Don't Breathe a Word: Includes a bonus novella (Texas Justice Book 2)

by Christie Craig

  “Good enough for you?” Rachel pulled her mouth up into a sexy half smirk.

  His mouth went dry. Now they both had a small bulge beneath their clothes, except his made it a hell of a lot more difficult to run.

  He cleared his throat, wincing at the razor-like pain, and channeled his go-to method for covering discomfort. “Let me know when you need help getting that back out. I’d be more than honored to lend you my services.”

  Rachel snorted. “Of course you would.”

  “I’d do that and a hell of a lot more for you, gorgeous.”

  Fuck-a-rump—that was the truth. He’d do anything to keep her safe and happy, or make her life even a little less shit-tastic. Keeping both an emotional and a physical distance from her should be the first step in making sure that happened, but he couldn’t do it. Even after their secret sniper had jogged a few unpleasant memories.

  Because when he peered into Rachel’s emerald-green eyes, he didn’t see the million pieces of his blown-apart soul.

  He saw hope—and healing.

  He saw them.

  * * *

  Logan’s broad shoulders tensed. His mouth, usually twisted into a permanent half smirk, tightened. He looked less like the carefree Alpha operative and more like a tiger prepped to pounce. A woman could get whiplash trying to figure out which Logan she was walking with.

  “Why are you looking at me like that, darlin’?” Logan, with one hand on the small of her back, didn’t even glance her way as he ushered her forward.

  “Just trying to figure out the inner workings of Logan Callahan,” she replied honestly.

  Logan guffawed. “Don’t waste the energy. A good many specialists have tried and failed. I’m a black hole.”

  Rachel didn’t like the adamancy in his statement—or his case-closed tone. Before she could dig deeper, Logan muttered a curse. He gripped her elbow and spun her around, gently pushing her back against the nearest building.

  “What was…”—Rachel’s protest died on her lips as Logan crowded into her personal space as though such a thing didn’t exist—“that?”

  Guiding her head to the side with a touch of his finger, he trailed his mouth along her jaw. From her chin to her ear, the faint caress caused an eruption of goose bumps and made her heart thump wildly—but this time, it wasn’t a need for space that created the breathing difficulties. What Penny called the quirky aftereffects of her abduction ceased to exist around Logan.

  Rachel tightened her fingers into his shirt and brought him closer. For close to a year and a half, she’d fought both her fears and her addiction to Freedom, and now that she considered herself strong enough to stand on her own, she had a new one.

  Logan.

  Logan Callahan, six and a half feet of brazen, sultry Texas man, was her current drug of choice. One addiction for another.

  Unable to wrap her head around its meaning, Rachel shifted to pull away.

  “Do not move.” Logan propped an arm alongside her head and banded the other tightly around her waist.

  Two men stepped out of a pawn shop ten yards away. Logan’s body immediately tensed, then tightened more as they approached.

  The slenderer of the two barely spared them a glance as he glared at his friend. “No way in hell am I going down with you when the boss finds out that you fucked up. You’re supposed to be some kind of hotshot and you fucking miss?”

  “I’ll remedy the situation.” Cold and unemotional, the bulkier man didn’t look the least bit frazzled.

  “Yeah, you damn well better remedy it, because the boss pays good money for your services. He’s not going to tolerate any fuck-ups.”

  As the two men rounded the corner and moved out of sight, Rachel released the breath she hadn’t known she’d been holding. “That was a little too close for my comfort…especially since I’m guessing those are the men from the chapel.”

  “Two and the same. You didn’t recognize either one of them? Maybe they’d made use of the brothel earlier tonight?”

  “No. That doesn’t mean they weren’t there, but I didn’t have any run-ins with either one of them. And trust me, I would’ve remembered—especially the bigger one. He gives me the willies.”

  “Then we still have to figure out how they know you.” Logan threaded his fingers through hers and led the way down the street. After carefully checking the intersection where their two new friends had gone, he hustled her onward at a fast clip.

  They passed no fewer than ten pawn shops and a dozen little chapels, each bragging about exclusive packages.

  Rachel pumped her legs, working hard to keep up with Logan’s fast pace. “I get that you want to be surrounded by a roof and four walls, but do you have a particular destination in mind?”

  “Ideally, I’d like to get back to the conference hotel where there’s practically an entire fucking army of cops and former military, but I want to get you the hell off the street, so I’ll take what I can get.”

  “You were really here for a conference?”

  He tossed her a small smirk. “Mil-Tech, where grown-ass boys come to talk about guns and shit. It was supposed to be a working vacation—my first in two years. And then your sweet self blew that out of the water with a single phone call.”

  Rachel mulled that over a second when the realization struck her. If they weren’t hustling at a pace to put a professional speed walker to shame, she would’ve skewered him with her best teacher’s glare. “You already had plans to head off to Vegas after we…Are you serious? You have an issue with me ducking out on you this morning when you were going to do the same thing to me? Talk about double freaking standard.”

  “Not even close to the same thing.”

  Rachel mentally berated herself for feeling guilty for leaving without so much as a note. “How do you figure?”

  “Because before I left, I planned on waking you with my mouth between your legs and once you came, sliding into your delicious body until we both blew our tops. Slinking out on tiptoe hadn’t even come across my mind.”

  Heat rushed to her cheeks. He sounded dead serious. “Must be nice not to have a self-conscious or unsure bone in your body.”

  Logan glanced her way.

  Crap. She hadn’t realized she’d said that aloud.

  Logan brushed his thumb along the back of her hand. “During our sit-down conversation, we’re tacking on a reply to that comment. Hope you’re not prone to developing bedsores, sweetheart, because this chat is getting longer by the minute.”

  Rachel clamped her mouth shut, growing more and more uncertain about how she was going to survive this mega, all-revealing conversation.

  Logan came to a sudden stop. Ten yards ahead, their two new friends stood outside a strip club, talking with the guy manning the door. The shorter of the two flashed what looked to be a picture—probably of her. The bouncer shook his head.

  “Fuckin’-A,” Logan murmured. “I owe Penny an apology. I’ve always thought that she was the Kline most likely to piss someone off enough that they’d put a hit out on her.”

  “Technically she’s an Ortega now.”

  “Semantics.” Logan took the next right, steering them closer to the Vegas strip.

  They stepped onto the Boulevard and were immediately swept up by a large wedding party. Rachel clung to Logan’s hand as they went with the flow of pedestrian traffic.

  “We’re not making it to the Bellagio. This way.” Logan’s arm wrapped around her waist and they stepped off to the side, nearly face-planting into a window to avoid getting trampled.

  This time, Rachel eyed the sign on the business door before they stepped through.

  FANTASTICAL SUITES: THE BEST FANTASY HOTEL IN VEGAS.

  Chapter Four

  Logan peeked out the Stranded Beach Suite window and onto the street below. Despite its nearing one o’clock in the morning, the Boulevard moved along at its normal fast clip, tourists and vacationers oblivious to the things happening around them.

  He wasn’t
one of them.

  Quiet and contemplative, Rachel aimed her silent scrutiny at him the second they’d reached their hotel room. He did the same thing when plotting his next move. Right now, he’d pay big bucks to know what was happening inside Rachel’s head.

  Satisfied they hadn’t been tailed to the hotel, Logan faced her. Six feet away and standing next to the banana-leaf-covered king bed, Rachel crossed her slender arms over her chest and studied him, her expression a blank slate—guarded—and he couldn’t blame her.

  He hadn’t been back from his first deployment more than a week before learning that wearing your emotions on your sleeve made people damn uncomfortable. Those who didn’t run straight for the hills often wanted to fix you. And so he’d perfected that same technique. The blank mask, or better yet, the fake one, was always the easier option.

  So far, his gran had been the only one to see the raunchy T-shirts and shit-eating grin for what they were—additional camouflage. But something about the way Rachel looked at him…Maybe she saw through it too, probably because she had her own.

  He’d seen it on more than one occasion, in the checklists, worn and overused, that she hid in her pockets, and in the quick, frequent smiles that didn’t quite reach her eyes. And between errands and exercising and tutoring children at the youth center, he’d be hard-pressed to recollect a time when she’d sat for longer than a ten-minute stretch.

  Having already made contact with Charlie, and with nothing to do but wait until they got news, Logan leaned his ass against the wall and struck a pose similar to Rachel’s.

  “Want to take a dip while we wait?” Logan taunted, gesturing to the already-filled hot tub.

  Tucked into the corner and encased in a faux rock facade, the Jacuzzi looked more like a pond than anything man-made. Lily pads floated on the bubbling surface. Electric bamboo torches had replaced modern lamps, casting a golden glow throughout their Stranded-themed room.

  “I’ll take your silence as a no. Good. Then since we’re relatively safe here in our own little oasis, we can fill in the blanks. Let’s start with Carly’s messages.”

  Rachel blinked, barely withholding her surprise. “That’s where you want me to start?”

  “Don’t you worry your pretty little head, darlin’, we’ll backtrack to all the rest, but I need to wrap my head around what exactly we’re dealing with on the Carly front. In case you didn’t pick up on it, you pissed someone off.”

  “Maybe I’m an intimidating person.”

  Logan slowly eyed her slender frame. “Depends on what kind of intimidation we’re talking about. And before you fly off the handle, yes, I know you’re not helpless. Training with Charlie and Penny has definitely given you some nice moves, but you’re not an operative.”

  “I’m not exactly a kindergarten teacher either. At least not anymore.”

  Rachel lost the stiffness in her spine, her shoulders dropping as if weighted with the mass of the globe. Logan pushed off the wall and gently guided her to the edge of the bed. “Sit before you keel the hell over.”

  Once she settled, he dragged the desk chair over and sat directly in front of her. “Now, let’s hear it. Start with Carly’s phone calls, and why she sent you to a freakin’ brothel.”

  Rachel glanced at her hands, folded in her lap. “Carly called me a few times since Tuesday, but I never seemed to be able to catch it. I kept meaning to call her back, but it was a crazy week with preparing for Penny’s birthday party. Days went by without me realizing.”

  “But she left messages?”

  “And she sounded like her normal self and just said she was checking in and to call her back when I got the chance. Last night, she called again, but I was…” Rachel glanced down to her restless hands.

  Logan slid his over her fingers, giving them a firm squeeze. “You didn’t answer that call either because you were with me.”

  She gave him a faint nod.

  He wanted to kick himself in the ass, or hell, between the legs.

  He’d stayed after the party had broken up, offering his cleaning services. And as they’d put her apartment back to rights, they’d bantered back and forth. The more he teased, the pinker her cheeks had become, and he loved knowing he was one of the few people who could get a rise out of her. Eventually she’d dared him to put his lips where his flirts were, and so he’d kissed the ever-lovin’ hell out of her.

  “Your phone rang,” Logan realized. “When we were…in the kitchen.”

  And they’d ignored it in favor of stripping off their clothes.

  He brushed his thumb over the back of her hand. “I’m so damn sorry, darlin’.”

  Tears brimmed in Rachel’s eyes. “It wasn’t something either of us could’ve realized. She’d sounded fine in all of her other messages, gushing about her new boyfriend. Her last voicemail was a complete one-eighty. It wasn’t the calm, steady Carly. She was scared out of her mind, and really thought that whatever she’d hidden at that brothel was her only way out.”

  “And you’re sure she wasn’t—”

  “High?” Rachel finished bluntly. “No. She’s been doing so well, probably even better than me.”

  “I know you don’t like to think about it, babe, but a lot can happen in a short period of time to—”

  “Derail an addict?” Rachel pulled her hand from his, shooting him a hard glare. “Trust me, Logan, I’m aware. But thanks to Freedom and Diego Fuentes, I also know how a person behaves when they’re flying as high as a Chinese kite. That wasn’t Carly. It was fear—pure and simple.”

  Logan hated the surge of pain in Rachel’s eyes as she realized what he was about to say. “I want to help Carly too, and I want to believe that wherever she is, she’s okay. But you also need to prepare yourself for the alternative. Healthy Carly wouldn’t be hanging out at sex dens filled with drugs, or put you at risk. And that’s what she did, darlin’. The second she asked you to collect this magical black bag, she put a target on your head—a big one. We may not know what’s in it, but her friends obviously do, and they’re willing to hire a professional to make sure you can’t do anything with it.”

  “I know.” The first tear slipped down Rachel’s cheek, quickly followed by a second. This time, Logan couldn’t simply hold a hand. He sat next to her and pulled her into his arms. She went willingly, her tears soaking his shirt in seconds. “I know all of this, Logan. I do. But I have to believe she’s okay because if she’s not…it’s totally on me. I’m the reason she fell.”

  “The hell you are.” Logan tugged her chin up, demanding her attention. “Does it suck that you didn’t intercept her phone call? Yes. But the blame isn’t on you.”

  “So you’re saying it’s Carly’s fault?” Rachel’s eyes narrowed.

  “No,” he said, treading carefully, knowing he’d stepped into an active minefield. Pre-Rachel, he’d would’ve crossed it without a care in the world, knowing that the end result justified the means. But now, holding her in his arms, her damaged heart might as well be his. “I’m saying it’s the fault of Fuentes and his entire damn drug emporium. It’s the fault of the drug pushers on every street corner, all over the globe. It’s the fault of assholes who make money off of people’s hard times. But it sure as fuck isn’t yours…or Carly’s. Neither of you asked for this to happen. It happened to you.”

  “I may not have been the one to put the drug in my veins, but I became an addict all the same. Addiction doesn’t discriminate between voluntary and forced.”

  “You’re right. It doesn’t. What matters is how you handle it, and you did so gracefully.”

  “So gracefully that the school system turned down my job application,” Rachel said dryly. “Although I can’t really blame them. I don’t know how I would feel about a drug addict teaching my child.”

  “So you keep at them. You show them everything you have to offer, and eventually they’ll realize that you have a hell of a lot to give those kids. But you don’t give up. That’s not you.”

  And it w
asn’t.

  Since the day he’d first laid eyes on her eighteen months ago, he’d recognized her for what she was—a fighter. Her recovery had been a hard one, difficult to watch, much less experience firsthand. He’d visited her in the hospital, witnessed her struggle to remain upbeat, and so he’d irritated her.

  He’d flirted unabashedly.

  He’d carried on inane conversations, bringing up topics he knew would get her blood boiling.

  And he’d done it to show her that she still had a hell of a lot of fight in her.

  “If it looks like I handled everything so well, it’s because I had Penny’s support, and Charlie’s, and yours…and everyone else’s at Alpha.” Rachel wiped the dampness off her cheeks. “Carly didn’t have that backup. I was her backup. I should’ve made myself more available. I was her friend, and I let her down.”

  Logan hated seeing her beat herself up. Palming her cheek, he ran his thumb over her jaw. “Sweetheart, you’re trying to heal too.”

  “I’m fine.” Rachel’s brightening green eyes belied her words.

  They both knew she hid more than she admitted aloud.

  He gentled his voice. “There’s no reason to put on an act for me. It’s just the two of us here.”

  “I’m not putting on an—”

  “You’re trying to con a con man, darlin’.”

  She pushed his hand away and got to her feet. “You know what? You’re right. I am putting up a front. I smile and laugh. Because if I don’t, people I care about worry while others look at me like I’m going to raid their medicine cabinets the second their backs are turned. But pretending is so…”

  “Exhausting.”

  Rachel’s gaze snapped to his. “Exactly.”

  Logan didn’t talk about his time in the Marine Corps. To anyone. And for all the reasons Rachel pointed out. Truth made people twitch. But he couldn’t watch her pretend anymore. He couldn’t let her think she was alone.

  “I get the need to pretend everything smells like sunshine and roses.” At her shocked expression, he added, “I laugh. I joke—sometimes in excess. I wear raunchy shirts that have my gran praying for my everlasting soul. Because if I don’t, what people see would scare the shit out of them. People get a little antsy around a grumpy guy who can shoot a fly off a horse’s ass at twenty-five hundred yards—go figure. Add in having the highest kill count for the shortest length of deployment and antsy turns to scared shitless.”