Okay, so the episode: Heat in my universe – a couple months after the last
chapter. We're gonna assume Logan and Max have become more acquainted (but
not that acquainted) and are working together on Eyes Only in exchange for
the X5 info.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
"Where's my money!?!" One of the scumbags yelled at one of the other scumbags.
(Like taking candy from a baby – an ugly thieving baby – but a baby nonetheless) Max smirked as she listened to them argue, content to stay where she was, out of sight. The plan had been for both her and Logan to go stake out the boat, but it had seemed like over kill to her and she had wanted to get out so she said she would do it herself. She'd felt a little cagey around him before, she wasn't sure why. They had argued a little, but she won in the end. That was a few days ago – (he's probably getting pissy that I haven't done anything yet) she mused in her hiding place, hearing footsteps suddenly.
"Hey!" Someone too close yelled.
(Damn)
The guard came at her, expecting an easy take down. A young woman, small and weak-looking – should be easy, right? Wrong. Max disposed of him quickly, a few well-place kicks, a punch here and there, and he was down. Looking at him lying on the ground Max allowed herself a look, "Hey, your kinda cute,"
"Nobody rips me off! Where's my money?" she heard them yelling again. Sill rolling her eyes, Max dived off into the water and swam away from the boat as gunfire lighted up its windows.
(Too bad) she thought, looking back at the boat (he was pretty cute)
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
"The subject was followed to the Flamingo Lodge Motel where she registered under the name of Anita Orduno. And the subject was then joined by a female Caucasian...uh like 20, uh...mid 20s, late 20s and, uh...she accompanied her into the hotel room for about three...three-and-a-half hours." Vogelsang, droned on to this week's suspicious husband, bored as hell. He'd always though being a private detective would be more exciting... whatever paid the bills.
"Anyway, here's the thing, though. The registration...in the other woman's car...well, it goes back to you, Mr. Meyer. So the answer is: yes, your mistress is stepping out on you...but she's doing it with your wife. I mean, I guess that, you know, could be good news or bad news. I mean, it all depends on whether-"
He stopped, suddenly wishing that being a private detective was significantly less exciting.
"Please, don't stop on my account," Lydecker smirked down at the fat, pathetic excuse for a human being.
Vogelsang hung up the phone, looking up at the man who introduced his fingernails to some pliers a few months ago, fighting the urge to piss himself.
"Mr. Lydecker...she wasn't here." He stammered, "I have...I haven't seen her. I have...I haven't spoken to her since-"
Lydecker's smirk lessened, "Finnish your lunch before it gets cold," the comment was simple enough, but coming from Lydecker it seemed like a death threat – everything Lydecker said sounded like a death trap.
"Oh, please. Please, Mr. Lydecker. I have told you. I have told you everything I know. I swear it." He stuttered again and Lydecker had to fight the urge to laugh at the pitiaful man's weakness,
Lydecker sighed, "It seems so unfair. There you are, drifting along...private investigator running his own Laundromat...and along comes this young lady and asks him to help her find a bunch of kids with bar codes on their necks."
"Please don't hurt me Mr. Lydecker,"
"How are the nails," another treat.
"No Mr. Lydecker"
"Looks like their growing back fine. See? I told ya. Mr. Vogelsang...I want you to be very clear just how important this young girl is to me. I would peel every inch of skin from your body if it would bring me one heartbeat closer to her. I know she's out there. Eventually, she's going to have to come up for air. And when she does...I want to be there."
He turned his back to the man sitting at the desk, walking out.
"Oh, by the way," he stopped, glancing back, his voice dangerously low "It's not mister Lydecker, its Colonel Lydecker."
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The Motorcycle sped down the dirty, beat-up Seattle street. The rider was helmet-less, unafraid of collisions or accidents - unafraid of death. With leather gloves and jacket, sunglasses blocking her eyes from the wind that ran through her hair - she looked like the definition of rebellion and toughness.
Gunning the engine, the world around her became a blur. Max smiled as she increased her speed, enjoying one of the few moments in her life when she felt truly free.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Original Cindy licked her lips looking the rider up and down.
"She's spiking a can-can endo. Spank it, sugar. Damn. She's fine." Cindy did enjoy a good looking woman; she always took her time to appreciate the beauty in each one she came upon. Like her girl Max, for example - dark, mysterious, beautiful. Her soulful brown eyes, full lips, unruly curly brown hair, her brilliant smile... when she actually used it...
"She's straight."
... her wonderful attitude...
"Don't be putting salt in my game. I'm not trying to hear that." Max could be a real bitch sometimes, but Original Cindy was used to it, she didn't let it faze her.
"She's all yours. Give me hot boy over there. His friend's kind of working for me, too. And the brother over there in the corner is just breaking my heart." Max was acting strangely tonight, very up close and personal with the boys in the club, which seemed odd to Original Cindy 'cause the usually the men came to her... and she rolled her eyes and blew them off.
"Are you running a fever or something?" Kendra, Max's roommate and fellow heterosexual damn another good one lost to the males, also seemed to notice Max's strange behavior.
"No," Max said tearing her eyes away from a guy with large biceps in a corner.
"You sure? You look flushed." Cindy had noticed that too, her boo seemed too hot and fidgety like she was about to jump something.... or someone.
"Yeah. Why?" Max asked frowning.
"I don't know. You seem..." Kendra stopped searching for a word to describe Max's male-craving behavior.
"What?" Max asked impatient
"Like you've been puddling over every pair of pants that walks in here tonight." Cindy cut in, saying what she had been thinking all night.
"Stop." Max said, indignantly
"You are." Kendra agreed, as Max's gaze diverted to another guy walking past them.
"Hey." She said, her eyes dark, voice low - almost predatory.
"See?" Kendra after the guy kept walking – thank god.
"What? I'm just being friendly 'cause he's cute." Well, something was defiantly up, Max was acting very.... not Max.
"Will somebody correct my eyes? You've been laying out for the boys all night long," she said, deciding to go for brutally honest.
"It's like you're in heat or something." Kendra added. In heat? Yeah that seemed to describe it pretty well. But whatever, if Max wanted to go chasing the boys who were they from stopping her from having a good time.
"But don't trip," Cindy said, "you don't see men down on themselves 'cause they 'bout it. You got an itch? Go scratch."
Sketchy was on the bar now trying to beat her biker chick – (let the fool try, it'll be funny when he lands on his ass)
"Hey." Some idiot sketchy-look-alike came up to Max
"We are talking bitch." She said to the new fool.
"Hang on to your drinks." Kendra smiled looking forward to the carnage.
"Do you come here a lot?" the moron ignored her - whatever Max could take care of herself – it would be funny watching her take this guy apart.
"Yeah. What are you drinking?" Original Cindy's eyebrows shot up as Max actually responded to the new Sketchy.
"Max!" Kendra said, taken by surprise as well.
"I'm scratching, 'kay." Max said, then turned back to the fool – talking to him!
Cindy turned to Kendra, "you're heterosexual. What's up with that?"
"No clue." She said as they heard Max's pager blow up and then saw her take off up the stairs.
(Thank god) Original Cindy thought as she turned to and put an arm around the boy, who was looking at where Max had just been – somewhat dazed
"It was all just a strange and beautiful dream." He nodded in agreement.
(She always runs off fast when that boy pages her...) she mused as the real Sketchy fell off the bar (Wonder what that's all about...)
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Max groaned inwardly as she rode her bike to Logan's penthouse, counting off the months in her head.
(Kendra was right. I am in heat or something like that...all because they spiced up that genetic cocktail called "me" with a dash of feline DNA...so I can jump 15 feet of razor wire and take out a 250-pound linebacker with my thumb and index finger...which makes me an awesome killing machine and a hoot at parties. But it also means that three times a year I'm climbing the walls...looking for some action. Thank God, the worst of it is over...if I can just get through the next 12 hours without doing something I'm going to regret.)
She sped up, her suddenly feeling even less free than usual.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
"Look, Bling really I'm fine. See, walking around and everything."
Max heard the male voices as she entered the penthouse – she smelt them too... they smelled good.
"Still Logan, a spinal injury is a big, superpowers or not."
"Bling-"
"All I'm asking is you take it easy, be patient, give your body time to heal. Just a little less Eyes Only missions."
"Corruption doesn't stop just because I get shot a couple times,"
"Hey kids, am I interrupting," Max said suddenly, startling them. As much as she loved Testosterone filled arguments – really loved – she wanted to find out what Logan had paged her for and she didn't feel like waiting. She did, however, feel like noticing Logan's well defined arms under his tee- shirt.
"No. You're just in time." Logan said cynically "Bling was about to entertain me with one of my favorite chestnuts, 'the tortoise and the hare'"
Damn she looked good, Logan noted looking her up and down – but then again she always looked good, all the time.
"Maybe he'll listen to you," Bling said as he picked up the bag noticing the exchange between the two, smiling slightly.
"Yeah, right," Max said, her eyes not leaving Logan. Bling watched amused - Oh yeah, they had it bad.
"Good night people," Bling said walking out of room as they both muttered their goodbyes.
Max turned slightly watching Bling leave. He was quite an attractive man as well, he obviously worked out – he was very well built – but for some reason she couldn't stop focusing all her senses on Logan. The way he looked - hair all spiky and cute, scruffy beard, his body – so hard and well defined. She could hear his breathing - harder than usual. She could smell him, his strong male scent. She could feel his eyes on her, even though she was turned away from him.
At this moment he was Manticore's greatest creation, perfect in every way.
Logan felt hot all of a sudden. As he stared at Max he felt as if the temperature in the room had shot up at least twenty degrees. He found himself unable to look away from her – captivated........even more than usual........ He loved the way she looked, her curvy body hugged by her clothes as if they were always a size too small. She was leaning against the door frame, with her hip cocked to the side – a strip a skin showing where her shirt rose up.
Her smell overwhelmed him; it was even more distinct than usual. He had thought he could smell her for a moment while he was arguing with Bling before, but he had dismissed it, too involved in the conversation. But now it hit him, hard – it was, he wasn't really sure – intensified or something. She looked back at him their gazes locked for a moment. They stared into each others eyes, enthralled by the scent and sight of each other – too captivated to speak or move.
Suddenly his computer beeped and he turned walking over to it – snapped out of his trance for a moment.
She sighed and walked into the kitchen, trying to calm herself. (Jesus he looks good... the way he was looking at me.... This can't be good, he's Manticore. Can he sense it or something? Shit, what if I'm giving off Pheromones? I shouldn't have come here, what the hell was I thinking....)
"So," he said, suddenly in the room behind her, "You... take care of those guys we talked about,"
"Oh yeah," she said pulling out her bag and dumping the money in on his table.
He walked over to her looking at the money – or at least trying to.
"It's amazing what happens when you put three dirtbags in a room and money disappears. Tempers flare. Guns are drawn. Three dead dirtbags." She turned to him, smiling – regretting it the next instant as he smiled back, making her insides melt.
"Nicely done," he said looking into her eyes again. She turned quickly fighting the urge to grab him...to do...things
"So what happens to those poor folks who thought they were getting smuggled out of the country to the Promised Land or wherever?"
"Well, they don't get marched overboard ten miles at sea, for one," he joked trying not to stare at her. What was wrong with him? He was having trouble controlling himself around her today. He was usually better about it. Sure, he was attracted to Max, who wouldn't be? But, he generally as a rule he avoided getting involved with people he worked with, and since all he ever did was work he wasn't involved with anyone that often.
"Which is a good thing," Max responded to his comment, rather than his thoughts.
He shrugged "This will at least be partial repayment for what they paid the smugglers. And with Solinski and company deceased I'd say our work is through here." He made himself turn back to his office attempting to control his hormone driven thoughts, and desperately trying to ignore her sent, which was now five times as intense as before.
"Wait, hold on." She said suddenly, pausing in her intent study of his body as she realized something, "What do you have for me on Zack?"
He stopped, mentally groaning, she was really big on finding this Zack guy, but he was a damn hard man to find.
"I'm still developing information," he said, carefully, almost diplomatically.
"Whatever that means," She said, agitated. She was tired of this bullshit, she had done her job – put up with all his Eyes Only crap – and he was still 'developing information', it was starting to piss her off.
"It means when I come up with something substantive, you'll be the first to know." He said, patiently – they'd been through this before, but still he never found a tactful way to tell her that her brother was impossible to find.
"Look I've kept up my end of the bargain by running all these stupid little errands for you," she was ticked, his stupid cause was taking up too much of her time, and her hormones wouldn't let her stop thinking about what she could be doing with her time... with him.
"And I fully intend to keep mine. But incase you don't remember 'Project Manticore' was a covert operation. And if your Zack is a good a solider as you make him out to be, he's going to be hard to find, and it's going to take some time. 'Patience in all things,' right?" God she was hot when she was angry.
"Spare me the lecture. I waited nine years for my brother. Now, if you can help me like you said you could, great. If not, don't waste my time."
"I'm doing my best," he sighed, not in the mood for arguing with her anymore, besides she always won.
"Give me a call when you've got something," she turned, fully intending to storm out while she was still angry with him, before he distracted her again.
"Wait," he said suddenly, reaching out and grabbing her arm.
She turned looking at his hand on her arm, on her skin, his grip firm and powerful. She suddenly remembered the fight they'd had, when they had first met. She remembered how strong he'd been, how fast, how intense. She let her gaze slowly travel up his muscled arm, to his chest, to his mouth, to his eyes. How very intense indeed.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
"Where's my money!?!" One of the scumbags yelled at one of the other scumbags.
(Like taking candy from a baby – an ugly thieving baby – but a baby nonetheless) Max smirked as she listened to them argue, content to stay where she was, out of sight. The plan had been for both her and Logan to go stake out the boat, but it had seemed like over kill to her and she had wanted to get out so she said she would do it herself. She'd felt a little cagey around him before, she wasn't sure why. They had argued a little, but she won in the end. That was a few days ago – (he's probably getting pissy that I haven't done anything yet) she mused in her hiding place, hearing footsteps suddenly.
"Hey!" Someone too close yelled.
(Damn)
The guard came at her, expecting an easy take down. A young woman, small and weak-looking – should be easy, right? Wrong. Max disposed of him quickly, a few well-place kicks, a punch here and there, and he was down. Looking at him lying on the ground Max allowed herself a look, "Hey, your kinda cute,"
"Nobody rips me off! Where's my money?" she heard them yelling again. Sill rolling her eyes, Max dived off into the water and swam away from the boat as gunfire lighted up its windows.
(Too bad) she thought, looking back at the boat (he was pretty cute)
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
"The subject was followed to the Flamingo Lodge Motel where she registered under the name of Anita Orduno. And the subject was then joined by a female Caucasian...uh like 20, uh...mid 20s, late 20s and, uh...she accompanied her into the hotel room for about three...three-and-a-half hours." Vogelsang, droned on to this week's suspicious husband, bored as hell. He'd always though being a private detective would be more exciting... whatever paid the bills.
"Anyway, here's the thing, though. The registration...in the other woman's car...well, it goes back to you, Mr. Meyer. So the answer is: yes, your mistress is stepping out on you...but she's doing it with your wife. I mean, I guess that, you know, could be good news or bad news. I mean, it all depends on whether-"
He stopped, suddenly wishing that being a private detective was significantly less exciting.
"Please, don't stop on my account," Lydecker smirked down at the fat, pathetic excuse for a human being.
Vogelsang hung up the phone, looking up at the man who introduced his fingernails to some pliers a few months ago, fighting the urge to piss himself.
"Mr. Lydecker...she wasn't here." He stammered, "I have...I haven't seen her. I have...I haven't spoken to her since-"
Lydecker's smirk lessened, "Finnish your lunch before it gets cold," the comment was simple enough, but coming from Lydecker it seemed like a death threat – everything Lydecker said sounded like a death trap.
"Oh, please. Please, Mr. Lydecker. I have told you. I have told you everything I know. I swear it." He stuttered again and Lydecker had to fight the urge to laugh at the pitiaful man's weakness,
Lydecker sighed, "It seems so unfair. There you are, drifting along...private investigator running his own Laundromat...and along comes this young lady and asks him to help her find a bunch of kids with bar codes on their necks."
"Please don't hurt me Mr. Lydecker,"
"How are the nails," another treat.
"No Mr. Lydecker"
"Looks like their growing back fine. See? I told ya. Mr. Vogelsang...I want you to be very clear just how important this young girl is to me. I would peel every inch of skin from your body if it would bring me one heartbeat closer to her. I know she's out there. Eventually, she's going to have to come up for air. And when she does...I want to be there."
He turned his back to the man sitting at the desk, walking out.
"Oh, by the way," he stopped, glancing back, his voice dangerously low "It's not mister Lydecker, its Colonel Lydecker."
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The Motorcycle sped down the dirty, beat-up Seattle street. The rider was helmet-less, unafraid of collisions or accidents - unafraid of death. With leather gloves and jacket, sunglasses blocking her eyes from the wind that ran through her hair - she looked like the definition of rebellion and toughness.
Gunning the engine, the world around her became a blur. Max smiled as she increased her speed, enjoying one of the few moments in her life when she felt truly free.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Original Cindy licked her lips looking the rider up and down.
"She's spiking a can-can endo. Spank it, sugar. Damn. She's fine." Cindy did enjoy a good looking woman; she always took her time to appreciate the beauty in each one she came upon. Like her girl Max, for example - dark, mysterious, beautiful. Her soulful brown eyes, full lips, unruly curly brown hair, her brilliant smile... when she actually used it...
"She's straight."
... her wonderful attitude...
"Don't be putting salt in my game. I'm not trying to hear that." Max could be a real bitch sometimes, but Original Cindy was used to it, she didn't let it faze her.
"She's all yours. Give me hot boy over there. His friend's kind of working for me, too. And the brother over there in the corner is just breaking my heart." Max was acting strangely tonight, very up close and personal with the boys in the club, which seemed odd to Original Cindy 'cause the usually the men came to her... and she rolled her eyes and blew them off.
"Are you running a fever or something?" Kendra, Max's roommate and fellow heterosexual damn another good one lost to the males, also seemed to notice Max's strange behavior.
"No," Max said tearing her eyes away from a guy with large biceps in a corner.
"You sure? You look flushed." Cindy had noticed that too, her boo seemed too hot and fidgety like she was about to jump something.... or someone.
"Yeah. Why?" Max asked frowning.
"I don't know. You seem..." Kendra stopped searching for a word to describe Max's male-craving behavior.
"What?" Max asked impatient
"Like you've been puddling over every pair of pants that walks in here tonight." Cindy cut in, saying what she had been thinking all night.
"Stop." Max said, indignantly
"You are." Kendra agreed, as Max's gaze diverted to another guy walking past them.
"Hey." She said, her eyes dark, voice low - almost predatory.
"See?" Kendra after the guy kept walking – thank god.
"What? I'm just being friendly 'cause he's cute." Well, something was defiantly up, Max was acting very.... not Max.
"Will somebody correct my eyes? You've been laying out for the boys all night long," she said, deciding to go for brutally honest.
"It's like you're in heat or something." Kendra added. In heat? Yeah that seemed to describe it pretty well. But whatever, if Max wanted to go chasing the boys who were they from stopping her from having a good time.
"But don't trip," Cindy said, "you don't see men down on themselves 'cause they 'bout it. You got an itch? Go scratch."
Sketchy was on the bar now trying to beat her biker chick – (let the fool try, it'll be funny when he lands on his ass)
"Hey." Some idiot sketchy-look-alike came up to Max
"We are talking bitch." She said to the new fool.
"Hang on to your drinks." Kendra smiled looking forward to the carnage.
"Do you come here a lot?" the moron ignored her - whatever Max could take care of herself – it would be funny watching her take this guy apart.
"Yeah. What are you drinking?" Original Cindy's eyebrows shot up as Max actually responded to the new Sketchy.
"Max!" Kendra said, taken by surprise as well.
"I'm scratching, 'kay." Max said, then turned back to the fool – talking to him!
Cindy turned to Kendra, "you're heterosexual. What's up with that?"
"No clue." She said as they heard Max's pager blow up and then saw her take off up the stairs.
(Thank god) Original Cindy thought as she turned to and put an arm around the boy, who was looking at where Max had just been – somewhat dazed
"It was all just a strange and beautiful dream." He nodded in agreement.
(She always runs off fast when that boy pages her...) she mused as the real Sketchy fell off the bar (Wonder what that's all about...)
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Max groaned inwardly as she rode her bike to Logan's penthouse, counting off the months in her head.
(Kendra was right. I am in heat or something like that...all because they spiced up that genetic cocktail called "me" with a dash of feline DNA...so I can jump 15 feet of razor wire and take out a 250-pound linebacker with my thumb and index finger...which makes me an awesome killing machine and a hoot at parties. But it also means that three times a year I'm climbing the walls...looking for some action. Thank God, the worst of it is over...if I can just get through the next 12 hours without doing something I'm going to regret.)
She sped up, her suddenly feeling even less free than usual.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
"Look, Bling really I'm fine. See, walking around and everything."
Max heard the male voices as she entered the penthouse – she smelt them too... they smelled good.
"Still Logan, a spinal injury is a big, superpowers or not."
"Bling-"
"All I'm asking is you take it easy, be patient, give your body time to heal. Just a little less Eyes Only missions."
"Corruption doesn't stop just because I get shot a couple times,"
"Hey kids, am I interrupting," Max said suddenly, startling them. As much as she loved Testosterone filled arguments – really loved – she wanted to find out what Logan had paged her for and she didn't feel like waiting. She did, however, feel like noticing Logan's well defined arms under his tee- shirt.
"No. You're just in time." Logan said cynically "Bling was about to entertain me with one of my favorite chestnuts, 'the tortoise and the hare'"
Damn she looked good, Logan noted looking her up and down – but then again she always looked good, all the time.
"Maybe he'll listen to you," Bling said as he picked up the bag noticing the exchange between the two, smiling slightly.
"Yeah, right," Max said, her eyes not leaving Logan. Bling watched amused - Oh yeah, they had it bad.
"Good night people," Bling said walking out of room as they both muttered their goodbyes.
Max turned slightly watching Bling leave. He was quite an attractive man as well, he obviously worked out – he was very well built – but for some reason she couldn't stop focusing all her senses on Logan. The way he looked - hair all spiky and cute, scruffy beard, his body – so hard and well defined. She could hear his breathing - harder than usual. She could smell him, his strong male scent. She could feel his eyes on her, even though she was turned away from him.
At this moment he was Manticore's greatest creation, perfect in every way.
Logan felt hot all of a sudden. As he stared at Max he felt as if the temperature in the room had shot up at least twenty degrees. He found himself unable to look away from her – captivated........even more than usual........ He loved the way she looked, her curvy body hugged by her clothes as if they were always a size too small. She was leaning against the door frame, with her hip cocked to the side – a strip a skin showing where her shirt rose up.
Her smell overwhelmed him; it was even more distinct than usual. He had thought he could smell her for a moment while he was arguing with Bling before, but he had dismissed it, too involved in the conversation. But now it hit him, hard – it was, he wasn't really sure – intensified or something. She looked back at him their gazes locked for a moment. They stared into each others eyes, enthralled by the scent and sight of each other – too captivated to speak or move.
Suddenly his computer beeped and he turned walking over to it – snapped out of his trance for a moment.
She sighed and walked into the kitchen, trying to calm herself. (Jesus he looks good... the way he was looking at me.... This can't be good, he's Manticore. Can he sense it or something? Shit, what if I'm giving off Pheromones? I shouldn't have come here, what the hell was I thinking....)
"So," he said, suddenly in the room behind her, "You... take care of those guys we talked about,"
"Oh yeah," she said pulling out her bag and dumping the money in on his table.
He walked over to her looking at the money – or at least trying to.
"It's amazing what happens when you put three dirtbags in a room and money disappears. Tempers flare. Guns are drawn. Three dead dirtbags." She turned to him, smiling – regretting it the next instant as he smiled back, making her insides melt.
"Nicely done," he said looking into her eyes again. She turned quickly fighting the urge to grab him...to do...things
"So what happens to those poor folks who thought they were getting smuggled out of the country to the Promised Land or wherever?"
"Well, they don't get marched overboard ten miles at sea, for one," he joked trying not to stare at her. What was wrong with him? He was having trouble controlling himself around her today. He was usually better about it. Sure, he was attracted to Max, who wouldn't be? But, he generally as a rule he avoided getting involved with people he worked with, and since all he ever did was work he wasn't involved with anyone that often.
"Which is a good thing," Max responded to his comment, rather than his thoughts.
He shrugged "This will at least be partial repayment for what they paid the smugglers. And with Solinski and company deceased I'd say our work is through here." He made himself turn back to his office attempting to control his hormone driven thoughts, and desperately trying to ignore her sent, which was now five times as intense as before.
"Wait, hold on." She said suddenly, pausing in her intent study of his body as she realized something, "What do you have for me on Zack?"
He stopped, mentally groaning, she was really big on finding this Zack guy, but he was a damn hard man to find.
"I'm still developing information," he said, carefully, almost diplomatically.
"Whatever that means," She said, agitated. She was tired of this bullshit, she had done her job – put up with all his Eyes Only crap – and he was still 'developing information', it was starting to piss her off.
"It means when I come up with something substantive, you'll be the first to know." He said, patiently – they'd been through this before, but still he never found a tactful way to tell her that her brother was impossible to find.
"Look I've kept up my end of the bargain by running all these stupid little errands for you," she was ticked, his stupid cause was taking up too much of her time, and her hormones wouldn't let her stop thinking about what she could be doing with her time... with him.
"And I fully intend to keep mine. But incase you don't remember 'Project Manticore' was a covert operation. And if your Zack is a good a solider as you make him out to be, he's going to be hard to find, and it's going to take some time. 'Patience in all things,' right?" God she was hot when she was angry.
"Spare me the lecture. I waited nine years for my brother. Now, if you can help me like you said you could, great. If not, don't waste my time."
"I'm doing my best," he sighed, not in the mood for arguing with her anymore, besides she always won.
"Give me a call when you've got something," she turned, fully intending to storm out while she was still angry with him, before he distracted her again.
"Wait," he said suddenly, reaching out and grabbing her arm.
She turned looking at his hand on her arm, on her skin, his grip firm and powerful. She suddenly remembered the fight they'd had, when they had first met. She remembered how strong he'd been, how fast, how intense. She let her gaze slowly travel up his muscled arm, to his chest, to his mouth, to his eyes. How very intense indeed.