A/N: Well, it's Sunday night. I don't know how often I'll be able to post this week, but I'll try my best. I really enjoy writing this story, so it shouldn't be too difficult to find time for it. In other, somewhat unrelated news, I'm still typing by candlelight, because the lightfixtures in my apartment are evil. Is that the most pathetic thing you've heard all day?

Chapter Eight: Shattered Glass

"You're kidding," Logan asked, looking completely shocked. "Just like that?"

"Just like that," Max nodded. In the space of only a few minutes, the air in the apartment had grown incredibly tense… again, and, once more, they sat apart, but this time Max wasn't angry with Logan. She was absolutely terrified for him. If a stoner like Sketchy could figure out Eyes Only's real identity, the cops couldn't be too far behind, right?

Logan sighed, "We have to talk to him."

"We have to keep him quiet," Max agreed firmly.

"You don't think he'll…" Logan stopped, as if he couldn't even finish the sentence. Would Sketchy take the half million dollars? Max was no longer sure. Three days before, she'd been certain that she could trust Sketchy. Now she wouldn't trust him to watch her lunch.

"Did you find out anything about him?" she asked carefully.

"Nothing much," Logan replied with his usual professionalism. "He's had a few drunk in public citations, and a couple write-ups for possession of relatively small amounts of weed, but nothing serious. He's never been in serious trouble or serious debt. He's stayed off the radar as best he could, which I'm guessing is a pattern at Jam Pony."

"Yeah," Max assented. So, really, Sketchy could go either way. Great…

"I called Matt Sung after you left this morning. So far, my name hasn't come up, but he thinks some higher-ups may be keeping information out of his hands."

"They're on to him?"

Logan sighed heavily, "He's not sure. Everyone's real jumpy. He admits that he could just be paranoid, but he wanted me to know, just in case. Luckily, most of my informants are either living under new identities or would be in too much trouble if they came forward. They're not going to say anything."

"I think you underestimate how much trouble a half a million dollars can get a person out of," Max replied, almost feeling sick at the idea.

If Sketchy turned Logan in, and Matt Sung couldn't help them, they would have to run, and they'd have to run fast. Max was already mentally packing her bags. She had over five thousand dollars under the floorboards in her apartment, a stash she'd been occasionally adding to over the last several months, usually whenever she bumped into a particularly stupid drug dealer or made more off a fence than she'd expected. She never touched it. She wouldn't allow herself to go near it, no matter how bad her situation was. That money was there for one reason, and one reason only – it was her running money.

"You'd come with me, right?" Logan suddenly asked, proving, once again, that their minds tended to run in similar patterns. His eyes seemed incredibly dark as he asked, and she felt a little twinge of sadness that he didn't know for sure.

She smiled slightly, "Try and stop me."

"I won't," he whispered. He was leaning forward, resting his arms on his legs, staring at some invisible spot on the coffee table. The expression he wore sent a chill running up Max's spine. He was on the verge of seeing his life's work destroyed, and he looked absolutely haunted by the news. It was more than Max could take.

"I hear Canada's nice this time of year," she teased, leaving her seat to sit next to him and take one of his hands in her own. He smiled as she nudged him playfully, and their fingers clasped in a way that completely belied their lighthearted words.

"I was thinking Mexico, maybe Cancun. It would take us longer to get there, but I think we'd enjoy it more." His smile grew, "You'll have to buy a bikini." She laughed, and his eyes lightened. He really did have gorgeous eyes – bright and expressive. Was it really any wonder that someone had finally noticed that they were identical to Eyes Only's?

"What makes you so sure I don't already have one?" she taunted.

"Well, I've been through your underwear drawer," he deadpanned.

Max gasped in mock outrage, delighted that he was responding to her game. "You went through my things?" she accused haughtily.

"I learned from the best."

Their eyes met, and she leaned in to quickly kiss the small, amused smile that was playing about his lips. He tried to turn the kiss into something more, but Max knew she had to get back to work. Lunch was over. She had to watch Original Cindy's back, and check Sketchy's mood. Logan knew it too, and he released her without further attempts at convincing her to stay.

"Hey!" he called out to her as she was almost out the door. She turned and looked at him expectantly. Did he have an idea? A possible solution to this madness? Was he going to add to his bikini theory?

"Be careful," he said quietly.

"You too," she replied, suddenly nervous about leaving him alone. She was torn between the idea of staying with him to protect him, and finding out what dangers awaited him outside. The whole situation just wasn't fair, but, then again, nothing ever was.

TBC...