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Damned magnetic strip picked tonight not to work. Damn it.

Ororo rubbed the back of her debit card against the sleeve of her wool coat, attempting to clean it and try again. She was three months away from the card’s expiration date, and she was too lazy to order a new one from the bank. So that meant the usual song and dance at every store and check stand, waiting for annoyed clerks to manually key in her 16 digits and run it like a credit card. It wasted time, it wasted fees, and it wasted patience.

The only consolation she had was that it was making her a few minutes later for Ali’s party.

Ororo stomped her feet in an attempt to restore some sensation to her frozen toes. So far Ororo had evaded myriad rain puddles that threatened to ruin her new red pumps from Macy’s on her way to Ali’s gorgeous Colonial off Menahaunt.

Stars dotted an inky sky; the moon was three-quarters full, resembling a partially eaten cheese wheel. Within mere days, it would be bright enough to illuminate her stretch of beach without using a flashlight. Too bad it would also be cold enough to not want to take a moonlit stroll by then.

Ororo keyed in the last digit of her code twice by accident with her gloved fingers. “Shit,” she hissed impatiently. It was difficult to see in the dim light of the ATM vestibule.

That made her a prime target.

She was busily re-entering the code when the scratch of booted footsteps came up behind her. “Don’t. Move.” A sudden rush of adrenaline made her skin crawl as fear knotted her gut.

“What? Wait…please, don’t do this!”

“Don’t worry about it, honey, I’m not gonna do a thing if you cooperate. Gimme the bag. Now!” Something steely and sharp prodded her through her coat. She fumbled with the strap of her purse with shaking hands. She tried to steal a glance over her shoulder through the small security mirror. “Eyes front, bitch!” His voice was gritty and hoarse, and he sounded slightly young. They were both of a size, judging from the direction of his voice. Her heart hammered as she heard cars heading away from the drive-up teller, on the opposite side of the building. They were too far from the street, and the lot was empty.

“You don’t want to do this! Take my bag, but don’t hurt me.” The knife prodded her again; her purse thumped against her back as she felt her hair being bunched into a knot and savagely yanked. Her eyes stung from the discomfort and the icy air.

“Go on. Take it out. All of it.” Her fingers were still shaking as she finished the transaction. “That’s a good girl. Don’t do anything smart.” Some mad urge to argue with him mingled with terror: Did he mean don’t do anything stupid? Her mind ran through different scenarios as he jerked her aside, pinning her roughly against the machine’s hard edge. Her cheek was abraded by the cold metal and brick as he reached down for the cash and wadded it up, shoving it into his pocket. A prayer sprang from her lips.

“Oh, God, please!” she sobbed. The words jumbled together in her mind as she pushed futilely at the wall. He rammed her more firmly into it, knotting his fingers more deeply into her hair.

“I like it when you beg,” he informed her smugly. “Don’t stop yet. Bet yer a tasty bitch, arentcha?”

If she tried to run, she could fall, and he could hurt her. If she screamed, he could hurt her.

If she obeyed him and allowed him to drag her away, he could kill her.


~0~

Dinner and a movie with Jack. That was Logan’s only plan for the night.

He’d chucked the plastic bag holding his DVD onto the passenger seat; The Italian Job didn’t lose anything with repetition. His takeout was steaming the windows of his car as he ventured inside the liquor store. He nodded to the clerk, who looked bored as he perused a sudoku book.

He thunked the whiskey bottle onto the counter and reached for a pack of spearmint Altoids and a Times. The newsprint smell mingled with the odors of day-old pastry, cigars and beef jerky by the register. The clerk went back to his numbers after ringing him up and waving him off.

He still had to pack up the cottage before the movers came. All of the good memories it held for him were dashed the night he was attacked. His scar itched, practically burning, whenever he thought about it.

Something caught his eye in his rearview just as he crunched the key into the ignition. Something white, rippling in the wind. He squinted as he tried to make the source of that motion, in the bank parking lot across the street. It always annoyed him how badly lit that building was, in the neighborhood where it was situated. Then again, the liquor store block wasn’t any better.

It was a woman, garbed in a navy blue coat. Logan tsked under his breath.

“Doesn’t have the common sense God gave a friggin’ mouse. Couldn’t just use the drive-up.” That didn’t stop him from watching her from his vantage point. It wasn’t like he was in a rush to get home.

His breath caught in his throat as he saw another figure, wrapped in concealing clothes and with a hood and scarf obscuring his face coming up behind her, too damned close to be standing in line for the ATM. It was dark, that lot was empty, and she was alone.

“Motherfucker,” Logan snarled, jamming his car into reverse, heedless of the car waiting for his space. He ignored the staccato blares of the horn and the man giving him the finger from the driver side window.

An ugly sight greeted him as he pulled into the bank’s parking lot. His highbeams bathed the two figures in yellow light. He couldn’t hear what the man was saying, his words were garbled through Logan’s window, but the woman’s posture was slumped and he could see her struggling.

Rage colored his vision when he saw her being flung against the side of the ATM console. He didn’t wait for a plan to break through the urgent need to tear the man apart.

He smelled blood. It didn’t process with him that it was impossible. He could almost taste it.

Ororo’s mugger dimly heard the screech of tires from the lot’s rear entrance as he began dragging her from the vestibule. She smelled expensive, a mixture of hair products and a light, spicy perfume. He could tell despite her heavy coat that she was stacked and had legs that went all the way up.

Her fear made him lick his lips. He could feel her pulse racing, hearing her tiny cries.

She finally snapped, hearing like he did the car headed in their direction. “HELP MEEEEEEEEE! GOD, PLEASE HELP! HE’S HURTING ME! HELP!” Her screams were snatched out of her mouth by the strong gusts of wind. The point of the knife suddenly pressed against her jugular, and she felt the faint burn as he scraped her flesh, drawing blood.

“SHUT THE FUCK UP, BITCH! SHUT UP, JUST SHUT UP!” Her face was twisted in anguish and pain, and tears made her eyes smart and her nose run. She was stumbling and falling over her own high-heeled shoes. He kicked her to get her moving again, knocking her off-balance.

The car she’d heard wasn’t parking in the lot. It was headed straight for them, practically slamming the brake line as it cleared two speed bumps without so much as a pause.

“Let me go,” she whimpered. “Please ““

Logan’s hand jerked open the handle and his legs lunged out, nearly avoiding a sprain as his feet pounded the slick, shining asphalt.

Her attacker’s knife gleamed. “Just step off. Don’t make me do it. Get back! NOW!” His voice lacked confidence, even though the man rushing toward him was several inches shorter than him and a few years shy of middle age.

Nearly black eyes glared at him, freezing him in his tracks. The woman’s lips quivered, but he saw them mouth Help me as she jerked in the man’s iron grip, clawing at him. She gave him permission, despite the blade trained at her throat. A long, wicked cut oozed blood down her cheek.

“Put it down, asshole. Let her go.” His voice was hard, almost guttural. His fists clenched, large and thick. He looked like a beast, body coiled and ready to spring at its prey.

“I said get the fuck back, didn’t I? Are ya deaf, old man?!”

“I can hear ya just fine,” Logan rumbled. And it was true.

He could hear the man’s heart skip a beat, underscored by the churning in his gut. He smelled his sweat, sudden and sour despite the cold night.

She squeezed her eyes shut and moaned hoarsely, right before jerking her back directly into her captor’s nose.

“SHIT!” His bellow was ragged, and he brutally shoved Ororo away, dashing her to the ground. She fell hard, hitting her head before she could catch herself. Everything went black.

She never saw her savior’s face change. It would have chilled her and kept her up through every remaining night of her life if she had.

Jagged fangs pushing through Logan’s gums were one of the last sights the mugger had before Logan fell upon him, faster than he could blink. The knife clattered uselessly to the ground as he reared back and tried to flee. Ororo’s purse was already lying forgotten on the ground beside her as the dampness beneath her soaked into her coat and hair.

“Don’t,” he croaked. “DON’T! I let her go, man, get back! I’m warning y-“ He ran, turning his back on the sight of the man with murder written in his eyes. He tripped, stumbling to his knees. Before he could get up, a large foot planted itself squarely in the middle of his back. He felt the air crushed from his chest as he was ground into the asphalt, pinned. His arms flailed ineffectively, trying again and again to push himself up.

“How d’ya like that, asshole? Don’t feel too fuckin’ good, eh? Ya like pushin’ around women? Hurtin’ ‘em?” He was yanked up, finally, and rolled over until he faced him again. The mugger’s scarf slipped free from his face, unshaven and pocked with scars.

His lips were trembling.

“N-no, just wait, man! I didn’t…I mean, she was…she was askin’ for it, bein’ out tonight like that! I just needed some cash-“

“Ya need yer ass kicked,” Logan growled, balling his fist in the man’s ragged sweatshirt collar and jerking him up until they were nose to nose. The mugger could smell his breath, steaming out from bared “ sharp “ teeth. His black eyes took on an eerie, golden cast and he felt his bladder release, soaking the legs of his battered jeans. Logan felt disgust and a keen sense of satisfaction. “Tell me yer never gonna go after a woman again. That yer never gonna hurt one again…”

“Please,” he begged, feeling his heart twist. He was dizzy, his air nearly cut off from the strangling snare of his taut collar.

Logan banged him back on the ground. His head hit the pavement with a sickening thud, knocking the wind out of him. He was still dazed when Logan brought him back up, staring at him thoughtfully. Sizing him up.

Licking his lips.

Nausea roiled in the thief’s stomach as Logan’s now gaping maw closed around his vulnerable throat, sinking his teeth into his flesh.

“AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAGHHH!” He wheezed, seeing stars and spots, his vision hazy as he tried to maintain equilibrium.

Logan jerked his head, snapping it back and forth, never letting go of his prey. He worried him viciously, practically snapping his neck, pronouncing himself dominant in their struggle. The man’s blood was tangy as copper, the scent scorching him, waking something inside him that he couldn’t name.

Don’t come here again. He hadn’t spoken the words allowed. The man continued to flop, this time due to a lack of strength as Logan abandoned interest in the blood pulsing from his jugular. It dribbled from his neck and Logan’s lips, staining the ground beneath them. He ebbed in and out of consciousness.

“Beggin’ you…pleazzzzzzz…lemme…go,” he sobbed. Logan ripped him away from himself, staring into his face. Droplets of blood flecked his cheek. He dropped him, stunned.

“Shit!” The strange gold light left his eyes as he raised his hand to his lips. His fingers came away streaked in blood, making him dizzy. The thief backed away from him, crawling on his elbows and dragging his ass as quickly as he could move.

“Yer fuckin’ crazy, man!” he rasped before he fell back, finally rolling onto his belly and rising shakily to his feet. He ran, never stopping to press the walk light at the intersection. He loped right into traffic, and cars screeched and honked to let him pass.

Logan could only stand there, shaking. Every drop of rage left him. Cold air bit at him and brought him back to his senses.

All of the sounds around that were so vivid before calmed, bathing him in a strange fugue. His feet turned him and quickened their steps, bringing him back the woman lying on the ground.

He was gentle, hesitantly drawing back the curtain of white hair “ white, he realized with shock “ covering her face. He sucked in a breath. The cheek she’d scraped during her scuffle before was facing up, telling him that she’d landed on the unmarked side of her face this time, promising a wicked bruise.

He was already fumbling in his pocket for his cell when a low whimper escaped her.

“Miss? Are ya all right? Miss!” He prodded her arm, trying not to jostle her too much. “Can ya talk ta me? Just be okay, damn it!” Her eyelids fluttered, and she opened eyes that were dazed and glassy.

And blue. A vibrant blue, even in the faint street lights.

They flitted back and forth, peering all around before focusing on the face hovering over her, filled with concern. She frowned at the strange substance staining the corners of his mouth. She couldn’t make out what it was. She tried to push herself up, but the ground spun when she tried.

“Don’t! Easy, sweetheart, it’s okay.” Logan jerked off his muffler, sighing that it was all he had, and he wadded it up, carefully nudging it beneath her cheek to protect her from the damp asphalt.

“Hurts. Wha’ppened?”

“Mugger. Shoved you on the ground. He was gonna hurt ya a lot worse.”

“Mugged…oh, God. Did…did he take…? She left the question dangling when he held up her discarded purse. “Took money. Made me take it out.”

“Ya can look inside it when yer up to it, darlin’, and make sure he didn’t get anything like yer keys. Or yer ID. Rest. Stay put.” He was dialing his cell and he licked his lips, cracking from the cold.

He tasted blood. His back was turned from her as he rose, struggling to wipe it away. Finally he spat, ridding himself of it’s foulness and wiping the rest on his coat’s lapel.

“Did he hurt you?” she cried.

“M’fine. Just rest.” He heard the operator asking him how she could help him.

“I need an ambulance. Right here by the bank in the strip mall off Main. I’ve got a woman lyin’ here hurt. She was mugged.” He dialogued with her for two more minutes before hanging up and resuming his vigil.

“What’s yer name?”

“Ro. I go by ‘Ro.”

“That yer full name, darlin’?” She shook her head and winced at the pain it caused.

“Munroe. Ororo.” He grunted thoughtfully. It was nice. It fit her.

“I’m Jim Howlett. Call me Logan, if ya want.”

“Mmmmnnh…” Her eyes drifted shut, but her breathing was even. He took her limp hand in his strong grip, stroking her fingers with his thumb. A slender trickle of blood that he hadn’t noticed before on her neck enraged him all over again, but he mastered it.

He was detailed and gruff when the paramedics and the police showed up minutes later.


~0~

“She said she was only gonna be a few minutes late,” Ali reasoned from her well-appointed kitchen as she arranged crackers and cheese around a bowl of dip before handing the good-looking, slender man beside her the tray.

“A few minutes means an hour in Remy’s dictionary, petit,” he drawled. “Might be primpin’ extra hard.”

“Please. Not ‘Ro. She’s coming out of the goodness of her heart. And for my sparkling wit. I’m trying to fix her up,” she admitted.

“Wit’ who?”

“Him. The one with Ivy League and old money written all over him.” She nodded, urging him toward the edge of her doorway. A tall man in tailored slacks and a black silk shirt lounged by the mantle, chatting politely with two young women who were hanging on his words.

“Thought those were brand name labels,” Remy mused. Ali elbowed him, tsking at his cheek.

“He’s nice. Well-heeled, educated, and decent. ‘Ro’s gonna go nuts over him.”

“Den why don’t you date him, Ali?”

“I’m not doing this for me, I’m doing it for her. It’s not that I don’t like him, or I wouldn’t fix them up.” Then she murmured “And I’m not really ready to start anything again, anyway.”

“Neither’s Ororo, petit.”

“Oh, hush. Open the salsa, will you?”

“What business is he in?”

“Works for AlphLight. Just took over a department when they booted the last guy.” Ali was sweetness and light as she swept into her living room and greeted him. The women gathering around him parted like curtains as she trilled “More wine, ‘Tro?”

“Please.” His cheeks dimpled as he gave her a winning smile and handed her his goblet. “Your home is beautiful, Alison.”

“I do my best,” she assured him, but she beamed as she went to fetch the sauvignon blanc. Butterflies took wing in her stomach.

The women were circling around him like vultures, ignoring her other male guests. Where the heck was Ororo?

She had just handed him his glass when her phone rang in the kitchen. She excused herself hastily and spun in a swirl of midnight blue panne velour to answer it.

“Hello?” she announced breathlessly. “Ororo?” she ventured hopefully.

“Al,” moaned the voice, sounding broken and chilling her.

“Ororo?” She lowered her voice and strode toward the back of the kitchen. Remy caught the change in her tone and hovered, trying to hear her end of the conversation. “Where are you, sweetie?”

“Al, I’m in the E/R,” she rasped. “I was attacked.”


~0~

She was going to a party tonight. She was dressed in black. It was his favorite.

She kept the cat inside, he mused. She spoiled the little wretch. He’d have to fix that.

He fingered the rolled-up newspaper for a moment before trekking up her front walk and tossing it onto the stoop.

She wasn’t back yet. He wondered where she was spending the night. He’d fix that, too.

It was late. He’d see her tomorrow.





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