Thanks very much for all your feedback on the last chapter – it was greatly appreciated. Reviews make my day!
Huge thanks to Kasman for the beta when Alaidh was unable to do it. Alaidh, I hope you're feeling better soon!
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CHAPTER 6
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Away from the crackle and hum of the fire, the forest was a mysterious, silent, crisscross maze of dark shadows.
She could see the figures clearly now – silent watchers…waiting. For what, she wondered?
They didn't see the black shape that merged as one with the misshapen shadows until it was upon them – by that time it was too late.
"Do I need to buy a ticket?" Max murmured into the ear of the one called Lenny who promptly jumped as if a branding iron had scorched his skin.
"You," he spluttered.
By this time, the others were looking at Max with blank astonishment. It just didn't seem possible – they'd only seen her a few moments ago walking into the forest in a different direction.
"Interesting view," Max remarked cordially as she looked across to the Aztek, trying to judge what it was that had them so intrigued. From their position, she could only clearly see the car – Logan and the fire were the other side of it.
"Yeah," remarked Lenny warmly. "Where'd you get that thing? Sure is cool."
"You high again?" Max asked, curling her lip in disgust. "You never been to Seattle?"
Lenny brought his somewhat erratic gaze back to bear on her as it penetrated his mind that they were apparently talking at cross purposes. "The tent," he told her, as if she should have known exactly what he was talking about.
"We didn't mean any harm, honest," blurted out the blonde-haired girl.
"We were just walking the girls to the toilets. The ones near us are locked up." Max recognised the one called 'Poggs' who'd been too spaced out to rescue the dark haired Lucy earlier in the day. He appeared surprisingly sane now, not to mention truthful, which came as a bit of a surprise. Max looked at him curiously – his voice was soft, not unlike Logan's in his pronunciation. Another rich boy maybe, she mused.
Max opened her mouth, intending to leave them with a not-so-subtle threat should they hang around the Aztek, when her eyes were unexpectedly drawn to a large tree some hundred yards from where she stood.
Her pupils darkened, then dilated to reveal telescopic accuracy. Without a doubt, she had caught a glimpse of someone standing behind one of the many innocuous tree trunks.
Her breath caught in her throat. Is it…?
Even as she looked, the saw the figure step from behind the tree. He was clearly visible for a mere few seconds, before he turned and sprinted with impossible speed, further into the forest.
All thought of Poggs and his origins vanished as her one consuming thought became her desire to catch up with the figure that zigzagged so effortlessly away from her.
She had to catch up with Zack.
Leaving the others gazing after her in puzzlement, she turned without a word and was soon little more than a moving shadow amongst the trees.
She scarcely felt the branches that whipped at her face and arms as she weaved with an instinctive precision through the trees and bushes.
Zack.
Why would he be watching me? Why wouldn't he simply meet with me? Not as if he doesn't know Logan…and he knows I trust him.
So weird!
All at once, she suspected that Zack was slowing down.
Max could feel something like excitement stirring inside herself as she realised she'd soon be face to face with those cool, blue eyes that seemed to study the world with such emotionless detachment.
She had to admit that the strain of not knowing why he'd wanted to meet with her had more than messed up her mind a little. She so desperately wanted to rescue Brin. Surely this was why Zack needed to see her so urgently.
She needed to make amends. She needed absolution. Rescuing Brin would be her penance – just a little more complex than the five Hail Marys she'd seen her foster sister have to recite.
"Five!"
Max stopped abruptly with a suddenness that made an owl soar silently into the air with alarm.
Five. She'd seen five figures behind the trees when she'd stood by Logan at the campfire, but when she'd spoken to the crop growers there'd only been four: Lenny, Poggs, Lucy and the blonde.
Where was Chad?
She remembered him now clearly as the truculent, suspicious one who hadn't been pleased when they'd taken his gun.
For once Max was aware of the cold as a sudden wind whipped at her jacket, but strangely it seemed to be emanating from somewhere deep inside her rather than from without.
The owl returned to its perch to superciliously stare at the intruder. This time it didn't stir when Max turned and headed back to the campfire with an even greater speed than before, but merely blinked its large, intelligent eyes with an expression that ponderously remarked, "My, my, my."
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Max rushed back through the silent trees, her face set in hard lines and her mind purposefully blank as her feet scarcely made a sound on the forest floor.
The branches and leaves flashed by with an even greater speed than they had on her outward journey. She was breathing a little quicker than was usual by the time she stealthily approached the closest tree by the campfire, but it was caused by the sudden thumping of her heart in her chest rather than exertion.
What she saw made her eyes darken with a cold, steely intent.
Her campfire still flamed fiercely, its orange glow a reflected smudge on the side of the Aztek near where Logan's fishing rod leant. Their table and chair were still in the same position underneath the awning and the clean dishes they'd so recently used stacked neatly where Logan had placed them before warming himself by the fire.
It was the tableau in front of the fire that held her attention.
"Don't even think about touching him!" Her voice resonated startlingly clear in the crispy cold, night air with a determination that was undeniable.
The man who stood over Logan looked across at the figure approaching and half raised his hands from his sides with a kind of weary, resigned surprise.
It was Logan who spoke, his words a little jerky as he caught his breath. "Max, its okay…he kinda saved my ass."
A little of the tautness in Max's shoulders relaxed as she risked taking her eyes off the man she recognised as Poggs.
Her eyes went to Logan, breathing hard, half-supported on his elbows, and took in the pool of water he seemed to be lying in. She noticed the legs of his jeans were saturated and thehuge container of drinking water, now empty, lay tossed on its side nearby.
Max stared wonderingly, trying to ignore the sudden twist in her gut as she realised she'd screwed up big time.
Just how close had this all been?
"What happened?" she snapped out, her voice far colder than she'd intended as she tried to deal with her mistake, regroup, recover.
Manticore had trained her as a soldier, purged her from the weakness of emotion. Where the heck does all this other stuff come from then?
Logan heard only incrimination in her harsh tone of voice as he flicked a glance in her direction. "Where do I begin?" he asked dryly.
"It was Chad," Poggs admitted quietly as both sets of eyes turned in his direction. "He was trying to drag your friend into the fire."
Max looked back to Logan with alarm, but his eyes were concentrating on his outstretched legs and he completely missed the wild concern that flared briefly in her eyes.
"Peter, here, saw what he was up to…came running. Saved the day, doused me with water," Logan told her in a matter-of-fact voice. Okay, I've said it. Now she can tell me what an idiot I am. Seems to be the usual pattern with these things, he thought, thinking back to the Steinlitz.
"Logan, you okay?"
This time he thought he caught a trace of a different tone in her blurted out words.
"Sure," he answered quickly, strangely more uncomfortable with the thought that she might be concerned for him than he'd been with her possible scorn. Scorn he could deal with - couldn't be a nephew of Jonas Cale and not pick up that skill. Concern though – that was something different, confusing, dangerous, possibly even belittling. Even worse, it required a response and he was presently so far below 100 he wasn't even sure he could bluff his way through anything she might expect of him.
"Logan…"
"Really, I'm okay, Max," he responded even quicker, risking a glance in her direction.
Max studied his strained face carefully, not convinced, wishing she knew exactly what had happened instead of Logan's most likely edited version.
"Looks like Chad attacked and ran," Logan commented, keen to change the topic as he looked about their campsite. "You didn't see him?" he asked Max.
She shook her head.
"Just how close were they to the fire?" she asked Logan instead, indicating his water-soaked legs with a nod of her head, thankful to see there were no scorch marks on his jeans.
Logan hesitated. The moment of panic when he'd looked up to see Chad dragging him towards the fire was an experience he'd rather forget.
"Too close," Peter murmured with a certainty that made Max and Logan stare at him curiously.
"I was more than half-way through med school when the Pulse hit," he explained self-consciously.
"So now you 'do' drugs rather than dispensing them?" Max asked, unable to resist a hint of sarcasm as she saw Logan looking about for his chair and pushed it forward a few feet for him and set the brakes. It was kind of hard to forget the other's drug-hazed state by the river that morning.
"I'm not proud of myself," Peter told her with a touch of defiance. Then to Logan, "I'm not sure if I got enough cold water on you in time. Radiated heat like that…well…" He shrugged significantly.
"He'll need to check, Logan," Max cut in. "Strip."
Logan paused in the act of positioning his arms to lift himself up onto the seat, eyebrows raised in thunderstruck surprise.
"Not literally," Max quickly corrected, rolling her eyes as a faint tinge of red suffused her cheeks. "Just your jeans so that Poggs…Peter… whoever, can check your legs," she explained quickly to cover her own confusion. "You can't leave them on anyway - they're soaked," she added bluntly.
Still not keen on the idea, Logan struggled to haul himself into his chair. Someone had apparently replaced his arms with rubberized ones, he noticed dully as he only just managed to clumsily lift his hips high enough to slide back onto his seat.
Max strode over to the table and grabbed their lamp, turning the gas flame to high, then passed it to Poggs who was waiting for the decidedly reluctant Logan, to finish removing his shoes and then slip his jeans off.
Sympathetic and a tiny bit amused by Logan's obvious reluctance, Max went over to the car and grabbed his large, thick, towel.
"Hey, you could do with this to dry yourself," she called out as she tossed it across to him. She figured if he was really worried he could use it to protect his dignity.
Logan accepted the towel gratefully, even though the corner flicked him in the eye. He had his jeans to his knees so he tossed the towel over his thighs and boxers before returning to the difficult task of yanking the now cold and stiff wet jeans from his legs.
Max was just wondering whether he'd bite if she offered to help when Logan looked up abruptly and started looking around with an exasperated sigh. "I don't have my glasses," he commented to no one in particular irritably, wondering how he could have forgotten Chad had pulled them off.
"You got a spare pair?" asked Max practically, assuming that people who wore glasses were prepared for any contingency.
"Max, it was just a simple, overnight, uneventful, camping trip," he pointed out with barely veiled sarcasm. "Why would I bring spare glasses?"
"Oh. Okay," Max responded lightly, correctly reading the gauge that told her Logan's temper was reaching the 'I'm getting really pissy' level.
"I'll find'em," she said brightly.
"I think Chad may have tossed them somewhere. He pulled them off me sometime during…" he stopped abruptly, not really wanting Max to know the full extent of the evening's drama.
"Right," Max okayed, ignoring the slight hesitation as she set about carefully trolling the ground. "No big dealio – if they're here, I'll find 'em."
Logan, pleased to have her occupied while Poggs peered carefully at his skin, took the lamp from the other man, and held it over his white, motionless, legs so that the arc of light would most brightly illuminate any problem spots.
"Gottem," Max announced only seconds later to Logan's annoyance. Not that I'm not glad to have my glasses back, but she could've taken a bit longer, he grumbled silently as he took them from her outstretched hand without so much as a thank you. Putting them on at once he did he best to ignore Max's presence.
"So what's with the whole 'let's barbecue Logan' dealio?"she asked Poggs as she stared over the kneeling drop-out med student.
"It's the damned drug," Poggs sighed as he ran his hand gently along the side of Logan's lower left leg. "You're new to this then?" he commented to Logan, indicating the chair.
"Looks like it," Logan replied evenly.
"What is it with the plant?" Max interrupted impatiently, multi-tasking with ease as she took the lantern from Logan's hand, much to his annoyance, and held it at a better angle for Poggs to see by.
"It induces extreme paranoia," Poggs explained uneasily.
"So this morning…Lucy's whack behaviour about the water?"
"I didn't notice it at first, then, when Chad started going off the deep end, I just thought it was because of the letters. He was always kinda highly strung, you know."
"The letters?" Logan broke in, all thought of his legs forgotten.
Poggs remained silent, apparently intent on studying Logan's left leg. "The skin's a bit red here," he eventually offered uncomfortably. "Not blistered though."
"Poggs, it's kinda nice to know why someone wants to fry you. It makes for a far more deep and meaningful experience," Max told him ironically.
"Who sent you the letters?" Logan insisted.
"The crew who were here before us," Poggs finally muttered, still uneasily avoiding their gaze.
"And?" prompted Max.
'They were full of all kinda stuff…warnings mostly."
Max's gaze flickered to Logan's, noting the intent look on his face.
"Warnings?" he pressed.
"They said people had died up here. No one knew how." Poggs stood up suddenly. "You seem to be okay," he said to Logan. "There's a red area on your left leg. You'll need to watch it – make sure the skin doesn't start to break down."
"Who died?" Logan asked him, not the least bit interested in his medical opinion.
"They didn't say exactly, but I know one, maybe more of their team died. That's why they were leaving. They left the note hidden in some of the equipment for us to find. Scared the hell outta the girls."
"Chad too, I'd say," murmured Max.
"They didn't say anything about how these people died?" asked Logan.
Poggs shook his head.
"So none of you are afraid of the boogey man?" smiled Max.
Folding his arms to ward off some of the chill of the night air, Poggs shrugged shamefacedly. "Money was good and they said we could use the plant for our own 'recreational' purposes."
"Big of them," Max muttered.
"Yeah, well, I know now how stupid I was to get mixed up in all this. I never knew the drugs could do this…that he'd do this," he finished with bleak amazement, sweeping his hand to the fire then back towards Logan.
"You hardly seem like the type to fall for a get-rich-quick scheme," Logan suggested, not unkindly.
"The money was so good, and the others were all in favour of it. I just wanted to get enough to have another go at med school. I don't know what happened, but since the Pulse, my life's been screwed, totally."
"Never too late to change," Logan encouraged him.
Ever the optimist, Max grimaced inwardly. What century is Logan from, anyway?
Poggs shook his curly, dark head despondently.
"You could try and put things right. These drugs you're growing – they're nothing but trouble. I have contacts…maybe we could put these guys outta business."
Raising his hand in an ineffectual gesture, Poggs raised his eyes. "Nothing to tell. Never saw them."
"Payment?"
"Straight into our bank account at the end of each month."
As if suddenly aware of the state secrets he was giving away, Poggs began to shuffle his feet and look around as if he thought someone might be listening. "Listen, I gotta go. I'd better get back to the others."
Logan shrugged a little disappointedly at the man's obvious reluctance to speak further but held out his hand for the other to take. "Thanks for everything you did."
Poggs took the hand with some embarrassment. After all, it had been his supposed friend who'd caused so much trouble.
"Remember – even with the Pulse to contend with, it is possible to change," Logan told him quietly, making Max roll her eyes briefly.
Poggs looked at Logan, and Max wasn't quite sure what it was he saw as he looked at a man who'd recently ended up in a wheelchair. Maybe it was what she'd seen in those green eyes many times over the last few months – an intrinsic belief that man is mostly good and that evil can be overcome.
Damn, he even has me believing it, sometimes.
Whatever it was, for the first time she saw something that could almost be taken as a smile on Poggs's face, a lightening of his features, a twist to his mouth, even a slight glimmer in his eyes.
"Maybe," he murmured, before he let go of the hand, then turned and walked back towards his campsite.
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Max stole a look at Logan's profile as they walked back to the Aztek along the rather bumpy, winding road that they'd driven along when they'd arrived.
It was so dark now amongst the trees that it was almost impossible for Logan to navigate his way around the various rocks and strewn branches that littered the forest floor in safety, so they'd opted for the road instead as they'd returned from the rarely used, and apparently even more rarely cleaned, toilets.
He was still frowning. He'd been frowning for quite some time now and she still wasn't familiar enough with all his moods to know exactly what it was that troubled or puzzled or intrigued or annoyed him. Maybe it was some other emotion entirely that she hadn't even thought of.
She wondered, with a twinge of guilt, how much of a crap time he'd had by the fire, duking it out with Chad. Not that he's likely to ever drop the knowledge on how he really felt about it anyway.
You're obsessing again over something, Logan, she muttered to herself as her eyes drifted skyward.
The moon was a long way from its glorious entirety, more likely barely a half moon, but at least the sky remained free of clouds that would have dimmed what moonlight there was.
"Did ya check your legs while you were in there?" Max asked, her voice breaking the silence almost harshly. She'd found only one thing seemed to work well in the draughty, dank toilets, and that was the two fluorescent lights that blazed stubbornly with an unattractive starkness that made everything they illuminated look even worse.
Logan shrugged a little as his arms continually worked to keep his chair moving. "They appear to be still attached to the rest of me," he answered with evasive irony.
Max accepted the fact that he didn't want to talk about it but it made it all the harder for her to broach the subject of what had happened by the campfire.
Two things bothered her.
The first being how lame would she would sound when she admitted to Logan that she hadn't been there to watch his back because she was chasing Zack. He'll probably blow me off with one of his 'it's fine, Max' comments and consider the topic closed, but what if it hadn't been fine. If Poggs hadn't shown up he could have been seriously jammed up by that crank. Is this some whack pattern I'm establishing here? Never being around when he needs me?
The second thing was Logan's apparent lack of surprise about the contents of the warning letters. That definitely had her thinking. You've been holding out on me, Logan.
Max stole a look at his profile again. His expression hadn't changed. No time like the present, she told herself bracingly.
"When we were kickin' back by the fire, I saw the other boneheads standing under the trees looking at us – thought they were tryin' to play us."
She noticed Logan nod in understanding.
"Turns out they admired your tent," she laughed. "Who'da thunk?"
"Not me," Logan murmured in reply, eyebrows raised.
"I was about t'swing back when I saw Zack. He seemed to be doing some recon or something."
"You spoke to him?" asked Logan with quick surprise, looking across at her.
"Uh uh. Never caught up with him."
"I don't get it. I thought he wanted to speak with you."
Max's only answer was an eloquent shrug of her shoulders. She hoped she looked cool about her brother's actions rather than confused and annoyed. She could feel her cheeks flame with embarrassment as she wondered what Logan thought of it all. She suddenly felt she needed to cover for Zack, think up some reasonable explanation that would explain his unusual actions.
Unconsciously making a face in the dark, Max slid her hands into the back pockets of her jeans as she walked, As if this whole melodramatic 'meeting in the forest at dawn' dealio isn't strange enough.
Somehow she felt some kind of responsibility for what he did. It was as if his strange ways reflected badly on her…and to her surprise, she realised that she didn't want Logan to think that all X5s were a little whack.
"Must've been some reason," she told him, cringing at how lame it all sounded, at the slight note of defensiveness that she'd been unable to keep from her voice.
"Guess so," Logan responded evenly, thankfully turning his chair off the road towards their campsite by the river.
"Anyway, that's why I wasn't there…when Chad…"
"Being my legs for Eyes Only stuff doesn't make you responsible for everything that happens to me," he cut in on her coolly, bringing his chair to a stop by the small, collapsible table underneath the awning.
"I never said it did," she replied tersely.
"Good. Just as long as we understand each other," he told her with an edge to his voice as he determinedly swung his chair around to make eye contact with her.
"Maybe we'd understand each other better if you didn't insist on playing all your cards so close to your chest."
'What's that supposed to mean?"
"It means that you didn't seem all that surprised when Poggs told us that people had died up here."
This time Logan swung away from her and picked up the water container from the ground near his feet. He held it upside down over a cup on the table in the hope of draining a few inches from it. His mouth felt suddenly inexplicably dry.
"I don't quite get what you mean," he stalled, putting off the inevitable as long as possible. He didn't dare risk looking into the velvety, chocolate brown eyes. He knew there'd be nothing of the velvet about them this time - more likely daggers.
"Oh. You want time think about your response?" Max offered obligingly, going over to the makeshift line to check how his wet clothes were drying. His jeans had now been added to the line where his cargoes and T-shirt already hung.
Logan pressed his lips tightly together as he watched her walk away. It looks like the games up. He wondered resignedly just how much of the truth he'd have to tell as he raised the cup to his lips.
"Don't drink that!"
Taking a deep breath to recover from the slight start she'd given him, and in an effort to hold onto his temper, he ground out, "Why not? You drank it."
Once he'd established that there was not a single drop left in their drinking water, Logan had simply poured some of the river water that Max had collected into his cup.
"Revved up girl, remember?" she smiled glibly. "Who knows what bugs and parasites are havin' a deep sea dive in that," she said, taking the cup from him as she spoke. And I didn't know about people dying mysteriously up here at the time, Logan. Not that that probably would have stopped her, she considered honestly, but Logan definitely didn't need the added complication of a bug in his gut. "We'll have to boil all our drinking water now," she told him aloud. "There's still some Coke in the cooler between the car seats if you're thirsty. I could grab you some."
"Changed my mind. I'll have coffee instead," Logan told her shortly, adding ironically, "If that's all right with you?"
"Sure," Max smiled, "maybe then you'll tell me why you've been holding out on me?"
Logan could feel himself tensing, but he hid it beneath a glower of exasperation. "I'd heard some rumours of some strange goings-on up here," he admitted.
"What type of goings-on?" asked Max suspiciously.
"Word was that a few people had died up here – no one knew how. But they were just rumours, Max," he insisted, "not even from a reliable source."
Max's tone of voice was becoming increasingly colder. "And you knew about this and you never told me?"
"What was there to tell? Besides, I knew whatever I said you'd come anyway."
"Reality check, Logan. I don't need a bodyguard," she spat out in arctic accents.
"Well, I'm never likely to be that, am I, Max?' he snapped, regretting instantly that he'd let himself be goaded into even hinting at some of his own insecurities.
The daggers suddenly softened into a velvety blur. "I didn't mean…"
"I just thought it might be a good idea to have someone watching your back," Logan interrupted quickly, preferring to return to their argument in the hope that she hadn't noticed the chink in his armour. "Simple as that."
"So, what, you planning to rush off headlong into some Eyes Only exposé now, Logan?"
"I haven't thought that far ahead."
Max folded her arms uncompromisingly. "My only mission up here is to contact Zack." And to keep you outta trouble, she added to herself wryly.
"I never said your mission had to be compromised."
Max suddenly shrugged with exasperation. "Maybe it is already. Maybe that's what tonight was all about. If only you'd told me, Logan, maybe I could have done something, and maybe you wouldn't have nearly ended up being barbecued."
"We have no way of knowing of that," Logan insisted stubbornly.
"Yeah?" Max rounded on him. "You think I would have gone running off into the night and left you by yourself if I'd had all the facts!"
"I never said I blamed you," he answered her in surprise.
"I know…but," I blame myself. "I'm just pissed-off that it could have been avoided."
Logan shrugged fatalistically, abruptly changing the subject in an attempt to diffuse the issue. "You want coffee?"
Max watched him spoon the coffee into the percolator. "You haven't told me what you intend on doing?"
Logan paused and looked up at her. What she saw in his eyes made her heart sink. "Max, people may be dying up here."
"They're airheads, Logan – just as likely to kill themselves before anyone else does. How do you know that's not what happened?"
"Maybe it did, but they're still someone's son or daughter or brother or whatever. Each one of them is an identity that deserves more than an unexplained death, Max."
"It's not my problem. My only goal is to meet with Zack and save Brin. What are these whack-jobs to you anyway. After what Chad did to you tonight! It's not like you owe them anything!"
Logan stared up at her with exasperation. "Fine, you don't wanna stick around here after you see Zack in the morning, that's okay with me. You could probably hitch a ride back to Seattle. There are plenty of trucks traveling this route."
Max just rolled her eyes. "Yeah, right." Of course I'd leave you up here by yourself with rumours of strange deaths, not to mention leaving you to pack up the camp by yourself.
"Max, I mean it," he insisted.
"Forget it, Logan. Not gonna happen."
Logan looked up at her from under his lashes, then down again to the hand that rested on his leg. The instant he paused, an incredible fog of battle-weariness stole over him, numbing even his ability to think.
"Logan?" Max prompted him.
"Max, can we leave this till the morning?" he asked, unconsciously rubbing at his forehead where the skin creased in a frown.
"Sure," Max responded in a clipped tone. She wasn't happy, wasn't even sure that she should leave him to meet Zack in the morning.
Logan looked about, saw nothing of life-saving urgency that he had to do, and reversed his chair so that he could lift himself up onto the tailgate.
Max watched him distractedly as he positioned himself, only seeing the uncertainties of the next day. "You know it might be a good idea if you come with me when I see Zack," she said aloud, voicing her concerns.
For the moment Logan couldn't answer as he hauled himself up what felt like the face of a cliff. Grunting with the effort and hoping desperately that he wasn't going to embarrass himself in front of her, he eventually sensed his hips were up far enough and eased himself back on the tailgate away from the edge.
Max tried not to notice how much effort it took him. It would only add to her concerns. He probably just needed a good night's sleep she thought hopefully.
Logan considered Max's suggestion as he went to reach down for his chair, intending to dismantle it.
"Why don't you leave it here? I can watch it for you while you sleep," she suggested.
"Okay," he agreed, relieved that he wouldn't need to go through the difficulty that he had that morning.
"So, about meeting Zack?" Max prompted.
"I can't imagine that I was ever a part of his invitation," he told her bluntly and he wasn't thrilled with the idea that she thought she had to baby-sit him now.
Max shrugged. "Well, circumstances are a bit different now, aren't they."
Logan looked at her tiredly and nodded. She had that 'my mind's made up' look on her face.
Logan started to drag himself backwards towards his bed when he stopped and said hesitantly, "Max, I never meant to come between you and your rendezvous with Zack."
"Well, you're sure as hell not, as far as I'm concerned."
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Max paced restlessly outside the Aztek, stopping every once in a while to rotate Logan's clothing in the hope that it would be dry by morning – even if he did end up smelling like he'd been sleeping in a smokehouse.
Even with the blazing fire beside her, the chill night air was beginning to steal into her clothing, finding the vulnerable places where her short sweater only just met the top of her jeans.
The sheriff had been right – it was a much colder night than the previous one. At the thought of the sheriff her lips curled in suspicious derision and a mental boot to her own ass. She should have picked up on Logan's strangely uncurious response to the sheriff's veiled warnings when they were down by the river.
You're slipping Max.
Logan wet, dripping, green eyes, long lashes.
What is it about water that makes a man look so damned sexy, she wondered. Okay, okay, so? I was a little distracted at the time.
Max paced again, her eyes ever-vigilant, checking the muted shadows of the surrounding forest with eagle-eyed precision. She wasn't going to be caught napping again, she promised herself.
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Logan lay in bed for a surprisingly long time before he fell asleep. His body screamed exhaustion at him, but his mind stubbornly refused to shut down.
Every now and again he caught the sound of Max's pacing. It did nothing for his own state of mind that she appeared to be restless too.
Well, she said she never sleeps. But he remembered vividly the one time he had watched her sleep, stroking her forehead, soothing the lines of pain from her forehead, watching her perfectly shaped, full lips relax until they opened slightly and she sank into a deep slumber.
She trusted you Logan. More than that, she didn't want you to leave.
"Of course she trusted me. I'm not much of a threat in that thing."
She wanted you to be there.
"She was scared, feeling ill. No one wants to be alone when they feel that way."
Then why do you push her away when you feel like that?
"I don't need her help."
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Max watched him while he slept. He seemed to be restless, maybe even in discomfort or pain. She thought back to his, 'Not in any pain, good and bad news of a blown out spinal chord,' bravado. It had only taken a few short minutes of reading up about spinal chord injury on the internet to dispel that myth. Still, it was typical of Logan to downplay anything like that in regard to himself. Perhaps it had been his way of telling her that nothing worked, no sensation, no walking - my condition is absolute, irreversible.
She wondered who had taught him to hide his pain. How old had he been when the walls had gone up?
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The river glistened with silver reflections that danced ethereally on its surface.
A single, white owl watched silently as she rose from the water, each droplet falling like a shimmering jewel. Even her dark hair seemed to shine as if she was covered in a delicate silvery shawl of finest gossamer.
She smiled when she saw him.
He turned around to see if there was someone behind him. Just in case.
When he looked again she was still standing in the shimmering water, holding out her hand in a welcoming gesture.
Without thought, he stepped forward. How could he not? His whole body felt on fire for her.
With a start he realised that he remembered this feeling. He remembered vaguely that he hadn't felt this alive for a long time.
He stepped into the water, amazed to see the silvery ripples and feel the icy cold water between his toes.
"Logan."
She was calling him now.
When he looked up at her he saw a provocative smile playing on her lips.
He knew that smile. He knew what it said. It had been bestowed on him countless times – but never by her.
The thought made him pause.
"Logan."
There'd be no going back, he realised, but the almost overwhelming desire to feel her in his arms carried him forward.
She didn't look surprised when he put his hands either side of her face and gently lifted her face to his.
He was trembling so much now he could hardly stand.
"Logan," she breathed in his ear, in an almost silent whisper.
This time he looked at her upturned face and slowly put his lips to hers.
He heard her moan with desire but suddenly there was a roaring in his ears.
He pressed against her lips even harder this time but the roaring in his ears only magnified until he could hardly think.
It was then that he fell back from her in horror.
He'd felt nothing. It had been as if his lips had kissed air.
Totally confused he put a hand to his mouth and traced the area where he knew it to be. His hand felt skin, the roughness of his unshaven face, teeth, the wetness of his tongue.
And it was as if they belonged to someone else.
"Logan?"
She was looking at him in confusion now, and all he wanted to do was run from her.
And then he was falling, and the water was rushing over his head and he couldn't decide if it was better to just let go.
"Logan? Logan?"
Her hand pulled at his shoulder, gripping it with a force strong enough to make him want to cry out.
"Logan!"
His eyes shot open.
"I think you were having a bad dream," brown eyes that seemed to see through to his very soul, told him tentatively.
"Was I?" he lied anyway, putting a shaky hand to his damp forehead.
Max knelt beside him, peering down at him in concern.
Still with more than half of his senses in his dream world, he found his eyes drawn to her lips, noticing their fullness, the perfection of their shape, the way they moved.
"… should stay here."
Suddenly snapping back to full alertness, he realised that she'd been speaking to him but his mouth was so dry that he could barely form the words to ask her what she'd said.
Swallowing hard and running his tongue over his moisture starved lips, he struggled up on his elbows as some modicum of sense returned to him.
"Time to meet Zack?" he grated out in a rough voice.
Max just looked at him, handed him his glasses, then said, "Wait here," and disappeared out the flap.
Logan let his head loll back in disgust with himself, then reminding himself that Max expected something of him, he slowly dragged himself upright until he was leaning against the back of the seat and closed his eyes.
By focusing long enough, he discovered that the little finger on his left hand didn't appear to be aching. It's a start, he thought wryly, remembering belatedly Bling's advice not to overdo things.
Logan looked up to see Max return with a cup. He desperately hoped it would be coffee – at this point he even thought he could take a leaf out of Jonas's book and down a bloody Mary.
Max held the cup out for him. It was water.
Logan hid his disappointment and drank the boiled river water like a man who'd been lost in the desert for a week.
"Thanks," he told her in a smoother, lubricated voice before glancing at his watch. "How much time do we have before we have to be at the rendezvous?"
The thought of having to use his aching muscles for any sort of exercise in the near future filled him with dread, let alone having to push himself up the incline towards the homestead site.
"I've been thinking about that," Max told him in the tone of one who's actually done a lot of thinking on the topic.
Logan raised his eyebrows at her.
"I think I was being overly cautious last night, and it's a long way there and who knows if Zack will even turn up so…"
With a slightly self-conscious smile she passed him his gun. It was loaded.
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To be continued