A/N: Thank you everyone. This whole journey is always harder than the reader knows, I think. We writers have times of staring at the blank page before us, or deleting a whole chapter in the hopes that what is written next will be better or lead us to a better path...it's just an amazingly tough process. Thank you to Bondopoulos for putting up with me and my self doubts. You are an extraordinarily patient beta.

Chapter 6

"Damn it all to fucking hell!" Logan snarled, violently ripping the new bandage away from his shoulder and flinging it onto the tiled bathroom floor. He'd been unsuccessful at changing it and was becoming irate at his failed attempts.

The scissors he'd found in the medicine cabinet had caused a great racket when they had fallen to the floor and things had gotten worse from that moment on. It irked him to feel so weak.

Logan was lucky, or so he'd been told; it had been a clean shot that went straight through the muscle. Unfortunately, the angle at which he'd been hit made it next to impossible for Logan to clearly see what needed bandaged. The flesh below the curve of his shoulder was red but not festered, that much he could see. But from his vantage point, the exit wound near the shoulder blade was too far to see clearly, let alone reach to bandage properly.

He'd have to ask for her help.

That was the last thing he wanted to do.

Shit.

The tapping on the bathroom door should have startled him but he had honestly been expecting it.

"Come in," he barked. His head dropped in defeat as he placed both hands on the cool granite countertop.

"Logan?"

He heard her turn the doorknob and then the soft padding of her feet as she came closer. He didn't look up.

Her fingertips felt cool and light on his skin as they skimmed around the exit wound at his shoulder. He flinched in surprise. He hadn't felt her touch on him for so long that he had to physically tighten his hold on the countertop to keep himself from spinning around and sweeping her into his arms, to hell with the consequences.

She dropped her hand.

"I'm sorry, did that hurt you?" When he didn't respond, she asked, "Do you need some help?" Logan slowly raised his head and met her eyes in the mirror for only the briefest of moments before she dropped her gaze down to his shoulder, her face an unreadable mask. "It's not red; do you have some medicine to put on it?"

His lips couldn't seem to form any kind of answer, but she seemed to instinctively understand what needed to be done. The salve sat on the countertop next to his hand and the gauze rested at his feet. Veronica picked up the tube of medicine and began the intimate task of rubbing ointment on and around his angry wound seemingly as impersonally as possible. The tender way she touched him caused him to grind his teeth; it took all his willpower to keep himself still. Logan kept his eyes fixed on the faucet, trying and failing, not to think of other times she had mended his wounds.

****Flashback***

It had been a very stupid thing he'd done. Veronica's eyes flashed angrily as she ran to him and helped drag him out of the water and up onto the sand. Logan didn't usually mind when he'd done something to warrant the flash of anger he saw in her eyes because he knew how quickly it could turn into a look of complete, unbridled heat. The burning at his back, however, was making him regret the flip he'd made and more so the fact that he hadn't stuck his landing.

Damn.

But damn, those flashing sapphires. She'd always be his siren.

"Are you all right?" Her words came at him in short bursts from the exertion of running the distance from where she'd been perched further up on the sand. "That was a hard fall."

His chuckle came out more like a moan. "Yeah, it wasn't exactly what I'd call pleasant."

Together they unzipped his suit and peeled off the arms so that she could inspect the damage. Her fingers lightly ran the length of his back, searching for injuries. They slowed at the swell of his ass and he abruptly forgot about pain when her hand dipped down to squeeze him there.

He swayed his back into her so that her breasts pressed deliciously into his back and she adjusted so that her hands ran down the front of his chest now. He closed his eyes before turning around to face her, his arms wrapping around her, pulling her into him. He dipped down and kissed the tip of her nose. "I'm a masochist, though, what can I say?" His hands drifted down to cup her ass and pressed her against him, enjoying the way her eyes dilated from the contact. "Do you like a little bit of pain…I hear pleasure is on the other side?"

"Hmm, pleasure, huh?" Veronica pressed back this time, and Logan growled. She smiled in victory.

"You're killing me, woman," He told her, dipping his head to nip her neck, injury forgotten.

****End Flashback***

Veronica couldn't breathe.

Why in the hell had she let herself volunteer to bandage Logan? A shirtless Logan, no less.

She desperately tried to concentrate on his wound rather than notice how well Logan had turned from boy to man. Regardless of the network of almost translucent striped scars that lined his back, he still was a magnificent creature.

The problem was that the room was too small, the air was too dense, and Logan was too male.

That was all this was.

It didn't have anything to do with the fact that it was Logan. Not at all. Nope.

She finished applying the square bandage and then, with a sinking feeling, realized that she should check the entry wound as well. He must have been watching her actions in the mirror, because he turned to face her abruptly. The sudden movement jostled her and Logan reached out with his good arm to steady her.

She felt his eyes on her but she determinedly kept her eyes on his injury. She didn't let herself react at the sight of his chiseled chest, or the way the nipple closest to her pebbled into a small, perfect bead. Or how much his flat stomach had become more toned in the past nine years.

Although she'd taken great care to not once look up into his face it didn't mean she couldn't sense how still he kept his body or how tightly he grasped the counter.

She ignored the catch in her chest and her erratic breathing and resolutely forced her trembling fingers keep at their work until his wound was properly dressed. Her task complete, she was able to step away from him, and her hands dropped to her sides in silent triumph. Rolling her lips inward, Veronica backed closer to the door. "There. That should keep for the night. Hopefully we can regroup in the morning and figure out what to do next. I don't know…" she trailed off, feeling idiotic. "Mac is working out a plan."

"Mac?" Logan echoed. "Since when have you ever let someone make your plans for you?"

"Since someone planted a bomb in your car." She fumbled with the doorknob and stepped out into the hall. Not trusting herself to look at him again, she said over her shoulder, "That reminds me, I want to see if the explosion was reported. I need to hear what spin the media puts on this." She started out into the hall. "I'll go find the television. Get dressed." She felt positively spineless. She knew that she was running away from him, but she couldn't seem to muster up any courage to ask if he needed more help.

***Break***

He was feeling like a first class coward. The feel of her fingers on him had been almost unbearable, but instead of kissing her like he so wanted to do, Logan had kept up with her pretense that everything was normal. He'd ignored the electricity in the air between them. He'd let her think that he hadn't noticed the way her fingers had trembled when they'd come into contact with skin and how she kept biting her top lip in concentration.

But then he'd pretended, too. He'd pretended that he hadn't noticed the light dusting of freckles on the bridge of her nose that hadn't been there in college or how blue her eyes still were. He'd pretended that the whisper of her breath on his skin hadn't made him taut with desire and he pretended that the fire in his belly was a result of his injury instead of from her touch.

And then he'd just let her run away while he'd stood there, feeling like an ass.

Maybe her reaction to him was all in his head, her reaction to him. Nine years had passed, after all. It'd been longer still since they'd been together. The torch he'd always carried for her had had many chances to flicker out and yet he still felt an ember of it flickering back to life. But he'd never been one to press his advantage with her and tonight would be no exception.

Plus, he felt like shit.

He needed to find a bed, crawl in it, and sleep for as many hours as he could manage.

Stifling a sigh, Logan cleaned up the bathroom before heading out to find Veronica. He needed to show her to a room and make sure to lock up for the night before he could let himself succumb to the one temptation that he could partake in. Sleep.

***break***

The media had only gotten part of the story right. According to the news anchor, the explosion had been the result of a faulty gas line. There'd been no mention of Logan's car or even his name.

That was a blessing.

The other blessing was that no one had been injured in the blast. Veronica hadn't even realized how worried she'd actually been about that possibility until it was ruled out. She breathed a sigh of relief.

Mac had promised to call Veronica from an untraceable number as soon as she could. Veronica kept the burner phone close to her in anticipation. It wasn't going to be hard to keep in contact with Mac, Veronica knew. Keith had hired Mac throughout the years as a tech consultant; she knew the drill.

The hard part was going to be staying away from all the action. Veronica couldn't leave her dad alone in the shark infested water that was Neptune. His safety was more important than hers, but she had to at least figure out what they were dealing with before she went back to Neptune with guns blazing. She wouldn't be any help to anyone if she didn't know all the facts and have a plan.

The phone in her hand rang and she answered it after the fourth ring. "Hello?"

"It's Cliff."

"That was fast."

"Ms. Mackenzie didn't give me much choice and she's quite persuasive," Cliff answered drily. Moving on, he told her, "I tried to visit your dad but they aren't allowing him to have visitors yet."

Veronica's grasp on the small phone tightened. "I don't think they will for a while. I need you to see to it that no one gets near him. Period."

"I should be able to get that done. New name?"

"New name, new hospital…the works, Cliffie, the works."

"Feels good to get back to basics, doesn't it V?" The baritone voice teased. "It's been too many boring years just working for Mars, Investigations. I think the new shingle should read, 'Mars y Mija.'"

"Haha, Cliffie. The shingle won't be changing any more than the numbers of the employees will. Just take care of my dad."

"I work my magic best when alone." He coughed. "Consider it done."

"My own personal Magic Man. Thanks, Cliffie." She paused. "One last thing…"

"Yeah, V?"

"It's good to hear your voice. Thanks again."

***Break***

Logan entered the room and where Veronica sat watching the news. He sat down in an ottoman and silently brooded while he waited for the news report to wrap up. She didn't miss the clenching of his jaw when a recap of the 'incident' played at the end of the hour or the careful way he sat back against the chair. He obviously didn't feel well.

Once the news wrapped up, Logan stood up and motioned for her to follow him and he led her down the hallway to a staircase. As they started up the stairs, he said, "You can take the guest room; it's the first door on your right. There should be a closet full of clothes. The last time I was here, there was, anyway. Feel free to use whatever you need."

When he opened the door, she was surprised. Truthfully, the whole house itself astonished Veronica, but the large guest room was the most unexpected of all. It had very few modern touches and reminded her more of a place from the past than in the present.

He showed her the room and made sure that there were towels in the bathroom for her before making his exit. A t the door he turned back. "Do you think I'll be able to go back soon? You can…you know, leave me here, or whatever. I don't think anyone believes you witnessed anything."

"Never leave your comrades, right?" Veronica quipped, a half-smile playing at her lips. "Do you think I would leave you in the midst of all this mess?" The second that the words were out of her mouth she regretted them. She saw his answer, plainly in his eyes. Yes, his eyes were saying, yes, you would leave me in a mess, and you did. She blinked away his silent answer and tipped her head to the side and changed the subject. "Cliff is working on locking down the hospital. Mac is helping. She's working on getting us a different car."

"And how do you propose we pick up said car?"

She brushed his argument aside, saying, "That's a matter for another time. I'm not worried yet. If we can get a different car we can get back to the civilization and I can get back to see Dad."

He gave her a penetrating look and said insistently, "You can leave. Please. I refuse to keep you from Keith."

"Logan." Veronica returned his stare. "Whoever chased us knows I'm with you…knows, at the very least, that I'm a witness to the attempt on your life. Just…don't worry about me. At least not yet."

They parted then, him to his room and Veronica into the recesses of hers. All the while she was highly aware of his presence just down the hall.

Veronica also was painfully aware that she was hiding out in Carrie Bishop's secret vacation home. How often had Logan and Carrie come here for a romantic weekend together? A secret tryst where no one knew where or how to find them.

Veronica readied herself for bed, washing her face and reluctantly rooting through an old oak dresser drawer to find something to sleep in. She was chagrined when all she found was a rather flimsy nightgown, obviously meant for hot summer nights. Its straps were made of a fine cream lace and the bodice was about knee length in a lovely pale pink color. She fingered the silky material, lost in thought.

Had this been Carrie's? Had Logan given it to her? Had Logan…taken it off of her?

Veronica was ashamed at the flare of jealousy that coursed through her. Why should she be jealous of a dead woman? It wasn't as if Veronica had any claim on Logan.

Pushing all thoughts on the subject firmly out of her mind, Veronica changed into the nightgown and crawled into the bed, glad for the warmth the sheets gave her. They must have been three-thousand thread count, she thought, nothing had ever felt so soft on her skin.

She curled up and fell asleep.

**break**

The gasping was what woke her. She fumbled out of the bed and made her way to the door, searching blindly in the darkness. Through the door she went, stumbling into a dimly lit room that housed a large bed with two writhing forms beneath a thick comforter.

This isn't right, she thought. She shouldn't be here. She turned to go, but as she did, she found that she only came to fully face the bed and couldn't help but stare straight at it. Dark chestnut hair was splayed out across the pillow. Veronica couldn't see the woman's face, but she knew who it was.

Carrie.

Carrie's fingers were entwined in her lover's hair, their writhing bodies moving in a rhythm that only coupling had. Veronica watched in fascinated horror as Carrie heaved her body up and into the man above her, her milky neck exposed in her ecstasy. The man's arms were propping himself up, his back glistening sweat in the moon light. Veronica stared at the back of his head, captivated by his perfectly cut hair. Her eyes ran the length of his bare back, noting the beautifully molded muscles beneath a familiar stretch of lightly-scarred skin. Like a well-travelled road, Veronica knew it by heart, every curve and jagged edge.

Unable to stop herself, Veronica reached out to trace one of those very lines; one that started just under a shoulder-blade and ran the length of his back, where it dipped down near his buttocks. She stopped just short of the swell of it just as Logan stopped his methodic pumping to let out a cry of release so passionate that it shattered the night. Beneath him, Carrie cried out with her own release. Above them both, Veronica's hand stilled on Logan's marred back, the demons of both their pasts still written out on his body even after all these years.

She let out a sob of anguish as she searched for some kind of release as well, but, finding none…

Woke.

Her eyes popped open; her heart beat wildly in her throat. She searched the room, desperate to get her bearings. Veronica was glad for the shroud of darkness and the stillness that was this wooded fortress, far away from the world and reality.

She was more than grateful that she hadn't called out or made enough noise to startle Logan awake. The last thing she needed was for him to come running. She couldn't handle seeing him right now. The dream had left her feeling hot and strangely unsatisfied; the scene she'd just witnessed in her dream left her feeling like a voyeur.

The covers that had been so inviting and warm a few hours before now felt stifling. She threw them off of her. It wasn't time to get up yet; the clock on the nightstand only said four a.m. but it felt later. She was probably still adjusting to the time difference.

Restless, Veronica got up and found the robe she'd seen hanging on the door earlier. She wrapped it around her before she padded down the stairs to the office she'd been using. She wondered how much Cliff and Mac would get done now that it was the weekend. She turned the computer on and waited for it to boot up.

She was awake now, so she might as well work.

****Break***

Logan was irritated to note that when he woke up, it was not because of the light streaming through the window onto his bed. He'd woken up because his traitorous mind had been dreaming illicit dreams of a certain blonde.

In his dream, Logan had managed to undo the button of her jeans and flip her over to her back. She was sighing out his name as he licked his way up to kiss her mouth. That was when he'd turned in his sleep just enough to wrench his injured arm in an ungodly twist that shot shards of pain off in all directions. His eyes popped open and he'd groaned in both agony and arousal.

The alarm clock on the night stand read eight a.m. He slowly sat up and carefully stretched to ease the soreness in his neck and shoulders before he quickly downed some pain pills that sat on the night stand. Knowing that he wouldn't have the energy for a full-blown run, Logan decided on a walk after taking great pains to dismiss how old the word "walk" made him feel. The only way to bounce back quickly from an injury was to not let pride get in the way of the healing.

He stood and made his way to the bathroom, his mind fixated on a comment Veronica had made the night before. Were they were actually safe here? During the night it had occurred to Logan that he knew how to find that out. When Carrie purchased the house, she'd spoken with Logan about hiring a security firm. They'd gone over her options together. Ultimately, he'd referred her to a retired Navy friend who had opened his own remote security company that specialized in residential homes.

Thomas 'Bunk' Bunkle had worked for the Air Traffic Control when Logan was in training, and the two of them had quickly become close. A few years later, when Bunk had retired and moved out of state, Logan had felt the loss of his friend acutely. When Bunk had opened his own security firm, he'd offered Logan a position. Logan had toyed with the idea for a good while; it was a tempting offer. But, in the end, he hadn't been quite ready to leave the Navy or to move to Seattle. Logan had never been a big fan of rain. Odds were he'd be a lifer in the Navy anyway, but Logan liked the idea of working for Bunk, even if would probably never happen.

He was surprised that he hadn't automatically thought of calling Bunk last night when he and Veronica had arrived at Big Bear. Perhaps his time alone with Veronica had made his brain too fuddled and murky to think of anything else. But Veronica's comment about safety had got him thinking, and it was time to call Bunk for help. Not only could Bunk keep the two of them safe here in Carrie's house, there was a high probability Bunk could get Keith safely out of Neptune. Logan would stake his life on it.

****Break***

Once ready for the day, Logan crept down the hall, careful to not wake Veronica. But when he passed her half-open bedroom door, he realized she was already up. He quickened his pace to the main floor. As he made his way through the hallway, he stopped at the entryway of the living room when he saw movement out of the corner of his eye. Veronica stood with her back to him, staring at the bookshelf. If she heard him, she gave no indication.

She wore a light-pink silk night gown that hit mid-thigh with one thin strap loosely hanging off the edge of her shoulder. Her hair was mussed from sleep and cascaded freely down her back. Without even realizing it, Logan found himself stepping into the room, but thought better of it and turned quickly back into the hallway and away from her.

Planting one foot in front of the other, he forced himself to retreat to the kitchen and pulled one of the burner phones out of Veronica's bag. Then he headed out of the house, squinting into the brightness of the sun as he started down the long drive they had driven up the night before. Cautiously, he walked the length of the road back to the gate, keeping watch for any unexpected movement or noise.

***Break***

Veronica heard the back door slam and just barely kept herself from jumping. Her attention was riveted on all the pictures in the living room. She'd started with the one of Carrie with her family that sat on a side table and had made her way around the room. She was now inspecting each picture on a tall bookshelf.

Out of more than a dozen photos, none were of Logan. Not a single one.

There were about eight or so of Susan Knight, however. Susan, Veronica recalled, had been Carrie's best friend in high school. There were a many pictures from Bonnie DeVille concerts; high quality photographs that hinted of being professionally taken.

But there were none of Logan.

How long had that article said Logan and Carrie had been together? She thought that she recalled reading in the magazine saying two years. Certainly a two year relationship would garner at least one photo? Especially here, in their personal space?

She thought back to the night before when Logan had directed her to Carrie's house. He'd had to think which way to turn and how far to go. It was almost as if he hadn't made the drive often. When he'd shown her to the guest room, he hadn't been sure of the placement of some of the things. He'd even seemed a little surprised at some of the items they'd found. At the time Veronica had dismissed it as Logan being a typical man who didn't notice details.

But if memory served her right, Logan was a details kind of guy.

What the hell was going on?

***Break***

"Integral Security."

The deep voice was familiar and Logan grinned. "Bunk. It's Echo."

"Echo? What's up, my man?" Logan could hear the smile softening Bunk's deep voice. "You flyin', boy, or are you lookin' for work?"

The short chuckle came out strangled. "Neither, Asshole."

"Really." There was a pregnant pause. "Hold on."

A few minutes went by before Bunk came back on the line. "We're secure. What's going on?"

"Are you still doing security on Carrie Bishop's vacation house in Big Bear?"

"I watched you come in through the gate last night, if that's what you're asking. You know all the codes and you still have clearance, so I bypassed the security call to the estate last night. With everything going on with her death and all, I didn't want to disturb you. But, truth is, we just got the notice to stop all measures. Her estate hasn't taken care of the all of the details, but the contract actually expired at midnight last night."

"What exactly expired?"

"Uh…let's see." There was clicking in the background. "Yeah, activity in and out of the gate and some remote cameras have been switched off…and of course, the home alarm system."

"And all of that's been off for what, eight, nine hours?"

"Mmm, give or take. Since it's all computerized, it should have been midnight right on the nose."

"How much trouble it be to turn that all back on?" Logan inquired; looking up at a camera perched at the top of the gate.

***Break***

A phone was ringing when Logan stepped back into the house two hours later. From down the hall, he heard Veronica's voice murmur an answer. The slam of the office door muffled her voice and Logan took the hint. She hadn't change so much that he couldn't tell when she was in investigation mode. She would be holed up in the office like a fox in her lair, waiting for the right time to go back to Neptune and pounce.

Logan felt the need to keep busy and looked around the kitchen aimlessly, wondering what he could do be helpful.

There was a Kuerig machine with an array of coffee pods sitting on the counter, so he made himself a cup of coffee. He rooted around in the fridge for something to eat and settled on toast. After a moment's thought, he put a second slice in the toaster and brewed a second cup of coffee and then headed down the hall to the office. Juggling the items in his hands, he knocked on the door.

Her curt, "Come in," in response to his knock was all the encouragement he needed and gingerly he opened the door.

Veronica, now fully dressed, stood staring out the window at the wooded scenery outside. She was still on the phone. She barely acknowledged him when he set the coffee cup on the desk.

Into the phone, Veronica chirped, "No, I didn't see that…really? That's great." A pause. "Well, my professor will thank you! No, Criminology isn't what it used to be, but those pesky culprits sure haven't changed much over the years!" she chortled, running a hand through her ponytail. "One last question…how much does your office feel drug-trafficking has grown in the past, oh , I don't know, say, ten years in Neptune?" The high inflection of her voice was strained. "Really? That much? And you've determined that mostly small-time dealers have caused that much growth?"

Logan's gaze sharpened on her stricken expression. Her hand tightened on the phone. "No. No. It's just interesting, that's all. Thank you for your time." With that, she ended the call. She turned to look at him. "You don't happen to know a drug dealer, do you?"

***Break***

His insulted expression made her sorry she'd said it at all. She brushed past him. "Relax, I was joking."

"But you do think I'd know one because since Carrie was into drugs? Because she was a coke-head, I must be one, too, right?" His tenor was harsh. "God, Veronica, do you really think so little of me?"

She whipped around to glare at him. "I don't think I know you at all, actually. What have you been up to for the past decade?"

"Not shooting up, thank you very much," he ground out, his lips barely moving. "If you think the Navy just looks the other way while their pilots get high, you have no pride for this country." He stepped closer and gave her a hard stare. "The Navy would have had me out on my ass so fast…" He blinked and turned away from her to look out the window. In a calmer tone, he said, "But, yeah, one thing is for sure. Carrie did dabble in drugs, but just a bit. She seemed to be using less and less recently, but…sometimes she'd get them from Sean. Sean Friedrich."

"Sean." Veronica repeated nostalgically, unsurprised by the revelation. "Oh, how the fallen have stayed down. He never moved up in the world after high school?"

Logan glanced sharply at her. "He's always been a bit of a user. Nothing's changed."

"A bit of a user?" Veronica crossed her arms in disbelief. "How could you stay friends with someone like him? After he stole all that of money from you all those years ago? He, who let the PCHers assume the worst and go after all of his friends over something he did!" She narrowed her eyes. "You should be grateful Weevil played nice that night."

Logan turned around to glare back at her full on. "I never said Sean was my friend, Veronica. And if you care to remember, he stopped being my friend after you proved he was a fraud and a fake at that poker game."

"So I just suppose you turned a blind eye on Carrie's dealings with him? How could you let her even get near him when you knew what he's about?" Veronica pushed, uncaring of the anger flashing in Logan's eyes. "What happened to your protectiveness? You would never have approved of me consorting with someone like that."

"No, goddamn it. I wouldn't have wanted you anywhere near him!" he lashed out. "But it wouldn't have stopped you! What makes you think Carrie was any different?" She flinched when he slammed his coffee cup down on the desk. "You think that I had a leash on her? That I had any fucking control over anything she did? When have I ever been able to control of anyone? Not Lilly. Not you. Not anybody ever! Carrie never wanted to be leashed! And I never wanted to leash her!" He stepped closer to her and pointed at her, emphasizing his level of anger, his voice steadily rising. "You assume too much, Veronica. You don't know anything, so stop acting like you know more than you do." With that, Logan dropped his hand and stepped back, breathing hard. "I don't want to talk about what I did or did not let Carrie do. It's irrelevant. If you need a drug dealer, Sean's the only connection I have to one. But I don't know how you expect to find him when we're more than two hours from Neptune, not to mention the fact that every cop there is probably looking for us."

"Well…" Veronica said, slowly edging her way to the desk's leather chair to sit down. Suddenly feeling cowardly, she kept her eyes locked on the pad of paper that she'd been taking notes on all morning. She knew that his anger was warranted and that she'd deserved more than what he'd given, but she wouldn't admit it to him. Not now, not ever. She cleared her throat. "Tonight's the big reunion. I don't know how into 'pirate pride' Sean is, but if memory serves, 09ers like to party. He could make a mint. It wouldn't be hard to find out if he's there, and if he is, we could have someone approach him, looking to score."

"Like who?" he asked flatly.

A/N: Please Review if you have the time. Thank you for taking the time to read this and follows/favorites. Thank you for your reviews. I love knowing what you think!