Chapter 2

Max looked out over the Seattle skyline. The noise and chaos of the city seemed to melt away when she sat up here on the Space Needle. Zack. Could it be? How could Logan have found him so quickly?

She sighed as her thoughts drifted back to Logan's apartment. He had looked better than she had imagined, stronger. But there was still some fragility to him that had not been there before he had been shot.

Logan opened the drawer, bracing himself as he leaned forward to pull Zack's file out. She watched as he leaned forward, careful to not lean too far. He took the file and then, before handing it to her, he slowly pushed himself back upright in the chair.

Max shook her head. She couldn't keep thinking of him that way. She had to focus on the intel he had given her, on her search to find her family. Obsessing about Logan…obsessing about the way he looked, the way he moved…that wasn't going to help anyone. Not her. Not Logan. And certainly not Zack.

^^^^^^^

Logan spread the map across this kitchen table. "My sources tell me that the boat is kept in slip number 35. I don't think it should be that hard to get on board.

Max nodded, her eyes glancing instead to take in the chair that Logan was using. It looked pretty basic, but expensive. Not flashy like the ones she'd seen guys playing wheelchair basketball using. Her gaze stuck on the small wheels at the back of the chair.

"What are those for?" she asked, pointing to them.

Logan stopped and stared at her. "They're anti-tippers. They stop me from tipping over on my back, breaking my poor unfeeling pride. Did you hear what I said about the patrol at 9:42 pm?"

Max nodded. Yeah, she was multi-tasking. Listening to Logan's point by point break down and at the same time taking in his fine…

Her thoughts were interrupted by the ringing of the doorbell.

Logan looked up, a creased worry line crossing his forehead. "We're going to have to wrap up here. You got the plan?"

"I got the plan," Max replied. "You entertaining guests?"

"Something like that," Logan replied as he released the brakes on his chair and pushed back from the table. "So, I'll see you later?"

"Yeah. Soon as I get the money…" She walked slowly behind him as he headed toward the front door, stopping as Logan reached up and opened the door. A gorgeous ebony-colored man with a shaved head walked in.

"Max, this is Bling, my therapist. Bling, this is…well…this is Max."

Bling stuck out his hand and Max shook it.

"So, you getting Logan back in the saddle?" Max asked.

Bling laughed. "Yeah, that's the plan. If I can tear him away from his computer."

Without responding, Logan pivoted his chair and headed toward the now converted therapy room.

"So, how often are you working with him?" Max asked as they trailed behind Logan.

"Every day for right now. He should have stayed at the rehab hospital another couple of weeks, but he was adamant that he get home," Bling answered.

Max laughed. "Yeah, he's nothing if not adamant."

"Let's get this over with," Logan called from the behind the screen demarcating the edge of the room.

Bling shot a quick smile at Max and then walked over to where Logan waited. "You want to move onto the table?"

Logan looked up where Max stood waiting and raised his eye brows slightly.

"Yeah, I've got to go," Max replied to his unspoken command.

Bling turned to face her. "It was nice to meet you, Max."

"Likewise," Max replied as she turned and left the apartment.

^^^^^^

Max walked back into the apartment. It was quiet and the only light was in the therapy room. She walked in and found Logan sitting on the table, his shirt and hair damp with sweat from his work out.

"Did Bling leave?" she asked.

Logan nodded. "Yeah, he got a call and had to go."

Max crossed the room until she was standing next to where he sat. "So, how did the session go?"

"It was fine," Logan answered. "But Bling had to go before he finished stretching my legs. I was trying to do the stretches myself, but I can't. I'm afraid that I'll have spasms tonight if I'm not stretched properly."

Max took Logan's foot in her hand. "Can you show me what to do?"

Logan lay back on the table, his feet at the very edge near where Max was standing. As Logan directed, she took his left heel and rested the bottom of his foot against the inside of her forearm. She put her other hand on his shin and pulled down on the heel, bending the top of the foot toward his knee.

"Hold it for a count of ten," Logan instructed her. When she had, she set the left foot down and did the same with his right foot. "Next is the hip rotation. You'll have to come up here for that," he said, indicating she should climb up on the therapy table with him.

Max easily mounted the table so she could lift his leg, her hands on the soft, flaccid muscles. She bent his knee, pushing Logan's leg toward his abdomen. Her hand slipped down from his waist, moving down his body toward the upper thigh where she had been stretching. She looked up, but Logan had not noticed. He remained on his back, not watching what she was doing, unaware of where she had been exploring. She began to gently roll his leg from side to side, stretching out the paralyzed muscles that would protest if they didn't have some attention each day.

"Is that good?" she asked.

Logan pushed himself into a sitting position and nodded. "Yeah, thanks, Max. I think we're finished."

"Anything else I can do? I mean, you need help getting off the table or anything?" Max asked as she pushed Logan's wheelchair where he could reach it.

Logan shook his head, then lifted his body with his arms, moving carefully to the edge of the table, then reached for his chair with his outstretched left arm. Max watched as his upper body shift from the table to the chair, and then as he reached back to pull his legs along putting first his left and then his right foot down on the footrest. Then he lifted himself up and shifted slightly in the chair.

"I should take a shower," Logan said.

Max watched as he turned and headed toward his bedroom. She wanted to follow him, into the bathroom…and the shower.

"Watch out!!!"

Max swerved her bike around the back of the truck where the deliveryman stood with his hands on his hips still yelling at her.

She shook her head. She had to keep her mind on the job ahead. The wharf was only a few minutes away. She had a job to do. A job on ... no, for ... Logan.