by Cynthia Eden
Logan spared him a glance. Gunner’s gaze was on Juliana, his face tense. Gunner was the quiet type, quiet but deadly. A Spanish father and a Native American mother had given him dark gold skin and the instincts of a hunter. He’d been trained early on a reservation, learned to hunt and stalk prey at his grandfather’s knee. A lethal SOB, Gunner was one of the few people on earth who Logan actually called friend. He was also the best SEAL sniper that Logan had ever met.
“Knowing it and liking it...” Logan said with a sigh and tried to force his tense body to relax. “Those are two very different things.” But the orders had come down from high above. There wasn’t a choice on this one.
With the senator out of the picture, Juliana was now their key to cracking Guerrero.
She’d created the sketches for them. Of Guerrero’s goons and of the man she’d called John. Perfect sketches that had even included slight moles on some of the men. Her artist’s eyes had noted their every feature. Juliana truly was a perfect witness.
One that Guerrero would never let escape.
It was the picture of John Gonzales that intrigued Logan and his men the most. An innocent man, or so Juliana claimed. Another hostage who’d been taken and tortured by Guerrero.
Except John Gonzales wasn’t listed as missing in any database. He wasn’t turning up in any intel from the CIA or the FBI. As far as they were concerned, John Gonzales didn’t exist.
“You think Guerrero’s gonna make a hit on her?” Gunner asked as his gaze swept the crowd.
They weren’t there to pay respects to the senator. Neither of them had respected Aaron James worth a damn. They were there for guard duty.
The mission wasn’t over. Not by a long shot.
“The boss does.” Because Logan wasn’t the man in control at the EOD. But this time, he agreed. Every instinct Logan had screamed that Juliana wasn’t clear, not yet.
She had to be here today, though. Senator James was being laid to rest. Unfortunately, he wasn’t taking his demons with him.
The crowd began to clear away. It was a high-profile funeral, with government officials spilling out for their photo ops. Lots of plainclothes security were scattered around, even some folks Logan recognized from the Secret Service.
In particular, he’d noticed that two men and one woman in black suits stayed close to Juliana. On-loan protection. Those three were so obvious, but maybe that was the point. The Secret Service liked to be in-your-face some days.
“You really up for what you’ll have to do?”
Logan paused. He knew what Gunner was asking. Could he look right into Juliana’s eyes and lie to her? Over and over again? That was what needed to be done, and because of their past, he was the prime candidate for the job.
The man who was supposed to slip close to Juliana, to stay by her side. He’d be her protection, and she just thought he’d be—
Her lover.
“Yes.” His voice dropped to a growl. “I’ll do what needs to be done.” Another betrayal. But he didn’t trust any other agent to get this close to her. Not even Gunner.
Especially not Gunner.
The operative on this mission had to stay with Juliana. Day and night.
Only me.
He headed for her. He knew his glasses covered his eyes, so no one would be able to tell he wasn’t exactly in the mourning mood. Good. No need to put on a mask just yet.
A long black limo waited for Juliana. The door was open. She’d already turned away from Logan and headed for the vehicle.
As he closed in on his prey, a woman with blond hair—perfectly twisted at the nape of her neck—and wearing a tight black dress wrapped her arms around Juliana. Logan’s eyes narrowed as he recognized Susan Walker, one of the late senator’s assistants. Logan’s team had questioned her for hours, but she’d seemed clueless about the true nature of the senator’s activities.
“I can’t believe he’s really gone,” Susan whispered, and a tremble shook her body. “This shouldn’t have happened. We had so many plans....”
A tall, dark-haired male walked up behind her and put a comforting hand on her shoulder. Thin black glasses were perched on his nose. Logan knew him, of course. Ben McLintock. Another assistant to the senator. One who hadn’t broken during the interview process, but still...he’d been nervous.
McLintock glanced over his shoulder and spotted Logan. The guy swallowed quickly and bobbed his head. Too nervous. The EOD was already ripping into his life. As soon as they turned over some info they could use, something that would tie him in with the senator’s illegal deals...
Then we’ll have another talk, McLintock. Logan wouldn’t play so nicely during their next little chat.
“Juliana needs to get home,” Ben said as he pulled Susan back. “You can both talk more there.”
“Yes, yes, you’re right.” Susan’s thin shoulders straightened. She looked toward the casket again. She shook her head and turned away from the limo. “It just seems like a dream.”
Ben took her hand but his eyes were on Juliana. “You have my deepest sympathies.”
Juliana’s eyes were dry. Her face too pale.
“I never...never...thought things would end this way.”
The senator had surprised them all. Logan wasn’t even sure why the guy had done it. Had the senator thought that if he were out of the picture, Guerrero would back off? That Juliana would be safe?
“I’m truly sorry,” Ben told her and bent to press a kiss to Juliana’s right cheek.
Logan’s back teeth locked. Mr. Touchy-Feely could move the hell on anytime. He could spend some quality moments comforting Susan Walker...
And he could stay away from Juliana.
“I need some time...some air...” Susan said, then staggered back as tears trickled down her cheeks. “I can’t leave him....”
The woman’s body trembled, and Logan wondered if her knees were about to give way. He tensed, preparing to lunge forward.
But it was good old Ben to the rescue. He kept a firm hold on Susan and steered her away from the vehicle. “I’ll take care of her.” He offered Juliana a firm nod. “We’ll meet you back at the house.” Then he glanced at Logan.
Logan gave him a shark’s smile. “Don’t worry, I’ll make sure that she arrives home safe and sound.”
Other cars began to pull away. Logan spared a glance for the crowd. Juliana still hadn’t met his stare, and that fact was pissing him off. He wanted to take her into his arms, hold her, comfort her. But the woman might as well have been wearing a giant keep-away sign.
The trouble was...he’d always had a problem keeping away from her.
Ben and Susan slowly walked away. They stopped under a big oak, and Susan’s shoulders shook as she cried.
“I can’t do that.” Juliana’s voice was just a whisper. “Everyone is staring at me, waiting for me to cry, but I can’t.” Finally, she glanced at him with those dark, steal-a-man’s-soul eyes. “What’s wrong with me?”
“Not a damn thing.” And he didn’t care what the others wanted. The reporters—they were just eager for a clip of the grieving daughter so that they could flash her picture all over their TVs. As for all the senator’s so-called friends...Logan knew when tears were real and when they weren’t.
Better to not cry at all and still feel than to weep when you didn’t feel any emotion.
Her lower lip quivered and she caught it between her teeth. Helpless, Logan reached out and caught her hand. “Come with me,” he told her.
She stared up at him. Light raindrops began to fall on them. Did she remember the last time they’d stood in the rain?
I need to forget. But that magnolia scent teased his nose.
Sometimes you could never forget.
Logan shrugged out of his jacket and lifted it over Juliana’s head. “I want you to come with me.”
Juliana didn’t move. “You’re not supposed to be here.” Shaking her head, she said, “I saw you standing under that tree, watching me...but you’r
e not supposed to be here. You should have gone back to Washington or Virginia...or wherever it is that you belong.”
For now, he belonged with her.
The rain came down harder now.
“Miss James?” It was the limo driver. He was an older guy with graying red hair. The rain was already dampening his dark suit, but he didn’t seem to mind. He stared at Juliana, and there was concern—what looked like real concern—in his gaze. Not that fake mask most folks had been sporting for the funeral.
Not hardly.
“She won’t be taking the limo,” Logan said as he moved in closer to Juliana. “We need to talk,” he whispered to her.
She nodded. Drops of rain were on her eyelashes. Or were those tears?
She glanced back at the driver. “Thank you, Charles, but I’ll be getting a ride back to the house with Mr. Quinn.”
The driver hesitated. “Are you sure?” The look he shot toward Logan was full of suspicion.
After a moment’s hesitation, Juliana nodded. “Yes.” She cleared her throat. “Thanks for all you’ve done today... I just... You’ve always been so good to me.”
Charles offered her a sad smile. “And you’ve been good to me.” He gave her a little salute and shoved the back door closed. “Take care of her,” he said to Logan.
I intend to do just that.
Logan caught Juliana’s hand and steered her away from the grave. “I’m not leaving town yet,” he told her. “In fact, I’m going to be staying in Jackson for a while.”
Her eyes widened. “Why?”
They were moving faster now. His truck waited just a few steps away. There was no sign of Gunner. “Because I want to be with you.”
Her lips parted in surprise. “But— What?”
An engine cranked. The limo. It would be pulling away soon, then they could—
The explosion threw Logan right off his feet. The heat of the fire lanced his skin and lifted him up into the air. He clutched Juliana, holding her as best he could. They flew through the air and slammed against the same magnolia tree he’d stood under moments before.
Son of a bitch.
“Juliana!” Fear nearly froze his heart.
But she was fine. She pushed against him, and he raised up to see a gash bleeding on her forehead. Her eyes were wide and horrified with understanding. “Oh, my God,” she whispered and her head turned toward the burning remains of the limo. “The driver...”
There wasn’t anything they could do for the poor guy now. Logan didn’t waste time speaking. He grabbed Juliana, lifted her into his arms and raced for his pickup.
Gunner was out there. He’d seen what happened—he’d be radioing for backup and making sure EMT personnel were called. There were injured people on the ground, folks who’d been burned and blasted. Law enforcement who’d been at the funeral were swarming as they tried to figure out what was happening.
Chaos. That was happening.
Logan kept running. Right then, Juliana was his only priority. The others would have to attend to the injured. He had to get her out of there.
“Logan, put me down! We’ve got to help them! Stop it, just stop!” Fury thundered in her words as she fought wildly against his hold.
That fury didn’t slow him a bit. With one arm, he yanked open the truck’s passenger-side door, and with the other, he pushed her inside.
She immediately tried to jump out.
“Don’t.” A lethal warning. Fury rode him, too. She’d come too close to death. He could have stood there and watched her die. “Who do you think that bomb was meant for? The driver...or you?”
Juliana paled even more and shook her head. “But...the people... They’re hurt...”
She’d always had that soft spot. A weakness that just might get her killed one day.
But not today. “Stay in the truck.” He slammed the door and raced around to the driver’s side. Two seconds later, he was in the truck, and they were roaring away from the scene.
The limo was supposed to have been swept for bombs. Every vehicle linked to her should have been swept. Someone had screwed up, and Juliana had almost paid for that mistake with her life.
The driver had.
“That was...an accident, right?”
The woman was trying to lie to herself. “I don’t think so.”
Sirens wailed behind them. Logan glanced in his rearview mirror and saw the dark clouds of smoke billowing up into the air. His gaze turned toward the road as he shoved the gas pedal down to the floorboard. The truck’s motor roared.
His hands tightened on the wheel. A deadly mistake.
“But...it’s safe now.” She just sounded lost. “It’s supposed to be safe.”
From the corner of his eye, he saw her hands clench in her lap. Her voice came, soft, confused. “You said...you said once I got back to the U.S., I’d be safe.”
“I was wrong.”
* * *
LOGAN TOOK HER to a cheap hotel on the outskirts of Jackson. She didn’t talk any more during the drive. She couldn’t. Every time she opened her mouth to speak, Juliana could taste ash on her tongue.
I’m sorry, Charles. He’d been with her father for over twenty years. To die like that...
She swallowed. More ash.
The truck braked. She followed Logan, feeling like a robot. Only, her steps were slow, wooden. He tossed a wad of cash at the desk clerk and ordered the kid to forget that he ever saw them. Then they pushed inside the last room, the one located at the edge of the parking lot.
A ceiling fan fluttered overhead when Logan flipped the light switch. Juliana’s gaze swept around the small room. A sagging bed. One bed. A scarred desk. A lumpy chair. The place had pay-by-the-hour written all over it.
“You’re bleeding.”
Juliana glanced over at the sound of Logan’s voice. She saw that his stare was focused on her forehead. Lifting her hand, she touched the drying blood. She’d forgotten about that. “It’s just a scratch.”
Her dress was torn, slitting up a bit at the knee. And said knee felt as if it had slammed into a tree—because it had.
“You’re too calm.”
What? Was she supposed to be screaming? Breaking down? She wasn’t exactly the breaking-down type. Right then, all she could think was...
What’s next?
And how would she handle it?
“Shock.” He took her hand and led her to the matchbox bathroom. “Let’s get you cleaned up.”
She wrenched away from him as anger began to finally boil past the numbness holding her in check. “I’m not a child, Logan.”
He blinked his sky-blue eyes at her. The brightest blue she’d ever seen. Those eyes could burn hot or flash ice-cold. Right then, they held no emotion at all. “I never said you were.”
“I can clean myself up.” She took slow, measured steps to the bathroom. Took slow, deep breaths—so she wouldn’t scream at him. “Stop acting like I’m about to fall apart.”
“Someone just tried to kill you. A little falling apart is expected.”
Near the chipped bathroom door, Juliana paused and looked back at him. “Why do the expected?”
He stared at her as if he’d never seen her before. Maybe he hadn’t. “Your father’s gone.” Now there was anger punching through his words. “Your car just exploded into a million pieces all over a graveyard. Want to tell me why you’re so cool?”
Because if she let the wall inside of herself down, even for a second, Juliana was very afraid that she might start crying and not stop. “Wanna tell me why you’re with me now?”
“Because you need someone to keep you alive!” Then he was charging across the room and catching her shoulders in a strong grip. “Or do you not even care about the little matter of living anymore?”
She stared up at him. Just stared. She was finding that being so close to Logan hurt. Over him? Not hardly. Once upon a time, she’d been ready to run away with the jerk.
She’d waited for him in a bus station—waited f
ive hours.
He’d never shown. Too late, she’d learned that he’d left her behind.
Could she really count on him to keep sticking around now? He’d saved her butt in Mexico. Hell, yes, she was grateful, but Logan wasn’t the kind to stay forever. Juliana wasn’t going to depend on him again. “Call the cops,” she told him, weary beyond belief all of a sudden. Her body just wanted to sag, and she wanted to sleep. An adrenaline burst fading? Or just the crash she’d been fighting for days? Either way, the result was the same. “They can keep me safe.”
Juliana opened the door and entered the closet that passed for a bathroom.
“Juliana—”
Then she closed the door in his face. She looked in the mirror. Saw the too-pale face, wide eyes and the blood that covered her forehead.
She took another breath. Ash. How long would it be until she forgot that taste?
Her eyes squeezed shut. She could still feel the lance of fire on her skin. If Logan hadn’t been there, she would’ve been in that car.
And it would’ve been pieces of her that littered that cemetery.
* * *
LOGAN TURNED AWAY when he heard the sound of the shower. He yanked out his phone and punched the number for his boss. “What the hell happened?” he demanded when the line was answered. “The site should have been safe, it should have—”
“You aren’t secure.” Flat. Bruce Mercer was never the type to waste words or emotion. “We need you to get the woman and get out of that hotel. Backup is en route.”
Not secure? For the moment, they were. “No one followed me. No one—”
“There’s a leak in the senator’s office,” Mercer said in his perfectly polished voice. A voice that, right then, gave no hint of his New Jersey roots. Those roots only came out when Mercer was stressed—and very little ever stressed him. “Money talks, and we all know that Guerrero has a ton of money.”
More than enough money to make certain one woman died.
“You need to bring her in,” the boss ordered. “We’re setting up a meet location. Tell her she’ll be safe with you. Get her to trust you.”
Yes, that had been the plan...until the cemetery caught fire. “We’re still going through with this?” He almost crushed the phone. The shower was still running. Juliana couldn’t hear him, but just in case, Logan took a few cautious steps across the room.
