Chapter Fifteen: Round 2

School felt absurdly normal the next day. Despite my father’s return. Despite half-expecting him to drug me in my sleep and take me away. I slept well last night.

Riley, the school’s pot entrepreneur, was lounging on the front lawn of the school again. He had a new pair of rollerblades he was showing off to every girl who passed. Rollerblades were not allowed inside the school. I doubted Riley was allowed inside the school.

Mina was sitting on the other side of him. She had on dark glasses and was exposing herself to the morning sun in a spaghetti-strap dress. It was only 8:30 a.m. but the temperature was already at ninety degrees. What concerned me more than Mina’s inviting melanoma in our age of the Earth’s vanishing ozone layer, was Mina chilling next to the school’s biggest weed dealer. I had never seen her relaxed before. I didn’t think she was the relaxing type.

She waved at me as I approached. “Alice! Come meet Riley. We’ve been going to school together since we were five and known each other even longer. He and his family used to live on the farm.

“Hey Danger Girl,” was his greeting to me.

I resisted the urge to send a killing look at Mina. It would have only attracted more attention.

“He means that you’re always dressed for action,” Mina chirped.

“Yeah,” said Riley.

“Yeah,” he said again after a pause.

He then started staring at my legs. I started walking.

“Dig the combat boots. And the pockets. Many pockets on your pants.” It took him a while to gather any thoughts. And more time to speak them – such as they were.

“I’ve got class,” I said over my shoulder. “So do you Mina.”

I didn’t mean to say it. I wasn’t Mina’s keeper. It wasn’t any of my business. But nothing was o.k. about her hanging out with a drug dealer. I scanned the clumps of kids nearby for Javier. He would be even less o.k. with Mina’s choice of companion than I was.

She caught up with me inside the school. “Hey. You should see your face. You look like Poppy when he kicked Riley’s family off the farm.”

That got my attention. “Kicked off?”

“Yeah.” There was no one within hearing distance but Mina lowered her voice anyway. “His parents were growing pot in one of the back fields. We could have lost the farm if the police found it and all the adults could have gone to jail. I’ve never seen my father so angry.”

I looked at her. “Wouldn’t his parents have a grudge against your family?”

She shook her head. “Riley’s father was killed a few years ago. Some sort bad drug deal. His mom is a mess. She was so beautiful when Riley and I were little. Now she can barely put two words together. He deals to support them both. Mama and I have tried to get Poppy to let them come back to the farm, but he won’t even discuss it.”

I leaned toward her and sniffed, sniffed, sniffed.

“What are you doing?” asked Mina as she pulled away.

“Just checking to see if you were sampling some of your friend’s product,” I said.

Mina slapped my arm and immediately regretted it. “OOWWW!” she cried as she tried to shake the pain off her fingers. Then she closed her other hand around my arm, feeling it as if it were some alien fruit. “Did they replace parts of your body with metal? Are you some sort of robot with a thin costume of skin?”

In a slightly – just slightly – more strident tone, I continued, “You are supposed to be one of the smartest kids in the school. Try to live up to the rep. The DEA will confiscate your farm and everything on it if they find even a few rogue marijuana plants. I think your father has a point.”

“Riley is the sweetest boy I know. When a school bully tired to shake me down for lunch money in second grade, Riley stood up for me and got his nose broken. His parents didn’t have the money to take him to a doctor so his nose set funny.”

That explained the crooked beak-ish quality of his nose in an otherwise handsome face. Actually, he was probably better looking now than if his nose were straight. He would have been too pretty and I preferred the rugged look.

Argh! Frakkin argh! I was NOT also getting the hots for Dopedealer Riley! I refused. I walked faster.

“Believe it or not, people can change after the second grade.

Mina continued to defend her childhood hero but I stopped listening. Logan was headed toward us from the other end of the hallway. His eyes were locked on me and he looked not thrilled.

“Hola, Logan!” Mina greeted him with an exuberance that made me want to reach for the earplugs I used when practicing with firearms.

I was not accustomed to being happy, having friends or kissing a boy who made my palms sweat. So my body reverted to autopilot. My face kept its neutral expression while he studied me for some reaction. I realized that I could be flattering myself. He could be the type to kiss dozens of girls after engaging in hand to hand combat with them. That he might actually like me was not feasible.

“Mina. Thank your mom for dinner and the leftovers. I have the empty containers for you in my car. My mother wants the recipes.”

The containers! I had not given a thought to the plastic and glass containers Mrs. Reyes used for the food I took home. My father and I ate takeout so often, we were accustomed to throwing out whatever wrappings the food came in.

While I mulled this breach in etiquette, Logan turned his green eyes back to me. “You forgot to leave me a glass slipper. And you own me a rematch.”

When I failed to respond, he leaned over to bring his head alongside mine and kissed me on the cheek. Blood rushed into my face as I inhaled his scent. My reflexes were caught between flipping him onto his back and throwing my arms around his neck to pull him closer.

He brushed the back of my hand with his fingers and walked on. “Algebra. I’ll save you a seat. Don’t be late for your nap,” he said over his shoulder.

Mina squealed in my left ear – a sound almost supersonic in pitch. I reeled backwards. “Ouch.”

“He likes you!” she shout-whispered. “He’s completely hot!”

“Mina, let’s focus on the important things – the life and death things. Any news about the men who attacked your family?” I tried to maintain a business-like attitude. Besides, Logan could just be messing with my mind. Payback for the concussion on the first day of school and/or the bruises I gave him last night.

Her face dropped. She began walking toward her next class.

“Nothing on those men who made bail. Complete nada. Like they were never born.”

Or like they had just died, I thought.

She opened her bag and pulled out a sheaf of paper. “I have a cousin who works for the police department in L.A. She ran background checks on the men you – who were caught. They all had fake i.d.’s. Names of real people but not their pictures. They were very good fakes.”

“They’ll try again. Maybe not the same men, but the person or persons who hired them aren’t finished,” I said.

“I know,” she said. “That’s also why I was talking to Riley this morning. He – ah – he has connections that the police don’t. He might be able to help us find the men who attacked or at least warn us if the men are going to try again.”

“Whoever is behind this is fully committed now. They won’t go away quietly.”

Mina nodded and squeezed my arm. “But we’ll be o.k. My family – we have a guardian angel.”

When I tried to pull away, she put her arms around me and squeezed hard. Some of Javier’s crew walking by whistled at us. Mina laughed and released my stiff body.

“My mama wants you to know that you’re welcome at our house anytime. Cecelia wants another go at your hair. And I’ve got to get you ready for your first date with Logan.” She stepped back and eyed me up and down. “Do you even own a dress?” she asked.

I couldn’t help myself. “Mina?”

“Yeah?”

“What makes you think he likes me?”

She laughed. “I have so much to teach you about being a girl!”

I watched her walk into her next class.

Behind me, my father said, “So his name is Logan.”

I whirled to face him and had to remind myself not to fling my fists and feet at his head. “What are you doing here!”

Then I took in what he was wearing: a grey cotton jumpsuit with a name patch embroidered with “Bob.” The garment was too big for him; only the utility belt kept it from flapping against his body.

“What – you’re a janitor? Here? Don’t you have someone to kill?”

He hefted a large metal box in his right hand. “I have an air conditioner to fix by removing wads of gum stuck in its vents by your classmates. Then in about an hour, I’ll probably have to unclog another toilet in the boy’s bathroom by removing the head of a freshman from the bowl. I’m in hell because of you.”

He walked away as my mouth fell open.

It usually takes me a while before I realize I’m angry. I should say angrier than usual, because a part of me is angry all the time. Completely furious. My mother was murdered and I live each day knowing her last moments were a nightmare.

With that kind of constant background emotional noise, it took me until halfway through American History before I felt how pissed I was. My father was spying on me at school! A violation of my privacy so profound, I wanted to murder him. I finally had a private life that was interesting and he was wrecking it!

For the past eight years I had followed his rules, doing what he wanted, obeying orders that no normal child had to endure. Why couldn’t he just leave me alone? Why couldn’t I be normal for once? Why did he have to come back?

While Bennington described how the policy of appeasement used by the Allies failed to contain Hitler before the official start of WWII, I wondered at the risks my father was taking. He knew that I had broken a huge battalion of precious rules. He now knew that I had made friends – that my cloak of invisibility was gone. I wondered if he had watched me before at other schools. I suddenly felt creeped out by my own father.

Then I wondered where he had gotten that janitor’s uniform. How did he get a job here in a single morning? What happened to the real Janitor Bob? None of my questions had good answers.

I saw Logan standing by the door to Scruggins' class. He didn’t say anything as I entered, just fell in step behind me and took the seat next to me. As Scruggins reviewed answers to homework questions, Logan leaned his head against a hand and studied me. After ignoring him for a few minutes, I threw him a dirty look.

“Stop it.”

“I like looking at you.”

“Just take a picture.”

He smiled and pulled out his cell phone. “Good idea.”

I froze for a second. Stupid, stupid me and my stupid mouth! I grabbed the phone from his hand.

“Miss Reaver. It’s good of you to grace us with your consciousness this class.” Scruggins moved to our row and put out his hand.

For a second, I though he was reaching for Logan’s phone. Instead, he handed me a dry erase marker and pointed at the front of the room.

“Perhaps you can share with the class how you would solve the quadratic equation on the board. It was one of the questions you aced on the last quiz. You may share with us your reasoning as you write out the steps.”

The teacher’s small eyes were steely behind his wire-rimmed glasses. He was trying to make me prove that I didn’t – or did – cheat on his quiz.

I slipped Logan’s phone into one of the seven pockets in my cargo pants and went to the board. I mapped out the procedures for solving the equation and wrote out the correct answer. Scruggins stopped me as I tried to return to my seat.

“Interesting approach. But it has no resemblance to the method taught in your textbook. Where did you learn it?”

I looked out the tempered glass window set in the classroom door and saw my Janitor Bob father watching the situation. He had an earpiece tucked into his left ear. He was listening to what was going on inside the class. As Janitor Bob, he had access to the whole school. He probably installed microphones in each of my classrooms while I slept last night.

“Miss Reaver, answer me please.”

“My father. He tried home-schooling me for a while and couldn’t be bothered with textbook methods.” There. That was the truth. Let the Pater deal with that.

“Interesting but not good form for our standardized test,” said Sruggins. He called on one of the school’s honor students to come forward and solve the problem in the accepted way.

I picked up one of the bathroom passes hanging by the door and sent the teacher an inquiring glance. He nodded his permission and I was out the door. My father met me around the corner in an empty corridor.

“Are you really going to watch me all day long for the rest of the school year?” I demanded.

“You know the stories you’re supposed to use. You are never to give outsiders the truth.”

“Solving an algebra question is not a matter of national security. I don’t think Scruggins has a hotline to the Feds in his desk drawer.”

“What the hell happened to you while I was gone?” My father looked at me like an alien life-form was stretching out the shell of my body. With a look of absolute revulsion he asked, “Did you have sex with that boy?”

I started laughing.

“This is not funny.”

I laughed harder.

He gripped the wooden handle of his broom as though he wanted to thrash me with it.

I put up a hand as I subdued the giggles. “I’m sixteen. It’s the 21st century. We’re both fugitives. Are you really going to give me the sex talk?”

He went very still and then looked away. But I saw the hint of a smile. And then I realized I didn’t want him to smile. I didn’t want him at the school. I didn’t want him anywhere near me or Logan or Mina.

“Get out. You shouldn’t be here.”

“Neither should you,” he said.

“Again, I’m sixteen. I’m supposed to be in school.”

“By breaking cover, by your little exhibition in Scruggins’ class and countless other breaches of security during my absence, you have made this place dangerous for yourself and anyone who gets close to you.” His voice didn’t change. It hadn’t changed in eight years. It is a sound I associate with bad news, with death, with a life I couldn’t stand anymore.

I didn’t stop to weigh the sense of his words. I was tired of listening to him. “You’re the one who brought danger into my life. How can your being here make me or my friends safer? It doesn’t! You are like some biblical harbinger of death. You need to leave. Now.”

I glared at him and felt my anger build. If I could, I would have pushed him out the window at the end of the hallway. We were on the third floor. He would probably survive.

“If you involve them, this Logan James, Ramona Reyes and their families, you bring them into our danger. Is that what you want?”

I wasn’t surprised my father knew their names. It just felt like a further violation of my life.

“Go to hell.”

I turned on my heel and headed back to class. I was tempted to call the Feds on my father myself.

“O.k. What did you do to my phone?” Logan backed me against my locker and braced his forearms on either side of my head. He dangled his cell phone over my forehead and the read out indicated that the camera function had been disabled.

“Nothing,” I lied. “I’m sure the manufacturer’s help number is published on-line, somewhere.” I was also certain they wouldn’t be able to help Logan undue the hack I had employed to compromise the device’s camera. I didn’t want to wind up in a holding cell if Logan decided to forward a picture of me to his FBI handler.

He studied me with his head to one side. “I’m going to crack you. I’m going to figure out what goes on in that head of yours if it’s the last thing I do.”

I tightened my stomach and stood taller, forcing him to back off a little. He wasn’t touching any part of me but I found it hard to breath.

“Is this your idea of flirting? Accusing me of hurting your phone and threatening the privacy of my thoughts?”

“You can look at me like you’re made of ice now. But you did kiss me last night. I lost sleep thinking about it and I’m not letting you pretend it didn’t happen.”

“You should understand that the physical trauma of my beating you to the ground may have affected your memory.”

He threw back his head and laughed. I wanted very badly to kiss his exposed neck. He smelled better than anything in the universe.

He looked down at me and said, “Come with me after school. We’ll go somewhere private.”

When he said “somewhere private” my lower organs started to quiver. “Where? Why?” I asked.

Then he said, “I want you to show me how you fight.”

I tried not to let my disappointment show. He wanted me to be his combat buddy. How NOT romantic.

“I already did,” I said.

His beautiful lips curved into a smile.

“So you did. Now show me to teach me. Teach me how you brought me down when my muscles alone weigh twice as much as you do. Then teach me how to counteract it.”

“Why? I might need it again.”

“Not against me. I won’t ever hurt you.”

“Why should I believe you?”

“Because I don’t fight girls.”

“That’s stupid. They take women in armies and police forces now. I put you on the ground like you were a five-year old child.”

“Alice.” He cut into my tirade.

“What.”

“Shut up and hear this.”

His hands cradled my face and he placed his lips over mine. It was unexpected. I had never been trained in how to repel kisses. Fists, knives and guns – I was hardwired to respond to these threats. But something I wanted more than life, Logan’s kiss, I had no defense for that.

Javier’s whistle pulled us apart.

“Dude. You just kissed her.” Javier looked at Logan with exaggerated disbelief.

Logan grinned at me. “I don’t need you to tell me that.”

“But why?” Javier asked, tripping ever closer to serious pain.

I curled my hands into fists.

“Javi, you better shut up or your ass is going to get shredded.”

“Whatever. Each man his own. Even if I can’t understand it in a thousand million years.” Javier goaded us both.

“Leave now if you want to live,” Logan said, still smiling at me.

“All right. Don’t be late to Shop or Sde-Or is going to get you with his cameras and spy-crap.”

I glared at Javier’s back.

“I wasn’t going to beat him up. I was just trying to protect him from you,” Logan said.

I hooked a foot behind his calves and pulled my leg back sharply while thrusting my pelvis into his. I was already several lockers away when he crashed on his very cute butt.

He caught up with me by the time I reached Shop class. “There will be payback later.”

“You said you wanted to learn.”

He laughed. “Just wait for my follow through.”

“You talk a lot.”

Kirk and Javier faced us across the work table and had almost identical looks of disapproval.

“All right Romeo and Juliet. Let’s get to work,” said Javier.

For the next two hours, Kirk looked sideways at me and Logan with amused curiosity while Javier threw us the occasional, direct glare. I knew he thought that Logan could do better. I agreed with Javier on this one. There were dozens of girls in the school who were prettier and dressed to enhance their cleavage. I could barely remember to look in the mirror before leaving the house.

I focused on building and refining the electronics of our bot. The boys machined pieces of aluminum and conferred over the mold for the fiberglass portion of the body. I bit my tongue and forced myself to leave them to it. I couldn’t do it all for them. It would dent Javier’s pride as Sde-Or’s star – if somewhat delinquent – apprentice and I’ve read enough novels about the perils of messing with the male ego.

Ignoring classmates was never a problem for me before Oxford High, even if a grade depended on group work. I wasn’t in school to build a transcript. Now, I was involved with Logan, Mina, and even Javier. I was failing at staying disengaged.

I forced myself to concentrate on the ways by which our robot would be able to move. For the fun of it, I installed a function that could only be activated by code.

When bell rang, I left the classroom while Logan reviewed the workings of the metal cutters with Kirk and Javier. I kept an eye out for my father and Mina as I fast-walked to the parking lot. I really did not need those two to meet with me in the middle. I reached the car without seeing either of them. Instead, it was Logan leaning against the hood. The Taurus was just too popular at this school.

“That would be my super deluxe four door sedan tricked out with airbags and power windows. Your carriage would be that shiny surf-board toting power sun-roofing i-pod cradling GPS locating yellow job on the very far side of the lot. Over there. Afraid to touch my low brow ride.” I point to his car and wiggled my finger to emphasize the point.

I resisted looking around for my father. Even if he was watching, there was nothing I could do about it. Except leave – as soon as Logan got off my car.

I opened the driver’s side door and pitched my bag inside. The car rocked a little from the weight. Before I could follow it, Logan hooked his hand into the back of my pants and held onto my belt.

“Not so fast. You owe me remember?”

“For what? Not killing you for sneaking up on me at night?”

“For beating me black and blue.”

I closed one eye and squinted the other as I looked him over. “You don’t have a mark on you.”

“Not outside maybe, but in here,” he thumped his chest with a fist, “I’m broken.”

“So to get even, you’re going to give me a wedgie?” I twisted my upper body and slapped at his hand.

He kept his grip on my belt and hugged me with his other arm, pinning my arms to my sides.

“You have to teach me to fight better so I can protect you from the bad guys,” he said.

“What bad guys? I only see you engaging in false imprisonment.”

“The bad guys that are everywhere, everyday, waiting to hurt girls like you.”

I was about to hit him on the chin with the back of my head but something in his voice was wrong. I stopped struggling and he released me so I could turn around to face him. He was serious. There was a terrible look in his eyes. Why?

“Please,” he said. “Teach me.”

There were so many reasons to say no and kill whatever this was between us. Being together in any capacity wasn’t safe for him. It wasn’t safe for me. It could get my father killed. I was trained to stay alive, to avoid attention, and to identify danger. Logan was danger personified. Being with him brought too many eyes to me.

But being with him made life an attractive option for the first time since I became a fugitive.

We took his car. He was a good driver but not afraid to go over the posted speed limit. I had never let anyone else drive me but my father since I was eight. Letting Logan drive me was weird. I realized that I trusted him – at least to drive me. Trusting anyone but my father with anything was very weird. Being in his car felt like flying. Being with him felt like I was coming off the planet. But not being tethered by gravity was uncomfortable, it made me anxious.

We entered a gated community of townhomes that all looked identical. They had been built quickly in the first part the last decade and half were now in foreclosure. Logan parked in a driveway at the end of a cul-de-sac and walked around to open my door.

“Welcome to my casa of the season,” he said.

We have way too much in common, I thought.

He swung his arm towards the house as the garage door opened.

“Come inside. You can meet my mother if she’s home.”

She wasn’t. I was alone in a house with a boy. The place was not huge, a basic two bedroom, two bath design with kitchen, den and living room. But the realization that I was alone with Logan made the place seem both cavernous and unbearably intimate at the same time.

I stepped to what I deceived myself has being a safe distance from him and said, “You asked me to teach you.”

He looked at me and said, “It’s o.k. I don’t bite.” His voice was low and soft; I wanted to lean into him and have his arms around me again.

Instead, he led me into the kitchen. Logan pulled out a blender and ingredients from the refrigerator. “I’m making us a couple of energy shakes. Enough to keep us fueled but not enough to slow us down.”

The thick liquid he poured into two glasses was dark purple. I watched him take half of his portion in one swallow before tasting mine. It tasted like blueberries on steroids.

“What is this?” I asked.

“Mostly hemp milk, a little ice, protein powder and acai berry juice. My mother swears by the fruit’s magical powers and will drive hundreds of miles to buy the right brand.”

“Should I feel tingly? Will you start flying?” I asked.

“Only if you throw me through a window.” He lobbed a kitchen towel that I caught neatly just before it hit my face.

When I finished my drink, he pointed to the den off the kitchen. “Help me clear the room and we can spar in there. The garage is probably a better space, but I’d rather have carpeting under me when you flip me on my back.”

It was hard to concentrate on something as simple as pushing chairs and tables against the walls with him just a few feet away. If anything, the room seemed to shrink as we worked. Logan grew larger to my senses until he was all that I could see, hear and smell.

I was also worried. I have had countless lessons from my father on fighting techniques, but I had never taught anyone else. What I practiced with my father was not as elegant as boxing – there was no dancing on toes, jabbing or weaving. We were trained to be quick and, if the circumstances warranted, deadly.

Over the years my hands, feet – all my limbs actually – had been hardened by slapping, punching, gouging, and kicking dummy targets – not to mention a few humans. My body was basically a bunch of tough muscles wrapped around hardened bones and could seriously hurt Logan. He could also hurt himself if he hit me the wrong way.

I took a few easy swipes at Logan to gauge his ability to defend himself. From his reactions, he understood the mechanics but was out of practice. There weren’t a lot of dojos in a place the size of Chatham. There were none that could teach him what I knew.

We went through the takedowns I had used on him the night before. When he had practiced those enough, I showed him the countermoves. He was a quick learner and took great care not to hurt me as we practiced. I was careful with him as well. The room was clear of furniture but there were sharp corners to the brick fireplace. There was always a certain amount of pain inflicted during an effective training session, but I wasn’t in the mood to put him in the hospital.

Logan grunted in frustration and grabbed me roughly before spinning me around and around. He stopped abruptly and set me down hard enough to jar my teeth.

“Stop holding back! I can take care of myself. I can’t learn this if you treat me like a baby. You’re not even breathing hard! This is more insulting than what you did to me last night!” he said.

I looked at him and turned down the running commentary in my head about how cute he was, how nice he smelled, whether my father was spying on us with a sniper rifle aimed at Logan’s head. Logan was right. If I couldn’t respect his abilities and challenge him to stretch for more, I was wasting his time for selfish reasons.

“All right,” I said. “If you want me to go full throttle, you can’t try to protect me. I don’t need your help. You just need to focus on defense and opportunity.”

I started with a hard kick at his solar plexus. We kept going until the light outside the windows disappeared. We kept going even as the room grew darker and he tested himself with limited vision. Logan took fall after fall and hit after hit without complaint. He would be black and blue in the morning.

Finally, he held out a hand and said, “Enough.” We were both drenched in perspiration and breathing hard. Logan switched on a lamp as he left the room and motioned me toward the kitchen. He brought me a towel which I took gratefully. As hot as it got during the day, nights in southern California could turn unpredictably cold. It would have been dumb to go outside wet after such a workout.

“I’m starving. How would you like one of my famous fried egg sandwiches?” he asked.

My stomach started grumbling as soon as he opened the refrigerator door.

“You can cook?”

“Just wait. You’ll never want to go to the Reyeses for home cooking again.”

“For an egg sandwich?”

“Fried egg sandwich. That crispy coating juxtaposed against the creamy yolk makes it the perfect mouth sensation.”

I looked at him like he was an alien.

“Food Network. It’s almost better than watching professional sports.”

“A TV station devoted to food?”

“Where have you been? How could you not know that America’s favorite pastime of eating has morphed with America’s favorite pastime of watching TV?”

“We don’t have a TV.”

He looked at me.

“Your father starves you of both food and television. He makes mine look like less of a psychopath.”

It was probably the first time Logan had ever made a joke about his father. As soon as the words left his mouth, he looked like he regretted them. He turned away to put oil in a pan and turn on the gas stove.

“He scares you doesn’t he, your father?” I asked.

He took a moment testing the heat of the pan before cracking open two eggs. He shook his head. “I’ve already told too much to you and withheld too much from my handlers about you. Besides, knowing about my father would put you in danger.”

“DITTO!!!!!” echoed in my head. I tried a different tact.

“If you want me to teach you how to attack and defend effectively, I need to know the threats you face.”

He flipped over an egg that had turned golden at the edges.

“No.”

I watched him flip the second egg.

“No?” I asked.

“No.”

He nestled the first egg on top of a mound of crisp lettuce placed on a slice of toasted rye bread.

“Why not? Obviously, I can take care of myself.”

“Because my father is truly way out of your league. He is beyond evil and eats girls like you as an afterthought.”

For a moment Logan gripped the handle of the frying pan so tightly, I thought he would throw it through one of the white plaster walls. He closed his eyes and breathed deeply before releasing the pan.

After another deep breath, he applied mustard and mayonnaise from squeeze bottles before cutting both sandwiches in half. As I ate, I wondered how something that looked so delicious could taste like cardboard.

Logan drove me back to my car. The lot was deserted except for the Taurus. He had insisted I borrow a sweater against the night chill. Its hem reached almost to my knees and he seemed to like stroking my arm through the navy wool.

When I unlocked the car, he opened my door for me. He had to push me aside to do it, but it didn’t make the gesture any less romantic. As he bent his head toward mine I dove into the car seat. He laughed.

“I bet you can face down a gun without blinking.”

He was right.

“But I’ve never met a bigger coward afraid of a kiss.”

He was right about that too. I pretended to focus on getting the car started. I flicked a small switch hidden under the steering column. In the off position, the car’s engine would not start for anyone.

“I think my car battery is dead,” I said.

“Really? Let me look,” said Logan.

I got out of the car and went around to the other side as he tried the key in the ignition and checked the gears. While he was occupied, I reached under the car for the small radio transmitter attached to the Taurus’ frame. I cut the plastic ties holding it in place with a small pocket knife that normally hung on my car key chain. A little bit of black tape covered the blinking red light. I returned to Logan’s side before he noticed that I had stepped away.

“Let’s try a jump start from my car. Otherwise I’ll drive you home and you’ll have to introduce me to your father.” He squeezed my shoulder as he passed me to open the trunk of his SUV.

My initial reaction was, When Hell Freezes Over. There was no way I would ever allow Logan to meet my father. I liked Logan. But I was also struck by a wall of guilt over what I was about to do.

While Logan hooked battery cables to both cars, I attached the radio transmitter to the rear of his.

“O.k., try it now.”

I got back in my car and flipped the switch before turning over the ignition. The Taurus started immediately.

“Let the engine run for a few minutes. Come take a look at this.”

“What?” I was suspicious. Had he seen me place the tracker on his car?

He took my hand in one of his and tugged until I followed him to a tree a few yards from our cars.

Logan stepped closer, crowding me towards the tree. When my back hit the bark, he kept coming until his body pressed against mine. The heat of him invaded me. Then he kissed me. When I opened my mouth in surprise, his tongue slipped inside. Heat poured up my throat and into my face, as if the blood in my body would leave me to enter him. His arm circled my back and pulled me closer. I forgot to breathe. It didn’t matter. Nothing but the feel of him at my lips, inside my mouth, against my body mattered.

I was afraid to move, to do anything that would make him realize his mistake. How could someone like him want to kiss me? It was a mistake. But I wanted to touch him. I wanted to know the texture of his hair and the angles of his face. I wanted to caress the muscles that supported his back and wrapped around his arms. His biceps were hard and rounded. I felt sheltered beneath his wide shoulders. His blood heated the palm of my hand through the smooth skin of his neck.

Logan broke the kiss and brought his lips to my temple, breathing deeply. His chest pushed me away as he inhaled. His arms pulled me closer with each exhale. He leaned his head back to look at me. I almost shut my eyes, afraid of what he would say. I braced myself for his rejection.

“Wow.” He smiled. “I wasn’t expecting that. I wasn’t expecting you.”

Then he laughed and I thought about shattering his shins.

“The way you touch me tickles. Haven’t you ever touched a guy before? I don’t mean hitting. We don’t break that easy – unless you’re in killer mode.”

My face flamed and he kissed my nose.

“Give me your hand.”

I put my hand out and felt tiny as it was swallowed in his.

“Grip my arm, dig your fingers in – like you’ll never let me go.”

I did as he instructed and searched his face for any sign of pain. After years of jabbing and breaking wood boards and bricks, my hands were weapons after all.

He grinned. “Yeah. It hurts a little, but in a good way.”

As his head lowered again to kiss me, I pistoned my arms forward, pushing him away and probably bruising his pecs.

“Ow! What the – wait! Come back here.” He said at the back of my head.

“Curfew. See ya.”

I sprinted towards my car. He didn’t chase me and I was only slightly more relieved than I was disappointed. I didn’t know what I would have done if he had. I didn’t have a second act. I hadn’t a first act.

Logan was unexpected. He was foreign country to my little box of combat skills. His kisses were crazily outside the realm of possibility. Everything that had happened to me in Chatham was unexpected. Unexpected was dangerous.

I watched him in my rear view mirror as I drove away. He stood in the middle of the parking lot, looking smaller and more isolated as the distance between us grew. In the last second before I rounded the bend, he looked like the loneliest person in the world.