Logan reluctantly wrenched his eyes away from the sight of Marie licking french fry salt off her fingertips. God, was there anything this woman could do that he didn’t find sexy? For two days now they had been holed up in the cheap motel and no matter how many times he found glorious release in her arms, the next few moments had him wanting her just as much as before.
She shot him a sidelong glance through her eyelashes, and the quirk of her lips told him she had noticed his intent gaze. Her tongue took a particularly long languorous swipe before she popped her index finger in her mouth, sucking it thoroughly, grinning at the low growl she elicited from him.
He picked a pillow off a chair and lobbed it at her, smiling as she easily deflected it and reached for another fry. He glanced down and a sudden stillness came over him as he saw the file that had been hidden by the pillow. Stryker’s file, lying right where he had thrown it two nights ago. He had known that they couldn’t stay here playing honeymooners forever, but still a sense of dread gripped him as he sat down in the chair and flipped open the file’s cover.
He was completely unprepared for the wave of panic that washed over him. Clipped to the file’s inside cover was the picture of a man -- boxy head, grizzled hair, cold grey eyes. Stryker. He had never seen the man before that he could remember, and yet he had to clench his jaw against the rush of cold fear that shook his frame, nausea roiling in his belly.
Logan felt his breath rasping in frantic pants, his heart pounding in his chest. He jerked to his feet, struggling against the urge to pop the claws, eyes automatically searching the room for a threat. He caught a glimpse of Marie’s face, startled and concerned, seeing her as if from a distance.
“Logan -- sugar, what is it? Are you remembering?”
He shook his head wordlessly, unable to bring his body under control, panic and a sick rage still holding him in an iron grip.
“Stryker?” she said, reaching out a hand to touch the file. Instinctively he snatched it away. He had to keep Marie away from this. He didn’t know what else was in the file, but he knew he could not allow it to touch Marie.
“Keep away from that,” He heard his own voice snap out, harsh and angry.
He saw her eyes narrow on his, assessing. When she spoke, her voice was flat. “You have gotta be fuckin’ kidding me.”
“It’s nothin’ to do with you.” He heard the cruelty in the words, knew he was acting all wrong, but he couldn’t find even a fingerhold of control.
A note of steel entered her voice now. “How many times are we going to have this same conversation, Logan? It’s not you against the world anymore. If you want to go after Stryker I’m all for it, but I’m helping, and the team will help too if we need them.” Her voice softened. “Sugar, you can’t shut everyone out. Just talk to me...”
She reached out a hand towards him, and his overstrung senses couldn’t handle it. He felt pressed, cornered, his voice snarling out without conscious thought. “Don’t touch me.”
Even with the blood roaring in his ears, the icy terror gripping his body, he knew it was the worst possible thing he could say to her, of all people. He saw the blank shock in her eyes, changing like quicksilver to hurt and then anger before she shut down, stepping back with a cool glance.
“So that’s the way it’s gonna be, sugar? None of this...” -- she waved her arm in a curt gesture, encompassing the motel room -- “...meant anything?”
He felt the unfocused rage in him target her for a moment. That she could say that -- even imply such a casual dismissal of how he felt about her? He clenched his hands tight, trying not to strike out -- at her, at the room, at the unknown man whose picture alone could shatter any semblance of humanity in him. He turned and left the room, the motel door slamming behind him with a hollow clang.
______________
Logan stood outside the motel room door in the early dusk. He had walked for hours, his feet driving him aimlessly forward in an effort to outpace whatever unknown horror Stryker’s picture had unleashed.
He despised his lack of control over his own body. He had been maddened by the tickling feeling at the back of his brain of a memory just out of reach. With no target for his fear and rage, he had been at the mercy of wave upon wave of violent emotion, his heart pounding, his breath erratic, his throat bitter with bile, his ears deafened by the rush of his own blood. Even now, hours later, his nervous system was still jangling from the effects.
Even once he had gotten some control over his reactions, the thought of what he had done to Marie had kept him walking. He had no idea what to say to her to make things right. The image of her face when he told her not to touch him was burned into his brain. She had suggested that he cared nothing for her, and he hadn’t even argued. He had just run, the only goddamn thing he was ever good at, his response to any difficult situation. Marie deserved better than that.
With a deep breath he opened the door. The room was dim. He stepped inside. “Marie?”
No answer. Coldness spreading in his chest, he wrenched open the door to the bathroom. Empty. He sniffed the air. No one else, just his scent and Marie’s. He opened one of the drawers, already knowing what he would find. It was empty. The room was bare, only Stryker’s file still on the table where he had left it.
He sat heavily on the edge of the bed, the springs creaking in protest of his weight. Of course she had left him. What the hell had he expected? He didn’t really understand why she had stuck with him in the first place. He had proved to her in every way possible what a bastard he was. She was probably back at the mansion by now already.
After all the violent emotion of the last few hours, he couldn’t even manage to be angry. He just felt cold and numb. He hung his head and closed his eyes, letting the despair overtake him.
_____________
Marie hefted the duffel bag higher on her shoulder as she fumbled with the room key, idly wondering how Logan had managed to find a motel so antiquated that it still used metal keys instead of key cards. She could see through the curtains that no lights were on in the room. Logan still hadn’t returned, then, in the whole time she’d been at the laundromat. Stubborn jackass.
She opened the door, flipping on the light, startled to see Logan sitting on the bed. He looked up at her, and she was shocked at the expression in his eyes. He looked...destroyed.
Before she had time to say a word he was bounding towards her. She heard a startled “Eep!” escape her as he picked her up and squeezed her so hard her breath huffed out. She felt him bury his face in her hair, inhaling her scent, squeezing her even tighter.
“Logan?” she managed to wheeze out. He didn’t respond, just leaned back against the door, still holding her with her feet dangling off the floor. Finally he slid his back down the door, ending up sitting down with her in his lap, his head still buried in her hair.
“Sugar, what’s wrong?” She dug her hands into the hair at his temples, pulling his head up to try to see his eyes, finally getting a little breathing room. He took her mouth in a scorching, desperate kiss that left her seeing stars. She finally managed to pull back, panting. She looked in his shadowed eyes. “You thought I left, didn’t you?”
She saw the truth of it in his expression before he ducked his head back into the crook of her neck, squeezing her tight again. She shook her head in disbelief, running her fingers through his hair. “Because of our fight? It was just a fight. It happens. We’ll figure it out.”
He spoke against the skin of her neck, his hot breath making her shiver. “I’m sorry, Marie. I’m so sorry for what I said.”
“I know, sugar. You were freaked out. It’s okay.” She sighed, still absently combing her fingers through his hair. “I’m sorry I didn’t leave a note. I took our clothes to the laundromat. I didn’t think about how it would look.” She couldn’t help smiling. “Did you really think I was not just mad enough to leave, but to take all your clothes with me?”
She almost laughed as he jerked his head up in surprise, a chagrined expression on his face. “I didn’t think of that,” he admitted.
She shook her head in amusement. “Always ready to think the worst, aren’t you?” Her voice and expression grew serious again. She wanted to be sure he understood, needed him to be sure of at least one thing. “We’ll figure out how to get Stryker, and neither of us will get hurt. We’ll figure it out together. But I promised you, remember? I promised that I wouldn’t leave you. And I won’t.”
His gaze searched hers, and she saw the moment when he seemed to find the answer he was looking for. Something in him eased, and he leaned back against the door, pulling her close against him again. “You promised,” she heard his low voice repeat, as if to himself. “You promised.”
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Author's Chapter Notes:
Another kind of transitional chapter here. Heading into the final stretch!
Oops, how could I forget? Dedicated to WiseWords, a totally awesome reviewer. :-)
Oops, how could I forget? Dedicated to WiseWords, a totally awesome reviewer. :-)