"I feel as if we got off on the wrong foot," John muttered. The hand she wrapped around the edge of the door squeezed until her knuckles ached. She hadn't the time nor patience for another talk, even despite how mysterious John had made himself appear. That same discomfort she had felt the first day they met had also returned. What could he possibly have to say to her?

"It'll have to wait until tomorrow," she told him, finding her voice through the residual anger and yanking at the door a second time.

"No," John responded tightly, shoving against the door. "It can't." It slipped from her grasp, slamming against the wall with enough impact to rattle the door against its hinges. Within her ribs, Logan's heart knocked painfully. She stepped back at the same time John stepped in. Behind him, the door began to shut. A ripple of uneasiness coursed through her. Intimidation. Apprehension. Concern. A maelstrom of emotions ebbed and flowed as Logan watched John enter her room.

Maybe she had it all wrong. Maybe she should have been more careful, more keen at his behavior instead of chalking him up merely taciturn and critical.

"Okay," she placated. Her eyes were wide, hands up, taking in everything that John Wick had suddenly warped into. Yes, her idea of him was skewered and all wrong. He was much more complex than she had led herself to believe.

He shut the door and Logan backed up until her legs brushed the edge of her bed. The lights in her room were out. The only source of illumination was brought by moonlight and that seemed to heighten the formidable man. On the other side of the door, she heard the short scratching of nails retreat down the hall. Even the dog had left her.

"Have a seat." John said.

It was an order. He declared this house his. Logan was no longer, perhaps never had been, in charge. Defiance reared an ugly head, but for the first time, she felt it best to swallow the disdain. Even if she did challenge him, her voice would certainly betray her and they had already sparred once. The only reason Logan had a moment's advantage was due to his fatigue and physical limitations.

With a quickened heart, she obeyed but not before flicking on the lamp to ward off the pressing shadows and dreary blue.

John didn't sit. He didn't pace. He stared at the lamp before resting his gaze onto Logan.

In no rush to speak, a long, deafening silence filled the air. Logan's thoughts were screaming as hers nerves split and frayed anxiously. The lamp on the left flickered causing her to flinch. She dropped her eyes into her lap where her hands clutched the edge of the bed, bookending her legs.

What had gotten into her? John was just a man. One, solitary man.

A beat later, John spoke.

"I know you're trying to understand." The words were calmly delivered. The voice deep, inflection steady. "But I need your father's help."

That wasn't what she was anticipating him to say. Keeping her eyes lowered, Logan stared into her lap. It seemed the side of her body nearest to John tingled, bristling the skin. A flared cobra, quiet, prepared to strike. Between her shoulders, a tension started to burn and she forced herself to relax and to listen carefully to what the man wanted to say.

"I was offered a proposition by your father if I took care of some men," he paused. "In turn, we made a deal."

The bed moved beneath her as John sat down. Through her peripheral, she could see he was looking at her. Logan gave herself a moment to suppress a shudder before meeting his stare.

"I-." He stopped short, folding his hands together, deliberating. He was so close to her, she could see flecks of gray in his beard captured by the lamplight. John had remained impassive until now. What she saw in this moment was a man, broken and tired, trying to pick up whatever pieces remained. A glinting ring. A shining reminder her that he was not her's to save. As if John Wick would ever be in need of saving.

"I have a dog," he added, "And nothing else."

Logan glanced at the ring. Taking the plunge, she asked, "Where is your wife?"

Another beat. His expression darkened.

"She's gone; an illness took her."

Logan was relieved to hear something other than John's corrupt past had taken his wife, as cruel as that may sound. He was running from that very past, that much was evident. A shiver crept over her shoulders, racing down her spine and dispersing deep into her belly. Her eyes were burning and she blinked rapidly to relieve them. This was the most she had heard from him. She wanted to know more about his late wife but it was evident the wounds were still fresh and she didn't want to prod.

There was a lot of things to consider. She might be an asset to John or she might not be. Perhaps all the training she had accomplished could now be of use. It wasn't as if Caldron was making any effort to see that she remained prepared at a moments notice. Her father would not have brought the man here if he wasn't concerned about him, which in turn, should make Logan concerned. Unfortunately, she wasn't as good-natured and warm-hearted as her father, but she could at least try.

"You helped my father," she began, testing the waters, making sure she was up to speed. He gave her a subtle nod. "Because of this, he now owes you." She pictured her mother, beaten and bruised, barely able to see, walk, or eat. Holding Logan, born three weeks too soon. Logan swallowed, taking a deep, clearing breath. "So something happened to you in New York," she went on, watching his expression lest she make a mistake. "And you fled to Texas?"

"I killed a man on Continental ground." he said plainly as if she understood such a reference. "I broke a code."

"Okay," Logan blinked, throwing her hands out. "I don't know what any of that means, but these people that are coming after you. Is there a lot?"

"Quite."

"What about the dog?"

"He's mine."

"From New York?"

He paused. "Yeah."

"But how?"

"I don't know."

A wave of silence followed as Logan considered every aspect. John was watching her. Thoughts of her father, her childhood, her singular upbringing came to forefront of her mind. Logan meant hollow. All her life she tried filling herself with purpose and tasks that would make her father proud. What use was that now? He left her and only returned because his buddy was having a bad day. Perhaps now was her chance to stretch her wings, lift her feet and fly until death came for her soul. Caldron had left John here because he knew he was safe. Whether it be by the design of the house, the excess of weaponry and firearms, or because of Logan herself, she didn't know. Though, to hold herself in such a high regard was silly. She was confident, but not that confident. With Logan however, they had aerial superiority—one more chess piece they could play. That's to say the game really was as big as it sounded. But how deep did her father's network really go? He was just one man.

But so was John and the world was apparently coming after him.

Logan shook her head. Things were becoming too complicated the further she thought it through. That kind of planning would have to come later and with her father's aid. Right now, she felt like not only did her father owe John, but she did, as well. And to think, the whole time she had behaved like a bitter bitch towards him.

"Alright," her voice was soft but assured, sitting up straight. "I want to help."

In whatever way she could, she would help him. But only because she knew that is what Caldron would want of her. Not because she found John Wick disgustingly handsome or that he intimidated her, but because it gave her another chance to make her father proud. Perhaps, if her efforts were successful, they could put all of this behind them and return as a family. Jennifer included.

With a solemn nod, John muttered, "Thanks."

She contemplated a moment, reached out then and took his hand, drawing it into her lap. John was rigid at first, but eventually obliged her. She turned his hand so that it faced palm up and touched the warm metal of his wedding ring. When she glanced up to meet his eyes, they were steady, unwavering. Grasping him gently by the forearm, she pulled him to her. He followed and she met him half way, bringing her arms around his shoulder and taking him into an embrace. It took a moment, but he brought an arm around, palming her back. He leaned into her, turning his head until she felt his breath caress her hair.

Logan didn't know loss in the fashion that he did. She knew pain on a physically level, and though she was sometimes wrought with emotion when it came to her father, she still had him, alive and well. The emotional pain John suffered from was foreign to Logan. Caldron was the only person she cared for but at least death had not yet claimed him.

Though it was a simple hug, the proximity had Logan's heart in leaps and bound.

Inside her chest, her heart thundered so loud, she was certain John could hear it.

When John returned to his bedroom, he allowed a moment to breathe easy. Albeit the odds were still not good, they were at least a degree better than before. Looking down, he stared at the wedding ring on his finger, thinking of how all things to wonder, Logan wondered about this. How long did he plan on doing it? Was it something he would take to the grave? Until now, he hadn't thought beyond that or concluded an alternative should he survive. Decidedly, if it ever reached an end and he did survive, beyond his mourning, it was something to consider.

What would Helen want?

His hand curled into a fist.

Shutting his bedroom door, he tapped the soft comforter and his dog leaped onto the bed.

"Come here," he whispered, sitting down. The dog scampered closer. His tail swinging left and right as he stepped awkwardly into John's lap, lifting his large head to lick his cheek.

"My daughter's complicated." Caldron said over the roaring rain that fell in sheets, battering the truck while the wipers moved swiftly across the windshield. A flicker of lightning flashed over the interstate as John Wick and Caldron Ryder flew towards their destination. "She won't be a problem though."

But she had been and, until just now, he wanted to get rid of her.

Caldron had been right. Complicated and then some. Who knew twenty-five years later, the agreement that had been made, would involve the very thing he had protected?

Funny how things work like that. He brushed the animal's ears playfully.

I know Holly, before you yell at me, there's another chapter I will be posting today (Sat. 25th) I HAD to break them apart. The word count was nearly 5k, and I don't know about yall, but that's too many damn words for one sitting.

To my fellow Texan!: Thank you for that astounding review. I saw it this morning and jolted awake hahah! I'm afraid to name the dog. I just hate referring to him as 'The Dog' but we'll see.

Iona: Was it believable? I try not to impose my opinions/belief/reactions into the story, but I kind of had to right there. I would be pissed!

Shells & Bells: I'm so happy you are enjoying it! I'm having a blast, too!

Guest(s): Thank you for your reviews!