Once again, thanks so much for the positive feedback. It's very encouraging and reassuring!
Huge thanks to Alaidh for the beta – it's very much appreciated!
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Chapter 28, Epilogue Part 2.
Max's day was busy, which suited her fine for once, as her mind was still in turmoil after her conversation with Logan.
Responsibility's a bitch, she'd said to Logan a few days back. Well, here's a new one – Caring's a bitch, too, she decided as she walked back down the front steps of the house she'd delivered her first package to.
And she had to admit she cared – and it was entirely his fault, she thought furiously, riding her bike at a speed to match as she dodged potholes and garbage and cars and mongrel dogs and sector cops and people ambling across the crowded laneways in front of her. She'd never wanted to care – had certainly never asked for it. Her one task in life had been to hook up with Zack and the others. She'd been focussed and everything in her life had been uncomplicated. How had she ever managed to be distracted by a scruffy face and smooth words?
I mean, it's not as if he takes any care in his appearance – he shaves maybe every third day, if that, and he doesn't even bother to comb his hair, she reminded herself as she stopped outside a seedy-looking apartment block.
And then there's the way he's always right. That's just plain wrong. And it's wrong when he's wrong that he apologizes in a way that makes me feel like somehow it's actually me who was wrong in the first place. How whack is that, she muttered as she wheeled her bike along a long hallway covered in threadbare carpet to number 15, her usually smooth brow furrowed in a frown.
And then there's those damn hands of his ...
"Jam Pony Messenger"
...No X5 was ever made with hands as perfect as that! Is it surgeons who are meant t' have beautiful hands? Sensitive or some such crap. Maybe he shoulda been one of those piano virtuosos! I guess he kinda plays the keyboard, she mused distractedly as she trudged back down her fourth flight of stairs for the morning and unlocked her bike once more, her mind drifting to the times she'd watched him writing. Damn, I even like his handwriting, and according to OC, everyone knows that most men can never put a legible scrawl together...
"You touch my bike while I'm gone and I'll kick your ass!"
...Which is true because his is kinda like chicken scratch.
Suddenly she paused in the act of locking up her bike, screwing up her face with a kind of disgusted amazement. You are so losing it, Max, she berated herself as she trod up the steps of yet another rundown house whose steps were covered with meowing bedraggled cats.
"Jam Pony Messenger, sir." What is that smell? "Yes, it's a fine day. No, I'm not interested in stepping inside and seeing your Smurf collection. Sign here please."
Her smile was pure artificial sweetener. "ThankyouforusingJamPony."
And even if I managed to ignore all those other things, there's still that mouth that really shouldn't smile in a way that makes you feel as if he'd never smiled at anyone else quite that way before. I mean, the man's been married, after all, and is it right that a smile should make me feel kinda, I dunno, sorta all tingly like that? And as if that isn't bad enough, his eyes are worse than any truth serum Manticore could come up with – how is it he gets me to say all kinda things about myself that I have absolutely no intention of sharing and yet he manages to keep mosta his stuff under lock and key?
"Damn you, Logan Cale," she muttered for the hundredth time. Where did my uncomplicated life go? And even worse – I don't even want it back! And now what do I do? I don't wanna be like Emma – I don't wanna say he's dead and it's my fault.
But he's so damned good at getting himself into trouble, a voice whispered inside her head.
Tell me about it! Bronck, Sonrisa, John Darius – damn, any crank in town'd turn him in for the reward money, not to mention all the ones I don't even know about who want him dead for other reasons, and he doesn't do anything remotely resembling commonsense - Look at when he came and rescued me when the Reds had me and OC. Damn, he comes charging in with two hands and a gun. What was he thinking?
"Finally," she said aloud as she picked her way through an assortment of trikes and children's ride-on toys that blocked the path of a rather genteel looking house. "One more drop before lunch – a very late lunch."
"Package for you from Jam Pony!"
Well, he had your back on that one, Max. He zapped that metal gizmo. It's not as if he relies on you to come running in and save the day every time!
Remember Cape Haven, another other voice reminded her?
Well, I do hafta admit, we make a great team. Kinda screwy, but it seems t'work.
At that point her eyes lighted on a hearse that was slowly making its way to a cemetery somewhere out of town. Seeing one was almost an everyday occurrence in post-pulse Seattle, but today it was more real.
For a moment the brilliance in the dark eyes dulled. That'll be Seth soon - buried or barbecued, but either way irrevocably dead. She stopped her bike and stared at the mournful sight intently.
What're the odds of me gettin' Logan jammed up or maybe even worse, just because he knows me?
A cold, faraway look crossed her features – she knew exactly what they'd do.
Classic Manticore MO, Max, and you know it. He wouldn't stand a chance if they sent one of the other X5s to grab him. If Lydecker figured out our connection he wouldn't even wait to stir his coffee before using Logan as a lever to get me back... Just like the Reds used Cindy.
Max suddenly stood stock still in the middle of the sidewalk, scarcely seeing the hearse as it slowly disappeared further and further up the road.
"Admit it, Max, you're no better than Emma Belding," she murmured painfully as she stared ahead.
"Hey, lady! You're blocking my way!"
"Bite me!" Max shot back with such a venomous expression that the man quickly hurried around her without daring to lift his head.
Max looked about her, almost surprised to find where she was and that all her packages had been delivered. Time to head back for lunch, she supposed unenthusiastically. Her head ached, her legs felt tired and her heart seemed to have fallen into a crack in the sidewalk.
Logan's words came back to her as she waited to cross at the lights, barely aware of the teeming traffic around her, people shouting out to each other, a sector cop screaming something through a loud speaker and a hundred other sounds that filled Seattle's street life.
Thing is you gotta count the cost – take responsibility for your actions.
You make it all sound so damned easy, Logan, she complained. But it's not.
"Max!"
Max looked up to see Original Cindy staring at her. "You been on a hot run, boo? I don't recall seeing you this morning...but then I'm particularly stoopid when I've stayed up most a the night wondering where my homegirl's at."
Max looked repentant. "I'm sorry OC. Something real important came up."
"That important something wouldn't have anything to do with an important someone now, would it?"
"It was just some stuff I had to do for Logan," Max told her best friend dully.
"You stay at yer boy's place, boo?"
"Not exactly," Max said a little defensively.
"So, what'd you two get up to this weekend?" OC continued suspiciously.
Max wrinkled her nose as if the whole thought was distasteful to her. "We didn't get up to anything."
OC raised an unbelieving eyebrow, but Max chose to ignore it as they both wheeled their bikes into a bedraggled area that had once been called a park. "What did you do with your weekend?" she was about to ask as she went to sit down on a surprisingly intact park bench, but her words died on her lips.
"What is it?" asked OC, following her friend's startled gaze.
"What is that?" Max almost choked getting out the words.
Original Cindy looked across to the graffiti covered wall that Max indicated. "Looks like a whole lotta the usual BS t'me," was the blunt reply.
But Max was only looking at one 'particular' BS. A red, white and blue mask with a pair of green eyes quite skilfully painted onto the wall. Only instead of the words Eyes Only below it – the word 'only' had been crossed out and instead it now read 'Sexy Eyes.'
For the strangest moment she felt as though her very private world had been invaded.
"Whatchou lookin' at, boo?" asked Cindy, unconcernedly biting into her sandwich.
"Since when did Eyes Only have a fan club?" she asked in a disapproving voice.
OC looked across at her. "You tellin' me you don't find those eyes sexy? Dammit girl, seems to me you must be the only red-blooded female in Seattle who doesn't think so. Even some a my peeps on the all-girl team have taken to scribblin' Eyes Only stuff on tidy bowl walls," she added wryly with a shake of her head.
"You gotta be kidding me, right?" asked Max, more than a little dismayed.
"Boo, you must walk around with your eyes closed!"
Max slowly took her drink out of her bag. She couldn't explain it, but she suddenly felt very territorial. After all, Logan only used his eyes to hide his identity so that every scumbag in Seattle he exposed wouldn't come after him.
"I hardly think Eyes Only was attempting to attract the entire female population of Seattle," she announced sounding unusually pompous.
"Which is exactly why he does," Cindy announced positively. "Believe me, most girly girls love ta catch a man who doesn't wanna be caught."
Max shook her head in amazement. She thought she'd heard all the 411 on Eyes Only at Crash. "You've heard other women talk about his eyes being sexy?"
OC laughed at that. "Sugah, they's talkin' about a whole lot more than his eyes!"
Max stood up suddenly.
"I gotta blaze."
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The cosy, small pub where Logan had arranged to meet Matt was reasonably busy late in the afternoon. Those who left work early for the day had already taken up their usual places at the bar, but there were still a few vacant tables to be had.
Logan and Bling made their way through the, as yet, only light smoky haze to the more dimly lit back where Matt Sung was waiting at one of the small round tables. Three bottles of beer sat in front of him.
"Hey, Matt. Sorry I'm nearly fifteen minutes late," Logan excused himself with a dark look at Bling from under his lashes as he nudged his chair under the table and set his brakes.
"My fault," Bling confessed lightly. "I made an executive decision that six hours sleep would be better than four."
Matt was immediately apologetic. "I'm sorry, man. I should have thought that one through better."
Logan shook his head. "It's fine, Matt. So, what've you got for me?"
Matt's voice immediately dropped to a deeper note and he leaned forward seriously. "I wrapped up everything at Old Seattle. You were right – the ex-cons Jaeger had working for him told me he'd planned the trip out to the tourist town at least a week ago, as far as they knew."
Logan nodded. He'd expected as much.
"The FBI's real keen to keep this under wraps," Matt continued pointedly.
"Well, it's bad for business if it gets out that one of your own is workin' for the other guy."
"Right."
"Eyes Only has a plan for Emma and the Hackett family. Strangely enough it doesn't involve the Witness Protection Program," he added dryly.
Matt looked a bit uneasy at that, but said nothing, quickly picking up his beer and taking a swig instead.
"About Seth..." Logan murmured.
"All cool. The body will be released in a few hours. Emma can go ahead and make her arrangements."
Logan nodded slowly. "I spoke to her on the phone before we came here. She just wants a private cremation. She plans to get outta Seattle – make a fresh start somewhere new I guess."
Almost in unison all three looked down at the beers they held in their hands. No one had been unaffected by Emma's grief.
"There's one more thing, Matt," said Logan, after taking a swig of his beer. "Emma's roommate had some sketches that she'd done - sketches of hands. Someone – either working for Jaeger or Petrovsky - broke into her apartment and stole them. I know she'd really like to get 'em back."
Matt nodded. "I'll keep an eye out for them."
"Thanks, I'd appreciate it. There could be a lot riding on it," he added cryptically.
A look of amusement crossed Bling's face. "You doin' this for Charlie's sake or your own," he laughed a little, knowing what it was Logan had agreed to do.
"Logan...There is one other thing."
Logan raised his eyebrows enquiringly. Something in Matt's tone of voice made Logan look across at him carefully. The detective appeared to be particularly ill at ease, which was unusual for him.
Matt cast a quick look at Bling before taking another swig of his drink. If Logan hadn't known Matt better he almost would have thought the detective was seeking some Dutch courage.
"The FBI has been onto Jaeger for some time. It appears the man has been playing both sides for quite awhile," Matt said quietly.
Matt had Logan's complete attention now. The hands that had been idly twirling the beer bottle in front of him stilled and the green eyes behind the small glasses stared at Matt Sung with an intent look that the detective found almost uncomfortable.
"Just how long is 'quite awhile'," Logan asked evenly, but the tone of his voice was deep and husky and intense.
Matt hesitated for a moment, casting a quick look in Bling's direction, before continuing. "My source at the FBI tells me that Jaeger was in bed with everyone from the Russians, to the Mob to any number of private concerns..."
Logan nodded. He felt suddenly cold – an icy cold that seemed to make its way up from somewhere in his chest and spread to his mind.
Matt seemed reluctant to proceed, as if he were hoping his listener would understand his meaning before he had to put it into actual words.
Logan wanted to help Matt, but his paralysis seemed to have inexplicably spread to his vocal chords – and for an instant he felt the same apprehension he had the morning when they'd finally allowed him to wake from the drug induced sleep they'd initially kept him in. The first words he'd been aware of were Sam's words – caring, sincere, and above all kind: "Logan, I've got some bad news." Instinctively he'd known then that he didn't want to hear what Sam had to say – just as he didn't want to hear Matt's words now.
"...including Edgar Sonrisa," Matt eventually got out.
Speaking quickly for Logan's sake, he continued, "My guy's almost positive that it was Jaeger who leaked the information to Sonrisa about your arrangements to get Lauren and Sophy into Witness Protection."
Logan was staring at the bottle now. Somewhere his eyes registered the fact that the writing was green and gold, that there was a cigarette burn in the table, and that Matt and Bling were waiting for his response.
"Well...it makes sense, doesn't it," he answered rhetorically, lifting eyes to their faces that were steely hard, yet glittered strangely in the dimly lit bar.
"I thought you'd want to know," offered Matt quietly.
"Right," agreed Logan, perhaps a little too quickly, a little too heartily for Bling's peace of mind as he noted the sudden look of strain on Logan's face.
"Not that it makes any difference now that the man's dead, of course," Matt added with a quick, uneasy glance at Bling. "Anyway, if Eyes Only wants any further details, I can get them for him."
The narrowing of his eyes told Bling a lot – the harshness, sense of finality in the quietly uttered words told him even more. "No. That won't be necessary. Eyes Only has no further interest in that case."
"Well, if you ever ..." began Matt, but Logan was already releasing his brakes and backing away from the table.
"Its fine, Matt. Thanks for the drink."
Matt simply nodded. He could recognize a lockout.
Logan turned. His voice and demeanour may have appeared calm, but everything inside him was screaming to get out of there and all he could see was a sea of chairs and tables blocking his way, carelessly scattered as people had used them.
"Bling." His voice was sharp now, clearly annoyed - unusually more like a command than a request.
In a smooth movement, Bling was up and clearing a pathway to the door and then they were outside in the mild, afternoon sunlight. He followed Logan silently around the corner to the grotty side street where Bling had parked the car.
Bling went to get his keys out, but Logan snapped, "I'll drive."
Bling hesitated, not sure if this was such a good idea for Logan right now.
"Thought your shoulders were too sore after the workout you gave them yesterday," he tried in a mild voice.
"Well, I just hafta put up with it, don't I, like everything else," retorted Logan, even as he spoke, schooling his features to hide any feelings of discomfort as he transferred. "I got it," he added quickly as Bling would have taken his chair to the back.
Bling waved a hand in his direction. "Knock yourself out."
He watched wordlessly as Logan put his seatbelt on then determinedly set about dismantling his chair and stowing it in the car.
Bling continued to remain silent until Logan had the car travelling with the late afternoon traffic.
"That's some pretty heavy info Matt laid on you back there."
"Depends how you look at it," Logan replied curtly, his eyes in the rear-view mirror as he concentrated on changing lanes.
"The guy sold you out. Doesn't that bother you?"
"Bling, the man's dead," Logan pointed out, his voice tight with sarcasm.
"Doesn't mean it hasn't got to you a little."
The traffic light turned red and Logan obediently slowed to a stop.
Bling looked across at his stern profile. "Logan. It's okay for something like this to get to you a little."
Logan stared ahead intently. "I'm Eyes Only," he told his trainer almost a touch self-righteously. "I can't let things like this affect me."
"Yeah? Or maybe it's because they get to you that you're Eyes Only."
Logan merely shrugged as if he were completely unmoved by his friends words. "Whatever."
Bling pursed his lips with frustration and turned his head to look out the passenger window. His eyes took in the familiar street, and even as Logan spoke, he suddenly realized what he was up to.
"I'll drop you off at your place. I got a few things to do."
Bling studied the set profile once more, wondering if it would be any good to force the issue – the tension emanating from Logan was palpable, for all his 'I'm not affected' line.
"Maybe you could talk to Max?" he suggested in the end.
Logan rolled his eyes at that as he pulled up outside Bling's apartment block.
"Here you go," he murmured tersely.
Bling nodded his head with a wry smile. He'd been outplayed by the master.
"I'll be around tonight. We got your reps to do."
"Can't wait," was Logan's sarcastic comment as Bling got out.
"Watch the transfers," Bling adjured him before he closed the door.
Receiving no reply, Bling shook his head a little, watching with a look of concern as the Aztek pulled out and merged with the traffic once more.
"Hope you know what you're doing," he muttered before resignedly turning and entering his apartment building.
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Max raced to the first phone she could find and dialled Logan's number.
"You reached the number you dialled."
Max hesitated. She wondered if Logan was still asleep, but then she realized if Bling was there he'd usually pick up if Logan was unavailable.
"Hey, Logan, it's me..."
That was as far as she got as the ludicrous nature of her phone call dawned on her.
What are you doing, Max? One minute you think you oughtta get out of Seattle in case you stuff up his life and now you're playin' 'Supermax' to protect him from some peeps who think he has sexy eyes?
"Just callin' to see how you're doin," she finished lamely into the answering machine.
Feeling remarkably stupid she smacked her forehead once on the brick wall next to the phone...hard – then let it rest there.
Dammit, Max! You gonna come rushing back every time someone doodles something on a toilet wall about him? What are you thinking?
I know what you're thinking, murmured that other voice inside her head, you don't want anyone else to be admiring his eyes, or his mouth, or his hands or...
"Yeah, yeah, yeah. I get the message," she snapped aloud, ignoring the suspicious stare of an elderly lady who walked past at that moment.
Truth is, Max...you can't leave him," said the voice.
"I know I can't," she admitted, whispering dully.
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Logan drove in a complete fog, scarcely aware of where he was, or whether the lights were red or green, or how many other cars were on the road or even what he was thinking about. He was only aware of the vague sensation that he was thankfully alone - his thought process went little further than that.
He managed to maintain this state of affairs for a good twenty minutes, driving aimlessly through the late afternoon traffic. He didn't know where he was going – he just knew he didn't want to go home. He didn't trust himself in the quiet of his apartment, where it would be impossible to escape the thoughts, and he knew he'd be drawn to the windows and his mind would be swamped with an avalanche of memories that he had tried rigorously, and for the most part successfully, to repress.
He was never entirely sure how he got there – all he knew was that at one point he looked out the window – really looked – and to his surprise he recognized the Superior Court Building.
He drove on past it, then on a bit further, to the intersection with the office block on the corner and the small cafes that cater to the office workers in the area. Then he was there – the place he'd avoided all these months.
He told himself that it hadn't been a conscious decision that he'd avoided the area – yeah, right Logan – he'd simply had no desire whatsoever to come here. It was ironic, he mused, that today of all days, his aimless meandering should lead him to this spot.
It all looked surprisingly as he'd remembered. He and Peter had travelled the route several times before the final run. Peter had been fanatical about planning and he'd had all sorts of rules on what should be done and how, and statistically what the risks were and the likelihood of a mission's success in any given situation. He'd grilled Logan on what he was to do should he face certain scenarios, and Logan had listened as he always did to what he sometimes considered Peter's overly cautious advice, and even though his stomach was churning with, what he had to admit was fear, he wildly hoped he'd never have to act on any of them. Which, when he considered it now, was strange, as he had had no delusions about what they were attempting to do. Peter had warned him that the odds weren't good. Everything had relied on total secrecy – but it was a well-known fact that, between them, Sonrisa and Steckler had the law enforcement agencies nice and secure in their pockets. But, heck, he was the good guy after all – and good always triumphs...right?
Logan pulled up alongside the curb. For a moment he hesitated before letting his window down. He wasn't entirely sure he wanted to do this. It wasn't as if it was going to prove or change anything. He wondered idly if Bling would think his being here was a healthy sign.
Sometimes you gotta scream a little.
Well, screaming had never been his style, he countered coldly as his eyes took in his surroundings. Outwardly excessive displays of emotion had been considered bad form in his father's eyes – unmanly... attention drawing for all the wrong reasons.
By the time the first car rammed them, Logan knew without doubt that the game was up – Peter had pulled him aside and warned him the night before, "Logan, if they're able to stop the cars we're screwed."
Of course, he'd still hoped...even as he scrambled out of the car. The strange thing was it had all happened so quickly, he hadn't even had time to be consciously fearful for himself – his only desperate thought had been to get the child away. He'd opened the door and pulled the terrified child from the car, then as he'd turned, he'd seen one of Sonrisa's men with a gun and instinctively he'd fired and he'd even felt a sick surge of elation as the man had gone down and for the first time he began to think there was a chance.
How many steps had he taken after that - two, maybe three at the most?
He was surprised how unemotional he felt about it all now. Did it really happen to him...right here? He wondered what he was supposed to be feeling. Was all this meant to be some major cathartic experience?
He looked away suddenly, absently studying the instrument panel.
So it had been Jaeger – he'd been the nameless informer - an FBI agent who'd sold out his ideals for blood-soaked money.
He'd known, once he'd had his wits about him again, that there had to have been a leak in Witness Protection, but he didn't see how he would ever find out who it was and Eyes Only had never been about revenge. So, like a lot of things, he'd just...let it slide.
He'd certainly never expected to be face to face with the man who'd indirectly been responsible for so much
When Matt Sung's words had finally soaked in, he had to admit he'd felt totally unprepared for such a revelation. It was so weird – he'd thought, with Bruno's certain death, that it was all behind him. Life had gone on and he'd done his best to focus his thoughts firmly in the present and that was how he wanted it to stay.
Had he been bitter when he'd met Bruno Anselmo – he'd told himself he wasn't, that his only interest was in 'destroying the disease', but his words to Bling had betrayed him when his therapist had asked how he'd gotten hold of the hoverdrone footage.
Money – what else have I got?
For a long time he'd felt like that. It was hard having so much stripped away and finding that maybe you didn't even like the person you found underneath.
Making a sudden decision, he opened his car door. There was virtually no traffic - everyone had left this part of town for the evening. In under a minute he had his chair assembled and waiting on the road for him to slide into. His eyes rested on it as he undid his seatbelt, and for the briefest of moments a tidal wave of regret and frustration and anger swept over him. The other Logan had been able to stretch out his long legs and jump out of the car in seconds. He didn't need to bother about ...
Don't go there, Logan," he warned himself quickly, with well-practised efficiency tightly reining in his wayward thoughts and bringing them back under control.
Once he was in the chair he looked about a little vaguely.
What now? he wondered dryly.
From watching the hoverdrone footage, he could pinpoint exactly the spot where he'd fallen. This end of town was virtually deserted this time of night – rush hour had finished, the office workers had left for the day, and the area would be briefly abandoned until those still brave enough to roam the streets at night came out.
Checking for traffic he wheeled out into the intersection. A sardonic grin crossed his face as he considered the supreme irony if he should be hit by a car in the same spot.
Well, there it was. No X marked the spot; there was no ominous faded bloodstain, no sudden crash of thunder boomed from the sky and there was no tense orchestral arrangement that told the viewer something profound had happened. The only thing he was aware of was a cool breeze that whipped at his clothes, and from somewhere up high a few birds twittered at him almost mockingly.
Logan stared pensively for a few moments at the area on the road where he'd been shot, where he'd hit with such finality when the bullet took him.
Sucking deeply he drew a long breath into his lungs – then let it out through his mouth with a quick whoosh.
Maybe his mom had been right – Bruno was dead, Jaeger was dead, and here he sat...very much alive.
Logan looked up as he heard an approaching car somewhere in the distance, then thoughtfully swung his chair around and wheeled back to the Aztek.
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It was well and truly dark by the time he finally pulled into his parking spot. A quick glance at the fuel gauge told him he was nearly on empty, which would mean a long wait for Bling in the gas line - for the first time that afternoon he felt a little guilty that he'd been so self-indulgent.
He picked up his cell phone from the passenger seat and turned it on. As he expected, there were quite a few messages waiting for him. Bling would have been calling him, he supposed tiredly. His conscience pricked him a little that the man had probably been worried about him.
Feeling drained and kind of like his body wasn't his own, Logan turned the doorknob to his apartment – not surprised to find it unlocked. He wondered if he should apologise to his trainer.
"Logan."
He looked at her in total surprise. On top of everything else that had gone on that afternoon, always at the back of his mind had been the frightened look he'd seen in her eyes as dawn had washed over them both.
He'd never seen her look frightened before and it had shaken him more than he wanted to acknowledge. He knew what Bling had been trying to intimate – he just hadn't wanted to believe it. All day, he now realised, hidden deeply at the back of his mind, had been a bitter fear that maybe she wouldn't come back.
"Hey," he managed to get out.
"You okay?"
He just looked at her, wondering what it was he was meant to be okay about. Unless...
"Bling told me," she explained quickly, seeing his hesitation.
She thought she saw a flare of annoyance in his eyes as he wheeled through to his living room, so she added quickly, "You weren't answering your phone. He was really worried about you."
"Well, I guess that's what I pay him for – there aren't too many others lined up in that department." He didn't know why he said that – maybe because he was tired or frustrated, or maybe because he felt bitter and afraid she might leave because of her concern for him, but for whatever reason he wanted to lash out at someone.
Max saw the hurt in his eyes and, almost before she knew it, two sincere words had forced their way out of her mouth. "I worry."
His response wasn't what she'd expected. His eyes suddenly hardened, and she was aware of a sudden tensing in his shoulders and hands. "You're the only one I don't want to worry about me," he said in a voice deep with emotion.
"It's what friends do. If I've learnt one thing... it's that friends need to be there for each other." Max said the words slowly, her eyes never leaving his face.
He seemed to stare at her for the longest time, until a small sassy smile lifted the corners of Max's mouth.
"So," she said, almost provocatively, "whatdya know, Bruno Anselmo and Special Agent Jaeger both got their just desserts."
Logan raised an eyebrow. "Looks that way," he said in that dry tone of his that she loved.
"We should celebrate."
He leaned back and looked up at her, a small quizzical smile lighting up his face.
"Well," she grinned, "Maybe the universe is right on schedule after all."
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TBC
Nearly there – one more chapter to go!