Logan slowly opened his eyes. The girl was barely a foot away, deep brown eyes watching him, tear tracks on her cheeks.
“Don’t cry,” he said thickly.
A slow smile spread across her face. Damn, she was heartbreakingly pretty when she smiled.
“Okay,” she said softly.
Another tear welled up, trembling on her lower lashes before falling. That didn’t look right, Logan thought, his head still fuzzy. Something that pretty shouldn’t be marred by tears. He reached out a hand to wipe the teardrop away with his thumb.
The girl jerked back in a wild scrabble of limbs until she was crammed as far into the corner of the car as she could get. “Don’t...don’t touch my skin!”
Christ, he had forgotten. Her frantic flurry of movement snapped him out of his grogginess.
“Sorry,” he said. “It’s okay. Relax, darlin’. I won’t touch you.”
He smelled her fear dissipate as she slowly eased back onto the seat. That warm, enticing scent of her was almost overwhelming in the close confines of the car, deep and welcoming under the layers of anxiety and sorrow and his own blood, adding to his dizziness.
Logan shook his head, trying to clear it, and took a quick inventory. He was still in the passenger seat of the car and she was in the driver’s seat, but they were stopped -- he could see the lights of a parking lot through the windshield. It was fully dark, he must have been out for at least three or four hours this last time.
The girl had reclined both seats so that they were almost lying down. His leather jacket was draped over him, smelling deliciously of her and him mixed together. There was still a raw ache in his chest and back, but overlaid with the characteristic itch of healing skin. The vision in his left eye was still kind of blurry, but he was pretty sure he had his eyeball back.
He started to sit up, and as the jacket fell away he realized that he was trussed pretty much from neck to waist, bloody clumps of towel bound around him with strips of sheeting. Something sharp poked him in the chest, and he dug under one of the bandages to retrieve it. He pulled out a plastic motel room key card, sticky with his blood. He looked at the girl, puzzled.
“I got us a room, but I couldn’t figure out how to get you inside. I heard somewhere that you’re supposed to put a credit card against a sucking chest wound, to seal it. I didn’t have a credit card, but I figured the room key was the same thing.” She paused. “We better skip out before they find out about the sheets and towels, huh?”
He couldn’t help his bark of laughter. He turned the key card around in his fingers, examining it under the spotty parking lot lights. It -- and the girl -- had probably saved his life. “You’re a really smart kid, you know that?”
She leaned back in her seat, putting her raggedy stockinged feet up on the dashboard, a smile in her voice to match his. “Not a kid, but thanks.”
Her mention of credit cards reminded him of something else. “I didn’t have a wallet, and I know you sure didn’t. How did you pay for the room?”
She shot him a look like he was crazy. She pushed up onto her knees, reaching over the console into the back seat, and hauled up a briefcase. His briefcase, in fact. Fifty grand in cash.
“I take it back. You’re a fuckin’ genius, kid.”
__________________
He hobbled into the room like a ninety-year-old man, leaning more heavily on the girl than he would have liked to admit. He stumbled as he reached the bed and half-fell onto the covers. The other bed looked like it had been attacked by a bear, the top sheet in shreds. The girl must have been frantic to stop the bleeding. Gutsy kid, he thought affectionately.
He looked consideringly at the phone. Scott and ‘Ro would be freaking out right now, and for that he was sorry. He couldn’t help thinking of that text Marco had gotten, though. Everything had been going smoothly, and then suddenly, just like that, he was made. If there was a leak in their system somewhere, he wasn’t going to risk calling in from a landline. He had the girl to think about now, and he was pretty damn useless until he got his strength back.
He could afford to go dark for a little while. Scott and ‘Ro would have tossed the bait shop by now and gotten any information to be had there. Right now the girl was his best lead, and he had to take care of her. Not that he was doing much of the caretaking right now, he thought cynically, cursing the slowness of his healing.
He forced himself to sit up. The girl returned from the bathroom with a glass of water and he downed it gratefully.
“What now?” she asked.
He looked them both over. Both of them were drenched in blood, but the girl had washed her face and rinsed her gloves. She had put his leather jacket back on as she helped him from the car -- to protect his bare chest and arms from accidental contact with her skin, he now realized. The jacket was bloody too, but it would wipe off, and covering the girl neck to knees like it did she might pass a casual inspection -- a young woman in her boyfriend’s jacket. That thought stuck in his head, strangely appealing. Christ, he must still be woozy from blood loss.
“Clothes, I think, and then food, and we’ll talk.” He pulled her hair forward over her shoulder, so the wave of it shadowed her bruised face. She held her breath this time, but didn’t flinch away.
“A bigger store’ll still be open this late. Don’t talk to anybody. Get shoes first, and if somebody asks say you broke a heel or something and it was easier to go barefoot.”
She shot him a look, and he shrugged. He must have actually learned something from countless trips to the mall with Kitty and Jubilee. The thought of the girls, laughing and happy at the mall, sent a spike of fear and frustration through him and his voice was rougher when he spoke again.
“Clothes for both of us and makeup to cover that bruise before you get me arrested. When I’m dressed I’ll get food while you shower, and then we can talk.” He looked her over one more time. “Can you do this, darlin’?”
He saw the bravado come over her, her pride stung by the question. “‘Course. No problem.” He could sense the shakiness underneath, but she was holding it together like a champ.
It was harder to let her out of his sight than he would have thought. He lay on the bed, cursing his weakness, trying to will his healing to speed up. Doubts started to rack his mind. He should have switched the car out, he shouldn’t have let her take it. He should have called Scott and ‘Ro, had them take the kid far away from here. A girl like that, who knew what kind of trouble she could get herself into.
By the time she got back his strength was back enough for him to be pacing restlessly, one dark scenario after another racing through his head. He yanked her into the room as soon as he heard her key in the door. He pulled her into his embrace, ignoring her squeak of alarm, soothing himself with her scent. She was tense for just a moment and then slowly relaxed into his arms, dropping the bags she carried and squeezing him tight, her hair a screen between her face and his bare chest.
Logan felt the knot of anxiety in his chest start to ease. “You okay, kid?” he couldn’t help asking.
She nodded. “You?”
“Yeah.” He took in another deep breath. He would let her go now. Should have let her go already. She just felt so...right, there in his arms. The soft small shape of her through his voluminous leather jacket, the warm enticing scent of her. He could keep her safe, like this.
She murmured something he couldn’t make out.
“What was that, darlin’?”
“Marie,” she said more clearly. “Not kid. Marie. I’m twenty-two.”
“Marie,” he repeated. He let her go somewhat awkwardly. “You get first shower, Marie. Then we’ll talk.”
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Author's Chapter Notes:
Urgh, this story is really putting up a fight starting at the next few chapters. I'm hoping by posting this it'll bust me through my writer's block. :-P
Chapter End Notes:
Please review! :-D