Disclaimer: Hey, you know what? William Lucas-Patterson III is mine. I invented him. His father, as well, is my invention. Melissa Brown-Littleton too. Everything else I am merely borrowing. I promise to return them in perfect shape - tags still on.

Chapter Twelve: Instant Alibi

Will's face was no longer the face of a terrified boy. In fact, as he waited for his father to answer the phone, his countenance was calm, even deceptively peaceful. However, the anxious beating of his fingers against the arm of his chair belied that tranquility. The nervous energy running through the man was almost visible. Logan almost could have believed he saw the ripples of terror running through the man's limbs.

"Dad! Hey! It's me!" Will gasped out. Max placed her hand gently on his knee, and it seemed to give him strength. For once, Logan didn't begrudge him this touch. If they were going to keep the kid alive, they were going to have to lend him their strength. If that meant that Max was going to have to play the part of the loving girlfriend for a little while longer, well… he supposed he could deal with that.

"Yeah, yeah, I know, I missed breakfast. You did? Oh… it must be on vibrate. Yeah. Oh, well," he laughed nervously, "Grazia forgot to set the alarm."

Squeezing Will's knee lightly, Max laughed that light, sparkling, society laugh that was all Grazia's. "Tattletale," she called into the phone. It was a nice touch – an instant alibi. Logan couldn't help smiling a little bit. He wished he'd thought of it.

"Okay," Will continued, and his hand was shaking. "Rain check? Sounds great. Tomorrow?" he glanced at Max.

"Babe, you promised to make me breakfast tomorrow," Max whined prettily.

"Yeah, I did," Will exhaled, speaking quite a bit faster than was usual. God, he wasn't going to last much longer. Logan watched the younger man's trembling hands, and he knew that they had to get him off the phone.

Reaching out, he lightly tapped Max on the shoulder. When she looked up, he showed her his badly made ceramic mug, currently drained of coffee, and gestured to the tile floor. She understood immediately. With a small nod of approval, she turned back to Will and silently ordered him to get off the phone. Will nodded, the fear returning to his eyes as he listened to his father on the other end of the conversation. Logan stood, held the ceramic mug above his head, and let it drop. The shattering echoed throughout the coffeehouse, and the room fell deathly silent.

"Oh no!" Max's whined again, pulling away somewhat. She gestured for Will to hurry up.

"Uh… Dad… I've got to go. I think Grazia broke something. I'll talk to you later. Bye."

Poor kid. His eyes were full of tears when he finally flipped the phone closed. Silently, Max handed him her own half-empty mug, and, emotionally exhausted, he drank all of its contents in desperate series of gulps. Once it was empty, Max ruffled his hair gently. It was a reassuring gesture, almost maternal. Something about it struck Logan as familiar. Once more, he felt the slight tingling awareness of déjà vu. He had seen Max do it before, he knew, but he couldn't quite place where or when... Joshua. Yes, he had seen her use it to calm down Joshua when they were still in Seattle. She'd always had a strangely maternal relationship with Joshua. How odd that she was using it now to calm her boyfriend.

"Now we've got to go," Max said, rising to her feet.

"We can't stay here?" Will asked wearily.

"Nope."

A timid waitress was standing nearby, holding a broom and a dustpan in her hand. She was staring at them, as were the rest of the patrons in the coffee shop. However, while the other customers were at least attempting to hide their stares, the waitress was openly gawking. Suddenly, Logan felt rather sheepish. He should have known that a grown man purposefully breaking his coffee cup for, apparently, no logical reason would draw unwanted attention. Nevertheless, it had to be done. Quickly, as Max pulled Will out of the building, Logan pulled out his wallet and left a twenty dollar tip. It would more than cover the broken mug. With any luck, the scene had not been so strange as to make it the most interesting thing to happen that day in the lives of those who had witnessed it. Logan hated to be the object of interest to wagging tongues, especially when someone's life was in danger.

"Where are we going?" Will asked as they hurried up the dark stairs of the parking garage. Logan ignored him, spurred on by some unidentifiable feeling of peril. He didn't feel safe, and he didn't feel that Max, or their charge, was safe. They'd brought too much attention to themselves. He wanted only to leave, and to do it as quickly and quietly as possible. Max, for her part, seemed just as ready to depart, and just as willing to ignore Will's questions. She walked behind Will, resting one hand on his back, while she checked over her shoulder every few seconds. She was looking for danger. She was ready to fight if she needed to.

"Where are we going?" he asked again, only his voice was strangled with nervousness.

"To the car," Logan answered, surprised by the strain of impatience he recognized in his own voice.

"No! It's LoJacked!" Will spat, stopping so suddenly that Max had to sidestep him to avoid tripping.

"Not your car," Max sighed, and Logan could tell she, too, was growing tired of Will's nerves.

"I know, the Mercedes… my Dad…"

Before he could even finish, Max laughed. She actually laughed. Logan failed to see the humor in the situation, but Max, evidently, thought it was the funniest thing she'd heard all week. To the casual, or even the trained observer, there didn't appear to be anything remotely amusing about the situation, and yet, Logan found himself smiling. He couldn't help it. Her laughter was infectious – not that light, airy laugh she'd adopted for society, but her mocking, happy, amused, half-laugh/half-giggle that he had become addicted to, but heard so little – he loved it. To Logan, she was irresistible when she laughed. Will, on the other hand, looked like he'd seen a ghost. The color drained from his face.

"What are you laughing about?" he hissed.

"Just the fact that your Dad's smarter than I thought he was," Max replied calmly as she started walking again. Logan followed suit, trying to hide his own smile, and fighting the urge to grab her hand and lace their fingers together. He could almost see the little smile she would give him if he did. Despite the danger, despite the whiny witness, despite all the circumstances, it was nice to work with her again. Actually, it was nice to do anything with her again. Not for the first time, he wondered how he hadn't fallen into madness without her.

Will, however, continued to stand in the stairwell, looking completely stunned. "How is that funny?" he practically screamed. In a second, Max, with her unbelievable speed, was at his side again, clapping her hand over his mouth. She whispered something into his ear that Logan couldn't hear, but he could only assume it was somewhere along the line of "shut up, do want to get us all killed?"

"Listen," she explained, a bit louder, throwing a loaded glance in Logan's direction, "I only meant that it was about time someone was suspicious of me. I mean, really, Will…"

"Grazia…" His tone was quiet, but imploring. He was scared. He was confused. He wanted to know that everything was going to be okay.

"Listen…" she bit her lip, and when she spoke again her voice was gentle, reassuring. "I'll explain everything later, okay? I promise. Let's just make sure you're safe first."

Nothing more was said as they walked quickly to the Aztek, though Logan wanted to thank Max for her foresight in insisting that they bring his car. He wanted to ask her if she knew that her car could be tracked. She had probably suspected it. She didn't seem very surprised by the information. If the news had caught her off guard, he doubted it would have amused her as much as it had.

"Okay," Logan asked as they climbed into the car. "What next?"

"Next?" Max smiled sweetly. "Next, I call Alec."

"Who?" Will asked from the backseat.

"Matthew," Max amended as she unceremoniously reached into Logan's jacket pocket for his phone. He couldn't help smiling at the action, nor could he deny the little flutter of happiness at the reminder of their situation. He could touch her all he wanted now. He only had to wait until Will was safely out of the way.

Quickly dialing a number, Max turned back to Will and explained that from that moment on, anything his father had purchased, or even been alone with, was to be considered as traceable, and, therefore, couldn't be used. In the rearview mirror, Logan watched Will's face fall. Maybe he wasn't yet familiar with the "your father's the enemy" talk coming from anyone other than himself, but he would be before the day was over.

A/N: The shit hits the fan in chapter thirteen, just so you know. TBC...