Logan POV

When I got that damn text from Rhonda, I wasn't sure what to do with it.

I was so angry that the woman wouldn't leave us alone.

Wasn't it enough for her that she was still on the loose? That I hadn't already caught her and put her in jail?

Apparently not. She'd also decided to try to ruin my life.

Her threat to Carolyn was worse this time.

The past messages had been taunts to Carolyn, sexual innuendo meant to drive a wedge between us, but nothing that suggested that Rhonda would try to do something to her.

This one was different.

And it wasn't as though I'd been completely complacent about Rhonda up to this point. Because I'd been looking for her. I'd spent quite a bit of time trying to track her down.

But with this latest message, she'd just drawn a line in the sand.

Now I was going to go at her with everything that I had.

When the message came in, Carolyn was out of the office. I didn't want to tell the other two without first having shown it to her, so I waited.

And I silently fumed.

I set aside the file that I'd been working on and instead picked up the information that we'd amassed on Rhonda, aka Addison Hooper.

It had been a week since I'd looked at this information, so I read through the file from beginning to end in hopes that something would click.

Nothing did.

I made a few calls and learned that none of the accounts under Addison Hooper's name had been used, nor had any under the name of Rhonda Hagen.

Did she have that much cash on her, or was there another alias?

I was betting on the latter. Either that, or she'd found another rich man from whom to pilfer.

But she had to be in New York. She was keeping tabs on me somehow.

So then I gave that angle some consideration.

How would she have known that I was in Chicago?

Even if, and this was a huge if, but even if she had followed me to JFK last weekend, she wouldn't have known where I was going.

Unless she'd actually bought a ticket and gone through security and followed me to the departure gate.

And I would really like to think that I would've noticed her if she'd done all of that.

Not to mention the fact that I had traveled with three of the best detectives this side of the Mississippi, and none of them had noticed her either.

So no, she hadn't followed us through the airport.

I picked up the phone to make another call, but Carolyn came into the office before I dialed.

"I finished the Lehman consult," she told me as she came into the room. "So we can mark that one to be billed next week, okay?"

"Yeah, okay." I wasn't even going to try to pretend that everything was fine. All of the relaxing we'd done since we arrived back in New York was reversed with that one damn text.

"Mike? What is it?" she asked. She came fully into the room and closed the door behind her.

"It's…I got a…um…"

"Another text from Rhonda," she finished.

She walked around behind my desk and nudged her hip up onto the edge and then held out her hand for my phone. I gave it to her and watched her face as she read the words.

"Okay, let's think about this," she said calmly. "How would she know where you'd gone?"

"That's what I'm working on right now," I admitted, and the fact that she'd looked at the text analytically rather than personally had me filled with a renewed sense of resolve.

Carolyn wasn't going to let a little thing like a text message get her down. She was going to use it as leverage to find the bitch.

"You are incredible, do you know that?" I asked her as I pulled her onto my lap.

"Well, yeah," she replied with a smile. "I'd have to be to be able to snag you for a husband, right?"

"That is true," I said.

I wrapped my arms around her, needing to feel that she was safe and unharmed by the psycho who seemed to have it in for both of us.

"I am quite the catch," I added.

"Yes, you are," she said softly, all hints of joking gone from her voice.

We held each other for a few minutes, enjoying a brief respite.

But then she stood up and picked up the phone again, re-reading the text. It was time to get back to business.

"How could she have known?" she asked again, as much to me as to herself. "We kept our names out of the Chicago paper. You weren't officially arrested. Did you use your credit card at all?"

Her question brought me back to where I'd been when she came into the office.

"I was actually getting ready to call them when you got here. I did use it a couple of times, so I'm going to find out if my account was accessed."

"How would she even know which company you use?"

"It's the same one," I admitted.

"You still have the same card that you had when you and her…"

"Yeah," I interrupted. I didn't want to know how she was going to complete that sentence.

I was grateful that she didn't tell me I was stupid for having the same credit card. Because I'd really never given it any thought. I hadn't known what Rhonda was until recently. Before then, I just thought she was some bimbo who was into cops.

But if it turned out that my credit card was how she'd tracked me, then she must have gone through my wallet at some point. She'd never used the card for anything, so it never occurred to me until now.

I picked up the phone and called Chase-Manhattan Bank. They were happy to inform me that my recent charges had been discussed with my wife on Wednesday.

"So that's that," Carolyn remarked when I filled her in. "She lost track of you since we weren't at home for a few days, she still had your account number for some reason, so she used that to find out where you'd been."

She was remarkably composed, and she helped me stay focused.

"Let's keep that account," she said. "But don't use it anymore," she added with a smile. "We'll get you another one. We'll use that one if we decide we want to lead her in a specific direction. What else was in your wallet that she would've had access to?"

What was in my wallet more than two years ago when I'd had drunken sex with a psycho woman on a few different occasions? Is that really what my wife was asking me?

I shook my head.

"Sweetheart, I have no idea," I admitted.

"Not too much has changed, right?" she encouraged. "I mean, you would've had your driver's license. ATM card? Any other credit cards? Pictures?"

"Um…no other credit cards. My ATM card would've been a different bank," I reminded her, since we now had an account together. "My license would've been in there. And…um…a picture of you."

"Of me?" she asked in surprise.

I wasn't going to mention how much finagling I'd gone through to get that photo.

"Okay," she continued when I merely nodded rather than offer an explanation. "You know what, so then she knows who I am. She's smart enough to have put it together."

"Put what together?"

"When I helped you follow her last year, and I approached her in her building, I gave her my name. I'm pretty sure it didn't hit her at the time, but she would've thought about it later. She'd seen my picture in your wallet, you called out my name during sex, and then I was at her apartment…"

It made sense. And it added some depth to this thing.

We agreed to hold off telling the Gorens until the next day. It was almost quitting time anyway, and we were going to have dinner together. There was no sense putting a damper on the down time. The fact that she was sending me texts was nothing new, so waiting twelve more hours or so wasn't going to hurt.

But then of course, they had to ask about it. And I wasn't going to lie.

They'd wanted to follow us home that night to make sure that everything was okay, but I wasn't going to run scared from Rhonda. She might pose some sort of threat with her games and scams, but I wasn't actually afraid of her physically. So I managed to convince them that we were fine.

And the next day, things were fairly uneventful. All four of us worked on leads to track down Rhonda. There were lots of threads but none of them were connected to anything, so things only proved to be more frustrating.

We did find another alias. And this one disturbed me more than I wanted to admit to anyone.

Not that I hid my emotions well. Not in this office, anyway.

I had to get used to the fact that my feelings were out there whether I announced them or not.

They all knew me too well.

Which was why when the name of that new alias popped onto Alex's screen, she let out a stream of curse words that would make a sailor blush.

Shannon Logan. Rhonda was using the name of my long-dead abusive mother.

We called it a day after that. It was making my head spin and I need to take some time to sort through it.

"We're going to be at my parents' house," Alex told me as they gathered their things to leave. "But you call us immediately if anything happens, okay?"

"I will."

"Mike," she warned, as though she knew my flippant response was insincere.

And who am I kidding? Of course she knew.

She kept staring at me until I looked up from the floor and met her gaze. Then I looked behind her and found Goren staring at me intently, too.

"I will," I said again, and this time I meant it.

I didn't want to interrupt their family dinner, but if something new happened with this case, I would absolutely call them.

Bobby POV

I knew that Mike was rattled by the latest developments in the Rhonda Hagen case, and I would've loved to be able spend some more time with him rather than go to Alex's parents' house, but I wasn't about to disappoint her.

We'd been spending the bare minimum amount of time with her family, and I knew that was largely because of me.

"I can cancel," Alex offered as we headed toward the Staten Island Ferry station. "We can have dinner with Mike and Carolyn and make sure that he's okay. I don't like the direction this thing is headed. You said last week that Rhonda was devolving, and you were absolutely right."

"I wish I weren't," I admitted. "But no, we need to visit your family. We'll check in with them later."

"We don't have to stay too long. We can probably get back to the city by ten o'clock. We'll stop by their place before we go home."

With that settled, I leaned my head back against the seat and thought about what we'd learned.

Why would Rhonda use Mike's mother's name? Was it simply to mess with his head, or was there more to it than that? And if that name was significant, then was her other alias also meaningful somehow? Who was Addison Hooper and what had she been to Rhonda Hagen?

"Are you going to think out loud, or do you want me to start guessing?" Alex asked me as we arrived at the ferry station.

"I'm…no, you know what? Let's not think about this tonight."

"No work thoughts at all?" she asked with a smile. "What will we talk about?"

"I think that we need to talk about our bet."

"What bet is that?" she questioned innocently.

"You know exactly what I'm talking about. And it's triple now."

"Triple? I don't think so."

"I got Carver to confess in three minutes."

"I don't believe I ever accepted the terms of that bet," she replied coyly.

And she might have been trying to play hard to get, but I noticed the telltale flush of her skin as she pondered the possibilities of what settling the bet may entail.

We were each quiet for a moment as we paid the fare and drove onto the ferry, but then she cut off the engine and gave me a scorching look that had me shifting in my seat.

"Let's get out," I told her. I got out and went around to the driver's side of the car and held the door open for her. It seemed backwards and antiquated, but she smiled at me all the same.

"Outside or inside?" she asked as she took hold of my hand.

Inside was warmer. Outside was much less crowded.

And even though it was a cold evening, we had heavy coats on.

And I would keep her warm.

"Outside," I told her.

As the ferry took off from the station heading for Staten Island, we walked around to the side of the vessel and found a spot along the rail. I had been right in my estimation. Most of the passengers had chosen to make the trip in the warmth of the enclosed areas.

"This is nice," I whispered into her ear as I held her tightly against me. I had use of my arm again, after having been cleared by Rodgers this morning.

"Don't use it excessively," she'd warned. "But there's no need to keep it in the sling. It's healing nicely."

And it was still sore, but not enough to keep me from holding Alex.

"It's been awhile since I had both of your arms around me," she agreed.

She was wearing a dress again tonight. For me, she'd said. And she looked so beautiful that I was having a hard time taking my eyes off of her. Hell, I didn't need to. I would just stare at her all evening.

The wind blowing off the ocean was swirling under her dress and lifting it slightly, but she had on a long overcoat which helped to hold it in place. I knew it had to be making her legs cold though, so I opened my coat and then wrapped it around her.

She settled her cheek against my chest. The smell of her and the warmth that our bodies were creating was instigating a tingling feeling that reached down to my toes.

It never seemed to matter how much or how little time had passed since we'd last made love. When I held her like this, my body reacted. Instantly.

And considering our position, it didn't go unnoticed.

"It's too cold," she said quietly.

"You want to go inside?" I asked immediately.

"No, I mean it's too cold to make love out here. Maybe in the summer."

"I wasn't going to suggest…"

"I know," she interrupted, and I could feel her chuckling as she stayed flush up against me. "But it would be fun, don't you think?"

"Fun isn't the word that I would use," I said in a low voice, and I brought my hand up into her hair so that I could tip her head back.

And then I kissed her.

It wasn't a teasing kiss, or one that left any doubt as to exactly what I wanted to do to her.

And if I had the full use of both of my arms I still might've considered it, because where we were standing, there wasn't another soul in sight.

She pulled back for a minute and looked up at me.

She was out of breath, and I knew that I had her going. Her eyes kept shifting from my eyes and then down to my mouth before slowly lifting upwards again.

She reached down between us and ran her hand along the front of my slacks, causing me to suck in a harsh breath.

So much for me controlling this little tete`-a-tete´.

"Don't start what you can't finish," she said huskily, and then she captured my lips again and pushed harder against me, creating an amazing pressure that was making me reconsider the logistics of making love on this boat.

She moved her lips away from my mouth, this time working her way down my throat, while her hands continued to stroke in rhythm down my back, around to my front, and then to the back again.

I was rapidly losing my tenuous grip on my self-restraint. I wanted to pick her up. I wanted to feel her legs wrapped around me. I wanted to run my hands up under her dress and feel the soft silky skin of her thighs beneath my fingertips.

And because I could so perfectly imagine the feel of her legs, in combination with the sensation of her lips on my neck, when she let loose with a low moan, I was very nearly pushed over the edge.

We were standing on the deck still fully clothed, making out like a couple of teenagers, and it seemed as though we had both lost control.

And neither one of us cared.

Until the horn sounded signifying our approach. Which meant we'd need to get back to our car. Which meant that we'd be at her parents' house soon.

And I had no idea how long it was going to take for me to settle myself down.

Alex stilled her movements and once again settled her head against my chest. Mercifully, she eased her hips away from me so that I could begin to get a handle on things.

"Do we really have to go to my parents' house?" she mumbled against me. "We could just ride the ferry back home."

I chuckled at her suggestion and began running a series of geometrical theorems through my head so that the blood flow would be forced northward.

"We'll get through dinner, and then we'll be off the hook for a few weeks."

"And when we get home…"

"When we get home, we'll finish what we started," I promised.

We stood on deck for a few more minutes, and then we went back to our car. Twenty minutes later, we were parked in front of her parents' house.

"Cathy's going to be here?" I asked as we got out.

"That's what Dad said. She and Steve both, so it might be awkward," she warned.

"At least it'll be awkward because of someone other than me," I joked. It would be nice to be off of the hot seat.

"Alex! Bobby!" It was her dad. He must have heard the car because he'd come out on the front porch to greet us. "How was the ride in?"

I couldn't stop the immediate blush at his unexpected question. Especially considering that the mention of the ferry ride had reminded me of all of the x-rated things that I planned to do to his daughter once we got back home.

Fortunately, since we were still outside, the redness of my cheeks went unnoticed. Alex's too, because when I glanced at her, I realized that her mind had gone to the same place as mine.

"It was fine, Dad," she deflected. She grabbed my hand and we followed her father into the house.

It turned out that Cathy didn't come. She and Steve had gotten into an argument which had led to some great drama that included threats of lawsuits and sole custody.

"It's getting pretty messy," Alex's mom said over dinner. "She could really use a shoulder, Alex."

"I'll talk to her," she promised. "I suggested that they get some counseling, but Cathy seems pretty set on leaving him."

"She said she tried calling you all last week and that you wouldn't answer."

"I told you that I lost my phone, Mom. I've got a new one now. I haven't been ignoring her."

"Just remember, she's your sister. You spend more time with that other girl…what's her name?"

"Carolyn."

"Right. You spend more time with her than you do your own sister."

"We're business partners," Alex said, and I could tell that she was beginning to lose her patience. So much for us not being the focal point at this dinner. "And we're friends."

"Cathy is blood," her father reminded her sternly.

I could hear Alex's phone buzzing, which saved her from giving a response. Or more to the point, it saved her dad from hearing her response because I had no doubt it would've been scathing.

She pulled her phone from her pocket and looked at the display and then cast me a worried glance.

"It's Logan," she told me.

My heart sank. I knew he wouldn't call unless it was something big.

"Mike?" she answered, ignoring her mother's chastising look for answering her cell phone at the dinner table.

I watched her expectantly while she listened to what he had to say. Her face fell, and she immediately got up from the table, so I did, too.

As she continued to listen, she went to the coat closet and opened the door, so I pulled out both of our coats and helped her into hers before slipping into my own.

She finally hung up the phone and she met my eyes with tears in her own.

"Rhonda's got Carolyn."

"What? When? How?"

"We need to get back into the city. Mike's waiting for us," she told me. "I'll explain it as we go."

"Alex, what's going on?"

"We have to go. I'm sorry. Mike's wife is in trouble."

"This friend is always in trouble. He's the one who pulled you away from here at Christmas," her dad accused. "What kind of friend is he?"

My eyes were still on Alex and I knew that she was getting ready to explode, so I stepped closer to her to get in between her and her father, and then I gently pushed her towards the door.

"What kind of friend is he?" I repeated. "The best kind there is. He's my brother."

The End