Max grumbled the entire time on her motorcycle ride to Logan's.
Why now? First Alec, then Logan. God, where do I find these guys who ruin evenings? I haven't been so reluctant to see Logan since I was in heat. Logan is the last thing I want to see when I'm in heat. Am I in heat? No, I couldn't be. Body temperature's normal. Okay, girl. Check your pulse. Breathe in…breathe out…in…out. Don't think about Logan. Damn it, that's not gonna work—I'm gonna see him in like, five minutes. What the hell's the matter with me tonight? Why am I so pissy? Sketchy must have put something in my drink or something.
The fate of Grigory Efminovitch's reliquary filled with Jesus bones is in my hands. Ha. So what, though? All in a days work. Work I don't get paid for. Should I get paid for it? I am like Robin Hood—steal from the rich and give to the poor…nah, I don't think they pay transgenic killing machines to filch priceless items.
"You had to call me tonight of all nights," was the first thing out of her mouth.
"I apologize for any inconveniences," Logan responded, turning his wheelchair around from his computer screen and facing Max.
"Just one question: if this reliquary doesn't have any real power, why bother getting it from the Chosen?"
"It's an inestimable article," Logan said. "Like that baseball a few weeks ago. Ring a bell or are you too smashed to remember?"
"I don't get 'smashed,' okay?" Max plopped onto a chair and began playing with her nails, chipping at the metallic icy-blue polish Original Cindy had applied only the night before.
"What's the word you use, then?"
"None! I don't…I don't get drunk. I do go a little overboard and—hey, why are we talking about me? What about you and Lady Ditz-A-Lot?"
"You mean Asha?"
"No, I mean my grandmother," Max rolled her eyes. "You gonna give me the address or do I stand here all night lookin' pretty?"
Logan's eyes traveled up and down her body, from the light curls of her hair, to her puppy-dog brown eyes, the pouty lips, the nape of her smooth alabaster neck, her round, firm breasts…he shook his head and sighed. "I'd rather you stand and look pretty, but work's work."
"Blah, blah—" Max muttered.
"Woof, woof," he finished for her. "Heard it all before, Max." He turned back to his computer, shimmied the mouse around for a few, clicking on this and that. Then, the printer booted up and began to print out the info Max would be needing. "The leader of the Chosen is Aurelius Parvo."
"What exactly is the Chosen up to, anyway?"
"They're the usual cult," Logan smirked. "Only they worship Grigory Efminovitch, who, like I said, was a monk. Most people considered him a holy man back in the 1890's, when it was believed he could cure Alexei Romanov's hemophilia. He was murdered by Tsar Nicholas's nephew-in-law. The Chosen sacrifice animals in Grigory Efminovitch's name, kidnap people and brainwash them, to make them part of their group and turn people against their own religion and Aurelius Parvo has been arrested for indecent exposure thirteen times—"
"You're kidding me."
"I kid not. He can be found wandering around nude with a streak of goat's blood across his chest in sector eight, screaming, 'Believe in the power of Grigory!'"
"How obscene."
"He's done worse, stuff I won't say in the presence of a lady."
"You callin' me a lady?"
"Well," Logan fumbled with his glasses. "Anyway, Aurelius Parvo has also been known to plant mini-bombs on his ex-followers."
"Are you saying this is dangerous?" Max got up, plopped onto the hardwood floor and began to stretch her leg muscles. "I laugh in the face of danger. Ha, ha, h—" she was cut off by a bolt of lightning and she shrieked in surprise. "Damn it! How cliché is that, huh?" She stood and whipped the newly printed paper off the desk and scrutinized it. "Shit. I have to go into Steelhead territory?"
"Not into it—pass it. I thought you laughed in the face of danger?"
Max folded the paper four times and tucked it into her jacket. "Yeah, well—maybe only in ones named Aurelius."
A soft smile played on Logan's lips. "Go get 'em, Tiger."
Max winked and left, not looking back, wishing she could hug him. Damn virus.