Chapter 3

"Logan," she whispered, shaking him lightly. He didn't budge. She tried a little louder and harder the second time. "Logan." His breathing pattern changed slightly for about ten seconds, but he didn't otherwise acknowledge her. Finally, she climbed on top of him and gave it one last attempt. "Logan!"

His eyes flew open, his hands jerked up in a defensive position swinging toward her, and she ducked off to the side. "Huh! What?" he muttered, looking around through eyes bleary with sleep and refractory error. He groped at the bedside stand for his glasses. "Max, what the hell?" he managed once he could see her. She was rolling on the bed, hugging her sides, shaking with laughter. "Oh very funny. You're gonna give me a heart attack one of these times. I'm old."

"Shut up," she poked his side and snuggled in next to him. "It's time to get up."

"And what time would that be, exactly," he asked glancing toward the clock.

"Six-thirty."

He groaned. "I think we need his and hers time zones."

"Logan, come on. Get up." She tugged at his arm.

He rolled away from her. "Go back to sleep, Max."

"I can't." She wished that she could, and she'd tried, but it was no use.

"Well, then let me go back to sleep." He pulled the covers over his head to block out the light starting to stream in through the blinds.

"Logan, please. I've already been to the market to get stuff for you to make us a picnic." Her hand found his in the tangle of sheets and blankets and squeezed.

He sighed and sat up, folding the covers over in front of him. "Who in the world is at the market at six-thirty in the morning?"

"Well, I don't know. I was there at five-thirty. The vendors were just setting up their stands, so I got first choice. Marshmallows and everything! We are so having s'mores."

She made Logan's head hurt, but he couldn't help but laugh. "If we had something to sell, you could set up your own booth out there. Apparently you know all the inner workings of the market."

"Well, you were sleeping. What was I supposed to do? Scrub the floors? I'm pretty sure you pay someone to do that." She tried to pout, but she took another good look at him. His glasses were crooked, his face bore the imprint of a pillowcase fold, and his hair was plastered down on the left side but spiked out on the top and right. She couldn't help giggling.

"What's so funny," he demanded, reaching up to straighten his glasses and rub a hand through his hair.

"Nothing. Are you getting up now?" she asked again. "I'll make you coffee while you're in the bathroom. Will that work?"

It was easier to get up than to argue with her. "Sure, whatever. Just give me a minute to wake up, okay?" He reached toward the chair. Max moved off the bed and took three steps toward the door, waiting to see that he was moving. "Max. I'm going. I swear."

"Okay," she shrugged, walking out of the room.

He shook his head and thought about flopping back down on the bed. But he knew she'd be back to check if she didn't hear movement. He grabbed the chair, transferred, and headed into the bathroom.

When she heard the shower water stop, she started the coffee brewing. By the time he appeared in the kitchen, she had poured his cup and added the milk and sugar. She set it on the counter as he pulled up beside her.

"Thanks," he grinned. The shower had improved his mood immensely. "Where's the picnic stuff?"

She pointed to an organized pile of ingredients on the far end of the counter. "I'm going to get a shower while you're working on it, okay?" She leaned over behind him, inhaled the fragrant scent of his drying hair, and kissed him. Turning, she moved out of the kitchen and toward the guest room.

"Max?" Logan inquired, "What are you doing? You can use the master bathroom." He wasn't sure that she'd ever been in there, but if she was really moving in, she'd have the run of the house.

She blushed and pushed a strand of hair behind her ear. "Most of my stuff is in the other one. I was thinking that maybe it would be better if I kept it in there for now. That way we have our own bathrooms and you don't have to clean out any drawers or anything."

He didn't know if she was thinking more about her or him, but he could see her point. Plus, the entire arrangement hinged on her feeling at home. If this is what she needed, then he would certainly comply. "Sure. That's fine. Although, if it's about drawer space, I think I can make some room for your stuff."

Her flush deepened. "It's okay, Logan. I'd rather keep it like this. If that's okay with you, I mean."

"Of course it is. Whatever you want, Max. That's the only rule, okay?"

She nodded. "I'll be back in a few. Then we can pack the car."

He grinned. She was relentless. "Take your time," he called to her back, disappearing down the hall. Fat chance of that, though. The girl had one speed – supersonic. A survey of her purchases produced a menu consisting of strawberry spinach salad, sliced chicken breast and brie sandwiches on baguettes, assorted fruit and cheeses, and finally Max's s'mores for dessert. He added a bottle of red wine to the basket along with the sparkling water she had already placed in the refrigerator. They could chill further once they got to the cabin. He packed the completed lunch into a basket he found in the back of the cabinet beside the stove. Things were pretty much ready, so he popped into the office to check his email. There were no new developments or messages. A little disappointed, but not surprised, he found himself back in the kitchen waiting for Max.

When she came back, her hair was still damp but pulled into a high ponytail. It made her look innocent and even younger than she already was. She caught him staring and pretended to fool with the bag wrapped across her body. The color still rose in her cheeks, though, giving her the look of having spent time in the sun. Not only was she beautiful and exotic, but she was fresh and adorable. He actually found himself looking forward to the drive and the day, even though it was barely 7:30 in the morning.

"Want me to take this down to the car while you get your stuff?" she asked, motioning toward the basket.

"Nah, I'll be ready to go in a second. We can go down together." He returned to the bedroom to gather a few things and joined her back in the front hall. She was waiting, the picnic basket in her hands.

"Do we need to take anything else, or are there supplies at the cabin?"

"Well, assuming your brothers and sisters haven't fenced everything, there should be."

Her eyes narrowed into little slits. "That's not nice."

"Sorry," he half-heartedly apologized. "You ready to go?" She nodded and they headed to the elevator, descended into the garage and loaded the car. When Logan moved toward the driver's seat, she interrupted.

"You want me to drive? You can sleep if you want," she offered.

He thought about it for a second before deciding he should take her up on it. He was still tired, but he knew she was trying to make up for being so insistent on getting such a jump on the day and forcing him out of bed so early. This relationship stuff was more exhausting than Max at six-thirty on a Sunday morning. Yes. She would drive and he would sleep. He tossed her the keys. She unlocked the car and waited for him to hand off the chair to her for storage in the back.

Once she had stowed it next to the picnic basket, she joined him in the front. "Ready?" she asked as he reclined the passenger seat.

"Sure, why not?" he replied, realizing that his enthusiasm for this mission was quickly waning. He hoped a nap would help.

She ignored him, put the car in reverse, and switched on the radio as they exited the garage. Logan dozed quickly, and when the classical music threatened to put her to sleep, she inserted the CD she'd brought from the office. It was the one he'd made for some unnamed Yale girl, the one with all the songs she liked. She kept the volume low as not to disturb him but found herself humming along within a few minutes.

As she concentrated on the road ahead of her, she tried to focus on her job for the day. When they arrived at the cabin, she'd have to try to tell how long it had been since Zack had been there and who else had been with him. Once she'd had a good look around, she would also be able to ascertain the best place to leave a message. How to code it was the last piece of the puzzle she still needed to figure out. They'd been taught so many ciphers; she tried to remember which one had been Zack's favorite. It had been years since she'd thought about clandestine communications with another X5. She didn't have to decide at that very second, though. They still had a few miles left and the rest of the day at the cabin.

Logan stirred beside her. "Do we need to do something for him?" he asked.

She slowed as they approached the turn. "What do you mean?" She thought Logan must still be dreaming.

"Is Zack okay?" Logan couldn't imagine the life Zack led, although he realized why the other man did what he did. Zack had 11 others counting on him. Even after they had all gone out into the world and made lives for themselves, Zack still held himself responsible for them. Actually, the more Logan thought about it, Zack's situation wasn't unlike his own with the alter ego Eyes Only. The difference was that in creating a way to distance himself and the ones he loved from the danger, Logan had been able to lead a more normal life. At least that's what he kept telling himself. But the truth remained that Eyes Only had crossed over into Logan Cale's life plenty of times before Sonrisa. The shooting was just the most obvious example. And now, Logan was dragging Max into that world where safety and danger teetered on either side of a precariously steep precipice.

But Max had her own demons and secrets from her past. And Logan knew what Zack had to be thinking when he saw the two of them together. There was no way Logan could protect Max from Lydecker and Manticore. There was really no way any "ordinary" could, much less some guy in a wheelchair. It had been easy enough to read on Zack's face. Logan surmised Zack had discussed this very assumption with Max.

The day after Logan had driven Zack and Max to the cabin, Bling found him unconscious in the Penthouse. The resulting surgery left him near death following massive blood loss and with no suitable donor to be found. Somehow, Max arrived just in time. She hadn't ever explained to him what had happened at the cabin or how she had gotten back to Seattle, but he had an idea of what had gone down between her and Zack. Logan was sure that whole fiasco had lowered Zack's opinion of him as well. That had been obvious enough the last time Zack had been in town, when Max wouldn't leave with him and Tinga. But what bothered Logan more than anything was the fact that he cared what Zack thought about him. Zack saw himself as Max's primary protector. Hell, he'd even let Manticore capture him again to save her. On some level, Logan could understand all that, and he assumed that's why Zack's view of him mattered. So that's why he was asking about Zack now. Not so much because he wanted to impress Zack but that this surly, sulking guy was the closest thing Max had to family. If Zack needed some sort of help he could provide, Logan understood that he needed to take care of that, for Max's sake.

She looked over at him as she pulled up to the cabin. "You seriously care?" she asked, not really sure what had changed in the past 45 minutes.

"Well, yeah." Logan tried to be convincing.

Max shot him a sideways glance, not sure what type of game he was playing here. "I'll know a little more about what's going on with him once we take a look around. Let me find out what he's been up to over the past few weeks and then I'll have a better idea." Logan shrugged and sat waiting in the car as Max moved to the back to retrieve his chair. She handed the pieces to him and waited as he assembled it. As he prepared to transfer, Max placed her hand on his. "Thanks for asking, though." She smiled. He felt his face move to match hers. She motioned for him to join her and she started up the path to the cabin's front door.

He followed behind her, the crisp cool air giving him a waking shot. Moving around to the ramp he had finally let Bennett construct, he took note of minor repairs that the porch had apparently undergone. The two rotted boards on the rail and steps had been replaced. The porch swing that had taken up what seemed to be permanent residence in the far corner on the floor was now hanging, swaying slightly in the breeze. It wasn't like he talked to Bennett every day (or week or month), but Logan knew he used the cabin more often than Bennett and Marianne or Jonas. He couldn't imagine who could have been up here tinkering away. Forgetting about Max and her picnic, he propelled himself over to look at the swing. He took his time inspecting it, moving it back and forth and testing the chains. So engrossed in this he was that he didn't hear Max behind him.

She placed her hand on his shoulder. "What's that?" she asked, pointing to the swing.

"Someone set up the porch swing. Bennett and I broke this back chain about 15 years ago. By that time, I had my license and we could come up here by herself, so the elder Cales didn't have to commune with nature anymore. We always talked about fixing it, but we just never got around to it." He pointed to the corner where the swing had come from. "It was over there under a tarp for I don't know how long. I don't even remember the last time I thought about it." He looked closer at the swing. "Actually," he thought aloud, "This isn't the swing. It's a replica. This wood is new." He inhaled, smelling for the fresh varnish. He ran his hand over it. "It's beautiful," he turned to Max, "Isn't it?"

She stepped past him and took a seat on the swing, using her feet to make it sway a little more. She scooted over and patted the seat beside her. He glanced apprehensively. It would be about like trying to get into a bobbing rowboat. "I'll hold it steady," she interjected quickly, seeing the questions in his eyes. She braced the swing and Logan was able to move almost gracefully beside her. Once he arrived, he situated himself and looked over at her. She pushed her feet against the floor of the porch again and started them going. His knees bent permissively with her movements. Together, they looked out over the small lake, the rising fog beginning to burn off as the sun warmed the air around them.

"Who do you think did this?" he finally asked her, as though she'd have any idea.

She pulled a note from her pocket and placed it in his hand. It read:

Max,

Thanks for letting me hang out for a while. I tried to spruce the place up a little bit. Hopefully that will keep Logan from being too mad at you. I'll try to see you the next time I'm in the area but don't know when that will be.

Take care, baby sis,

Zack

"Where'd you find that?" Logan asked. She'd only been in the cabin for a few minutes.

"It was in the freezer, all the way in the back, tucked into a groove behind the cooling element."

"Well, if the electricity went out, the frost would all melt and that would get wet. Why did he put it there?" Logan wondered.

"Well, it didn't get all wet, so that means he was here since the last time the electricity went out for a long period of time, right?" Max explained.

"So that way we know about how recently he's been here," Logan was starting to catch on.

Max nodded. "Doesn't tell us much about when he's coming back; he's totally cleaned out any stuff he might have had here, but it couldn't have been long – maybe a week – since he left."

Logan was about half listening. "He did this so I wouldn't be mad at you for letting him use the cabin?" he asked, turning toward her. "Does he think I'm that much of an ogre?"

Max shrugged. "Takes one to know one, I guess." She couldn't help but grin.

"What's that supposed to mean?" he protested.

"He's about as uncomfortable around you as you are around him. Give the guy some credit; he's making an effort." She placed her head on his shoulder and wrapped her arms around his.

"You're right. He is, but I think I'm trying, too," he bent his head toward hers. "It's okay if he stays here when he needs to, assuming he doesn't run into Bennett and Marianne or, God forbid, Jonas."

"For real?" she asked.

"Well, yeah. I can just imagine explaining that to Jonas. Let's just avoid that scene."

She sat up. "Not what I mean, Logan. Obviously, he'll steer clear if anyone else is around, and if someone's on the way up, he'll hear them and be gone before they can have any idea he was here."

"Oh," Logan finally realized what she meant. "Of course he can stay, the others, too." She turned her face up to him, looking up with admiration. No one had looked at him like that in who knows how long. Actually, he knew exactly how long, since people stopped looking up at him. He needed her to keep looking at him like that.

"Thanks, Logan. It's important to know that they have another place to be safe." She buried her head in his jacket and hugged him close.

"They're your family, Max," he pointed out. "If Bennett and Tony were in trouble, you'd do what you could to help them, right?"

He felt her head nod against him. "Of course I would," came her muffled reply, and he knew she meant it.

"So what are we going to do for the rest of the day now that we've figured out the Zack mystery? I'm guessing you've already put your note back in the hiding place."

She grinned. "Well, I don't know about you, but I could handle starting up a fire and making some s'mores."

Logan glanced at his watch. "It's 9:30 in the morning."

Max shrugged. "It's five o'clock somewhere. London, actually."

Logan looked at her and laughed. "God, I love you."