Logan ducked into the first room he saw, barely getting the door slammed behind him before the claws sprang free, the growl bursting from his chest. His whole body shook with adrenaline and fury. He sucked in deep breaths, trying to get himself under control, scrabbling to bring order to the chaos in his head.
Find her. Take her back. She’s yours. The Wolverine was snarling in his head, fueling the helpless rage, while Logan’s thoughts were mired in his own failure. What a worthless goddamn piece of trash he was. He had failed Rogue, failed Jeannie...
He snicked the claws in and out, using the pain to try to focus himself. Calm the fuck down. Breathe. Think.
Find her, the Wolverine snarled again, and this time Logan was able to evaluate the instinct rationally. He couldn’t get her away while she was with Shaw, but he could track her, get to her as soon as Shaw left her alone...
Before the thought had even coalesced he was out the door, claws forced back into his arms. The scents were like a neon sign to him...that acrid, electrical smell of Shaw, Emma’s tart chalky scent, the warm sandalwood of Jean, and most of all Rogue’s enticing sunshine-and-sweet-grass fragrance. Logan padded stealthily in their wake -- up a set of stairs, down a long hallway...
There the scents split up. Shaw, Rogue, and the henchmen had entered one room to the left, while Emma was in the room to the right. Logan leaned his forehead against the door on the left, drinking in the traces of Rogue’s scent, hearing her voice muffled by the thick wood, fighting the urge to break it down. He heard a scraping sound in the room next door, and suddenly thought of Xavier’s words. She would need to stay nearby...
He took a few deep breaths, rolling his shoulders and flexing his hands. Then he opened the door to the room on the right and walked in.
Emma was sitting in a chair which was awkwardly pulled as close to the wall of the adjoining room as possible. Her head rested back against the wall, her pale brow furrowed in concentration.
“Hey there, darlin’.” Logan tried not to choke on the warm flirtatious tone he was trying to pull off.
Emma’s eyes flew open. She started to stand but then hesitated, her eyes darting wildly from Logan to the wall, where the voices had sharpened from their previously subdued murmur. “Get out!” she hissed at Logan.
He sauntered towards her. “What’s the matter, baby? I thought you might have missed me while you were gone...”
She closed her eyes briefly, trying to concentrate again. He put a hand on each arm of the chair, leaning up close to her. “Now don’t go playin’ hard to get...”
Her face was reddening with rage, a thin vein pulsing in her temple. “You idiot!” She shoved at his arms, and he allowed her to think she was able to push him back. “Just...go!”
“Now that ain’t sweet, darlin’. I was thinkin’ we could have some fun. Don’t tell me Shaw has what it takes to keep a woman like you happy...”
The voices in the other room were more strident now, scuffling sounds making their way through the wall as Emma’s scent sharpened with fear. Her skin started to harden, an icy shimmer creeping up her neck.
“Emma! Goddammit, get in here!” Shaw’s voice, thick with alarm, even though the solid wall. Emma shoved past Logan, darting out the door and into the room next door as the scuffling sounds continued.
Logan put his hand up against the wall, claws springing free reflexively at the thought of Rogue struggling in there, without him. He closed his eyes in despair as frustration choked him. Every instinct told him to charge next door and to hell with it if Shaw vaporized him, but he knew it would blow any chance of getting Rogue free. It was up to her now. C’mon, darlin’. Whatever they’re trying...fight ‘em. You can do it.
__________________
Five hours. He just had to play this part for five more hours. Logan kept repeating it in his head as Whirlwind dealt the cards. Five hours until the extraction. In five hours, he could get Rogue out of there.
He knew that Emma and Shaw probably hadn’t bought his ill-timed come-on for a second, but apparently they were not ready to confront him yet. Instead they seemed to have decided to keep a close eye on him. Shaw had even uncharacteristically asked to be dealt in to the game. Emma stood behind him, downing drinks at a record pace.
Having a telepath on your side was not playing it straight, but nobody was quite drunk enough to call them on it yet. Not that Logan was so sure Emma was on Shaw’s side right now. Her eyes were bright with the drinks she had been knocking back, and she was unusually shrill. The air between her and Shaw snapped with tension.
Shaw called for more shots all around. Logan had never seen him drink like this either, it was unsettling to see that cold, controlled personality grown sloppy with the liquor. Logan hoped to hell the foul mood Shaw and Emma were in meant something had gone wrong with their plan, that Rogue had managed to fight off the treatment. Five hours, he told himself again.
Azazel raised the bet. He was the only one at the table who seemed unaffected by the strained atmosphere. In fact, he seemed to be reveling in it, drinking in the discord between Shaw and Emma, the tension between the pair of them and Wolverine. His eyes shone with mischief as he pushed Shaw toward deeper play. The more Emma tried to caution him the more irritated Shaw got, sniping back at her, drinking more, and raising his bets further.
Logan folded more hands than he played, content to let Azazel needle Shaw, glad the bastard was providing a useful distraction. He only hoped Azazel didn’t push Shaw too far -- Logan had been hoping to gut Azazel himself for what he had done to Rogue, but if he kept on this way Shaw would vaporize him where he sat.
Logan threw in the small blind and Shaw the large blind.
“Let’s make it more interesting,” Azazel suddenly said.
Whirlwind seemed to be the only one besides Wolverine who was sober enough to realize how unstable this whole situation was. He hesitated for a moment in dealing the cards, and then continued.
“What did you have in mind,” Shaw asked, his bleary eyes sharpening with a hint of his more typical calculating look.
“If you win, I do the next job for free,” Azazel said.
“And if you win?”
“I get tonight with that fiesty piece you have on the side,” Azazel said, with a gleeful look to Emma. “The one with the stripes.”
Christ, the man was suicidal. Logan felt his own claws start to spring and forced them to retract, choking back the Wolverine’s sudden desire to tear Azazel’s throat out with his teeth. Shaw’s face reddened with rage, his hands seeming to glow with amassed power. Whirlwind eased back from the table nervously and even Azazel seemed to realize the danger he was in, the air starting to shimmer around him.
Suddenly Emma giggled, leaning into the tense scene, her arm around Shaw’s neck. “What a lovely idea! We were just saying that Rogue needed a lesson, weren’t we, sweetheart?” She looked toward one of the henchmen. “Go fetch Rogue, Marcus.”
The man hesitated, looking to Shaw. Shaw grabbed Emma’s hair, pulling her face down to his. “Emma...” he hissed.
Emma leaned closer, her lips almost brushing Shaw’s. “What’s the matter, darling? I thought you said Rogue didn’t mean anything to you. And she was so very disobedient today...”
Shaw’s eyes narrowed on Emma’s for a moment. He pulled her hair harder, and she gasped. He smiled, and then pulled her onto his lap, kissing her deeply. She giggled as he finally released her and nodded to Marcus. He pulled some gloves from his pocket, throwing them onto the pile of cash on the table. “You’ll need these,” he told Azazel. “Just make sure she’s still breathing in the morning.”
“How about you, Wolverine? Are you game?” Emma said slyly. Logan let visions of eviscerating that bitch dance through his head as he made a show of checking his hole cards.
“With a hand like this? I’m in,” he finally said.
“Whirlwind?” Shaw asked.
Whirlwind managed an uneasy smile, sweat trickling down his temple. He didn’t even bother to check his cards. “I’ll sit this one out,” he said. “I like the money. And I haven’t even seen the girl.”
“Ah,” Shaw said. “Well here’s your chance.”
The Wolverine surged to the surface as he scented her. Logan tried desperately to control his reaction, taking another deep draught of his beer, trying not to look at her for fear of betraying them both.
“Sebastian. What the hell is going on?” Her usually warm, husky voice was sharp with tension.
Shaw leaned back in his chair, downing another shot. “You seem to have collected some admirers, Rogue.” He threw another stack of bills in the center of the table. “We’re just playing to see who comes out victorious.” Emma giggled again.
Logan managed a glance at Rogue. God, she was beautiful, head held high, anger bringing color to her cheeks despite her fear. His relief at seeing her unharmed warred with his apprehension for the treacherous situation they were in. Marcus stood behind her, holding one wrist, but she ignored him as if he weren’t there. Her eyes drifted to Logan, and she quickly focused them on Shaw again. Good girl.
“You’re betting me?” Her voice changed from shock to icy disdain. “I guess you really are done pretending then, you sick sonuvabitch...”
In a flash, Shaw was out of his chair and in her face. She stood her ground, even as he loomed over her. His voice was an cold whisper, only Logan’s sensitive hearing allowed him to make out the words. “Let me make this perfectly clear. I need your body, alive and breathing. What happens in the meantime doesn’t concern me at all.”
Her voice was equally quiet as her eyes narrowed on Shaw’s. “I’ll see you dead for what you’ve done to me.”
Shaw grabbed Rogue’s arm, twisting it painfully up behind her back, forcing her body to arch forward towards him. Logan felt his chair start to splinter under his grip as Rogue drew in a pained breath. Shaw simply smiled, however, and shrugged, releasing the pressure on her arm. “You can try.”
Shaw sat back down at the table. “Deal the flop.”
Logan watched the cards fall, pressure in his chest. He knew one thing, if Azazel won he would be dead within the hour. There was no way Logan would let him get to his room with Rogue alive, and he hoped she knew that. Another glance at her, and he wasn’t so sure. Marcus had an iron grip on her arm again and she seemed to have shut down, her posture still stiff and proud but her eyes empty.
A nine of clubs, a king of clubs, and a three of hearts. Not ideal, but not bad for Logan’s hole cards of a nine of hearts and a queen of spades. He would need to be damn lucky. He raised on the flop, even knowing that the money mattered to no one at this point, as the others called. Azazel wanted to start trouble, although Logan was sure he was also looking forward to getting even with Rogue for their earlier encounter. Shaw, goaded on by Emma, seemed to want to simply punish and humiliate her. Logan just wanted to get them both out of this alive.
Whirlwind burned another card and dealt the turn. A five of spades. Fuck. The turn was checked around, as the tension in the room ratcheted higher. Logan was already mapping the path to Azazel’s room, figuring the best point of attack. He’d have to get the drop on him before he had the chance to ‘port...
Whirlwind’s hand shook with nerves as he burned another card and dealt the river. A nine of diamonds. Logan felt a grim hope surge within him. Trip nines with a king-queen kicker. Maybe luck was actually on his side. He raised his bet.
Shaw made a sound of disgust and folded. “Sorry, dear...” he smirked at Rogue. She turned her head aside, ignoring him even as the color in her cheeks deepened.
“Fiesty,” Azazel leered, calling the bet.
Logan showed his hand, trying to keep his face and posture impassive while his body was sprung tight with tension.
Azazel slowly turned his cards over, his face unreadable. A king of spades and a jack of hearts. Two pair, kings and nines, with a jack kicker. Wolverine had won.
Shaw clucked his tongue in mock sympathy. “Poor Rogue...I hear the Wolverine is quite brutal with his women.”
Logan collected the money silently, stashing it in his pockets. He pulled on the gloves Shaw had thrown on the table, and everyone at the table jumped as he suddenly sprang his claws, slicing through the leather. He bared his teeth in what could questionably be interpreted as a smile. “It’s been a pleasure playin’ with you all.”
He sheathed the claws again and took Rogue’s arm. She started to pull away from him. “Move it!,” he growled, yanking her forward and propelling her brutally out of the room.
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Author's Chapter Notes:
I meant to get some solid writing in this weekend, but hurricane Irene and an 18-hour power outage foiled my plans! I'm posting this next chapter anyway, it could probably use some more touching up, but what the hell. ;-)
A few disclaimers/thanks: I don't know what possessed me to write a story in which both horses and poker play such a prominent part, because I don't know much about either. I used the sample Texas Hold 'Em game from wikipedia, but forgive me if I messed up the betting. ;-) Also, thanks to whomever first gave Jean a sandalwood scent. It always struck me as perfect for her, so I used it here as well.
A few disclaimers/thanks: I don't know what possessed me to write a story in which both horses and poker play such a prominent part, because I don't know much about either. I used the sample Texas Hold 'Em game from wikipedia, but forgive me if I messed up the betting. ;-) Also, thanks to whomever first gave Jean a sandalwood scent. It always struck me as perfect for her, so I used it here as well.
Chapter End Notes:
Please review!