Chapter Two
The apartment building was nice. Brick face with no broken windows, always a plus. The entry had a keypad, which was a strike against the place. Anyone with a working knowledge of computers could break the encryption code and gain access. Sliding a finger down one of the first floor windows, Max judged the density. Poor quality glass that was easily broken and cut. Another strike. Piss poor security, the night watchmen hadn't even noticed her casing the building.
Tightening the straps on her bulging backpack, she gingerly began the climb up the side of the building. Ignoring the side with the fire escape, which while necessary according to Seattle precedent was another strike against the building, she had entered an apartment in a neighboring building and secured her line to the roof of Cale's apartment complex. The absence of the moon covered her ascent, and the late night traffic disguised the scraping of her boots against the wall. Max easily pulled herself over the side of the roof wall, landing soundlessly on the roof. A quick inspection, confirmed her assumption, no one guarded the roof. And why would they, she thought with a smirk, who would be stupid enough to scale a building? Stealthily, she approached the skylight that would allow her access into Cale's apartment.
Peering into the darkness below her, Max could see a sliver of light coming from a room about ten feet from the skylight. Looks like Logan Cale is an insomniac. Max pulled a tube of specially designed lubricant—a gift from the powers that be—from a pocket in her vest and began to apply the solution to the window, before noticing that the casing had already been dissolved. Cursing under her breath, Max pulled a small communicator from another pocket and sent an inquiry to the boys at ops. While she hadn't seen anyone around the building, she knew better than to assume Jace had treated the window. A small vibration alerted her to the response, giving her the response she was looking for, it had been Jace. Stuffing both items back into her vest, she pulled suction cups from her belt and affixed them to the glass. Carefully, she lifted the glass and laid it on the roof beside her.
Poking her head into the room below, Max heard the sounds of keys tapping on a keyboard and the occasional squeak of a chair as its inhabitant tried to get comfortable. Silently, she dropped to the floor, and headed for the room two doors down from the skylight. On the blueprints it had been labeled as a spare bedroom, and Jace had confirmed the outline. She laid her pack on the bed, and moved back into the hallway, the steady click of keys drawing her to the sliver of light. Max peered through the cracked door, watching the man at the computer. Stepping back, she judged the door. The hinges looked fairly new, so she took the chance and opened the door fully. Not a squeak. Logan Cale sat before her unobstructed view, oblivious to her watchful eyes, typing.
Max leaned casually against the doorframe, observing her client. A perceptible tremor went through her body…trouble. Her gut clenched, and it wasn't in response to the three-day-old Chinese take-out she had eaten earlier. A quick sweep of his frame, confirmed Jace's observation. Logan Cale was a very tasty specimen. But Max had never been one to fall victim to her sex drive, so why was she suddenly thinking how he would taste on her tongue. She mentally slammed the door on that thought, and took a deep breath, blending back into the shadows when Cale paused in his work.
Logan Cale paused in mid-thought to shake the kinks out of his back, stretching his arms. A strange sensation went through him, he felt as though he was being watched. Quickly he dismissed the possibility and scanned through his last sentence, picking back up the thought he prepared to resume his typing. His fingers had barely touched the keyboard when he heard the rapping against his office doorframe, followed by a voice, a very female voice.
"Knock, knock," Max stated, as she leaned against the doorframe.
Logan spun around in his chair, a gun appearing in what had been an empty hand.
Max flinched at the sight of the gun, a bad memory leftover from childhood. Giving him a disarming smile, Max began walking towards him. "Watch where you point that, Slick." As easily as the gun had appeared in Logan's hand, a business card had appeared in Max's.
Taking the proffered card, Logan read the words, while still keeping an eye and the gun on Max. "Max Guevara. Fifth Generation X International." Logan's eyes swept Max's body, taking in her curly hair and lithe frame. "I expected somebody different, especially after what happened to the last guard."
"You wanted the best, right?" Max asked smugly.
Putting the gun back into the holster hidden under his flannel shirt, he nodded in agreement.
"Jace is fine by the way, thanks for asking."
"I know," Logan replied coolly, "I called the hospital." For some unknown reason, Logan felt at an extreme disadvantage, having her tower over him. He grinned when Max took a step backward as he stood from the chair. At six feet four inches he was a good head above her.
Max silently berated herself for moving away from him, but she had practically melted from the heat of his body. Tossing him a grin of her own, she worked on getting back the upper hand. "I hate to tell you, Mr. Cale, but size really doesn't matter in this situation."
"It intimidated you," he said evenly.
"Nothing intimidates me," Max replied cockily as she sized him up, looking for his Achilles heel.
"Oh really," Logan responded taking a step towards her.
Delivering the same subtle movement that had put Zack on his ass at the office, Logan was now looking up at her with a quizzical expression, wondering how he had gone from standing to falling flat on his ass. "Really," Max said giving the man on the floor a rare, genuine smile.
Logan couldn't help himself, and a laugh broke free. Serves me right, Logan thought, I deserved it. He dismissed the hand she held out to him and easily got to his feet. "Care to explain how you got into the building?" He asked, as he gently brushed past her to stand in the darkened hallway.
Max followed him out of the room, as if she hadn't just been burned by fire as he walked by her. What is wrong with me? Max thought irritably, I'm not due for another cycle for a few months. Just keep it together, Max. "I got into your building the same way any other determined individual would, through your skylight." She explained tilting her head towards the missing piece of glass. "While aesthetically pleasing, they're not very secure."
Logan gauged the drop to be a good ten feet, yet he had never heard her hit the floor. "I'll be sure to be remember that, Ms. Guevara."
"Be sure that you do, and the name is Max."
"Good, then I can be Logan instead of Mr. Cale," Logan grinned. "That way I can stop looking around for my father."
Max nodded, her eyes scanning the open rooms on the other side of the hall. A massive kitchen that would make a chef envious flowed into a large family room overlooking the city from its glass walls, separated only by a counter with a few barstools surrounding the marble. The sound of Logan clearing his throat, told her that she had been asked a question. "I'm sorry. I was casing your home."
Amusement flickered in his eyes, as he suspected that Max was rarely caught off guard. "I asked if you were hungry. I was about to heat up some chicken soup and then turn in for the night," gazing at the lightening sky he chuckled, "well, at least for what's left of the night."
"If it wouldn't be a problem," Max said, thinking about the stale Chinese food she had eaten earlier.
"No problem at all," Logan answered, leading her into the kitchen. "You get the bowls and spoons, and I'll take of our snack."
Two hours later, Logan was safely asleep, the skylight was fixed and Max had unpacked her gear, stowing things into an empty closet and chest-of-drawers. Restless because she had slept the night before, she prowled around the apartment using the warm pink glow of the sky for light. She scanned one of the many bookshelves in the family room, before settling onto the couch with a well-worn copy of The Great Gatsby.
After a few minutes, she carelessly tossed the book onto the table in front of her and propped her bare feet up beside the book. Burrowing deeper into the couch, she allowed the stillness of the apartment to wash over her. There was something cleansing about listening the world around her wake up to a new day. She could hear the soft sounds of Logan's breathing and his occasional movement in the bed through the closed door. The low din of city traffic, as Seattle awoke pushing more vehicles onto the streets. For the first time in months, Max was at peace. Shifting slightly on the couch, she settled in for a well-deserved moment of tranquility.