The Trainer (military romantic suspense) (The Dregs Book 5)

by Leslie Georgeson

  This man—this beautiful stranger—was so different from all those other men. So different from Malik. While Malik was dark and ugly and frightening, this man was all lightness and beauty and pleasantness. He was tall, yes. I guessed him to be around six-foot-two or three, but he wasn’t bulky like Malik. He was definitely muscular and in excellent physical shape, but leaner, his movements smooth and graceful, elegant, not restricted by bulging muscles like Malik, who walked with a stiff, choppy gait. This man was all fluid moves and lean grace. He was truly beautiful in every way. Almost too good to be true. Was I dreaming right now?

  I turned sideways, facing him, studying him, letting my gaze roam over his chiseled profile, down his impressive body dressed casually in faded jeans and a navy blue sweatshirt. Even in casual clothes, this man was hot. And so very masculine. Sexy.

  No, not a dream. He was very real.

  He flushed slightly, obviously uncomfortable with my scrutiny, turning his head to meet my gaze.

  His eyes were a light brown with flecks of gold and green. Hazel. Beautiful eyes. Eyes filled with gentleness. Concern. Curiosity.

  I had never met a man like him before. I was used to harsh, cruel men like my father and his gang. Men who were selfish and used others to get what they wanted.

  There was nothing selfish about this man. He’d chosen to help a complete stranger. At the risk of endangering himself.

  I should probably tell him who my father was. I should probably warn him how dangerous it was to help me.

  But I didn’t want him to know about my relationship to the Black Dragons. If he knew who I truly was, he’d probably drop me off at the nearest police station. He would think I was a bad person. A gangster.

  “What’s your name?” I asked curiously.

  He sent me a smile and turned back to the road. “Logan.”

  Logan.

  I repeated his name in my head. Logan. It fit him.

  “I like it.”

  His lips twitched. He glanced askance at me. “You like my name?”

  I shrugged. “It suits you. When I think of that name, I think of a strong man. A kind man. A handsome man.”

  He flushed again at that last sentence. He was sweet. Humble. Definitely not conceited like most good-looking men. He was a rarity I wanted to learn more about.

  “I think Logan is a man who is genuine,” I went on. “A man who cares about others.”

  He turned his head again and met my gaze. “Why do you say that?”

  “It’s the vibe you give off. You are helping a complete stranger, even though you don’t have to. You don’t know me. I could be dangerous. Yet, you are helping me. That means you are good and kind and genuine. You care about others.”

  He cleared his throat and turned away. “You’re not dangerous,” he murmured. “At least not to me.” He paused, his gaze still on the road ahead. “You might be small, but you’re not weak. You’re a warrior. A fighter.”

  I eyed him curiously. “And how do you know that?”

  His lips twitched again. “It’s the vibe you give off.” He motioned at me. “And your attire, and the star you threw at me, and that knife I feared you were going to fling at my head…”

  We both chuckled then, sharing a long, deep glance. And as I gazed into his kind eyes, an unexpected connection flared between us. He was so fascinating, this sexy, blond-haired hunk who was so different from anyone—from anything—I’d ever known. I don’t know why or how, but I just felt comfortable around him. Safe. Not afraid to be myself. I was totally smitten.

  He looked away first, pulling his gaze back to the road.

  “I like you, Logan,” I admitted quietly, still staring at him in fascination. “I wish you were not making me leave.”

  “It’s for the best,” he answered softly. He glanced at me again, a question in his eyes. “Let’s be frank here. You’re a martial arts expert. Don’t try to deny it. I recognize another fighter when I see one. I’m guessing you’re associated with the Black Dragons. And my experience with the Dragons has not been favorable, so forgive me if I don’t trust you.”

  Let’s be frank. He might be sweet and kind, but he also wasn’t afraid to speak his mind.

  Logan was very astute. A wave of admiration swept through me. Another fighter? Who was this Logan? Why and how had he had a brush-in with my father’s gang?

  I drew in a deep breath and puffed it out. I may as well be truthful. “I am associated with the Black Dragons, but not by choice. I escaped from them tonight. And I am never going back.”

  “You escaped?” he repeated, the look in his eyes saying he wasn’t sure if he believed that.

  “Yes. I escaped. It was eight long years in the making, but tonight I finally did it.”

  Silence stretched for several minutes while he contemplated that, then he asked softly, “Who are you, Nishi? Why were you really in my truck? Are you a scout, sent to track us down?”

  He thought I was lying. Though I couldn’t blame him—he didn’t know me—his distrust still hurt. I shook my head adamantly. “I am not a scout, and who are you to be tracked? I have never seen you before tonight. Are you an enemy of the Dragons?”

  He tensed. “Yes. I would say I’m an enemy of the Dragons.”

  An uncomfortable silence stretched. Was he associated with another gang?

  A fighter. Of course, why hadn’t I guessed it before?

  “You are part of the Spartans?”

  He let out a snort. “Hell, no. I’m not associated with any gang.”

  Tension filled the close confines of the truck. “Then who are you?” I hadn’t been afraid of him before, just cautious. But now, fear began to slip in. He carried a gun. He was a fighter. He was large. Muscular. Powerful. And I would bet he was very dangerous. If he was an enemy of my father, then he might hurt me to get back at my father. I should have considered that before getting into the truck with him. I should have been more wary. Logan was a lot bigger than me. A lot stronger. And though I was a skilled fighter, I probably wouldn’t stand a chance against him. He could easily take me down.

  “You answer my questions, and I’ll answer yours.” His words were clipped. The gentleness was gone from his eyes, replaced by a cold hardness that made my breath catch. It was like he’d turned off the goodness and released a beast. How did one do that?

  “I am Nishi,” I repeated, lifting my chin and meeting his suspicious stare. “That is my name. That is who I am. I am not a spy. I am just a girl trying to be free of a life I did not choose and do not want. I climbed into your truck because I thought you could help me. And you are,” I whispered, “helping me. So I was not wrong in my initial assessment of you. There is goodness in you. Kindness. And deep down in my gut, I do not think you wish me harm.”

  His impressive chest expanded as he breathed in deeply, then exhaled. What would it be like to cuddle up against that wide chest and have those strong arms wrap around me?

  I jolted at that thought.

  What the hell, Nishi? Where did that come from?

  He’s gorgeous. I can’t help it. I would give anything to be able to touch him.

  He jerked his head in a nod. “Against my better judgment, I believe you. But I wouldn’t be the first man who was fooled by a beautiful woman.”

  The breath snagged in my throat. Was he saying I was beautiful? The very idea that he might find me attractive made me flush hotly.

  “I assure you I am not fooling you. And I would not be the first woman who was played by a handsome man,” I shot back.

  His lips twitched. “I can easily see how you’d be a formidable opponent. Your cute daintiness would make a man let his guard down so you can strike.”

  My hackles rose. I wasn’t like that. I suppose I could be if I needed to—okay, so I had done that with Jiro only a few hours ago—but it wasn’t my instinctive reaction, and I’d only done it to escape. Logan wasn’t my enemy. At least, I didn’t think he was. I didn’t want to fool him.

  “I am
trained in ninjutsu, judo, jujutsu, kendo, and a mixture of several other martial arts. I am a kunoichi, a female ninja. I know how to defend myself.” I lifted my chin and met his gaze. “I suppose that makes me a formidable opponent, but I am not a seductress. If I ever make my way into your bed, it will be because you ask me to, and because I want to be there.”

  He cleared his throat and glanced away, color creeping up his neck and into his face. “All right…Either I’m a complete idiot, or you’re being honest.” A beat of silence passed, then, “Like I said, my name is Logan. I am many things, but I can promise you I am not associated with any gang in any way. And I am the farthest from a player that you will ever meet.” His gaze locked on mine. “I am just a man who couldn’t resist helping a beautiful girl.” Then he winked at me, and something hot and clingy coiled in my lower abdomen. The coldness had completely vanished from his eyes, and the kindness had returned, along with a hint of teasing. And maybe—wishfully—attraction as well. Did he really think I was beautiful? The idea made the hot clinginess surge to life again. Whatever he was doing to me, it was so foreign, yet so beautiful that it made my heart give a happy, excited thump in my chest. I wanted more of these strange feelings that he brought about inside me. The heat, the excitement, the attraction, the longing. I didn’t want to say goodbye to him at all.

  “I knew the moment I saw you that you were special,” I blurted. “You are so different from anyone I have ever known.”

  He flushed. “Is that…a compliment?”

  I laughed softly. “It is. There is just something…soothing about you. Something so good and genuine that I want to know more. You are so fascinating, I don’t want to leave you.”

  Color crept back into his face. A long moment passed before he spoke. “You’re not shy at all, are you, little one? Do you just blurt out your thoughts as they hit you?”

  Something like that. I smiled. I didn’t mind him calling me “little one” though if anyone else called me that, I would probably be offended. The way Logan said it made it sound like an endearment. I would gladly be his “little one” for a long, long time.

  “Pretty much,” I admitted. “I don’t get to talk to other people very often, so when I do get to speak, I don’t hold back. I just say what I’m thinking. You are a delightful, refreshing change.” I was enjoying being with Logan so much that I didn’t want it to end. He was fun to be around. A real joy. I wanted him to be my forever friend. “Will you be my friend, Logan?”

  He glanced back at me, his gaze softening. “Of course, I will be your friend.” Then he tore his gaze away, and cleared his throat several times. “But you still can’t stay with me.”

  I sighed. Not yet, but maybe soon he’d change his mind. He had agreed to be my friend. The last time I’d had a friend had been in Japan, before my father stole me away to America. I had no friends here. The only people I knew were my father’s men, who definitely weren’t my friends.

  And now, Logan. My first friend in eight years.

  I had the sudden urge to kiss him. To press my mouth against his and see what it felt like to have his lips against mine. I had no doubt it would be magical.

  He glanced back at me, catching me staring at his mouth. He jerked his gaze away again. “Nishi.” He said my name softly, almost breathlessly, with a deep throatiness that made that hot throbbing return to my core. He was attracted to me. And that made me feel so good I wanted to shout my happiness to the world. Logan thinks I’m beautiful!

  I let out a soft laugh. “Sorry. I don’t mean to stare, but I can’t help it. You are so handsome. I want to kiss you. I want to thread my fingers through your hair and see if it’s as soft as it looks.”

  He muttered something under his breath. “Are you always this forward?” He didn’t sound displeased, just curious.

  I studied his chiseled profile, the lean jaw, his perfectly masculine features. The man was swoon-worthy in every way. “I do speak my mind. But I’ve only ever flirted with you. Am I embarrassing you?”

  “Kind of,” he murmured. “We don’t even know each other.”

  “Well, we can easily change that.” I eyed him longingly.

  He cleared his throat in obvious discomfort, staring straight ahead. I turned away with a sigh. I wanted to know him. Desperately. Every single thing about him. But I was making him uncomfortable, so I decided to stop bothering him. He was my friend now, and I didn’t want to lose him. The physical attraction could wait for another time.

  Assuming there would be another time. After he dropped me off at the hotel, would I ever see him again?

  We were both silent for the rest of the drive, me staring at him boldly, curiously, unable to stop staring at his male beauty, him doing everything he could not to notice the way I stared. He was sweet. I didn’t want to leave him. I wanted to stay. And I really, really wanted to kiss him.

  Then he pulled up in front of a hotel in downtown Eatonton, jolting me from my fantasies. He removed some money from his wallet and held it out to me. “Five hundred dollars. It’s all I have on me right now. It should help you get by for several days. If you need more, I can bring you some later.” He hesitated, then muttered, “Oh, what the hell.” He pulled a cellphone from his pocket. “You got a phone? If you give me your number, I can call you later, check in to make sure you’re okay.”

  I tried not to laugh at the absurdity of me being allowed to have a cellphone, but a small, disbelieving laugh burst out against my will. My father would never allow me to have access to a cellphone. Any outside influence was forbidden. I wasn’t allowed to have friends. I wasn’t allowed to use email or any type of internet. I wasn’t allowed to watch television or to read current magazines. All I had were the books my father had given me. Boring books in Japanese about fighting and warfare. For the past eight years, I had been nothing more than a prisoner in a cage. All alone.

  “No,” I admitted quietly. “I don’t have a phone.”

  He glanced away. “Oh. Okay, then. Well...” He hesitated once more, then, “Oh, fuck it.” He flipped open the center console and rummaged around inside the small compartment, coming out with a pen and a small notepad. He scribbled something on the top page, then tore it off and handed it to me. “That’s my number. Please don’t give it to anyone else. If you need anything, call me. Okay?”

  I took the paper from him, gently folded it and stuffed it in the side pocket of my jacket. I had his number. I had a way to contact him if I needed to.

  I would find a reason to contact him, I vowed. As often as possible.

  I wanted this man in my life. He was rare. Fascinating. An intriguing mixture of kindness and hotness. I wasn’t ready to let him go. Not by a long shot.

  “Thank you, Logan. I will never forget what you have done for me.” I leaned across the seat and kissed him on the cheek.

  Color crept up his neck and into his face. A smile tugged at his lips. “Good luck, Nishi. Don’t be afraid to call if you need anything.”

  I reluctantly opened my door and stepped out, walking toward the hotel entrance.

  Pausing when I reached the door, I glanced back.

  He drove away with a wave, the truck’s taillights disappearing down the road, leaving me with an emptiness, a sudden loneliness I didn’t expect.

  Logan’s departure was more painful than it should be for someone I’d just met.

  I will see him again.

  I pulled open the door and entered the hotel.

  I had his number.

  And as soon as I booked a room, I was going to call him.

  CHAPTER SIX

  Logan

  Nishi. Her name is Nishi.

  Just thinking her name caused warmth to fill my chest.

  I searched my phone on the way back to the maze, researching the name “Nishi”. Nishi was Japanese for “west”. It was also Hindi for “getting stronger” or “invigorating”. I preferred to think her name meant the latter, as she was certainly invigorating. The girl got me thinking abou
t her in ways I hadn’t thought about a woman in years. She invigorated me.

  I knew a thing or two about research. Noah had taught me that. My dreg partner was one of the best hackers in the world. Information was something he excelled at. Thanks to him, research was something I too was now pretty good at. A search of the urban dictionary defined “Nishi” as: “A very approachable, friendly, sexy girl who is fun, flirtatious, and intelligent. The perfect woman for any man.” That definition also seemed to fit her. Friendly, sexy girl. Fun, flirtatious, and intelligent. The perfect woman for any man.

  I groaned softly. How could I have just abandoned her like that? Dropped her off like a stray dog at the pound? What if she was in serious danger? What if by leaving her I’d just placed her in danger?

  I mentally kicked myself for letting her go. I should drive back there and get her. Take her to the underground maze with me. Keep her safe from whatever danger she was hiding from.

  Except she was a stranger. She’d admitted she was associated with the Black Dragons. How did I know I could trust her? How did I know she wouldn’t bring danger to our door?

  I didn’t. And that was the problem.

  As much as that girl brought me back to life, as much as she made me want to trust her, I couldn’t.

  I was halfway back to the maze when my phone rang. The caller ID indicated it was from the hotel where I’d just dropped Nishi off. My heart gave an excited thump in my chest. She was calling me already? Was everything okay? Did she need something?

  I quickly swiped the screen.

  “This is Logan.”

  A throat cleared softly, then her soft voice, “Um, hello Logan. This is Nishi. Sorry to bother you again so soon. I was wondering if you could tell me where I can buy a cellphone so I can talk to you whenever I want.”