Chapter 8: Bad Guys
Around midnight, Max got ready for war. Well, maybe not war, she thought to herself. The hiking trek would be half recon, half destruction. The simple plan involved her sneaking in, stealing crucial information and slipping back out undetected. Eyes Only found a contact back in the Seattle sector police who planned to use the information to formally shut down the whole illegal drug production scam. It turned out to be a major focus for the sector police and it seemed to be a legitimate claim. They were sending out a large squad to intercept the ship before it left the marina and another squad into Terry Harbor. The local police were standing by, waiting for Eyes Only to deliver proof of who was in charge of the whole operation. Without suspects, they were at a loss, so Max had to find the rat bastard behind the Carfanol disaster and get his name back to Logan, or better yet, deliver the culprit himself.
Max slipped into her catsuit quietly so as not to wake Logan, who slept peacefully in the bed. The sheets twisted around his waist and he had one arm flung out where she had lain just a few minutes ago. The last bout of lovemaking had worn him completely out, Max mused, smiling as she zipped up her quilted vest. For a second her mind went into memory mode, carefully cataloguing all the ways he�d shown her what could happen between two people in love. It was far beyond anything she�d experienced in heat. During those times it was strictly "get some, get gone." The past day changed all that forever, as Logan showed her things she didn�t even know her body could feel. Every part of her felt alive, humming with an adrenaline not unlike rappelling down a fifty-story building.
"Love you," she whispered experimentally to his sleeping form. He didn�t so much as flinch.
Maybe she�d try it again, later.
**
The small complex was as unguarded at night as it was during the day. Max inwardly scoffed at the lax security. Whoever was running the show was either colossally stupid or they had some high-tech gear tricked out that she wouldn�t know about until she got inside. She stayed in the shadows, footsteps silent as she approached the first building. The loose door on the side afforded her an easy entry. She paused for one whole minute on the inside, dutifully waiting for a silent alarm to send the bad guys running, but no one came. Zack�s face sprang to mind and she nodded as if he were there, moving forward quickly and with stealth. The lock on the main office was easily picked. Since she didn�t need a flashlight to see in the dark, it was easy to rifle through files and papers to find what she needed. The lists of shipments and payments were written down longhand and filed in folders�no computer disks, no electronic recording of any kind. Whoever was running the show was paranoid.
And rich, Max thought disgustedly as she looked at the latest income figures from the Carfanol. Her stomach churned, remembering how the drug completely kicked her ass. Never again, she vowed, stuffing the most crucial evidence into a stack and folding it to fit inside her vest. Just then, the cloying scent of a cigar drifted into the office and Max picked her head up, coming face to face with a tall, heavyset man who held a Swisher Sweet in one hand and a semi-automatic in the other.
**
Logan woke up when his cell phone rang.
"Logan, it�s me."
"Max, where are you? Why didn�t you wake me up?"
"You looked adorable sleeping there. Besides, I thought it would be easy, in and out."
"You thought?" Logan pressed her, sitting straight up in bed.
"I got a little shot. Can you meet me down by the marina? I�m letting the guy track me there so we can just bust his ass, but I need gunpower. And possibly a large crowd of witnesses."
"Define a "little" shot," Logan said sternly.
"Stop being my lover and start being my backup," Max snapped. "His name is Keith Groening. We had a little disagreement about whether or not I would steal certain sensitive documents from his office, and he lost, but I got nicked."
"Dammit, Max."
"Just get the Terry Harbor sector police on the line and meet me at the marina. Out."
"Max!" Logan yelled at the now-silent phone. He was fuming, but she was right. This was a mission to her now. She called him for backup, not to remind him to shut the oven off. Her mind was probably in the midst of evasion tactics and combat strategies. He couldn�t help it if he was worrying about her, and her alone. Still, the thought of Max in any kind of pain threatened to undo him, especially after the week she�d recently spent comatose in his bed.
Stuffing the emotions down for later, Logan punched in his informant�s number. If Max wanted backup, she�d have it in full force. It would take him less than twenty minutes to drive down to the marina from the cabin, but she wouldn�t be there for another hour if she�d called him from the mountain. Hopefully, everything would come out at the same time, like a well-planned dinner.
Hope was definitely not a commodity in Terry Harbor.
