred on as Max's mind started wandering. Thinking about the proper place for...personal favors. And Logan. The strength in his arms, wrapped around her back. The rasp of his stubble against her cheek, his lips on her neck, his fingers tangling themselves into her hair.
//A girl could get used to personal pretty fast.//
Still lost in thought, Max reached to pull the completed disc from the drive. And heard footsteps in the hall. The sound of doorknobs being tried, and locks being turned. The beep of a radio directly outside her own door. "Building's secure. I'm going to get a sandwich," a voice said, as its owner threw the deadbolt. A deadbolt which Max soon discovered had no knob or keyhole on the inside. And the bolt sunk too deep into the socket to be popped with a knife, unless she broke it entirely.
//Damn it, how old is this building.//
Max mentally kicked herself. This was where personal was going to get her. Locked into some drone's corporate rathole with no windows and no lock to be picked. She could have broken the door down, but the deal depended on secrecy.
//Somehow I doubt a smashed door hanging on its hinges is going to be overlooked.//
She picked up the phone and tried to dial Logan, getting only an annoying series of beeps. No outside calls, then. Shit. Somehow she had to get the guard back up to let her out. Her mind raced.
//When locked in a nest of worker ants, do as the worker ants do.//
Grabbing the Rolodex, Max flipped to the S's and dialed the internal number for building security. She got the answering machine and waited for the beep.
"Hello?," Max said, raising her voice an octave and adding a giddy lilt. "Security? This is Lisa, from the eighth floor? And I think I like, left a coffeepot on? In one of the offices? But I'm not sure which one? And I'm really worried that the building could burn down? And I'll lose my job? So if you could check it out I would really appreciate it?" Beep.
//Now lets just hope he's a fast eater. An hour of this and I'll chew my way through the cement.//
Max moved the tiny coffeepot to the corner furthest from the door, and turned it on. She slid the desk over a few inches to partially block the way, and sat down behind the door to wait. She was fuming. This was the second time in a week Logan had "forgotten" to mention a security guard. So maybe she'd been a little lax herself in scoping out the situation, but still, the man could be a little more careful.
//Maybe he's trying to make me late for dinner. Or just piss me off so I won't show up at all. That's it, he's having second thoughts about the whole damn thing and he doesn't have the nerve to tell me.//
Max sat as the minutes ticked by. She tried to clear her mind, to meditate, to focus on....How did she let him talk her into these things? He beeped her pager, she jumped. And then called him back and asked how high. She'd never let anyone control her, since she was nine years old. So why this guy? She must be slipping. Letting go of Manticore training was one thing, but mooning over some cyber crusader was another. There had to be something wrong with her.
//Forget that, Max, it's just the voice. Everything he says in that voice of his seems so damn reasonable. Not to mention charming. Comes with the job. Eyes Only pushed your pause button a few times even before you knew it was Logan.//
Max nursed her anger as she waited for the guard to finish what had to be a six-course banquet. Fuming, she ran that eloquent voice of his through her mind, over and over. **Probably the most singularly beautiful face I've ever seen," he said, in front of the mirror, brushing the hair from the back of her neck, "And now I think I know pretty much everything.**
**It's hard to imagine a genetically enhanced killing machine like yourself putting up with that.**
Now she was really working herself up.
**The mark of Cain.**
**You have that 'Logan I need a favor look on your face.**
//He never knew when to shut up, did he?//
**You know what, Max, I'm having a hard enough time dealing with the here and now. You want to go listen to whatever pie in the sky Dr. Feelgood's hustling, be my guest. Just leave me out of it, OK?**
**Yeah, well, Not everybody has a genetically engineered universal donor looking out for them.**
//At least that was better than killing machine. He was improving. A bit.//
**I'll miss you.**
Max's innate sense of fairness was taking control.
**I'm sorry about the other night...maybe Eyes Only has been a way of not having to think about the less pleasant aspects of my life.**
//So maybe I haven't been so easy on him either.//
**I love you and want whatever I can get from you.**
Max took a deep breath and let it out again, her face softening.
*It's a personal favor. And I would appreciate it if you could help me out.**
**Be careful, please?**
Max sighed.
//So he gets pissy sometimes. He's a man, he can't help it. I'll just have to give him the chance to make up for it. If I ever get the hell out of here.//
Just then, Max heard the beautiful sound of footsteps in the hallway, and doors being opened and shut. She flattened herself to the wall behind the doorway. The guard opened the door and spotted the light on the coffee pot. As he squeezed his elderly frame through the narrow passage she had created, Max slipped around the door, down the stairs, and out into the street. She climbed on to her bike and made her way to the second address on her agenda.
//Not too bad. Shouldn't be more than an hour late, especially if I can convince Kendra to settle for the short version of the story.//
"You Joe? I've got a delivery for you."
Joe looked Max up and down, an appraising leer on his face. "You here for the Cale pickup?"
"Yeah," Max handed him the disc. "Sorry to hear you lost your keys, hope this will make up for it."
Joe popped it into the computer, giving the info a quick check and laughing. "Looks like I'll be getting my severance package after all. Thanks." He reached into a closet and pulled out a small cardboard box. Max began to open it..
Joe stopped her. "It's all in there, you don't have to check up on me," he grinned, looking somewhere lower than her face. "I wouldn't want to ruin a good time, especially for a lady as pretty as you. Now I understand why you're boyfriend was so eager for a quick exchange."
//What the hell is in this package?//
"He's not my...oh, never mind. And by the way, you forgot to mention the building had security."
Joe shrugged, still staring at her breasts. "Who, Murray? Is Murray still there? I thought they retired him too. Sorry."
"Yeah, right," Max said, disgusted. "Whatever. I'm out of here."
She turned to leave and Joe's eyes moved to her rear. "That boyfriend of yours shouldn't send a nice little girl like you out to do his dirty work for him. You ever get sick of him, don't forget who's got an unlimited supply of what you're holding in your hands. Joe knows how to treat a lady."
Max walked out and slammed the door behind her.
//Logan dear, you have some explaining to do.//
Max rode a few blocks until she reached a working pay phone. She picked it up and dialed Logan's number. He answered on the first ring.
"Hey, it's me. I've got your special delivery. But I'm going to be a little late, I haven't gotten home yet. Something came up."
"Mind if I ask what?" Logan replied.
"Murray."
"Murray?"
"Yeah, Murray," she said. "Don't worry about it, I'll explain later. And, um, Logan?"
"Yes?"
"What's in this package anyway?"
"Patience," he counseled, controlling the eagerness in his own voice. "I know that's not your strong suit, but make the effort."
"I'm not going to argue," Max said, wanting only to shower and get the feeling of Joe's eyes off her skin. "I'll see you in an hour."
Logan thought of Max, the package, the dinner, and Bling's advice.
"I'll be waiting."