by Anna Hackett
She nodded.
More in control of himself, Logan pushed to his feet, and his brain started processing what had happened. He pulled the zip ties he always carried out of his pocket and tied up their attackers. “Hell of a move with the lamp. And pulling him over your head. He must weigh twice as much as you.”
“Guess I got lucky. Thanks to the adrenaline.” She looked away and stepped back. “I’m glad I took those self-defense classes. They paid off.”
She’d pulled herself together and now looked as cool as a glacier. She was also lying to him.
Memories of another woman—one who’d lied to him, duped him, and almost killed him and his SEAL team—roared to life in his head.
A bitter taste in his mouth, he advanced on Sydney and backed her up against the wall. Her back hit an abstract painting and it crashed to the floor. Her wide blue eyes stared up at him.
“Logan—”
He pinned her with his hands either side of her head. “Who the hell are you?”
“What do you mean?”
“Who. Are. You?”
The color had leached from her face. “Sydney Granger—”
“Stop lying.” The words flew out of him like bullets.
“I’m really Sydney Granger, CEO of Granger Industries.”
He thrust his face close to hers. “Enough. I saw you fight. All smooth and easy. No damn society clotheshorse moves like that.”
“Self-defense—”
“Stop lying!” He couldn’t stand to watch her lying to him. He saw her breath hitch. “Yeah, you should be afraid.” He worked his jaw. “You’re a foreign agent. Or you’re undercover with Silk Road.”
Her gaze snapped up. “What? No!”
“Who are you?”
She swallowed. “I am who I said I am, Logan. I can’t discuss my…previous employment. It’s classified.”
He growled and yanked her away from the wall. Suddenly, her hands shot up, breaking his hold on her. She slammed an open palm into his nose. As pain exploded, he roared, and she tried to duck past him.
He grabbed her shirt and swung her. She flew sideways and hit the back of the couch. She kicked back with one leg, her boot hitting him low in the gut. He gritted his teeth and folded his body over hers, pinning her against the back of the couch.
She struggled against him, trying to get free, but he was too big and too strong.
Finally, she went still and heaved out a breath. “I was CIA.”
Chapter Four
Sydney felt the anger pulsing off Logan’s big body. “Can you get off me?”
“No.” His lips brushed her ear. “You were sent to spy on us—”
“No, Logan. I don’t work for the CIA anymore. I wasn’t undercover and didn’t often work internationally. I was under non-official cover. I planted surveillance devices on foreign businessmen and dignitaries suspected of criminal and terrorist activity. I was attending the right kind of parties and openings, and the Agency approached me several years ago. That’s it.”
“I had a pretty foreign agent sidle up to me once, all smiles and sexy innuendo. She said all the right things, swilled beer like a pro, played pool like a hustler, and sucked cock with abandon. I was an idiot and didn’t see her lies until it was too late.”
Oh, damn. Sydney squeezed her eyes closed. The hate and self-loathing in his voice scraped her raw. “I’m sorry. This was when you were a SEAL?”
She felt his chest heave against her. “Yeah. I was a sucker, but not again.”
He pulled back and yanked her up. A second later, he tossed her over his broad shoulder.
“Logan!” She slapped her palms against his back.
He ignored her and carried her out of the room. He took the stairs two at a time, and stormed into his room. He dropped her into a chair.
Before she could do or say anything, he pulled some more zip ties from his pockets, and tied her hands to the arms of the chair.
“What?” She stared at her bound arms in disbelief.
“I have to deal with hotel security and the mess downstairs.” His face had a hard edge. “Don’t move.”
He strode over to the phone and snatched it up. Soon he was talking in fairly good Spanish to what she guessed was hotel security. With his back turned, she tested the ties. They weren’t budging. She sagged back in the chair. Damn, stubborn man.
It wasn’t long before he set the phone down. He cast her one long look, then strode to his bag. Then he knelt beside her and opened a small first aid kit. He pulled out an antiseptic wipe and started dabbing at the cut on her cheek. She hissed out a breath, watching him steadily.
“It’s not bad,” he said, his voice like gravel. “Won’t scar.”
“I’m not really worried about that right now. Logan, I really was CIA and I really don’t work for them now.”
“Why’d you leave?”
She looked down at her bound wrists. “I left after my father died.”
“You’re still damn well lying to me.”
She jerked her chin up. “You don’t get to know every damn thing about my life. Now untie me.”
He just stared at her.
“God damn you, Logan. My father died in a bomb blast at a hotel. The terrorist responsible…I was supposed to have planted a listening device in his room.” The words felt ripped from her soul. “I hadn’t found a way in…and my father died.”
Logan stared for another second, then pulled out a large knife. Her pulse tripped, and then he very carefully cut her free.
She rubbed her wrists. Not looking at him.
“A terrorist killed your father, Sydney. Not you.”
Oh, she knew that, logically. But sometimes, when feelings were involved, logic went out the window.
“Hey.” He tipped her chin up. “It wasn’t your fault.”
Those simple words shouldn’t have had such an effect on her. She stared at his shirt, and that’s when she noticed that the side of his shirt was wet. His T-shirt was black, so she hadn’t noticed before.
“Oh, my God, you’re bleeding.” She grabbed the hem and yanked it up. She gasped. “You’ve been shot!”
He shrugged. “Just a bit.”
Panic skated through her. “You can’t be a bit shot, Logan. I’m not a badass former Navy SEAL, but even I know this.”
She tugged the shirt over his head and he grumbled as he let her. For a second, she was distracted by those muscles again. This close, she saw the scars marring his skin, including what looked like a previous bullet wound.
“It’s not bad,” he said.
He was right, it wasn’t bad. The bullet had only grazed his side. She probed the wound gently. “Does it hurt?”
Golden eyes bored into hers. She suddenly realized how close they were standing to each other.
“No.” He bit off a curse. “Don’t look at me like that.”
She felt the heat rising between them and swallowed. “Like what?”
“Like that.” He grabbed her wrist and pulled her hand away from his chest. “I don’t trust you.”
Her heart skipped. Damn, that hurt more than it should.
But he lowered his head, their lips an inch apart, his face etched with struggle. Being so close to his big body made her feel so small.
The door slammed open. Declan strode into the room. “What the hell happened?”
Sydney and Logan sprang apart. As she smoothed her hair, she felt Declan’s gaze on them. She knew what he saw—her disheveled state and Logan’s shirtless chest.
“Silk Road paid us a visit,” Logan said.
Declan swore. “You’re both okay?”
“Logan fought them off. He got grazed by a bullet.”
Logan looked at her. “Sydney held her own.”
She looked up at him, surprised. She thought she heard the faintest of praise in his tone.
“That was when I discovered she hadn’t told us the entire truth,” he added gruffly.
Now, all she heard was acid. She turn
ed to Logan. “I previously worked for the CIA. I didn’t lie, it was classified, and no longer relevant.”
Declan ran a hand through his hair. “Jesus. Okay.”
Just then, Morgan and Hale arrived.
“All right,” Declan said. “Let’s all sit down.”
“You running a strip show, O’Connor?” Morgan grinned at Logan. “If so, I’ll make some popcorn.”
Logan shot Morgan the finger and strode over to his bag. He grabbed some more things from the open first aid kit and started dabbing at his side. Once he was done, he slapped a bandage over the wound, and pulled on a clean shirt.
Sydney watched him, a part of her sorry to see him cover up. She let her gaze wander over his tattoos—that intriguing wolf, and those claw marks. When she turned her head, she spotted Morgan grinning at her.
Sydney sat on the end of the couch, moving her gaze to focus on something else. Like the beige wall.
“Darcy called. The FBI didn’t have anything for us. I didn’t find out much from the police report,” Declan began. “I confirmed that the description of the man being pursued definitely matched your brother. One thing I did learn was that the group of men chasing Drew were all wearing black masks.”
Sydney stiffened. “The men who attacked us were wearing black masks, too.”
“Silk Road,” Logan said darkly. “Drew’s clothes and toiletries are still in his room. But Sydney says his tablet and computer are gone. And his room had definitely been searched.”
Sydney looked up. “You didn’t tell me that.”
“It was a careful job. They wanted to make sure no one noticed.”
Declan tapped his fingers on the arm of the chair. “Doesn’t sound like he packed and left on his own.”
Sydney’s heart clenched.
“We found some notebooks.” Logan pulled them out and dropped them on the coffee table.
Sydney leaned forward and opened the first one. “It looks like some of his notes and his research about the Warriors of the Clouds.”
“Morgan, Hale, did you find anything?” Declan asked.
Morgan shook her head. “No one saw anything or they were too afraid to talk about it.”
Sydney turned another page in the notebook. She stroked her finger over Drew’s messy handwriting. No matter what kind of bribes their father had offered, Drew had never had neat writing. “He’s got lots of notes and sketches in here.” She studied some of the hand-drawn images. He’d always been a decent artist. He was just good at anything he tried. Her throat tightened. She couldn’t lose her amazing, loving brother. She turned the page.
And froze.
“What is it?” Logan moved closer, sitting himself on the arm of the couch.
She realized that to most people, it would just look like more notes and doodles. But some of the sentences looked like gibberish. The letters were all mixed around and made up nonsense words.
“I think…” She looked up. “I think Drew may have left me a message. I need some paper and a pen.”
A second later, Morgan dropped a hotel notepad and a pen in front of Sydney.
“When we were kids, we used to write each other messages in code. Drew invented it. I told you, he has a really high IQ. He loved puzzles and codes. This looks like one of those messages we used to write.” She pointed to the section of gibberish.
She turned the blank notepad around and set to work trying to decode the message. It had been years since she’d done it, and she couldn’t quite remember the process. She scratched out some words and tried again. That was better. She turned the page of Drew’s notebook and spotted more mixed up letters. She started deciphering that.
She felt the others watching her and she kept going until she finally sat back, her heart pounding. She stared at the words she’d written.
Sis, bad guys after me. Want Cloud Warrior treasure. I’ve gone to Chachapoyas. Love you.
When had Drew written this?
“He’s gone to the Cloud Warriors?” Logan frowned. “What does that mean, exactly?”
“Chachapoyas is also the largest town in the remote area where the Cloud Warriors lived. It’s named after them.”
“Damn.” Logan’s voice was a deep rumble.
She looked up. “What?”
She watched as he traded glances with Declan. It didn’t take much to see that these two could communicate perfectly without any words. She’d never had a friend like that, and it was fascinating to watch.
“I think Silk Road attacked you because they want you,” Logan said.
She frowned. “I don’t follow. They demanded ransom—”
“They don’t have your brother,” Declan said.
She blinked. “But he’s missing.”
“Silk Road doesn’t need money, Sydney. The ransom demand was just a way to lure you here.” Logan pressed a hand to her shoulder. “I think your brother is onto some valuable discovery. One Silk Road wants. But I suspect he’s given them the slip.”
She sucked in a breath. “But what do I have to do with it?”
“Silk Road wanted you here so you could find Drew for them.”
Sydney wrapped her arms around her middle. “We have to find him before they do. We have to go to Chachapoyas.”
***
Logan bent and stepped out of the plane. He stopped at the top of the stairs and took a look around. Mountains, covered in fog, ringed the area. Chachapoyas Airport was small, with a single runway, and a simple white building serving as the terminal. The air here was cooler, but still pleasant. He slipped on his sunglasses against the bright sun.
Behind him, Sydney exited the plane. She was all put together, with a white shirt and fitted tan trousers. She looked like she’d stepped out of the pages of a damn fashion magazine. She certainly didn’t look like a former CIA officer.
She slipped her own sunglasses on. “You’re staring.”
Ignoring her, he started down the steps. Near the terminal, two black SUVs waited. As always, Darcy was very efficient at organizing everything they needed.
Declan walked to the front SUV and opened the driver’s side door. “We’ll split up. Morgan, Hale, and I will take a look around the town, see if we can spot anything suspicious or any Silk Road members. Darcy managed to track down where your brother stayed when he was here. He rented a room at a small hotel in the town called Casa Andes. On the plane, I called the owner. He’s happy for you guys to take a look at the room.” Dec’s face was serious. “Do you think your brother left you another message?”
“I hope so,” Sydney answered.
“You and Logan go and meet this guy and take a look. See what you can find.” Dec cast a look at Logan. “Let’s try not to smash or shoot up this hotel room this time.”
“Wasn’t me. It was Silk Road.”
For an answer, Dec just slid inside his SUV.
Soon Logan was maneuvering his SUV through the light traffic of Chachapoyas. Sydney was looking out the window with interest. They passed the main square. It was lined with pretty white buildings with lots of arches, and topped with terracotta tiled roofs. A large, white church dominated the square.
“If circumstances were different, I’d really like it here,” Sydney murmured. “I’d enjoy spending some time looking at all the ruins around the area.”
Logan could think of better ways to spend his time off, but yeah, the town was pretty.
“I wouldn’t think it was exciting enough for you. No high-society parties, and no secret CIA missions to pull off.” He knew he was being a dick, but he couldn’t help it. The fact she’d lied to him—even by omission—niggled.
She turned in her seat. “I get that you’re still angry. But you need to drop it. My previous job wasn’t relevant.”
He grunted, and she turned away to look out the window again.
He pulled up near a three-story, cream-colored building accented with lots of dark wood. They got out of the car and walked toward the front door. The doors were also carved of d
ark wood, as were the window shutters lining all the windows.
They entered and from behind a desk, a cheery-looking local man bustled over.
“Bienvenido! Do you have a reservation?”
“I believe you spoke to my boss, Declan Ward. I’m Logan O’Connor, I’m with Treasure Hunter Security.”
The man’s smile widened. “Oh, yes. Your boss is a very nice man. He said that you wanted to see one of my rooms, just for a short while. Come, come.” He waved his hands at them. “My name is Julio. I will show you.”
He led them through another door, and it was then Logan realized that the building was a U-shape, with a central courtyard in the middle, covered in lush, green grass. Each floor was ringed by railings made of more dark wood.
Julio led them up some steps. He was eyeing both of them intently. “You are a lovely couple. You are sure you don’t need my room for a night, maybe two?”
Sydney made a choked sound. “Oh, no. We are not a couple. No.” She shook her head. “Absolutely not.”
“I think he got the message,” Logan grumbled.
Julio stopped outside one of the doors and pulled out a large ring of keys. “Really? Not a couple.” He smiled at Sydney. “The big man watches you like you are his.”
Logan’s brows winged up. What?
But then, the man opened the door and waved them inside. “Take your time, take your time. I have lovely, clean rooms. If you change your mind and want to stay, I will give you a good deal.” He headed back toward the stairs.
Logan turned his attention to the room. It was simple, nothing fancy. There were two beds with brightly colored covers—one double and one single. A dark wood desk with a spindly chair sat in one corner, and a solid-looking wardrobe was positioned against the back wall. As they looked around, Logan poked his head into the tiny bathroom.
Sydney checked the cupboard, the desk, and the bedside tables. She pulled open doors and drawers. Logan lifted the mattresses off the beds.
“There’s nothing here,” Sydney said bleakly.
“Look again. He must have left you something.”
But a thorough search of the entire room and bathroom revealed nothing but a clean, sparse hotel room. She dropped down on the bed, her hands resting between her knees. “What do we do now? Do I need to search the entire Andes to find him?”
