Chapter 16

Max walked into the office, feeling absurd in the oversized pajamas. Logan was sitting in front of his computer, staring intently at the screen. "New chair?" she asked. He nodded without speaking. "Where's yours? It wasn't on the plane."

"Back at Tallant's place, but it's a little the worse for wear," Logan said. "I don't know if I want it back."

Max shrugged and grabbed a chair, dragging it over to sit next to Logan. "Get one with racing stripes," she suggested.

"Racing stripes?" Logan asked, tilting his head and looking sideways at her, and she could tell he was a little amused.

"Why not? You're pretty fast on your wheels."

His face closed down. "Yeah, well, I don't need racing stripes," he said, and his voice had gone flat. Max didn't know what to do with him in this kind of mood. She didn't know what had caused it, and he never seemed to want to tell her what was up. He seemed to realize that he was being ungracious, because after a moment he said, "Sorry, I'm a little touchy about the chair thing right now."

"I can understand that," Max said. Logan seemed to relax when she didn't ask him why. She bit her lip and looked away. She had something to say, but she wasn't sure how to broach the subject. Finally, she just shrugged at her own ponderings and turned back to him. "I'm sorry," she said.

"What?" Logan turned from the computer and stared at her. "What for?"

"For not noticing you were missing sooner," she said. "We didn't even start looking for you till Wednesday night."

If Logan was dismayed by this news, he hid it well. "I knew no one would miss me for a couple of days," he said. "You're not my babysitter." He turned back to the computer. "So, how did you come to miss me?" he asked.

"News got around that Eyes Only was up for sale. I called, just to check, and you didn't answer." She shrugged off a lot of emotion that she wasn't going to express. "I came by, to see what was what, and found the place trashed and your blood on the floor, and a little girl hiding in a kitchen cupboard."

"Molly!" Logan said. "How was she?"

"I don't know how to judge, given her condition, but she screamed when I touched her, so I'm going to guess not so good."

"Poor thing. It must be awful to be so locked into yourself."

"I guess," Max said. "Though I did figure out a way to get her to talk."

"How?"

Max shrugged. "I asked her a question, played her the Eyes Only opener, and she did the rest."

"What do you mean?"

"We noticed, when we accidentally played some of the opener while she was still here, that she started talking along with it. I figured it was a long shot, but the only shot we really had."

"And it worked."

"And it worked." She snorted. "The kidnappers talked freely in front of the 'retard' because she couldn't tell anyone anything."

"Hoist on their own petard," Logan said.

Max just looked at him. "Whatever that means."

"It's from Shakespeare . . ." Logan shrugged. "Anyway, I'm glad she's okay."

"She ate the whole chocolate pie," Max said. "Oh, I like that one." She leaned in close to the screen.

When Max leaned closer to peer at the wheelchair that had caught her fancy, Logan found himself with a faceful of her hair, lightly scented by the bubble bath. He was struck with a pang of longing that he repressed firmly. She didn't think of him that way, and why should she? He was half again her age, and he was crippled. No woman in her right mind would want him. Even Valerie had only come back to get what money she could. It seemed that the only person who wanted him was a perverse criminal.

"That is a hot chair," Max said, sitting back again.

Logan looked at it and shrugged. "Then maybe it should be reserved for a hot person," he said, reaching out to click the next button on the web page.

Max caught his hand before he could click and gave him a puzzled look. "What makes you think you're not hot?" she asked.

"My mirror," Logan retorted.

"Then your mirror lies," she said, with a little head jiggle for emphasis. "You are extremely hot." Logan shrugged, uncomfortable with the subject suddenly. Max got up and stood behind him. She put her hands on his shoulders and began to massage him. "Kendra says so, and she's the judge of hot men."

Logan cast about for a subject change. "So, how did you rescue Shannon without the police knowing you were involved?"

"Oh, that was easy. I just pointed her at a cop and asked her not to mention me. She was very cooperative." Max leaned close, and again he caught the scent of bubble bath. "I took her down the wall of a three story building on my back, and she didn't complain at all."

Logan grimaced. "I have a phobia," he said defensively. "Do we have to talk about that? I'm already embarrassed about it."

Max stood up straight again. "Oh, by the way, we told the police I was your girlfriend." Logan's jaw dropped, and he was glad she couldn't see his face. "I hope you don't mind, but I needed an excuse for why I was dropping by for an unplanned visit at 8 p.m."

"I guess it does cover that," Logan said slowly. "Wow, all sorts of things happened while I was gone. Bling told Matt that I'm Eyes Only, and you –"

"No, he didn't," Max said.

"But he . . ." Logan paused, realizing that Bling hadn't actually said he'd done it.

"I misunderstood something Bling said and thought Detective Sung already knew and said something that made it clear." Logan didn't respond, contemplating what the changes she'd just described meant in the long run. Matt knew now that he was Eyes Only, not just a flunky for the man. He also knew that Max was involved somehow in his information gathering process, but the question Logan didn't know the answer to was whether Matt knew just what Max was. "It wasn't intentional," Max said, and she sounded apologetic and regretful.

Logan realized abruptly that his long silence had made her think he was angry. "It's no big deal," he said, catching her hand. "I only didn't tell him because it could make things difficult for him at work." He looked up at her. "Thank you, Max."

"So, are you going to order that chair or not?" Max asked, leaning close to him, her hands still on his shoulders. He could feel the warmth of her against his head and neck. The closeness felt good . . . but dangerous.

He shook his head. "It's a little racy for me, I think."

She reached around and put her hand over his on the mouse. She clicked the 'buy' button and said, "That's exactly why you need it. It's perfect for you."

He looked at the chair and tilted his head thoughtfully. Then he turned towards her. At the same moment, she turned towards him. Their faces were less than an inch apart. Warm, chocolate brown eyes gazed into his, and the moment lengthened. Logan's heart was beating hard, his whole body responding to her proximity.

The sound of the door opening made him jerk, and Max stood up straight instantly. Logan found himself staring at the screen. "So, would you grab my credit card for me?" he asked.

Once the transaction was completed, he let Max push the chair into the kitchen. There he found Bling beginning preparations for macaroni and cheese. "No, no, no, that's not the way to do it!" Logan exclaimed rolling forward hastily.

When Logan took over the cooking and lecturing Bling on the right way to make macaroni and cheese, Max was finally able to relax. She settled on the counter and watched Logan chop cheese and boil pasta, a faint smile tugging at her lips. She couldn't wait to see him in his new wheelchair. Delightful smells started to fill the air, and she glanced over at Bling. He seemed to be watching Logan with concern. Max wasn't worried.

Logan was home, he was safe, and the bastards who'd taken him were all dead. All was right with the world.