FIFTEEN

Marie regarded me with a look I couldn't decipher when we walked into Harry's, and it was not entirely welcoming as it usually was. The hard look in her eyes evaporated when she saw the blood soaking through my shirt. "Logan! Are you OK?"

I nodded absently.

"You've been shot!"

She made me take off my jacket and inspected the torn and bloody side of my shirt. She tentatively explored the area with her fingers and they came away wet with blood. "I'm OK," I reassured her. "I could really do with a beer, though."

"Harry!" There was an edge to Marie's voice I had never heard before. It was close to hysteria. Harry lumbered out of the kitchen, wiping his hands on a filthy apron, and frowned in my direction.

"Did you go and get yourself shot up?" Harry growled at me.

"Seems like it."

Harry sighed and waved me through the kitchen ahead of him. He yelled for Marie to get his medical kit. "Lordy but you do get yourself into some scraps," He grunted when he were in his tiny little office behind the kitchen. Marie appeared in the door, wide eyed and breathless, and handed Harry his kit. He shooed her out and settled his considerable bulk in his ratty old chair. Light bounced of his bald head as he leaned forward to inspect the wound. He shook his head and ordered me to strip to my waist. As I did as I was told, he grabbed some huge tweezers, some scissors and some cotton bud. "The bullet's still in there," He said. "You feel anything?"

"It's a bit uncomfortable."

"You're going to be in a lot more pain after I dig it out." He snatched a small bottle of whiskey from his desk and tossed it to me. "Take a good belt of this."

I opened the bottle and felt the jolt of the tweezers being shoved into the wound. The bullet had drove itself only a small way into my side, just under my ribs, and if Marie hadn't have pointed it out I probably would have passed out in another hour or two. I'd seen guys live for days after being shot in the belly, but they all wished they had died the instant the bullet struck them. I stifled a shout as he jerked the tweezers away, cursing.

"Can you get this thing out or not?" I said through gritted teeth.

Harry muttered something under his breath and wiped his forehead. "Been a while since I did this," He said by way of apology. "My hands aren't as steady as they used to be…" He grabbed the whiskey and took a belt of it himself, wiped his lips and glanced up at me. "I was a medic in the war. All of 21 years old and our real medic had been killed three weeks previous." He had started with the tweezers again, although this time I didn't feel it. "Now the perquisites for being a medic in the war was, being fast on your feet, knowing who was beyond saving and who to leave behind. Surgery was outta the question when you were being blown to hell on all sides. Most of the time I just said a prayer to the poor bastards with half their guts hangin' out and moved on. There was no time. A pretty little nurse named Juniper let me help her on her rounds, and I learned how to dig out and cut off whatever ailed a soldier, with little or no anesthetic…" He sucked his breath through his teeth. "..So this ain't the worst thing in the world."

This time he withdrew the bullet. He held it up for me to see, grunted, and dumped the bullet in a bowl of peanut shells on his desk. He held the cotton bud against the wound and found some tape to hold it in place. Pleased with himself, he lit a cigar and puffed away. "You're going to need stitches," he said around the stogie. "But you'll live."

"Thanks, Harry. I owe you one."

He leaned forward in his chair and fixed me with a look. "How's about you promise me somethin' and we'll call it even."

I started buttoning my shirt and raised an eyebrow at him. "A promise? That's it? You ain't got some unmarried cousin back in Iowa or something…"

"Logan, shut the hell up and listen for a change." His face was deadly serious, his eyes boring holes into mine. "That girl out there is real sweet on you. I wanna know what the hell you're doin' taking advantage of that."

"Harry, I ain't touched her."

He slapped the desk and his face flushed red. "Sure as hell you haven't! I even suspect somethin' like that happens and you'll have a lot more to worry about than just a bullet. You dumped some mighty heavy responsibility on her shoulders, bringing that little street urchin here and askin' Marie to baby sit."

I braced myself, squared my shoulders. "I'm sorry for that, Harry. If there was any other way…"

"Logan, don't even start in with the excuses 'cause I don't rightly care what circumstances bought you to this point. Did I ask you to explain why you've come into my establishment bleeding from a bullet wound? No. I pulled the goddamned thing outta you."

"And I appreciate it."

He ignored me. "What I'm concerned about is Marie. She's a good girl, a fine young belle. And she's sweet on you. I don't want her getting into trouble on account her feelings for you. Is this prostitute you dragged in here going to bring anything bad with her?"

I looked at the floor. "I don't think there's any danger, but I thought it would be safer if she had a roof over her head, and she's away from whoever killed her friend."

He nodded, puffed on his cigar thoughtfully. "You told anyone else she's here?"

"Give me some credit, Harry…"

"I'm serious as a heart attack, Logan. You serious about protectin' those girls?"

I nodded.

"If I shake your hand I have your word." He held his hand out and I shook it. He looked me in the eye and grunted. "Awright. Good enough for me."

"He's good as new," Harry announced as he emerged from the back room. He slapped me on the back. "And not without a few words from yours truly about playin' with the rough kids."

Marie smiled at him as she set a beer down in front of me. "Don't listen to his lectures, Logan," she said. "He's always in my ear with all that grown up stuff."

I gratefully accepted the beer, took a gulp, and smiled crookedly at Wraith. He held his beer up in salute. "Where's Honey?" I asked Marie.

Marie indicated behind me with a nod of her head. I turned to see Honey dressed in a uniform too biog for her, and she was cleaning tables. "She's been grumbling bout the work, bout the conditions, bout pretty much everything," Marie said. "But I think she's happy bein' off the streets."

"She give you any trouble?" I asked.

"Some at first. Mainly the you-can't-tell-me-what-to-do-I'm-all-grown-up speech, but after a few words from yours truly, she came around and started to see things my way." She grinned and tossed her wavy auburn hair, obviously proud of herself.

"You're a wonder, Marie."

"That's what they all say. Now if ya'll excuse me, I have some real customers to serve."

We stayed for a while after that, downed a few more beers, and decided to head out into whatever ambush was waiting for us on the other side of the door.

Of course, there were no assassins lying in wait for us when we walked into the parking lot, but there was a lone woman with flame-red hair leaning against Wraith's car, wearing a heavy coat against the chill. She was wearing the same coat when I'd seen her in the subway station. She looked up as we approached. Her eyes were puffy and red, as if she had been crying. "Mr. Logan," Madelyn said.

Wraith looked from her to me, clicked his fingers and grinned. "You know what? I think I left my keys back at the bar…" He turned around and whistled a tune as he went. He couldn't have misread the situation more. "You've been waiting for me," I said.

She nodded. "I needed to apologise to you for the way I acted the other day," She said in a small voice.

"I took no offence," I lied.

She lifted her chin as if in a challenge. Her eyes settled on me like heat seeking missiles, and there was something in those eyes that told me something was amiss, but I couldn't place exactly what that was. "The truth of the matter is, you scared me."

"I'm sorry if you were scared."

She nodded again, sighed. "You sounded so convinced that what you were saying was true. I'd seen you in the audience when I was onstage a few times, and mentioned it to Warren." She smiled. "He told me you were a violent, delusional drunk and I should stay away from you. Of course when you approached me the other day, my first instinct was fear." She shrugged. "But your sincerity was so touching. You called me Jean. Who was she, and why do I remind you of her?"

A spear of emotion almost ripped me in two. I swallowed hard. This was not a conversation I wanted to have right now. "You don't need to know that."

"She hurt you, didn't she?" Her voice was more insistent now. She took a step closer and I stepped back. I looked over my shoulder to make sure Ricky wasn't behind me, waiting to pound me in that gorilla-like way of his.

"I thought you were someone I knew a long time ago," I said quietly. "But I was wrong. Warren was only acting like the jealous bastard he is."

"Logan, you need to understand something here…" She reached out and touched my arm. Her eyes were on me, seeking mine out. "…I don't remember how I came to work for Warren, don't remember anything about my childhood, and as I have made clear before, I certainly don't remember you." She paused and ran a trembling hand through her hair. "I don't expect you to believe me."

"I don't have much reason to believe anyone."

"I've taken a great risk seeing you tonight."

I struggled to form a response. "What do you want me to do?"

She smiled sadly and shrugged. "You're looking for answers, just like me. I can help you look for your answers, if you help me look for mine."

I let a few beats of silence draw out longer than was comfortable. "OK."