by Meryl Sawyer
Woody gestured to one of the chairs with a view of Oak Creek. Logan turned the chair so he could see anyone who would come onto the patio from the house. He eased into the chair as if he was comfortable, but he wasn't.
The first rule Cobras learned to follow was watch your back. The second was never to stay out in the open where you were exposed on all sides. Sweat prickled across the back of his neck as he scanned the dense foliage along the banks of the creek.
What are you worrying about? This isn't some terrorist operation. No one is hiding in the brush, setting the sights of a high-powered rifle on you. He set his pack beside his chair, the compartment with the gun easily accessible.
"Apparently you think I was unfair to your mother." Was there a tinge of apology in his voice, or was he merely a politician playing the moment? "Amanda waited like a vulture until I finished my first term in the Senate, then announced I had a son. She threatened to take it to the press if I didn't adopt you and give her fifty thousand dollars."
"Where is she now?" Logan asked, a preemptive strike to make Woody think he didn't have a clue.
From the chair next to his, Woody's gaze sharpened. "I expected her to continue blackmailing me, but she was as good as her word. I never heard from her again. I assumed you knew where she is. You accused me of ruining her life."
Logan ran his palms over the smooth arms of the bent willow chair. He'd lashed out at his father, a rare loss of control, when he'd accused Woody of ruining his mother's life. It was true, of course, but the implications of his allegation could blow his cover.
And cause his mother more pain.
Not that he owed her one damn thing. If she wanted to spend her life at The Last Chance Camp, let her.
"How would you know her life was ruined if you haven't seen your mother?" Woody probed.
Logan shot him the do-you-have-a-death-wish look that would have made even the most hardened terrorist's knees shaky. Woody stared right back. Inwardly, Logan almost chuckled. Maybe his old man was stronger than he seemed.
"I was just making a wild guess." Logan faked a light tone. "A sixteen-year-old girl is never going to recover from the trauma of giving up a baby."
The color leached from Woody's face, leaving mottled splotches of pink behind. "Believe me, I never knew Amanda was so young. She told me she was eighteen. You know how some women are. She looked much older than she was."
"You were twice her age."
"How'd you find out? That's been a well-kept secret."
"You'd be surprised what a Cobra can learn," he hedged. "Amanda McCord was just seventeen when I was born. It doesn't take a calculator to figure out she was sixteen when she conceived."
Woody sank back in the chair, his gaze following a red-tailed hawk as it swooped low over the opposite bank of the creek. "She was one of the volunteers on my first campaign. Amanda was on her own, working The Bobcat Bite. I never suspected she was underage. I was so ambitious then. I would never have risked my career by having sex with a minor."
Logan tried to temper the caustic tone of his voice, but it was impossible. "You never told your family the truth until I showed up."
Woody stared at his expensive Italian loafers, seeming to search for words. "It's all out in the open now. They even know how young Amanda was. They know everything."
Not quite everything.
Awkwardly, he cleared his throat. "Logan, I'm sorry about what happened when you came home. I allowed myself to become caught up in the political ramifications of your reappearance. Politics has been my life for too long. I didn't take the opportunity to find out about you."
There was an oddly gentle quality to Woody's voice, but Logan shoved that impression aside. "There's not much to tell if you read the Exposé article. It covers my life."
"What happened when that couple kidnapped you? Did they treat you well?"
Nothing on earth could have made Logan tell this man the details of his youth. "Do I look as if they mistreated me?"
His father's eyes darkened as they held Logan's gaze. "It's impossible to tell just by looking. When I see you, I see myself, yet I don't know anything about you. The people who abducted you must have been desperate for a child. If they wanted you that much, they must have loved you."
It was a natural assumption, so Logan allowed Woody to believe it. "They made me a survivor. That's what counts."
"You're so much like me."
Woody's voice was embarrassingly sentimental now. Aw, hell. Was this supposed to be one of those heart-to-heart talks between a father and his son?
"I was a stone Oakie when I came to Arizona. I had nothing but a cardboard suitcase and dreams. I worked hard—manual labor—and saved every penny."
There was such pride in Woody's voice that Logan almost admired him for what he'd accomplished. Almost.
"Someone suckered me into buying a rock quarry that was supposed to be granite." Woody chuckled, mocking himself. "It turned out to be D-grade shale that crumbled so easily it was worthless."
Logan had already heard about how his father had invented a machine that turned the shale into dustless cat box litter and made a fortune, but he let Woody ramble on and on.
"You married a beautiful woman," Logan finally cut him off. "Why did you have to sleep with my mother?"
Woody almost flinched at the bitterness in Logan's voice. "My marriage to Ginger hasn't been perfect. She's emotionally fragile. She would have been better off with a sensitive man like Benson instead of a roughneck like me."
Woody thought a moment, a mocking bird's song lilted through the mid-morning air. "Amanda McCord was as smart as a whip. That's why I first noticed her. She was pretty but not beautiful like Ginger. Yet Amanda was far more attractive. She had warmth and sparkle."
Warmth and sparkle, huh? Those were two words he never associated with his mother. Never. Yet he supposed she must have been that way—once. Before Jake McCord and The Last Chance Camp.
If Amanda hadn't gotten pregnant, she would never have been forced to return home. She would have escaped her brother Jake's wild schemes. Crazy as it was, there were times when Logan blamed himself. For being born.
"Amanda was unique, the kind of woman a man is drawn to—in spite of his better judgment. Every time I see Kelly, I'm reminded of your mother. Of course, you don't have any better judgment issues. You're not married, and Kelly isn't underage."
Aw, hell. Just what he didn't want to hear. Was he trapped in an emotional Bermuda Triangle? He looked exactly like his old man, lived for his job the same way Woody had been devoted to politics. Now he was involved with a woman who attracted him—no denying it—the way his mother had attracted Woody.
In spite of Logan's better judgment.
"I'd hoped that Amanda took the money I gave her and enrolled in college. With an education and her looks, she could have done anything, been anything."
His old man would be shocked to learn what his mother did with the money. Part of it went to buy the backwoods acreage that became the Last Chance Camp. The rest was spent on weapons.
"I thought I might get a call from Amanda when you vanished. Your picture was everywhere, but I never heard from her."
Interesting. His disappearance must have made Woody sweat. The truth might have come out. It would have served him right.
"Why did you want to see me?" Logan asked.
"I was curious about your plans. Are you going to stay here?"
Logan couldn't admit this marriage was the only way for Kelly to adopt the child without risking Social Services finding out and refusing to certify them. "A lot will depend on Kelly. We haven't worked out the details."
"I hope you decide to stay. I'd like the chance to get to know you better."
The raw emotion in Woody's voice made Logan want to squirm in his chair, but he kept himself stock still as if he were hiding from the enemy and his life depended on it.
"Ginger and I would like you and Kelly to come to dinner tonight. That way we can get to know ea
ch other before you go off on your honeymoon."
Logan had enough experience with rats to spot one in a heartbeat. It wasn't the smell. Rats were actually quite clean, considering they had no qualms about what they ate or where they had to go to get it.
What gave them away was shiftiness. Rats moved in one direction—until they sensed trouble—then they changed course before you could blink. That was what was going on here. Last time he'd seen his old man, after the press conference, he'd been pissed big-time.
Now he was being friendly. Why?
* * *
Chapter 14
« ^ »
"That's Bell Rock," Kelly told Logan, pointing to an unusual dome-shaped rock the color of burnt cinnamon. "See the notch on top where you'd pick up a bell and ring it?"
"Yep. I like Court House Rock better. It's bigger, more impressive."
Kelly sped along the highway, driving them to the Stanfields' for dinner in Pop's late-model Cadillac. The sun was dropping quickly, firing the buttes and steep hills with the blazing hues of vermilion and gold that made Sedona's sunsets famous. But Kelly's mind wasn't on the spectacular light show. She kept wondering about Logan's unexpected change of mind about the Stanfields.
Logan had called her at the newspaper and asked her if she would accompany him to dinner at their estate. Considering his dislike of the entire family, Kelly found his request surprising. But then, Logan was as unpredictable as he was mysterious.
There was much, much more to his story than the tidbits he'd tossed her for the article in Exposé. She definitely planned on writing another story, but lately she'd been so consumed by worry about Rafi and devastated by Daniel's betrayal that she hadn't pursued what few leads she had.
Why not start now? They had a week to go until the wedding. God-only-knew how long the state would need to go through the red tape and certify them for adoption. Working on the story would take her mind off the past.
She glanced at Logan out of the corner of her eye, admitting to herself that she found him exciting. Her reaction disturbed her and caused her to question herself. Why had she let him kiss her neck? She'd stood there, enjoying the erotic feel of his lips and the rasp of his emerging beard on her skin.
Since learning about Daniel, the wall of pain imprisoning her heart had dulled to a gnawing ache that she was going to have to learn to live with for the rest of her life. Becoming emotionally involved with another man was unimaginable. What she was experiencing with Logan had to be a physical reaction.
She hadn't been with a man since Daniel died. It stood to reason that her body would remember … and crave. It was a perfectly normal response of a healthy woman to a handsome, virile man. She would have to control her reactions.
"Back of the Beyond Road
. Now that's a fitting name," Logan commented as she turned down the narrow lane leading to the estate. "Nothing much is out here."
"Most of the land is the Coconino National Forest. The area that can be developed has building restrictions to protect Mother Nature. You'd be amazed how many people are like the Stanfields and think nothing of bulldozing acres of unique red rock to make pastures for their horses."
Kelly braked to avoid hitting a cottontail. The rabbit scampered across the road and disappeared into a clump of mesquite. "When the Stanfields built out here, it was truly the back of the beyond. Who could have foreseen how popular Sedona would become?"
Logan didn't respond, so Kelly kept quiet. Undoubtedly, he was anticipating this encounter with his family. She eyed him, trying not to notice how handsome he looked in khaki slacks and a long-sleeved blue chambray shirt, which was open at the neck and the cuffs rolled up to his elbows.
The only clothes he seemed to own besides what he was wearing were Levis, two T-shirts, a navy polo shirt, and a well-worn leather belt. He must have socks and underwear as well as a sweater or jacket stashed in the backpack. Buying an expensive suit for their wedding next week must have been a sacrifice.
Not a financial sacrifice, she decided, recalling Logan telling her that he'd saved all the money he'd made. This had to be an adjustment in life-style. Along with the suit, he'd had to purchase a dress shirt, tie, belt and shoes. She couldn't imagine all of that in the backpack with whatever else he kept in there.
"Pull over," he ordered when the car came to a wide spot in the road.
She drove onto the soft shoulder, a little surprised when he motioned for her to shut off the engine. Following his line of vision, she spotted a bird, soaring just above the sage, primed for a kill.
"It's a golden eagle! Pop will be so excited! They used to be as common as deer or elk, but now we rarely see them."
The eagle arrowed into the brush, wings at its side. A second later, the bird shot heavenward, a ground squirrel dangling from its talons. She turned to Logan to see what he thought of the spectacular sight.
His eyes weren't on the eagle. Instead, he was studying her with a disturbing concentration that set off warning bells. This was a very remote area—truly the back of the beyond—a long way from Sedona and a mile or more from the Stanfields' home. There's nothing to be afraid of, she assured herself.
Still, she couldn't quell the apprehension tightening her throat. The aura of danger and mystery that Logan projected lured her in a way she'd never anticipated. It was what made him so much more intriguing than other men she'd known.
"Do you know how to hunt a terrorist?" he asked.
Some of her anxiety evaporated, leaving only confusion. Why would he ask such a question? She shook her head and resisted the urge to scoot away from him, realizing he would pick up on her nervousness—if he hadn't already.
"To hunt a terrorist and catch him, you must become one."
She recalled the first night they'd met and the deadly knife at her throat. "You're prepared to fight the way they fight even if you break the law."
He touched her arm, nothing more than a light brush of his fingertips, but a chill waltzed down her spine. He was a ruthless man, ready to do anything to get what he wanted. And she was going to marry him.
"Everyone breaks the law. If you cheat on your taxes or jaywalk, you're breaking the law. That's not what I'm talking about." His voice, even grittier than usual, sent another tremor through her. "The Stanfields live only for themselves. I'm a threat, and by marrying me, you're a threat. After your article, I'm dead certain there is nothing they would like more than a way to discredit us both."
"Then why did you accept Woody's invitation to dinner?"
"Six months and I'm outta here. If we play this right, Woody will help us adopt Rafi as soon as possible," he replied. "Pop gave me the idea."
Ironic. Pop told Logan to use Woody's influence to help them. Pop had spent a lifetime blasting Haywood Stanfield for using his influence as a senator to help his rich cronies.
"Kelly," he said and she mustered the courage to look into his eyes, aware that whatever she was feeling for this man was intensifying. The gathering darkness had changed his eyes to a slate gray color, making them as unreadable as stone. "Do you seriously expect the Stanfields to believe we've fallen in love when you treat me like a cockroach that's too big to squash?"
She'd never even considered what they thought. Now she realized Logan was more aware of the problems than she. The only hope the Stanfields had of resurrecting Woody's presidential bid was to somehow disgrace Logan, or to prove her story wasn't true. It was also possible that Woody wanted to make amends so Benson could put the "happy family" spin on this story.
"I guess I shouldn't wear my wedding ring any longer." She held up her left hand, and in the amber light of the setting sun, her gold wedding band looked as shiny as it had the day Daniel had slipped it on her finger. She pulled it off and tucked it into the side compartment of her purse.
Something shifted in the depths of Logan's eyes and Kelly wondered if he thought she was a little nutty for continuing to wear her ring even though her husband was dead. And he'd betrayed her.
&nb
sp; After Matthew had told her about Daniel's son, she'd wanted to throw the ring in Oak Creek. She'd even taken it off, stood on the terrace cantilevered over the creek, set to toss the ring. Something had stopped her. She couldn't throw away the symbol of her love even if she knew Daniel had died loving another woman.
Logan turned and levered his hips off the seat, shoving his hand into his trouser pocket. She gazed at a yucca bush and told herself to concentrate on the future—not the past. She should have taken off her ring long ago.
I've been living a lie.
Her marriage hadn't been perfect. Far from it. Her relationship with Daniel had been so deeply flawed that he had intended to leave her for the mother of his son.
What was wrong with her, Kelly asked herself. Why hadn't she detected a problem?
Logan touched her shoulder, his strong hands grazing her bare shoulders, and she realized seconds had passed. She looked into his eyes and detected a hint of some indefinable emotion that vanished as quickly as it had appeared.
His fingers circled her left hand, and she looked down as he slipped a ring on her finger. Even in the duskiness of the car's interior, shards of blue-white light shot off the diamond.
"When a man's serious about a woman, he gives her an engagement ring."
Kelly lowered her head, not wanting him to detect the sheen tears in her eyes. She and Daniel had been engaged—without a ring—for months. She'd secretly hoped he'd give her one, but he hadn't. Now, the stranger she'd asked to marry her had bought her an emerald-cut of breathtaking beauty.
"It's so big," she tried to joke. "It could put out someone's eye."
"An engagement ring should help convince the Stanfields we're in love." There seemed to be a husky caress in his rough voice, or perhaps she'd just imagined it.
Love? The word echoed through her car, heightening the wary feeling she'd had since Logan had agreed to her scheme, she had to pretend to be in love with this man, not just to fool the Stanfields. The social workers must be convinced they had a stable marriage and could provide a proper home for an adopted child.
