Chapter 6

What the hell is going on here?

I mean, okay. I admit it. There have been times, now and then, where I've wondered just what the hell I'm doing teaming up with Remy LeBeau, but this… This is waaaaay above my pay grade.

We're both looking at Anna with the same look in our eyes – the kind that says that she owes us one hell of a fucking explanation. This shit here she's just pulled – uh uh. No way.

"You know who this Logan fella is, don't you," Remy says in a low, accusing tone. Okay – not the line of attack I'd been expecting, or that I would've chosen myself, but… whatever.

Anna says nothing. She just throws him this thundercloud of a look, which prompts him to add: "That was his mem-chip Marko stole. You knew he was ex-Weapon X when you 'faced with it. You've known all this damn time."

She meets his gaze without an ounce of contrition.

"Yes," she says.

He's been expecting that answer. He looks aside, glowering, announces to no one in particular: "Fuck." She still makes no reply, and so he looks back at her, saying: "Why didn't you tell me?"

She shrugs irritably.

"It didn't seem important."

He laughs humourlessly.

"Not important? You recognised this guy was Weapon X, and you didn't tell me. That says a lot right there, Anna."

"Yeah," she shoots back mercilessly. "It says I knew you would act like this."

"Like what?"

"Like…" She makes a frustrated gesture with her hand, finishes: "Like this. Pissed off."

I've never seen Remy look genuinely angry with her before, but he does now. The two of them are tight, and I don't get why exactly, apart from the obvious physical attraction; but whatever the reason, it's something to do with this, and I'm an outsider to it.

"You're thinkin' of doin' this, aren't ya," he blurts out.

"Thinking, maybe," she answers flatly, quietly. Remy scoffs at her pitiful attempt to deny what she's made so patently evident.

"Think all you want, beb, but this deal stinks and you know it."

"Of course it stinks," she snipes back. "But what d'you think would be the alternative if we say no to someone in Wisdom's position?"

His expression is one of pure disgust – like he doesn't give a fuck about Wisdom – like Wisdom has nothing to damn well do with it.

"Even if that was the case," he shoots back, "Wisdom breathin' down our necks would be the last reason you'd take this job."

Okay. I've heard enough. And amusing as it is to hear these two having their first fully-fledged argument in my presence, it isn't halfway to being entertainment enough to make up for the fact that I still don't know what the hell is going on.

"Guys," I cut in sternly, just as Anna's about to launch into a suitably scathing retort. "Can you calm the fuck down for a second? I'm gonna take care of business, and when I'm done, you're gonna tell me what in God's name is going on here. Okay?"

The look of muted surprise they both hit me with is almost worth it. It's almost worth them dragging me into this mess in the first place; almost worth Anna's shitty, unilateral decision-making.

I make a grab for Remy's jacket, take the EMP emitter out of his pocket, and hit the button. The telescreen on the wall immediately powers down.

"There," I say with grim satisfaction, throwing the emitter back at Remy. "Now we can talk."

Remy catches the device with a look of pleasant surprise, and I can't lie – it's hella satisfying to be taking the lead from these two for once. I think I can get to like this. I cross my arms and look down on them with an authority I think I've earned right about now.

"Look, I get it," I say. "You two were into some seriously shady business back in the States, stuff that probably shouldn't be my business. But seeing how you've made it my business, I think it's only fair you get on the level with me. You could start by telling me your real names?"

And he better damn well tell me, otherwise…

"I'm Remy," Remy replies with his most aggravating grin. "She's Anna."

The bastard's joking right now. Seriously?

"Har har." I glower. "Not funny."

I guess my expression must be pretty disapproving right now, because the grin is immediately wiped from his face.

"You know who we are, Jake," he finally cuts to the chase. "What you don't know is what we left behind. Somethin' we weren't ever plannin' on goin' back to."

He gives Anna a sideways glance, like he isn't exactly sure whether that is her plan anymore. I'm far from sympathetic.

"Weapon X," I say matter-of-factly. He nods.

"Yeah."

"You mean Weapon X, as in the super soldier project."

He blinks.

"You know about it?"

"Well, sure." I laugh sarcastically. "I was into all that conspiracy theory stuff when I was a kid… My dad used to lay into me for spending all my time on those nutso internet forums. But it's all just bullshit, right…?"

I falter off. I guess I'm expecting him to start laughing and call off the joke, but… all he does is give me a pained look, like there's no closing the bag on this cat now.

Wow.

I take in a breath. I look at the ceiling; I look at the floor. I nod slowly to myself and take back my seat.

"So lemme guess. I'm sitting next to two ex-super-soldiers." I shake my head in disbelief and laugh, not expecting an answer. "Christ. And here I was thinking the worst you did was steal that Klimt." I lift my gaze, my lips twisted in a rueful smile. "It explains a lot though. Like especially what you can do." I gesture towards Anna. "Slippin' through neural scanners and 'facing with one mem-chip after another. Now everything makes a lot more sense."

And here I was thinking I'd just been wasting my life away on those internet forums. Dad sure thought so anyway. It was part of the reason he'd always considered me unworthy of inheriting his criminal empire.

"Jake," Remy says dryly, "whatever you're thinkin', bein' Weapon X is a lot less fun than it sounds. I guarantee."

I wave my hand dismissively.

"Yeah, sure. Big question is, you think you can find this Logan fella?"

Remy's lips flatten. He's obviously not happy with the idea of taking this job. Can't think why.

"We do inventory retrieval," he responds acerbically. "Not missing persons."

"But think about it, Rems. A million fucking pounds. Each."

He's quiet. I mean, he's a thief. I know he's tempted for sure.

Lucky for him, the conversation is cut short by Jubilee knocking and poking her head round the door.

"You got a vidcall incoming, guys," she says. "But I can't patch 'em through."

Damn. I'd forgotten the screen was off. Remy reaches for the nearby remote and switches it back on.

"Patch 'em through, Jubes. And you can turn off the mics, by the way."

"Already done it," she calls as she heads back out. I quirk an eyebrow at her retreat. Sometimes that kid's way too efficient, even for me.

A few seconds later and Raven Darkholme suddenly blinks onto the screen.

Oh shit. Not this woman. She's made it more than obvious that I'm nothing but a low-feeder in her opinion. I don't exactly know what her relationship is to Anna, but her injecting herself into Gavin & Lord's business every now and then is another reason why I'm still salty about Anna's presence here.

"Hey, Raven," Remy greets her with a diplomatic smile, which she makes no effort to return.

"LeBeau. You gave me a rather rude awakening, I must admit. But an intriguing one nonetheless."

She glances at me, graces me with a slight nod of acknowledgement.

"Good afternoon, Mr. Gavin."

I don't think she expects a reply, so I give her nothing but a grimace. There's a short pause before her gaze finally slides over to Anna.

"Anna." Her voice is unmistakably softer. "Thinking of coming back to the States yet?"

I press my mouth shut. Now that would be a thing. I remember a time before she'd turned up – just Remy and I, running our business and pulling our heists. I'd actually gotten along with his girlfriend back then. Lila had been light-hearted, fun, uncomplicated – and she'd had absolutely nothing to do with Gavin & Lord. There's nothing uncomplicated about Anna. She's not the kind of woman you can just sit down and have a friendly chat with. But Remy adores her. I think if she went back to the States, he'd actually cry.

"Nope." Anna gives Raven the reply I know is the only one she can give. "Not yet."

Raven smiles as if she's expecting it.

"A shame. You're missed. But then I suppose you have plenty to occupy you in London."

The look she darts at Remy is icily pointed – one that tells me she likes him about as much as she likes me.

"So," she carries on brusquely. "It sounds like you've gotten yourself into an interesting predicament here. Peter Wisdom, director of MI13 – he has quite a reputation in the intelligence community. I wouldn't advise getting on his bad side. On the other hand, he sounds desperate enough for you to take considerable advantage of the situation, should you need to."

I'm not in the mood for Raven's running commentary. Thankfully, Anna promptly takes the reins.

"What can you tell us about Logan?" she asks.

That's when Raven shoots me a glance that's like daggers, her lips pursed in a disapproving grimace. Nobody needs to translate. I know exactly what this means. Raven's about to go all Weapon X on everyone, and, of course, this has nothing to do with the likes of me.

I sigh irritably and throw up my hands.

"All right," I announce sarcastically. "I get it. I'm not wanted." I swivel on my foot and head to the door, throwing Anna a death glare on the way. Thanks to her I'm now a second-class citizen in my own fucking company. "But just so you know," I add acidly, "you aren't cutting me outta this deal just 'cos this is personal. This is Gavin & Lord, okay?" I throw open the door and add before disappearing: "And Gavin's first on the company name, just you fucking remember that!"

And I slam the door shut behind me.

-oOo-

I watch on as my business partner leaves the room in an obvious huff. I feel bad for Jake – I honestly do. The last thing I'd ever expected was my past with Weapon X coming back to do a number on my present – but that seems irritatingly unavoidable right now.

I admit it – I'm pissed. Anna not only conveniently forgot to tell me that she knew this Logan already, but she just went and laid all her cards on the table in front of Wisdom. But what really hurts, what really sticks in my craw right now, is the fact that I travelled halfway across the world to get away from Weapon X and everything it did to fuck me up – to fuck us up – and here it all is again. I left that life behind. So did she. We're both here today because we walked away from that shit.

How can she even think this is a good idea?

"Happy now?" I ask Raven sardonically.

"Weapon X is not his business," she rejoins implacably.

"It's about to be," I correct her. "But sure, go ahead. Tell us about this Logan fella. Even though Anna knows about him already." I can't help but throw her an accusatory look.

"I didn't know him," she answers in a low tone – too low, too honest, to be defensive. "I was… just a kid. I knew his face… not much more." She raises her eyes back to the screen. "Raven knew him better. There might be something she knows that we can work with."

There's a note to her voice I can't ignore – one I haven't heard in a while. She sounds like she used to sound. Wounded. Sad.

"Yes," Raven is continuing coolly. "Anna wasn't even on my team at the time. This was before even then." She halts, her eyes flickering as if reliving some memory, before adding: "His name is James Howlett. Not Logan."

"Okay. So why the 'Logan', huh?" I ask sarcastically. Apparently Raven has no answer, because she levels me a chilly stare and says instead:

"He was one of the early subjects on the project. The two of us… we were the same intake."

"So you were close?" Anna asks.

"Not as such." Raven's gaze is that same, steely, cold grey. "We were both on the same detail. We were both top of Essex's class. But other than that, I didn't like him much, and I don't believe he liked me. There was something about him – too fiery, too impatient, too needlessly violent. I, of course, preferred stealth and subterfuge. We had vastly different ways of working. I'm happy to say that Essex rather preferred the way I got the job done."

Oh yeah, I jes' bet he did. The fact that she still looks on her relationship with Essex with pride makes me wanna throw up.

"What happened to him?" Anna's asking. Raven's reply is a look that I can only describe as something between disdain and all-out glee.

"Essex happened to him, my dear," she deadpans. "There was a lot about Logan that he approved of... But his violent temper made him difficult to control, almost a liability. If Essex could tame that violence..." She purses her lips. "Well. Essex being a neuroscientist, I can only guess what he did to the man. Whatever it was, it didn't work. He simply became more unstable, more... feral. He could barely be controlled. It was almost a relief when he managed to escape – even if he did take out four of our best operatives in the resulting bloodbath."

Anna looks faintly troubled at all this, which says a lot about the difference between her and her mentor. Namely, Raven is a bitch; and my woman is not.

"And somehow," I comment in an undertone, "he ended up here."

"LeBeau, insane Logan may have been, but don't think for a minute that he wasn't a resourceful bastard. He had contacts all over the world. Beijing, London, Madripoor, Wakanda... If his mind was still coherent enough, I'm sure he could've called in a few favours."

"And is that what you think, Raven," Anna asks quickly. "That his mind is still coherent? Pete Wisdom seemed to imply he had only a tenuous grip on his memories."

Raven shrugs.

"You know what the bleed effect is like, my dear. What do you think?"

Anna says nothing. She doesn't need to.

"Is the job worth takin'?" I ask instead, changing the subject. Raven leans back a little, tapping a familiar, pearl-inlaid pen on her desktop.

"That depends on what you're willing to risk," she rejoins. "Logan is a dangerous, violent, excuse for a human being. He's also extremely cunning. But I think you have a bit more going in the smarts stakes, LeBeau. You might just outsmart him."

Well, slap my ass and call me Sally.

"Oooh, a compliment," I banter back. "Next you'll be askin' me t' marry you, Raven."

The corner of her mouth twitches with disgust.

"Please, LeBeau. Do give me some credit where taste is concerned." She passes me over quickly, her attention shifting back over to Anna. "Are you thinking of taking this job, Anna?"

Her gaze is piercing, questioning. Anna shrugs, far too nonchalant for my liking.

"I'm not sure yet," she says. "I'd have to take a look at that list Pete Wisdom has before I decided anything."

For the first time, Raven looks confused.

"And what makes you think those chips will be of any use to you?" she asks.

"Because, Raven," Anna answers soberly, "I think Logan's trying to do exactly what I was trying to do. Get his memories back."

-oOo-

It's raining.

I'm watching the multi-coloured umbrellas bobbing past the window, my mind working at a feverish pace. Fuck. I don't like this. Nothing about this can be good.

"Look, I don't give a damn about this Weapon X shit," Jake is saying over his mouthful of ramen noodles. "If there's a solid million in this, I'm all in."

"Of course you are," I mutter sardonically to myself – obviously loud enough for him hear, because he immediately lays into me.

"Hey, listen," he says, "you are a thief, Remy LeBeau. Don't tell me this doesn't tempt you."

I look away from the window with eyebrow raised.

"Jake, any amount of Weapon X is not worth a million dollars."

"Pfft." He waves his chopsticks at me. "Shut up."

He thinks I'm joking. Anna doesn't. She's tellingly silent.

"Anna's invested," Jake ploughs onward. "Right, Anna?"

She purses her lips and swirls the tea round the bottom of the elegant porcelain cup.

"It depends what's on those lists," she answers quietly.

"Why?" Jake asks.

She's silent a moment, weighing up her answer carefully.

"Some of the stuff on that list might belong to me," she finally replies.

Jake regards her for a few beats, chewing thoughtfully on his meal. He's curious enough to want to know more. He's also smart enough to know Anna ain't gonna level with him, and if she ain't, neither am I. Luckily for him, the million is enough for him not to care.

Hell, I can sympathise with that. I been there and done that enough times myself. A million has never not been enough – except for now.

"Listen," he begins decidedly. "I don't give a shit what's on Wisdom's lists, and I don't much give a shit about Weapon X neither. This is a pretty simple set up to me. We get this Logan fella back, and we're minted. Easy job; easy money. We'd be idiots not to take it."

He's right, of course, on a strictly professional level. But I haveta wonder – how professional is this for Anna?

I look over at her, but she doesn't look back at me. She lifts the tea to her lips and drinks.

-oOo-

We take a taxi back home in silence.

The rain is a distraction, a something for my mind to fixate on. Why does this bother me so much? Weapon X is over; it's dead.

Not as dead as you thought, LeBeau.

The taxi comes to a halt right outside my apartment, but in the few seconds it takes to get to the door, we're already drenched. We hurry inside and run up the four flights of stairs to my apartment. Her fingers are already undoing the buttons of my shirt as I fumble for my keycard and I finally get us indoors.

She kisses me in the hallway.

There's a feelin' inside me… A kind of resentment that she's kissin' me when this job bothers me so much. I don't kiss her back.

Instead I put my hands on her arms and back her away from me by just an inch.

"We need t' talk," I murmur.

"Do we?" she whispers. She loosens another button, adds: "Let's wait until tomorrow."

She kisses me again. Within a few moments she has my shirt off, and somehow we've already got to the bedroom door. There's something about her – single-minded, almost fierce. She's trying to distract me. I back up with an effort.

"Why didn't you tell me?" I ask. "About this Logan?"

She doesn't even pause. Her kisses come quick and fleeting, over my jaw and down my neck, across my collarbone and over my chest.

"Let's not do this, Rem," she mutters somewhere in-between. "Not now."

And I want to let go. But this bothers me. It bothers me that she hid this from me.

I take her by the arms again, and God knows it takes more will than I'd ever admit to her just to push her away from me.

"Anna," I murmur gruffly. "What did you see in his mem'ries?"

It's the right question this time. This time it has the full force of her attention, her eyes wide on mine like I've caught her out in some grand lie. We hold one another's gaze for what seems like forever, and I'm surprised when she's the one to drop her eyes first.

"I saw Essex," she tells me faintly.

There is shame in her voice – fear, almost – and I realise that this is a cue. To put my arms round her, to hold her, to keep her close… But before I can, she's turned away. She opens up the bedroom door and retreats inside like she can hide from the memories, from the name.

Essex.

I let out a pent-up breath and lean against the doorframe, watching on as she slips off her clothing like a snake shedding its skin.

"Essex is the past, Anna," I find myself saying.

"For us, yes," she agrees, letting her shirt slide down her arms and to the floor, quickly followed by her pants. "For Logan… I don't think so."

I push away from the door and close it softly behind me, the faint glow of the overhead lights flickering on above us.

"Logan's unstable," I say.

"So was I, once." She reaches behind her back, unhooks her bra.

"You were different," I reply. She slides the right strap of her bra over her shoulder, pauses.

"Was I?"

"Yeah," I answer. "You weren't an insane, psychopathic murderer for one."

She laughs sadly as she slips the left strap off and lets the bra fall to the floor along with the rest of her clothing.

"Well, I guess you're right on one score. I ain't no psychopath. But I can't say I wasn't insane. Or that I wasn't a murderer."

She does things to me. She's doing them right now. I can't explain it. I walk over to her and twist her hair aside, over her shoulder. I lean in close, put my face in the nape of her neck, smooth my palms round her waist and up over her abdomen, cupping her breasts. She takes in a tremulous breath and I whisper:

"You ain't him. He ain't you. Don't take this job outta guilt, girl. You already paid your dues and then some. Weapon X don't owe you nothin'. It took away enough. You earned every moment of happiness you get now. And fuck me, chere, if I ain't gon' make sure you're happy for the rest of your days, after all the shit you've been put through."

They're absolutely the right words to say.

She swivels in my arms and takes my face in her hands, and she kisses me like tomorrow might never come. We strip away the rest of our clothes, and she literally tackles me onto the bed.

Okay, so tonight she's taking the reins – totally something I'm cool with.

She doesn't say anything – just straddles me and stares down at me with this wild look in her eyes, all untamed and beautiful and insanely sexy. I let her have her way with me 'cos I ain't gonna deny that I find it all kinds of hot when she gets like this… and also because, deep down, I know that something's playing on her mind, and she needs this distraction as much as she figures I do.

She'd once said to me we'd both get bored of the sex within two weeks of being in London, but it's been months now and neither of us is even close to being tired of each other physically – or at all, if I'm being honest. When I first met her, sure, I'd found her intriguing, fascinating in her own way. But I would've been lyin' back then if I'd said that it was anything more than just a sexual attraction I'd felt to her, if I'd wanted anything more than some hot fling with this mysteriously capable yet sexy woman. I don't get how or when it happened, but somewhere along the line she became something more to me. It's been at least two years now since we met, and I still ain't got round to processing what it is I want from her, or where I think I might want this to go. One thing I'm sure of though – I don't want this here to end any time soon. I don't want her to go back to the States. Not without me, anyways.

We both make love till we're exhausted and neither of us can barely move. She simply sinks into my arms with a soft mewl of contentment and I hold her, running my fingers through her knotted curls and down her spine. Within a few moments, she's fast asleep.

Somehow, I manage to untangle myself from her, get out of bed, and step out onto the balcony for a smoke.

The street is peaceful, the circle of converted townhouses a kind of fortress. For the first time since I moved in, I dispense with the usual routine of scanning the block from my prime position looking out over the neighbourhood. I decide, maybe belatedly, that I like this place. I like this place a lot. I like my life a lot. For a split second I slow down, I come to a standstill, and I find I'm just fine where I'm standing. After all those years spent running and looking for fuck knows what, this is kinda weird, but also kinda nice. For so damn long now I've been suspicious of contentment, but I feel its pull now – I feel it hard. I don't think I could do loneliness and mindless one night stands anymore. I have something other than pain now, other than a thousand hurts that need to be fucked away. And I don't want to lose it.

I take a final pull on my cigarette and stub it out in the ashtray I've left outside. When I head back in, Anna's all bundled up under the covers like a mama bear in her den.

I grin at the image and get in beside her. As soon as I'm settled she rolls over and spoons up against me. Her arms encircle me, and for a while we listen to the storm together.

"Remy?" she asks after half a minute of silence.

"Hmm?"

Her hand climbs my chest, her thumb stroking me lightly.

"If I took Pete Wisdom's job… would you be mad at me?"

"Does it matter what I think?"

"You know it does."

I think about it. I feel about it. I lace her fingers with mine.

"I know one thing, chere," I answer softly. "You wanna help this guy. And what Pete Wisdom wants for him ain't gonna help him."

She's quiet at that; and I'm too tired to argue about it anymore.

"Don't worry, chere," I tell her on a yawn. "I know you. You don't want anyone t' suffer like you did. Not even an insane murderer like this Logan fella. I get it. Now let's sleep, chere. I'm tired."

Neither of us say anything more; and call me crazy but suddenly I get this feelin', this feelin' that I ain't felt since I was with Belle. It's this churnin' in the pit of my stomach, this ominous sense that our paths are about to diverge; that I'm gonna go one way, and she's gonna go another.

-oOo-