I was right. She is walking kind of funny. But not for the reason I first intended. Crap.
“Are you alright?”
“Yeah… Just a little sore…” She blushes and wraps her cloak around her tighter. And looks about twelve-years-old. Stop it. Please. That is giving me the creeps. Nobody should look so young after what we did last night.
“It will get better…” I pull her to my side and we shuffle through snow to diner. We didn’t eat last night, and we both woke up so hungry that our pillows started to look quite edible. Scent that wafts from the kitchen makes me nearly drown to my own saliva, and Marie’s stomach growls. Marie. It’s a perfect name for her. My Marie. All that brown hair cascading over my chest when I woke up. She had fallen asleep on top of me. She looked so… So… She looked like mine. Like she belonged there. It felt like she had always been there. I really didn’t want to get up yet, but we have a long ride ahead of us. Nearly ten hours. Well, if I’m lucky, she falls asleep in the truck again…
Owie! I feel great! Emotionally, I mean. I’m sore all over. Like I wrestled with a bear. And my legs are awfully wobbly. I have bruises on my thighs and hips, and my nipples are so sensitive it drives me nuts. But there’s this warm, tingly feeling inside of me. Like Logan was still there. And that is an image I should avoid. I am still sore, so as much as my head would like the repeat performance right now, my body screams to stay the hell away from him at least couple of days. His arm around me feels good. Solid. No more Mr. Funny hair. It’s all Logan now. He’s smiling when we step in to the diner, and I’m about to ask what is it about, when he suddenly stops moving and smile fades away. He doesn’t even look at me, just shoves me behind his back.
Unfuckingbelievable. I cut him in half, and now he’s sitting there, sipping coffee from a giant mug. This has got to be some sick and twisted dream. Victor can’t be sitting there.
“Get out. Get in the truck.” I shove keys to Marie and push her out none too gently. I can’t take my eyes off from Victor. As soon as I move or turn my head, he will bounce. I know it. I know how he operates. Can’t have Marie getting between us. She survived from two earlier encounters with Vic out of pure luck.
I do as Logan tells me to do. I run to truck, lock all doors and jab the keys to ignition. After a little hesitation I open the lock of the driver’s side door.
“Finally you woke up. I have been waiting for a while. Sit.” Victor pats a stool next to his.
“I’d rather stand. What the fuck do you want? Are you after those files?”
“I don’t know anything about files. I’m after the girl. The one you nailed last night. Boy, was she a screamer. Could hear her through the wall as clear as she would have been in the same room with me.” This is starting to make me sick.
“What does Eric want from her? She’s just a kid.” We have both kept our voices down, but that waitress is starting to get interested about us.
“Eric? Who said Eric had anything to do with this? He doesn’t even know where I am…” Oh, fuck. This isn’t happening. So far only thing that has kept this psycho in front of me at bay has been his employer. If he’s on AWOL now, there’s no telling what he will do.
“And funny how you said she’s just a kid. You sure don’t smell like it. She’s all over you…” That’s enough.
“Continue, and I’ll cut you up and let FedEx take care of your parts. Every single one to different state…”
“Fuck you, runt. I’m not interested about your bitch anymore. I came to warn you.” Right. Vicky-boy warning me?
“When I was getting my bearings in that snow bank, I saw familiar looking car driving past me, same direction as you. I think our friends have spotted you. I’d take the bitch and run back to Xavier as fast as you can. I think they got lost at some point in the night, but you probably have only hour or two before they catch you up.”
“Shit. Oh, fucking shit. You need help?”
“No. I’ll be fine. I don’t think they noticed me.” Oh, God. This is bad. This is real bad.
“Are you absolutely sure?” Because if he isn’t, I’m taking him with me. We may have some issues between us, but those fuckers won’t get their paws on either of us. Never again.
When Logan comes to me I scream. Not a good scream. Because this is not good. This is wrong. There’s something so wrong in the way he’s half dragging, half carrying Victor with him, all the while talking rapidly to the cell his holding with his other hand.
“… Yeah. He’s with me now… No, I don’t know how far…” I can hear part of the ongoing phone call when he yanks open the passenger’s side door, severing the lock in the process. He shoves Victor in, and that hairy monster lands on top of me. Door slams, and Logan is out, still talking, walking around the truck to the driver’s side, and Victor smiles at me leaning closer and draws in my scent.
“Nothing smells quite like freshly picked cherry…” He whispers. Door opens and Logan climbs in, stuffing the phone to his breast pocket.
“Want to keep your hands off from her?” He asks, fixing a hard stare to Victor. Victor leers at me, but pulls back a bit so that I can crawl away from him.
I don’t understand what’s going on. Logan and Victor talk and talk. Not much of it makes sense to me. But one thing snags my ear.
“We’re not going to that school?” I ask. Logan looks at me for the first time since he sat on his seat, nearly half an hour ago. His face is pale, and there are deep lines of worry around his eyes.
“No, little one. We’re not going to Xavier’s. Not now.” Then, as an afterthought, he pulls me against his side, wrapping his other arm around me.
“We are just going to a road trip.” I can feel tremors running through his body. He’s scared. I look at Victor. He’s smirking and winking at me, but underneath the surface he seems to be as horrified as Logan. I close my eyes and bury my face to Logan’s jacket. There are two very dangerous persons with me, and they are both scared out of their wits. I don’t even want to know why. I close my eyes and breathe in Logan’s scent. Leather of his jacket, tobacco, and underneath it all a hint of blood.
When I wake up, Logan’s gone. It’s cold. Both doors are open, and engine is still on. There’s blood on the seat next to my feet. Right where Victor sat earlier. What the hell is going on? I can hear voices from outside. Logan. Talking to somebody. He sounds really nervous. I hear a groan, and that distinctive voice that comes out when you throw up.
“…Better now? Think you can stand up?” Logan’s voice, and then another groan. I look out. Victor is on his hands and knees; Logan’s hovering over him like a mother hen. I can see from this distance something dark red on the snow in front of Victor. Blood. Logan grabs his shoulder and helps him up, urging the bigger man to lean on him, and they stagger together towards the truck. It’s kind of hard to believe that less than twenty four hours ago those two tried to kill each other.
I still don’t understand what is going on, and my confusion must radiate from me or something, because after we get back on road, Logan squeezes my hand.
“We’ll talk later, Marie. Everything will be okay. Just trust me.” He looks a bit better now. More calm and collected, and I believe him. As long as I’m with him, everything will be all right. Victor grabs my ankle, and I nearly scream again, but there’s no strength left in his fingers.
“Don’t you bother that pretty little head of yours… Logie there has all things figured out…” He gasps, lets go of my ankle and slumps against the door. He looks almost dead. Ashen face, small smears of blood on his lips and chin.
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