by Meryl Sawyer
Do you know what is going on?
Raptor immediately replied:
No. Just remember, you're worth more to them dead than alive. If the Stanfields are asking questions, something's up.
"What in hell is going on?" Maybe his father had checked his records just to see what he'd been doing in the military. But his sixth sense kicked in and told him that he was in danger. He'd spent less than a day with the Stanfields, yet the undercurrent of hostility toward him had been unmistakable.
He didn't want their damn money and had said so. But maybe someone hadn't believed him.
* * *
The following afternoon, Kelly drove Logan out to the barbecue at the Stanfields'. They were twenty minutes late.
"Let them sweat," Logan told her. "They'll have egg on their faces if I don't show up."
His quirky attitude didn't surprise her. He was a complex man. After flirting with her last night, he'd been quiet and distant when he'd accompanied her to deliver the article and the pictures for the last FedEx shipment.
"Logan McCord and guest," he told the guard at the gate.
The man waved them on, then turned his attention to the next car. They gave her Toyota to the parking attendant and walked side-by-side into the estate. It was an ultra-modern structure that reminded Kelly of a museum. Vast sweeps of glass two stories high brought the magnificent landscape inside while soaring walls of white marble featured modern art.
Beyond the house, plush green meadows were enclosed by white picket fences. Prancing through the clover, manes flying behind them like banners, roamed a dozen prize-winning Arabian stallions.
The grass and horses trumpeted the Stanfields' fortune even more than their lavish home. Numerous wealthy people had built fabulous homes in Sedona, but no one kept this many show horses or had a golf-course-sized pasture for them. The expensive horses and the water it took to keep them in clover was impressive.
"This place looks more like Kentucky than Sedona," Logan remarked.
"The Stanfields brought in bulldozers and leveled several hills, ruining one red rock formation."
"I'm surprised the city let them get away with it."
"It couldn't happen today," she assured him. "Thanks to Pop. He used the editorial power of the Sedona Sun to rally the people. They started the ESLR—Environmentally Sensitive Lands Regulations to protect the natural attributes of Sedona."
"I'll bet my old man didn't appreciate the negative publicity. No politician wants a reputation for destroying the environment."
"Woody was not a happy camper, but that was just one of the many disagreements Pop's had with the Stanfields. The Sun is a small paper, but its articles often get picked up by UPI like that one did. Is it any wonder the family hates Pop?"
Logan was silent for a moment, then he said, "I've spent enough time in third-world countries to know the power of the press. It's the first thing dictators ax because they don't want their opposition to have a voice. For damn sure, the Stanfields would love to shut up your grandfather."
"Pop is saving one salvo for Woody in case he runs for president." She glanced up at Logan. His sunglasses reflected her own image. "Can you keep a secret?"
Logan nodded, guiding her through the mammoth great room out to the terrace where people were gathered.
"Most of your father's money doesn't come from gemstones," she informed him. "True, Arizona is the second largest producer of gems in this country, and the Stanfields own most of the mines, but they have several other businesses."
"Are they trafficking drugs?"
"No. They're not doing anything illegal. They're just snobs. Gems are far classier than cat box litter."
Logan stopped in his tracks and stared down at her.
"The family owns several large quarries. Most people thought Haywood had gotten taken on the deal. The stone was soft and crumbly. To give your father credit, he devised a process to crush the rock into small pebbles."
"And he was clever enough to know how to market it." Logan's voice had a faraway quality as if this information put his father in a new light.
"It's one of many Stanfield companies, but he never mentions his most successful venture. Pop plans to call him the Kitty Litter Candidate."
Logan chuckled, then said, "They broke the mold when they made Pop."
Benson Williams rushed up to them, and Logan took her hand, circling it with his, the pad of his thumb pressed against her palm. A tingle waltzed up her arm, reminding her of the way he'd touched her last night. What was he trying to prove? She attempted to pull her hand away without attracting attention, but he refused to release her.
"There you are." Benson's attention was focused on Logan. If he recognized Kelly, which was unlikely since they'd met only once, he didn't acknowledge her. "Keep on your hat and sunglasses until after the barbecue when the senator makes the announcement."
Logan nodded, but didn't say anything. He was wearing the same aviator sunglasses and Arizona Wildcats baseball cap that he had worn when he appeared in her office. It was a very effective disguise; no one would suspect he was Haywood's son.
"Introduce me to your friend," Benson said, turning his attention to Kelly.
She stuck out her hand, tempted to remind him that they'd met already. "I'm Kelly Taylor from the Sedona Sun."
If looks could have killed she would have been pushing up daisies. She was mentally banishing the man to the eternal fires of hell when she realized Logan's arm was around her.
"Meet my main squeeze," he said.
Benson's attempt to smile failed miserably. "Logan, I'll send for you when I need you."
He disappeared into the crowd, and Kelly couldn't help saying, "What a jerk."
Logan's expression was impossible to read because of the sunglasses, but his arm circling her shoulders felt tense. He wasn't a man accustomed to being ordered around. He had too much pride in himself, in all he'd achieved on his own to allow these people to humiliate him.
"If your father becomes president, Benson Williams will be the power in the White House."
"Can we trust the American voters to deliver us from evil? I doubt it." His grip on her shoulders tightened. "It's hot. Let's get something to drink."
He kept his arm around her while they walked toward the crowded area around the mountain lake pool where food stations had been installed. She saw an Asian chef stir-frying something in a wok while guests waited, plates in their hands. A pasta bar was serving a variety of pasta with interesting-looking sauces.
Across the grassy putting green off to the side, a chef in a Stetson was basting barbecue sauce on a steer being roasted Southwestern style over mesquite. Smoke billowed toward the flawless blue sky, bringing with it the scent of the wood and the spicy sauce.
No one paid any attention to them. It was clear that most of the people were movers and shakers from the East and knew each other. They formed tight circles, chatting among themselves.
Some of the guests might have recognized Kelly, but following Logan's instructions, she wore sunglasses and a scarlet cowboy hat. Her sassy red cowboy boots complemented the red leather concho belt at her waist and off-set the denim dress.
Logan leaned down and whispered in her ear, his breath rustling her hair. "Is this bullshit, or what?"
"Or what."
"You're a real clown. You hate these people as much as I do, don't you?"
Hate was a little strong, she decided, stepping out of the circle of his arm. She resented the Stanfields' money and their assumption that their wealth made them better than everyone else. But hate implied a venom and a lust for revenge that she didn't quite feel.
What she was positive she did feel was wariness—of Logan. She was dead certain he was trying to manipulate her on every level. What had he been trying to prove last night?
Disgust filled her as she recalled just standing there, letting him touch her. What on earth was wrong with her? Since Daniel's death the thought of a man touching her had been revolting. But la
st night, she hadn't been revolted until afterward when she had time to think about how she'd behaved.
She didn't answer his question, instead she asked, "Why lie to Benson and tell him that I am your main squeeze?"
"I wanted to see Benson squirm. Let him think I'm sleeping with the enemy and shooting my mouth off about family business."
"You despise him. Why? He's one smarmy character, I admit, but you hardly know him."
A waiter came by and offered to bring them a drink. Kelly requested a Cadillac margarita, preferring the mellow taste the Triple Sec and Grand Marnier gave the tequila. Logan ordered Herradura Anejo—straight. Like Pop, he could drink straight tequila. Kelly had to be careful or she'd be woozy after one slushy margarita.
"Williams is a bottom feeder," Logan told her as they waited for their drinks. "Lower even than a politician, he lives off the Stanfields. How would you like to return home, having just learned you'd been adopted, only to get another shock when you discovered you were a rich man's bastard? My father wanted to know what had happened to me. Had I suffered with the McCords? Could he do anything for me?"
Kelly looked around the crowd. It wasn't difficult to spot Logan's father, he was the only man as tall as Logan. Across the lawn Haywood Stanfield was holding court, talking to Peter Jennings and Tom Brokaw while Ginger stood beside him.
"Before I could say anything about myself, Benson Williams jumped in. He immediately panicked everyone. What would happen if the media learned about me? What about Ginger's feelings? That's when good old Ginger decided to faint and Benson had to carry her to her room."
"By now the twins were thinking you were a threat on another level, right? You could inherit part of the Stanfield fortune."
"Exactly. All they discussed was damage control and how to make this work for the family not against them. I told them to take their name and shove it. I was going back to the Cobras and use my own name."
"I'll bet Benson applauded your decision."
"Of course. I walked out, pissed big-time. No one had asked anything about me. You know more about me than any of them."
Thankfully, the waiter arrived with their drinks. Not knowing what to say, Kelly sipped the ice-cold margarita, the first swallow bringing the tang of the salt on the rim. Logan's tone was so casual that they might have been discussing a ball game, but the underlying bitterness was unmistakable.
It seemed to be out of character for him to reveal something so personal about himself, but she couldn't imagine what motive he might have. He was an extraordinary man, complex … and unpredictable. She couldn't shake the feeling that her "exclusive" was just the tip of the iceberg.
"Logan, I would really like to hear the rest of your story. On the record or off the record, it's your call."
He kicked back the double shot of straight tequila. "Would you? Let's go over there and have a chat."
His hand on the back of her waist, he guided her across the crowded lawn to the shade of an ancient sycamore whose gnarled branches spread outward, embracing the endless blue sky. A squirrel saw them approaching and scampered up the trunk near a blue jay who was scolding them for invading his privacy.
Logan turned his back to the people gathered for the party and pulled off his sunglasses. Then he reached toward her, his strong fingers brushing her cheek as he took off her sunglasses. For a moment they were brim to brim, the bill of his baseball cap nudging the curved rim of her cowboy hat.
"Kelly, if you want all the gory details of my life, all you have to do is trot over to my room tonight … and bring a box of condoms."
His deep blue eyes flashed in a way that was now becoming familiar. He smiled, a cunning grin that said he was deliberately baiting her and enjoying every second.
Last night he'd tipped his hand, revealing he knew about her relationship with Matthew Jensen. Logan must know how much she had loved Daniel, remaining loyal to his memory long after most women would have begun dating again.
"You know I wouldn't trade sex for a story. Can't you be serious?"
"Isn't that what reporters do? Aren't we in the era of checkbook journalism? Sex or money, what's the difference?"
She calmly took her sunglasses out of his hand and put them on again. "Reputable journalists don't pay for a story—in any type of currency. That's what sets us apart from tabloid journalists who feature stories about alien abductions and homeopathic cures for cancer."
"Too bad." His eyes widened with false shock as he put on his sunglasses. "I'm a lot of fun in bed."
In bed. The image that popped into Kelly's mind was definitely X-rated. She sipped her margarita and assured herself that she was never going to see Logan with all his clothes off. In her bed.
"Logan, Logan," called a seductive female voice.
Kelly looked up to see Alyx Stanfield coming their way. The beautiful blonde was over forty now, but looked Kelly's age. According to rumor, Alyx spent hours in the local spa where they soaked and steamed and purged and peeled her until her own mother wouldn't recognize her. That wasn't saying much. Ginger seemed zoned out most of the time.
Alyx had never married, which seemed odd. Supposedly she was active in the family business, but Kelly wondered. The times Kelly had seen Alyx and Tyler together, she'd noted the telepathic bond that seemed to link them. Like many twins, they silently communicated with each other.
"Hello, Alyx," Logan said in his gruff voice.
Alyx waved a half full champagne glass at him. "Introduce me to your friend."
Kelly cringed, resisting the urge to make a sarcastic remark. Benson Williams rarely came into Sedona, but Alyx flitted around town, spending money like a drunken sailor. How many times had she been introduced to Alyx Stanfield, yet the woman never remembered her?
Not recognizing Kelly was demeaning. You're nobody and no matter how many times I meet you, it isn't worth my time to remember your name.
"I'm sure you've met Kelly Taylor from the Sedona Sun." His tone dared the woman to contradict him, making Kelly want to kiss Logan. He was right; she despised these people.
"Kelly? Yes … of course." Alyx said, then she leveled her China blue eyes on Logan. "Woody is going to read the statement Benson drafted after the barbecue. Are you ready?"
"Yep," Logan said, his voice rougher than usual.
"Don't drink too much tequila, Logan. We don't want you soused for the news conference."
Soused? It was impossible for Kelly to imagine Logan inebriated. He was much too in control. Alyx had a lot of nerve to be so insulting. Evidently, she didn't know how dangerous Logan could be.
"I'm not saying anything, remember?" Logan told his half-sister. "I agreed to one family photograph. Then I'm outta here."
"Don't forget your promise," Alyx said in a smooth voice that implied she was accustomed to people following her orders. "Leave immediately after the photograph is taken."
As Alyx slinked away, hips swaying provocatively in her black sheath, Kelly whispered, "What a bitch."
Logan shrugged off Alyx's insulting attitude. "This is a toxic family. Dysfunctional does not describe it. I was damned lucky to be kidnapped."
No sooner had Alyx left than Tyler Stanfield emerged from the crowd. A natural politician, Kelly decided, noting Tyler's patronizing smile.
"Logan, I see you're finally here. I want you to know how happy we are to have you back with the family. Let me be the first to say—"
"Can it, Tyler." Logan cut him off. "You're scared pissless what I might do to your senate bid. Worse, dear ole dad might not become president just because some damn computer decided I was your little brother."
Tyler kept smiling, and Kelly decided it must be a genetic defect. In the face of any problem, the Stanfields smiled and smiled and smiled.
Benson Williams joined them, his brow furrowed with worry. He seemed much younger than his late fifties, Kelly observed. He was a good-looking man, tall with dark hair that was barely showing gray at the temples. It was difficult to understand why he had be
en content to live his life in Haywood Stanfield's shadow.
"I want you to get your food and sit close to the podium." Benson gestured toward the area where a microphone had been placed on a dark oak podium emblazoned with brass lettering: Senator Haywood Stanfield. "I want you to be ready for the family photograph after Haywood makes his statement. Don't say one word to any of the reporters."
Next to Kelly, Logan's whole body became rigid. The tension emanating from his body told her he didn't like being ordered around. She waited, holding her breath, expecting Logan to deck the pompous creep.
* * *
Chapter 9
« ^ »
It took every ounce of self-control to prevent Logan from punching Benson Williams. Everything about the man pissed-off Logan.
Just wait. Williams would get his.
The older man strutted away, and Logan glanced down, suddenly aware of Kelly's soft hand on his arm. A swift shadow of anger swept across her face, then disappeared as she smiled up at him. Logan wasn't fooled; she was disappointed he'd just stood there, taking that crap.
He hadn't learned patience until he'd been selected for the Cobras. Outsmarting terrorists required more than just skill and intelligence. You had to know when not to tip your hand.
From the moment he'd met the Stanfields, Logan had deliberately concealed the anger that continued to fester. Fury choked him now, and he was afraid anything he said would reveal more about himself than he wanted Kelly to know. He'd already told her more about himself than he'd intended.
In the field, mistakes like that got you killed—if you were lucky. The most serious blunder he'd made had nearly left him unable to talk. As it was, his voice sounded like a bad bruise.
Watch your back.
Concentrate on the warning, he told himself. Not on Kelly Taylor.
"You don't feel like eating, do you?" Kelly asked when he made no move to join the barbecue line—or follow Williams's order to move closer to the podium.
