Author's Note: Huge thanks to Kaeru Shisho for her keen insights that made this chapter a million times better!
Witness Protection Part 12
Road Trip Continued
Maxwell settled down for awhile after his outburst of laughter, and I thought he might have fallen asleep, which wasn't entirely surprising. He did, after all, work nights, and it was mid-morning--probably the time he was normally headed for bed. Add to that the fact that he probably hadn't really slept since the murder, what with the running, the arrest, and then a car bomb and a night in the hospital, and it was no wonder he was exhausted.
I let the stupid cd keep playing, merely inching the volume down until it was a background murmur. "We'll stop for lunch at the first likely place we find, once we get far enough out of the city," I told my partner.
"Acceptable."
He was being curt, and I could tell he was still peeved about the scolding I'd given him. For Christ's sake--how could a grown man be so--pissy?
The remaining hours of the morning passed in somewhat strained silence--but that was infinitely preferable to the sniping between my partner and our protected witness.
We left the city far behind, and were well up the highway before noon, and I began looking for a place to eat. But after passing up three places that looked like run-down truck stops, I concluded we wouldn't find much else out there.
It was nearly two o'clock by the time I gave up searching, and at the next sign for "good eats," I turned off the highway.
"You can't be serious," groaned Wufei.
"There aren't a lot of choices," I sighed. "When we get to Winner's cabin, we can grocery shop and get some decent food. But for now, I think this is all we're going to find."
I pulled into a pockmarked dirt lot beside a weathered building, bouncing wildly through the potholes and ruts to park the car near the door. I almost hoped they weren't open.
Chang had turned to look in the back seat. "How he slept through this piss poor excuse for a parking lot--" He shook his head. "Sleeping Beauty," he added snidely.
I followed his gaze and blinked in surprise. He wasn't kidding. Well, he was--but he had no idea how appropriate his words were.
Maxwell was curled up amid the luggage, his head pillowed on his jacket. Asleep, he lacked the hard edge, and he looked much younger and more innocent than he did when awake. One hand was tucked up under his head, and the other arm was curled around his backpack. That damnable braid trailed over one shoulder and draped around his waist, gleaming in the sunlight that shone in the car window. Damned if he didn't look even more enticing like this than he did in that picture on Noin's office wall.
With thick, dark lashes resting against pale cheeks, and wisps of hair covering the small bandage on his forehead, he looked--
"Maxwell! Wake up!" Chang snapped, slapping the palm of his hand loudly against the vinyl seat.
Maxwell shot upright, a hand scrabbling at his arm for a wrist sheath that wasn't there. When realization dawned in the wild indigo eyes, he was pressed back against the seat, every muscle tense with panic.
"What the fuck?" he snapped, gasping to regain the breath that had been startled out of him.
Wufei laughed outright at our edgy witness. And I just shook my head, still stuck with the image of an alluring sleeping face in my memory. "Lunch," I said simply, grabbing the keys and getting out of the car.
It was cool and breezy at the roadside diner, and I pulled my jacket tighter as the back door opened and Maxwell stumbled out.
"Fuckin' psycho chink bastard..." he was muttering as he shivered and pulled his jacket on.
"Hide the braid," I cautioned, as he flipped the long, now slightly messy appendage over a shoulder.
He rolled his eyes. "For chrissakes, Yuy, it's not like anyone around here is gonna call Khushrenada just 'cause a guy with a braid came in for lunch."
"Do you really want to take that chance?" I asked.
"I'd rather the rental doesn't end up like your friend Barton's car did," my partner added dryly. He eyed the braid as Maxwell grudgingly stuffed it under his jacket. "They'll make you cut it off when they relocate you anyway."
Maxwell spun to face both of us, eyes wide. "They can't do that!"
I wanted to strangle my partner. He'd clearly found most of Maxwell's triggers and was taking perverse pleasure in baiting him. "Relax, Maxwell. You never know what'll happen. You might not even need relocation if someone else comes forward to testify as well."
He gave me a skeptical look.
"If enough charges surface, Khushrenada could be convicted of other crimes that would carry just as many years of a sentence as one murder."
"Sure," came the snide reply. "I notice you guys have done a bang-up job of nailing him in the past." He cocked his head, putting a hand on one hip. "How many convictions? Oh, that's right--none!"
Well, that stung. Here I was trying to reassure the little punk that he might not have to lose the hair, and he went and got smart-alecky. I brushed past him, shaking my head, and stalked into the diner.
It was a typical "greasy spoon" joint, right down to the cracked linoleum floor and the chintz curtains in the windows. I half expected to be greeted by a middle-aged waitress with her hair piled up on top of her head and a pencil stuck behind one ear.
Instead, a very pretty, very young blonde girl smiled at us from behind the register. "Hey there!" She perked right up, straightening from leaning on one elbow. "How many in your party?"
"Three."
She picked up three menus, and came around the counter, and then her gaze slid past me to Maxwell, and her smile widened noticeably. "Welcome to Joe's Diner--I'm Rhonda."
I gave a curt nod, expecting her to show us to a table. But Maxwell had other ideas. "Rhonda?" he asked, his tone lacking the edge I was used to. "Pretty name. I used to work with a girl named Rhonda." He gave the girl a sort of wry smile. "I swear, if we used the line 'Help me Rhonda' one more time, she'd have killed us."
The girl dimpled at him, giving a little laugh. "It does get old fast. I've probably heard it a million times." She glanced at Chang, and then her attention slid right back to Maxwell. "You guys prefer a table or booth?"
"Aw, man--a booth would be great," sighed the braided man. "Been cooped up in the back seat of a car all morning--it'd be great to be able to stretch out my legs."
"A booth it is," she said firmly, leading the way across the room.
Maxwell walked past me while I paused to give Chang a puzzled glance. He was scowling deeply, shaking his head. "Why do they always notice the gay guys first?" he muttered rather peevishly.
I shook my head. If he knew that Relena had done the exact same thing, he'd absolutely go ballistic. I decided to keep that tidbit of information to myself.
"First Relena and now this one," Chang added in a growl.
I felt a wave of panic. How had he known about me? "Re-Relena?" I stammered, feigning innocence anyway.
"Yes," he said in clipped tones. "She hit on Tom in the mail room when she first came to work," he said disdainfully. "Tom the Twink?"
Oh...Tom.
I had a vague recollection of a strikingly handsome guy who'd brought up mail a time or two, and I can't say I blamed Relena for trying. At the moment, however, I was trying to pull myself back together enough to form a coherent reply.
I cleared my throat, swallowing to ease the pang of nausea that my momentary panic had brought on.
"It's just that he looks like the dangerous type," I said in an undertone, having regained my composure. "The jacket and the tight jeans make him look--" hot, sexy, seductive, "--like a thug. Girls like that."
"Even nice girls?" sighed my partner, his dark mood easing a bit.
I found myself smirking. "Especially nice girls."
It was pretty obvious our young waitress, who couldn't have been more than sixteen, was drawn to the naughty-boy image Maxwell exuded. The fact that he looked much younger than the twenty-one his file said he was, probably added to the appeal. And yet--even though he looked the part of a hoodlum, he'd been nothing but polite and charming to the girl.
I found myself wondering how come she got smiles and banter while all Chang and I warranted was sniping and sarcasm. Apparently Maxwell really did hate cops--and I vaguely wondered why--aside from the obvious. His distaste seemed to run much deeper than the average juvenile delinquent's.
"You said you've been in the car for awhile? I take it you boys aren't from around here," she was saying as Wufei and I caught up.
"Not even close," Maxwell told her. "We're from--"
"We're on vacation," I said flatly, shoving him into the seat ahead of me and sliding in next to him. I gave him a warning glare, and then looked to Wufei for support, as he sat across from me.
My partner gave the waitress a stern look and a nod of confirmation. "Yes, vacation," he echoed politely.
"Not much to do around here," she conceded, putting place settings in front of us and filling our water glasses.
"Which is why we're merely passing through," Wufei invented smoothly.
Maxwell started to take off his jacket, and I elbowed him firmly in the ribs. "It's kind of chilly in here," I cautioned. "You might want to keep that on."
He rolled his eyes, but obeyed, slouching in his seat and picking up the menu.
I exchanged a weary look with my partner; if we were going to have to constantly remind Maxwell he was under cover, it was going to be a long assignment indeed.
"Can I get you something to drink to start off with?"
Maxwell was all smiles again, looking up at her from under those wispy chestnut bangs. "Please tell me you serve liquor," he pleaded.
"Just beer and wine."
"Perfect!" His face lit up and he leaned across me to get a little closer to the girl. I resisted the urge to elbow him in the face for invading my personal space. "Is it just the run of the mill, or have you got some local brewery stuff?"
She pursed her lips thoughtfully. "I think Marty might keep some imported dark beer in the back. Want me to check for you?"
"Aw, I don't wanna put you to any trouble..."
"It's no trouble," she said warmly. "I'll be right back."
She scampered off, and Maxwell leaned back in his seat, stretching his legs under the table and pulling out his pack of cigarettes.
"You are not smoking during this meal!" Wufei snapped icily.
In the act of taking out a cigarette, Maxwell paused. "Well then I'll go outside to have it. Be right back." He started to sit up, and I put an arm across his chest to keep him in the booth.
"Not alone, you won't," I said firmly. "Wait until after we've eaten...when we go to leave."
"God, you guys are fucked up," Maxwell growled, stuffing the pack back into his pocket. He looked around the small diner, his expression softening from the scowl the minute he saw Rhonda on her way back.
She had three frosty bottles in her hands, and set them in a row on the table. "Any of these strike your fancy, Mister--?"
He chuckled. "Not 'Mister,' just D--"
"Max!" I said sharply, glaring daggers at him. For Christ's sake, if he didn't shut up--! I gave Rhonda an insincere smile. "He's Max, and we're, uh, Cho and Ryu."
She nodded, glancing at me, but her gaze went right back to Maxwell. "So? How 'bout it, Max?"
He grinned slyly, turning on the charm full force. "How 'bout what?"
A lovely blush went up her cheeks, and her lashes fluttered as she looked shyly down at the table. "Uh--the--um--beer?"
His chuckle was slightly husky. I don't know what effect it had on the pretty girl, but it sent a shiver down my spine. "This one's fine," he said, taking the middle bottle and unscrewing the cap, before raising it in a toast to Rhonda and taking a long swig. "Perfect," he said as he set it down on the table. "So--what've you got to eat in this place?"
"Specials today are home made chili, bean soup, and tuna melts."
"Splendid," Chang muttered under his breath.
My partner was a stickler for eating wholesome, nutritious meals, and I already knew that roadside diners weren't going to provide it. He needed to accept his fate and look forward to our arrival at Winner's cabin and a kitchen where we could make our own meals.
"I'm sure they've got chicken or fish," I told him, wanting to avoid a heavy, greasy meal myself. It wouldn't do for either of us to be sluggish while on a protective detail.
"Well, I dunno about the two health nuts," Maxwell said with a hint of disdain, still addressing his comments to the flirty waitress from Hell. "But I'll have a bacon cheeseburger and fries, if you've got 'em."
"Sure we do!"
"And a bowl of chili, if it's good," he added.
"It's the best!" she asserted, jotting it down on her pad.
Chang and I ordered iced tea and chicken sandwiches, hoping they weren't loaded with breading or sauce, and I made myself, and my stomach, a promise to shop for groceries the very minute we got to the safe house.
Once the girl had gone to place our orders, Wufei glared across the table. "What was that all about?" he demanded.
"What was what all about?" asked our cagey witness, blinking innocently.
I didn't buy into the act; he knew full well what Chang was talking about.
"All that chit-chat with the waitress!" spat my partner. "You're supposed to be under cover, Maxwell--not out making new friends. Under-age friends at that!"
"Meaning?"
"I have one word for you, Maxwell," Chang said coolly. "Jailbait."
"An' I've got one for you--gay." Our witness glared across the booth. "Look it up, shithead, because it'll clue you in that I'm not interested in her that way."
"So you say," shrugged my partner. "But you sure as hell turned on the charm with her."
"I was just being nice!" came the snide reply. "Something you clearly know nothing about. Waitresses gotta work damn hard for a living--detective. They deserve a little respect."
"How would you know how hard they work?"
"Because I knew a bunch of them at The Jungle and Sanc Palace."
"Like your friend Hilde?" asked Wufei.
"Hilde's a stripper--not a waitress," Maxwell retorted. "Not that it's any of your business either way."
"She seemed pretty used to being in your arms," Wufei said archly. "Maybe you're bi instead of gay."
"And maybe you're stupid," Maxwell retorted, tugging restlessly at the label on his beer bottle, and beginning to peel up a corner.
"I'm not stupid enough to hit on an under-age girl."
"Neither am I, dickhead. But it's a well-known fact the nicer you are to a waitress, the better the service." He took a swig of beer, and then waggled the fancy bottle between two fingers. "See?"
Chang subsided into muttering under his breath about foolish girls blinded by lust and too silly to realize they were hitting on gay guys, and Maxwell gazed out the window sipping his beer.
I studiously ignored them both, taking out a road map and studying the possible routes to Winner's cabin. I wanted to know every road, trail, or footpath in and out, as well as the lay of the land around it, the defensibility, and the nearest towns where we might find grocery stores or supplies we needed.
Rhonda came back a few minutes later with the tea that Chang and I had ordered, and she leaned on the booth opposite us, her sparkling gaze returning to Maxwell. "So where're you fellas from?"
God--why were there no other patrons to distract her? I wished we'd made it there closer to the lunch rush, so she'd be too busy to pry.
"Up north," Chang replied vaguely.
"Canada?" she asked with a puzzled look.
Maxwell laughed aloud, nearly choking on his beer, and I lowered the map and helpfully smacked the palm of my hand between his shoulder blades...hard.
"Oh look!" Wufei blurted in relief. "You've got some other customers." Her gaze shifted to the man and woman who'd just come in, and then back to Chang, who smiled insincerely. "We wouldn't want to keep you from your work."
She smiled in return. "Don't you worry. I'll be back soon."
"Up north?" I asked Chang in a livid whisper, after Rhonda had gone to greet the newcomers. "That's the best you could come up with?"
Maxwell was still chuckling and trying to muffle it with a napkin. "God--you two are more liable to kill me than Khush--"
"Quiet!" I hissed, elbowing him hard.
He winced, giving me a dirty look, and then put a hand to his side, rubbing it through the jacket.
"You need to learn to keep your mouth shut," Chang said in a chilly voice.
Maxwell glared at him. "Right. I'm not the idiot who came up with Canada."
"Neither am I. She drew that conclusion on her own."
"Because you said 'up north.' I got a news flash for ya. There's nothing much north of here except Canada."
I wasn't sure how much longer I could take their sniping, and I surreptitiously wrapped a fist in the cuff of Maxwell's jacket, twisting it hard enough to pinch his wrist and get his attention. "Enough!" I snarled quietly.
He looked down at my hand, jaw tightening in a near-wince, and then he leaned towards me. For a fleeting instant I thought the fool was going to try to kiss me, and I nearly panicked, wondering what Chang's reaction would be.
"You wanna hold hands?" he asked snidely.
I released him as if he were on fire. "No, Maxwell!" I growled. "I wanted to get your attention. When she gets back here with food, I expect you to shut up and eat so we can get back on the road. No more flirting. No more making conversation. Do you really want anyone here to be able to identify your picture when one of the hit men after the hundred grand tracks us this far?"
"What 'hundred grand'?" he asked with a frown.
Oh. Right. I guess we'd never explained to him just how badly Khushrenada wanted him dead. "Word on the street is that's how much is being offered for the hit on your life."
His jaw dropped. "No shit?"
I gazed steadily back. "No shit."
He shook his head, a wry smile twisting his lips. "Pocket change to a guy like Treize. But if he'd just offered me that much to keep my mouth shut, I might've been tempted."
"Well, that comes as no surprise," sneered Chang, shaking his head.
I gave him a warning look, but addressed my comments to Maxwell. "I guess we're lucky Khushrenada tried to kill you instead of bribe you."
"Yeah, you are," muttered Maxwell, scowling faintly. "You don't know how much I hate cops."
Chang snorted aloud. "You've made it abundantly clear with the attitude and abuse you've heaped on us."
"Me? Attitude?" Maxwell scoffed. "Take a fuckin' look in the mirror, asshole, if you wanna see 'attitude'!"
"Would you both shut up?" I snarled, seeing Rhonda headed our way with our meals balanced on a tray.
She set out the meals with a flourish, leaning across me to reach Maxwell's place. "I got Marty to throw a few extra fries on the side," she told him warmly. "For my new favorite customer."
"Aw, thanks Rhonda," Maxwell replied with feeling. "What'd I do to deserve that?"
"You haven't tried the 'Help me Rhonda' line once," she countered cheekily, winking one big blue eye at him before she turned to go.
He smiled brilliantly, looking insufferably smug as he reached for the ketchup.
"Fucking hell!" Wufei hissed under his breath.
I was tempted to echo that sentiment, recalling Maxwell's words in interrogation. "I got a thing for blue eyes, officer, not blonde hair." It was hard to know whether to take him seriously or not at times--especially when he could turn the attitude on and off at will. "Lay off the flirting, Maxwell," I muttered in an undertone. "You don't want to be remembered, do you, when one of Khushrenada's hit men comes calling?"
"Wasn't flirting," he mumbled defensively, squeezing a puddle of ketchup onto the edge of his plate.
"Looked that way to me," I pointed out. "And I guarantee she could describe you right down to the last hair, if anyone asked."
"Can't help being memorable, now can I?" he preened, picking up his cheeseburger, and turning his attention to consuming the meal. It was a welcomed respite from his and Chang's bickering.
I made short work of my sandwich, wanting nothing more than to get out of that diner, away from the too-friendly waitress, and back on our way to the cabin.
Maxwell, on the other hand, seemed to be taking his time, savoring each bite with half-closed eyes, and alternating between his chili and the burger. And then I happened to notice that as he bit into the overstuffed bun, a little trickle of grease made its way down one corner of his mouth.
Without a trace of self-consciousness, Maxwell licked the drip, and then ran his tongue up the side of his hand to catch another drop. He slid me a sideways glance, smirking and looking a little sheepish. "Juicy burger," he said around a mouthful of his meal.
No shit. How did someone make eating a stupid cheeseburger look so damned erotic? I forcibly kept my eyes on my empty plate as I sipped at my tea.
Chang slid out of his side of the booth, his own plate nearly empty. "I'm going to use the rest room, Yuy. I'll be right back."
I nodded, surreptitiously allowing my gaze to drift sideways towards Maxwell after my partner left.
The braided man picked up a fry, dipped it in ketchup, and then fucking sucked the ketchup off it. Honestly, who the hell eats fries that way?
It was painfully fascinating to watch how he'd roll a fry in ketchup and then stick one end in his mouth, sucking off the red sauce before stuffing the entire thing into his mouth. I watched him go through half the pile like that, trying not to openly stare. But when he held up a fry, absently licking the ketchup off while staring out the window, I couldn't take any more.
"I'll go get the check!" I blurted hoarsely, starting to slide out of the booth.
"What about dessert?"
I looked at him blankly, and saw the sly gleam in the indigo eyes.
"I was thinking of something with lots of whipped cream," he said with a feral grin. "Since you seemed to enjoy watching me eat fries so much."
Oh--busted.
I could feel the blush creeping up my neck. "I'm supposed to keep an eye on you, Maxwell." I managed to sound curt and business-like, despite the heat on my face.
"Just an eye?" he smirked.
I stood up quickly, feeling a rush of irritation. He'd been deliberately playing with his food, trying to evoke a reaction. And I'd be damned if I let him know he'd gotten one. "Save it for your fuck-buddy Barton. I told you before, Maxwell, I'm not interested in leftovers." I walked away before he could retort, going up to the register where Rhonda was busy writing down an order before tucking it onto the rack for the cook.
By the time I'd paid and returned to our table, Chang was there, finishing his tea while Maxwell mopped up the last of the ketchup with a spare fry.
"Ready to go?" I asked, tucking a tip under one of the water glasses.
Chang nodded immediately, and Maxwell slid out of the booth, standing and stretching languidly. "I gotta hit the john before we go," he said, heading in the direction we'd seen my partner take.
"I'll go with you," I said quickly, not wanting him to go anywhere unescorted.
He turned a snide look to me. "I think I can take a leak on my own, detective." His tone was icy; I guessed he was still pissed off about my "leftovers" comment.
"I'm sure you can," I replied. "But I'm coming with you anyway."
His eyes narrowed. "Y'gonna hold my dick for me while I piss?" he challenged sarcastically.
I simply shoved him in the direction of the rest rooms, and he started walking, the tautness of his shoulders conveying a world of emotion.
"I'll be in the car," Chang called, a trace of amusement in his voice. I think he was enjoying watching me on the receiving end of Maxwell's rudeness.
"You're driving!" I called in reply.
When we got to the bathroom, I went first, for two reasons. First, I didn't want Maxwell even thinking of wandering off while my back was turned. I figured if he needed to use the facility, he'd be unlikely to go anywhere. And second, I wanted to make sure there was no window for Maxwell to slip out of. Not that I thought he would--but knowing his animosity towards cops, I wouldn't put it past him to try to ditch us just to prove he could.
He followed my backwards glance towards the tiny, ceiling-level window as I exited the bathroom. "Thinking I'd make a run for it?" he asked perceptively.
"You've nowhere to run," I replied, leaning on the wall in the hallway and crossing my arms. "I'll wait here for you."
He brushed past me and went inside, muttering about "paranoid asshole cops."
When he emerged, we headed for the exit, but were intercepted by that damnably sociable waitress.
"Max! I thought I'd missed you," she said a bit breathlessly, scooting over to push one of those little styrofoam food containers into his hand. "I guessed you might like apple pie--and since you guys didn't stay for dessert, I thought I'd make it to go." She spared me a less gushing smile. "I put in enough for three."
Damn. She was a sweet kid. And if I hadn't been trying to keep a low profile, and make Maxwell do the same, I'd have been tempted to stay for coffee and pie. Instead, I merely gave a polite nod. "Thank you."
Maxwell was a little more effusive. "Rhonda, you're about the best waitress I've ever had--and trust me, I've eaten out a lot."
Her face scrunched up in sympathy. "Bachelor, huh?"
Oh, God was she fishing!
"Um, I wrote my number on the bottom of the container," she said quietly to him, probably hoping I wouldn't hear--but I've always been cursed with keen ears.
Maxwell's smile faltered a little, and he leaned an elbow on the counter, dropping his gaze to the floor. "I'm really flattered," he said frankly. "But honestly, this is a one-way trip for me. I won't be back."
I was floored--not so much by his honesty, but by the tone in his voice. He didn't say it like he thought we'd travel another route back to the city, but like he never expected to come back at all. Did he think Khushrenada would succeed in having him killed? Or did he plan to slip away and leave us all behind?
The girl looked rather strangely at him, clearly having as much trouble interpreting his tone as I did. "Well...it was nice meeting you anyway," she told him, boldly grabbing one of his hands, and then standing on tiptoe to brush a kiss across his cheek before disappearing into the kitchen.
"Yeah, you too," he sighed, pushing off the counter and walking out the door without a backward glance.
When I got to the car, he'd already put the container of pie in the middle of the front seat and crawled into the back, curling up amid his nest of luggage, and pulling off his jacket to wrap around his shoulders like a blanket.
Chang raised an eyebrow as I got in, and I just shrugged and gestured him to get moving. We weren't even a full day on the road and already my nerves were shot to hell. Between Chang and Maxwell's bickering, Maxwell's dangerous behavior, and my guilty conscience it was no wonder.
TBC...
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