A very big thankyou to all those kind enough to review!
Thanks as always to Alaidh for the beta.
Chapter 8
"Can you read it?" Logan asked Max intently as she held the folder up to the light.
"It looks like one-seven-two ...either Branson, Bronson, I can't quite tell."
Swivelling back to his computer, Logan's fingers flew over the keys while Max continued to examine the folder.
"I've got a Branson, Brunton, or even Hansen ... no, that one's not long enough. That leaves Branson or Brunton. What d'you think?" he asked, looking up at her.
"I think the first one, Branson, but I can't be sure," Max said, shaking her head a little.
Logan frowned at the computer screen. "Looks like Branson's in the warehouse district, down by the wharf. Brunton is a residential address."
Max nodded. "I know Branson, done a few deliveries there. Kinda ugly, not much around. What about the other one?"
Logan called up another screen and peered at it closely. "Definitely suburbia."
"Two cars, one dog, 2.5 kids Max rapped out smartly.
"Well," remarked Logan a touch absently, "maybe pre-pulse ... but now ..." His voice wandered off as he checked out the two addresses, then he added mildly, "of course," and here he swung around to face her, "we're assuming it was an actual Seattle address."
Max's face fell a little. "Damn. I hadn't thought of that."
"Still, no reason why we can't check them out tonight ... just in case," Logan added suggestively.
"Sure," Max smiled back at him, "just so long as you have dinner waiting here for me when I get back," she agreed playfully.
Logan eyes narrowed a little as she finished, an uneasy, ambivalent expression on his face as if he had something to say but wasn't sure how to put it into words.
Max looked at him suspiciously. "Cat got your tongue?" she asked, almost provocatively.
"You know, this isn't really Eyes Only stuff," he tried, glancing up at her quickly as he let the brakes off with a snap and wheeled through to the living room.
"So?" Max shrugged, following him, her hips swaying with an easy stride, a hint of skin showing at the top of her jeans beneath the red top she wore under her denim jacket.
Logan hesitated, not sure what to say. It wasn't that he didn't have confidence in her ability, but he'd been reminded today that bullets don't make exceptions, even for stunningly beautiful, transgenic cat burglars.
"Whoever I'm up against is playing for keeps, Max," he finally said with a serious tone.
"What, the 'general' is thinking of going it alone?" she asked with a brittle smile, quick to pick up on the 'I' and finding, to her surprise, that it hurt a little.
Logan got as far as the windows and was forced to stop.
"Not exactly," he answered.
Max followed him, but something in his manner made her distance herself from him, stopping on the other side of the couch.
This is it, thought Max, her stomach inexplicably doing strange things, he's got someone else to do his legwork. He wants to let me go.
Logan turned his chair a little and stole a quick glance at her – not seeing the frozen look on her face, but rather her body lying face down in the grass as Matt Sung had been, her red top now darkened with blood as her life seeped from her body, her face deathly white.
"Logan?"
Bringing his eyes back into focus, he looked up at her again. "I make a good wheel man," he offered.
Max looked at him, her thoughts confused for an instant, then she felt a flood of something warm and tingly rush through her all at the same time – He's worried about me – not replacing me.
For an instant Logan saw a look on her face he couldn't quite read – relief, pleasure ...something – but in the next instant it was as if the shutters had come down.
"No way, Logan."
"Max. It's just too dangerous. I have no idea what you might run into out there."
"All the more reason for me to do this alone," she snapped.
"If I hadn't been there at Burke's, you might not have made it outta there," he reminded her insistently.
"If I'd done what I was meant to do, I would have been in and out, probably with the tape in my hand, in five minutes," she retorted, coming around the couch to stand in front of him, one hand on her hip in an attitude of resistance to anything he might suggest.
"Max, no way am I letting you get hurt over this mess with Martin," Logan said flatly.
"Yeah? Well you being involved in the 'gunfight at the O.K Corral' doesn't do a heck of a lot for me either," Max retorted.
They looked at each other, equally determined, equally immoveable from their stance.
"I'm not backing down on this, Logan," she warned him, dark eyes flashing with the light of battle.
Logan looked up at her. Damn, she was beautiful.
"Okay," he agreed finally, putting up his hands in a show of defeat. "You win. I'll just forget about the whole thing."
Max looked at him suspiciously. "Just like that?"
"Sure. You're right," he said lightly, making her step back a step as he pushed himself forward.
Max was really suspicious now. Logan never gave in – he was almost as stubborn as she was. Unless ...
"Logan Cale," she called to him with a knowing assurance as he headed out to the kitchen, "you have no intention of giving up on this and maybe finding the men who shot Matt Sung."
Logan looked up at her with feigned surprise.
"As soon as I turn my back, you'll head out there yourself," she accused him.
"I never said that," he defended himself.
"Why do I so not believe you?"
Max watched him as he got out a saucepan and then disappeared behind the fridge door, rummaging in it for something for dinner. It appeared to be rather aimless rummaging, she thought sourly. The man had no intention of cooking a meal.
For a moment she looked heavenward for inspiration.
Inspiration not forthcoming, she put both hands on her hips this time. "All right, you win," she spat out ungraciously. "Maybe I do need a wheel man.'
Logan had the sense to wipe the smile off his face before he faced her.
"We'll eat something when we get back," Logan suggested, still gauging her reaction.
Max leant against the counter, not taking her eyes off him, and this time even Logan could see that she was annoyed.
"That's my phone," he told her somewhat needlessly, and with a certain amount of relief, as the ring sounded through his apartment and he headed back to his desk.
Max fumed inwardly, wondering how she'd let him outmanoeuvre her so badly, reflecting that Manticore should have had a class on how to outsmart Logan Cale, when she heard him saying, "Martin, we need to talk – now!"
Quickly walking through to where Logan was talking, she listened sharply to the conversation.
"Martin, either you meet with me ASAP, or I dump this whole mess into Jonas's lap."
"Not here," Max mouthed silently when Logan looked her way.
Martin was obviously arguing the point, but Logan finally snapped, "Okay. Forget it. I'm finished with this."
Apparently, Logan's tone of voice conveyed to his cousin that he'd definitely had enough, because the next instance, Logan was saying coldly, "Where?"
Max quickly leant across and passed him his notebook and pen.
"Oceanview Motel," Logan repeated as he wrote it down, then the beachside suburb where it was to be found. "And Martin, at least have the decency to call your folks to tell them you're fine, so that I don't have Jonas breathing down my neck again."
If it had been a pre-pulse handset, Logan would have taken considerable pleasure in slamming it down on the base, instead he had to be content with frowning at the piece in his hand before placing it on its holder.
"What's he been doing?" asked Max, anticipating the worst.
"Partying," Logan replied dryly, spinning around to face her.
"You gotta be kidding me!"
"Either that or it's a particularly loud hotel he's staying in. I guess that's possible ..." he suggested sardonically, wheeling back through to the kitchen.
Bling's entrance made them both look up.
"Hey people," he smiled congenially at them, adding to Logan, "How'd the family reunion go?"
Logan shook his head disgustedly. "Don't ask. Thought you must've got lost," he said, his eyes going curiously to the bags Bling held.
"I came across a fresh delivery of vegetables at the market," Bling showed him, holding one of the bags low enough for Logan to look inside.
"Wow, there's a few things there I haven't seen for a while," Logan commented, peering into the bag, then taking it and passing it to Max to look in.
"And I went by Metro Medical."
This comment was met by silence, Logan's eyes darting to Bling's face as Max's eyes went from the bag of vegetables to Logan. She held her breath a little for his sake.
"Matt's gonna be okay," Bling had pleasure in telling him. "I managed to talk to Sam Carr."
"And?" Logan asked a little tensely.
"Shoulder wound will be fine. Sam says he was luckier than you – the bullet went clean through, missed any bone."
"His head?" Logan asked, not fully convinced yet.
"Serious ...but," he added quickly at Logan's expression, "he should come out of it fine. He was conscious for a few moments when I saw him."
"You saw him?" Logan asked in surprise.
"Sam let me in for just a minute or two. Apparently Matt was real worried about you. Sam wanted me to set him straight – with the head wound he's been pretty confused about what happened this morning."
"But he's gonna be okay," Logan repeated, looking relieved and only aware now of the huge weight that had sat on his shoulders because it was suddenly gone.
Max looked at Logan and smiled, guessing a little of what was going through his mind. He looked up and answered it with one of his own quirky grins, letting go a long breath.
"Sam gave me this," Bling said casually, holding out a tube of ointment to Logan. "Said it's the latest stuff."
"You and Sam have a nice talk?" Logan commented, fingering the tube, his voice tight, the smile that had been there only seconds ago completely vanished.
"Sam was asking about you." Bling explained, unperturbed, taking the bag of vegetables from Max. "Guess with all Matt's ranting about you he was worried."
"It's not a personal insult, Logan," Max murmured, thinking Logan could be so damned pissy sometimes.
"I got a whole bathroom cabinet full o' this stuff, and every other damn pill you can possibly think of," Logan turned on her heatedly. "I don't need more."
"So," Max returned, surprised for the moment that he'd even mention the fact to her, but refusing to be intimidated, "Most people in this country have a bathroom cabinet full o' pills. Who cares?"
"I'm gonna get my jacket," Logan snapped, releasing his brakes and spinning around.
Max watched his retreating back, eyes darting heavenward once more. No wonder Manticore didn't have a class on Logan Cale, she mused with frustration, it would take more years than she wanted to spend to learn how to understand the man
Bling caught her look and grinned as he opened the fridge to put the vegetables away.
Max suddenly looked at him with a suspicious smile. "Did you go there to see Matt or to see Sam?"
"For Logan," he answered enigmatically.
Grabbing an apple, Max mentioned casually to him, "Word is it got pretty hot out there this morning. Logan said you saved his ass."
Bling stopped what he was doing and looked at her for the moment, an unspoken understanding passing between them.
It was the closest she would come to thanking him for protecting the one person in the world who, despite her constant denials, meant more to her than anyone.
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"You're kinda quiet," Max murmured as Logan steered the Aztek through the early evening traffic.
Logan continued to look out the windshield without speaking for a few moments, then he admitted, "I've been thinking about what Uncle Jonas had to say – or rather, what he didn't say."
"And I'm meant to 'understand' this?"
"I got the feeling that Jonas knew more than he was letting on."
"About...?"
"Wish I knew! Martin would be my guess."
He paused for a moment, rolling his shoulder muscles a little as they stopped at an intersection.
"Sorry about blowing up before," he added quietly. Max thought he sounded a little embarrassed. "I hate pills ... all that stuff," he finished vaguely, "but it kinda goes with the territory."
Max nodded. She didn't have any real understanding of his aversion. Genetically engineered killing machines rarely took pills of any kind – except tryptophan.
The thought pulled her up short with a suddenness she didn't enjoy, reflecting on how she hated to be dependent on the pills. Did they make her less of a person? She had to admit, they made her feel ... humbled ... that for all her capabilities, she was reliant on stupid little pills to survive – a constant reminder to her of imperfection.
She looked across at Logan, intense as ever, straining against the hand that fate had dealt him, regardless of his 'the universe is right on schedule'.
She wondered now if he ever really believed that.
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"You'd think Martin would have mentioned that the damned place was built on the side of a mountain," Logan muttered with annoyance as they pulled up outside the hotel.
"No," contradicted Max smartly, "I wouldn't have thought that for even a second."
The Oceanview Hotel looked as though it had once been a fashionable establishment at least 100 years earlier from its art deco modernistic lines of the 1920's.
Max looked at it, impressed. It sat atop the hill – its sleek but graceful lines still eye-catching, but it looked as though all attempts to keep it in pristine condition had come to a complete halt when the Pulse hit. Now the once grand old lady was quietly deteriorating – fast becoming decrepit in her old age.
Max looked at the many steps through the now tangled mess that had once been a fragrant rose garden that climbed to the hotel itself.
"You want me to swing up and get him?"
"Guess so," Logan agreed, then adding with insight as he watched her put his chair in the back, "Be gentle on him."
"Aren't I always?"
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Max knocked just once on the door, before she called out "Martin. Open up."
Max looked down the carpeted hallway with interest. The interior of the hotel was in considerably better condition than the exterior, and she guessed that it wouldn't be cheap accommodation.
The turning of the doorknob made her turn around.
"Max!" said Martin surprised when he saw her standing outside his door. "This is certainly an unlooked for pleasure."
Max looked at him, scowling, then recoiled slightly as she could detect the smell of alcohol on his breath.
"You plastered?" she asked disgustedly.
"Hah!" he snorted. "You've met my father – he'd tell you that a Cale is never drunk, merely inebriated."
"Yeah, right. Well you can just haul your inebriated ass down to the car to talk to Logan."
Martin looked around in surprise. "He's not here?"
Max just stopped herself from whacking him on the head as she pushed open the door to his room and let herself in. "Seeing as how getting a wheelchair up here would be like climbing Mt Rainier, Logan figured he'd wait in the car for you."
"Do I detect a slight note of antagonism?"
"Not a slight note," she told him sweetly, "the 'only' note you detect is antagonism."
Martin frowned at her. "I don't know what I've done to deserve this – I kind of hoped we'd get on well together," he added a little smoothly.
Looking around and finding a jacket on a chair, Max picked it up and shoved it in his arm. "Let me fill you in on a few facts then Martin, and maybe that handsome head of yours may start to work like its got a brain. Firstly you set Logan up at the market, and stand by and watch while those goons took him into the alley, then he visits the P.I you hired and he nearly ends up barbecued when the guy's place gets torched, and finally, a friend of his gets shot, probably because he's looking into your girlfriend's disappearance. Oops, only I forgot – she's not your girlfriend is she Martin, cause she had the good sense to break up from you a few days before she disappeared," finished Max, her voice having risen with intensity on each fresh allegation.
Martin had gone increasingly paler by the minute with each fresh revelation, until finally, he had to sit down.
"Is his friend all right?" Martin had the good grace to stammer.
Max opened the curtains to see if she could see Logan waiting below in the driveway. It was a very long way down.
"Other than a few holes in him, he'll be fine," Max told him coldly, adding in a matter of fact voice, "Just as well for you that it isn't Logan lying in the hospital, or I'd be hanging your ass out this window by your toes."
Martin looked at her totally confused.
He found her beauty almost overwhelming, but the more he saw of her, the more bewildering he found her. How could someone so beautiful be so threatening? There was something about her that made him shiver.
Trust Logan to hook up with a spitfire like this – what was wrong with a conventional girl he thought irritably.
Watching Martin apparently fall completely into a heap with these revelations, Max could only shake her head and hope that Logan could do something with him.
"Come on," she told him coldly, grabbing him none too gently by the arm.
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The cold night air of early evening seemed to revive Martin a little, and he shook off her arm with annoyance and straightened his jacket and hair as soon as they were outside.
"See what you mean by the steps," he muttered as they made their way down the winding flagged path. "I'm pretty sure there's a back entrance from the top."
Max shrugged. "Probably." It had suited her purpose to have a few words with Martin alone.
Hearing footsteps, Logan ducked his head a little to see their faces as they came down the last few steps.
Max held the front passenger door open for Martin with a stony expression, then slid into the back seat, positioning herself in the middle so that she could see both their faces.
Logan reached up and flicked on the interior light, ignoring Martin's gasp as he saw the increasingly spectacular bruise on Logan's face.
"I guess you didn't fall in the shower?" he asked hopefully.
"No," Logan replied dryly, "that's just the story I told your father."
Martin's eyes narrowed a little at that. Must be a Cale trait, thought Max.
"That's right. I had a visit from him, wanting to know why you and I were suddenly so close. I gotta admit, I'm beginning to wonder myself, when so far, all you've done is lie - or tell me half-truths at the very best."
Martin winced a little at the tone. So he should, thought Max.
"Like why didn't you tell us you two had broken up?" Max asked him in an angry tone.
"I didn't think Logan would look into it if I told him we'd broken up," he answered, definitely more on the defensive than contrite side.
"Deception, prevarication – always great for forming a lasting relationship," Max sniped, thinking to herself, Now those are Cale traits I'm familiar with.
"I wasn't trying to marry Logan," Martin sniped back, unable to resist a dig at her expense. No matter what these two may say to the world, he was sure there was more to their 'friendship' than what met the eye. And if there wasn't, he couldn't for the life of him think why not, because it was certainly obvious to him that Max was crazy about Logan.
Logan's point of view he wasn't so sure about. His cousin had never been one to wear his heart on his sleeve – well not to Martin anyway. Maybe I should ask Bennett, he suddenly thought. If anyone would know anything, it would be him.
"Martin!" Logan was saying to him exasperatedly.
"What?" he asked a little guiltily.
"When did you really last see Emma?"
Logan watched his cousin carefully.
"I did see her that night, like I said," Martin admitted quietly.
"But ...?" Max prompted, her voice dripping with sarcasm.
"I was sitting outside in my car ... I was," he added, looking from one to the other when he saw the same expression on both their faces.
Martin turned a little more in his seat so that he could address them both.
"I wanted to make up with her. It was her idea to split."
"Surprise, surprise," Max murmured.
"We made an after hours trip to Bryan Burke's detective agency. The place went up in flames and someone stole a surveillance tape with the name 'Emma Belding' on it while we were there," Logan told him factually.
Not bothering to look around, Logan said, "Max, you got the file for Martin to look at?"
Max handed it silently to Martin, who looked at it in some surprise. "I thought you said the place burned down."
"Thanks for your care and concern; yes, Logan and I did just manage to get out before the roof collapsed," Max mentioned coldly.
Martin looked at both of them in surprise. Neither one seemed particularly concerned about their narrow escape. With a jolt the thought came to Martin that Logan would have been in his wheelchair. It was easy to forget that fact when you saw him sitting in the driver's seat of his car. He looked up to see Logan watching him intently.
"I never asked you to go near that place," he muttered.
"What we want to know is why someone else is looking for Emma as well?"
Martin shrugged. "I don't have a clue."
"I could take him behind those trees over there and maybe help a little to refresh his memory," Max suggested hopefully.
This time Logan did throw her a look.
"Just tryin' to be helpful," she smiled.
"What can you make out from the account, Martin? Do these abbreviations mean anything to you?"
Logan and Max watched as he read through the file with methodical slowness.
"Well?" Max queried when he looked up.
Martin rubbed a hand on his forehead. "I can't make it out. None of this makes any kind of sense to me."
Logan and Max looked at each other disappointedly.
"Martin, there has to be something else you can tell us. I've got a friend with two bullet wounds in him because he was looking into Emma's disappearance - for me!" Logan told him, finding Martin's lack of co- operation infuriating.
"Is that how you got that?" Martin asked him, pointing to his bruised face.
"Guess you could say that," Logan agreed.
Martin looked impressed. "Boy, I had no idea life in a wheelchair could be so exciting."
"It's not so exciting when you're on the receiving end of a bullet," Max snapped.
Logan sighed and rubbed at the good side of his face. "We're not getting anywhere with this. Martin, isn't there anything more you can tell us?"
Martin looked at them both. "I've told you everything I know."
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"Yeah, right," Max muttered as they drove away, "and I'm Snow White."
"More like Wonder Woman," Logan murmured with a slow smile.
"Whatever," Max responded, refusing to be sidetracked, "the point is we've driven all the way out here and he still gives us the same dealio. I've told you everything I know," she mimicked viciously.
"You okay?" she asked him suddenly, catching sight of him wincing a little as he rolled his right shoulder. "And after an hour of crap from one Cale, I'd better not get any of that from you."
Logan closed his mouth suddenly, as if he'd changed his mind mid thought as to what he was going to say. Covering nicely, he said mildly, "I strained my shoulder a little this morning."
"I can drive if you like." Max offered.
"Hey, I'm the 'wheel man'," he said, affronted. "You just can't pick one up anywhere, you know."
"Probably right," she agreed calmly. "I hear the experienced ones are really hard to find."
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"This is it, one-seven-two Branson," said Max, peering out the car window.
It was just on dusk, but already this part of town appeared to be pretty much deserted for the day. Looking around, it was hard to tell which buildings were in use and which weren't, as the majority of them had a decidedly seedy look about them.
Branson was hardly a road in the normal sense, but rather a wide thoroughfare, bordering the water.
"I wonder what they pay for sea views," murmured Logan, looking at the rundown building in front of them.
"Well, there doesn't seem to be anyone around. It's as good a time as any to check this out."
Logan looked across at her.
"You wanna tell me how to do my job?" asked Max tartly.
"Just be careful," he told her, a little annoyed with her flippancy. So far nothing in the last few days had turned out uneventful.
"Hey General, you've been demoted to wheelman this op.," she pointed out with a hint of satisfaction. "Just keep the car running," she told him saucily as she got out.
"You could be hours in there," he protested.
"Okay," she shrugged, "start it when I yell."
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Max walked around to the side of the building, hoping to find a less obvious way of entry rather than the front door.
It was a timber structure, unpainted and long ago dulled grey with time.
Max's eyes narrowed a little as she saw three parked cars in the narrow alley between this building and the equally shabby building next door.
Walking past a jumble of wooden crates, dumpsters, and other broken down packaging, Max came across a plain door – well it would have been plain if it hadn't been adorned with graffiti.
She was about to put her hand to the door when she suddenly spun around in an attitude of defence, her eyes darting to the pile of trash she'd just walked by. Very slowly, she moved forward and silently put her hand out to pull back one of the wooden crates when a mangy bundle of fur unexpectedly darted out and raced down the other end of the alley.
"You must be one mean cat to survive around here," Max muttered as she went back to the door. Carefully turning the handle, Max was both relieved and worried to find it unlocked, and well oiled, opening noiselessly as she pushed on it.
Hey, she thought brightly, maybe they could solve this whole dealio tonight, and that would put an end to her having to control her increasingly homicidal tendencies towards Martin – in fact she'd begun to think that Logan was right and maybe she'd get more pleasure out of slowly strangling him to death.
Max paused on the threshold, looking around cautiously, finding herself in a large open area. It was surprisingly clean inside, the concrete floor obviously swept recently, various wooden containers stacked in neat piles around the floor. There didn't seem to be anyone in her immediate vicinity, but to be on the safe side she flattened herself against one of the stacks and listened patiently.
Her thoughts wandered to Logan outside (admitting to herself a little guiltily that her thoughts always seemed to be wandering to Logan lately) waiting in the car – which was the reason she hadn't wanted him to come. It was distracting knowing he was out there, and some part of her deep down inside felt an added responsibility to keep him safe.
What did Zack say? That's right - things about having your judgement clouded, being vulnerable, head in the clouds. She had to admit there was a certain amount of truth to what he said, but that still didn't make it necessarily a bad thing, did it? She'd tried living his way - for a long time - but somewhere along the line, and even now she still wasn't entirely sure when it had happened, she'd found that for all the trouble and maybe heartache, her life was the richer for being tied to people, friends ... Logan.
In a strange way, and she wasn't entirely sure why, it was even nicer to have someone else to worry about instead of your own, bad-ass self, and Logan, with all his causes, gave her plenty to worry about.
Max stood behind the stack of wooden boxes for a good five minutes, listening and waiting with a cool nerve. From somewhere further inside she could vaguely hear voices, probably through some sort of inner wall further inside the warehouse, she thought.
Max debated what to do – they could either leave and come back later when the warehouse was deserted, or hang out and try and discover why Burke would have written this address down in the first place, assuming that Logan's theory was correct and the detective had done what most people do – used the folder he was working from to rest on when writing up his facts.
The sudden sound of voices approaching made her look up suddenly – people were coming in her direction.
Looking about quickly, she spied a wooden staircase that led to a loft above her. It was the matter of a few seconds to slip up there unobserved.
Highly satisfied with her new vantage point, Max watched with interest as a slim, dark haired woman and four men in suits walked through to her line of vision engaged in a deep, heated discussion.
"We don't know anything, I tell you," the woman was frantically insisting.
"Let me put it simply; 'we' don't believe you!" one of the men told her sharply.
Totally unexpectedly, at that point, a large, black SUV crashed through the double doors at the front of the building, and four men charged out.
It was like something from a movie as bullets were suddenly going everywhere with a deafening sound, echoing weirdly in the cavernous room.
Somewhere above the din, Max heard the woman start yelling, "Genevieve, Monique, run!"
Max leaned forward, totally unnoticed by the combatants below.
The woman was still screaming the same words, heading towards the side door that Max had used, when one of the men grabbed her and tackled her to the ground.
Max watched, totally confused, not sure whom she should help, if anyone, and who were Genevieve and Monique?
The fight seemed to be resolving itself as the men in the SUV apparently decided enough was enough, and began to try to make their way back to the car, dragging a wounded man with them.
Max could see the man who had spoken to the woman call loudly, it sounded like names, and this time she witnessed another four men run from somewhere at the back of the warehouse and weigh into the fight, which was virtually finished as the last man staggered into the van and it exited backwards, still being fired upon, through the shattered timber doors.
The men below staggered up and one ran off towards the back. The starting of a car engine informed Max of his intentions.
The woman was openly weeping now, apparently pleading with the man. Something in her attitude seemed to cut Max to the core. She wasn't sure she'd ever heard such raw desperation. Making up her mind, she started to head down the stairs, just as the car came into view, and she could see them attempting to shove the distraught woman into the back.
Max was almost to the bottom stair when the side door opened, and she looked up and gasped to see two small figures framed in the light of the doorway.
The woman saw them and started to go completely wild, screaming with a terrifying intensity, "Girls, run, run."
"Quick, get them," someone shouted.
It was at this point that Max decided to lend a hand.
TBC