by Noelle Adams
“You know what that tells me?”
“What?” Allison rasped.
“You have no business being out there on your own. Whatever arrangement Logan offers, you should take it. No matter how much you hate doing it. I’m serious. Logan may be the only real safety you and your baby have.”
“Arrangement. God, that sounds so…demeaning. Might as well rip out my pride and smear it across the floor.”
Devon pointed out evenly, “It sounds to me like your ex-husband already did that.”
Allison allowed her deep inner pain to come to the surface. The muscles in her face contracted with agony. “When he was finished with me, I had nothing left, Devon. Nothing.”
“Things are better now, right? He’s out of your life.” Devon’s slim fingers rested on Allison’s shoulder, a gesture of alliance. “No one can drag you back to that dark place again.”
“Never,” Allison confirmed. “I’m not that person anymore.”
Suddenly her computer dinged like a bell, alerting her to a new email message. She glanced at her screen. It was from Logan. The subject line read: Be in my office in 30. The tone was abrupt. A oneline demand. “Lovely.”
“What is it?”
Allison’s shoulders drooped as the weight of uncertainty descended again. “Logan wants me in his office in half-an-hour. He doesn’t sound happy.”
“He was never the honors English type. Don’t read into an email.” Devon sounded so sure of that, so sure of everything. Then she suggested, “Take time to gather yourself. Go to your happy place. Put on your brave-girl hat, and tell him the truth.”
“How?” Allison’s voice cracked.
“Don’t worry about the ‘how.’ Just state the facts so you can move on.”
“To what?” Allison asked raggedly.
Devon shrugged. “No idea, but at least you won’t be stuck in emotional purgatory.”
“I guess.” She knew Devon was right. I need to get this over with.
Before she reached the door, Devon turned. “I expect a phone call afterward.”
“Why?”
“I want to know how it went. That’s called support, Allison. It’s what friends do.”
Friends. The word made tears shimmer in her eyes. Her throat tight, she could only mouth the words thank you.
Devon sent her an encouraging smile. “Talk to you later.”
The next thirty minutes passed with the momentum of a drunk slug. When clock on the wall read 3:30, she forced herself up from her desk and walked stiffly to Logan’s office. She reached his closed door, unusual for Logan.
Summoning courage, she knocked.
“What?” Logan’s tone sounded as curt as his email.
She forced calm into her voice. “It’s Allison.”
“Come in.”
As she entered, she kept her gaze fixed on the carpet.
“Shut the door behind you,” he instructed.
Once she closed the door, she swallowed and looked up.
Logan sat forward in his chair wearing a severe expression, hands folded tightly on his desk blotter. By contrast, Rick Dunn stood behind him, arms crossed and a smug grin curling his lips. Rick wore the demeanor of a loan shark who’d come to collect. The recognition crept over her that she’d waded into enemy waters.
“Have a seat.” Logan gestured one of the chairs opposite his desk.
“Make yourself comfy. You might be here awhile.” Rick shrugged. “Then again maybe not.”
She crossed the room and sat in one of the cold leather chairs. A shiver went through her.
They stared her down, their eyes like gun barrels aiming for the kill. She clenched her hands in her lap. She’d almost rather face a real firing squad then endure the biting accusation in Logan’s tone as he said, “I have a problem.”
I’ll trade you. She kept silent.
“I hired you because I believed you’d be an asset to me and Stone Security.”
She gave a tight nod.
“In light of new information, my belief has changed.”
Any hope of a reasonable conversation, even a glimmer of reconciliation, shriveled inside her. “I don’t understand.”
Logan’s jaw clenched. “Allison, I spent the first half of my career in Special Forces hunting down liars and enemies. I won’t have one working for me.”
Her cheeks burned as if he’d slapped her. “I’ve never lied to you.”
“We’re supposed to have a meeting in Washington D.C. on Friday with top military people, the Secretary of State, and ambassadors from three foreign countries.”
The demonstration she dreaded. “I’m aware.”
“That opportunity may be dead in the water.”
Surprise creased her forehead. She knew how much this meant to him, that it would be the golden ticket to future government contracts totaling billions. “Why?”
He flattened his hands on his desk with eerie calm. “When they find out I’ve been demonstrating this system with you, my company can kiss its reputation goodbye.”
Confounded by the accusation, she blinked. “What are you talking about?”
Logan took a sheet of paper in front of him and slid it across his desk. “Familiar?”
She caught the page and glanced at it, recognizing the photocopy of the government-issued document, the bright-eyed hopeful picture of herself, her name listed as Mrs. Trevor Hurtz. “That Visa is seven years old.”
“Your ties to Trevor Hurtz will spark questions, potentially an investigation. They’ll drill into every aspect of your life—and mine—to find out if you’re harboring a fugitive who’s blacklisted in France and under investigation for treason.”
“Why would anyone do that?”
Rick stepped forward. “You were in bed with a terrorist. An internationally convicted felon, former U.S. Black Ops who was on trial for smuggling arms to Somalia, Syria and Iran.”
“I know nothing about that.” She flicked the offensive page back to Logan. “I don’t understand the problem. When I married Trevor I became a citizen here. I’m also a naturalized citizen in France, where I was born.”
“You just applied for a new passport six weeks ago. Coincidence?” Rick was fishing for something, but he hesitated like he hadn’t baited her on his hook yet. She went rigid.
“Yes, under my maiden name, Allison Dupree.”
Rick plopped a stack of pages in front of her. “On every piece of paper here, Hurtz gives one personal contact—you.”
“We were married. Isn’t your wife your emergency contact?”
“Why are you still on his?”
“I’m not.”
Exhausted, it took all her effort to stand up to Rick. Logan sat there cold and silent. So much for Devon’s belief that Logan cared about people who were hitting the skids. She’d been tried and convicted by these men before she’d stepped in the room. The reminder that she couldn’t count on anyone except herself butchered her budding tendrils of trust.
“The fact is,” Rick said, stalking up to her, invading her space, “you’re a liability. You’ve put everyone in Stone Security at risk, and this company could be put under investigation. Because of you.”
The closer he leaned, the more her chair became a prison. She slid out from under him and pushed to her feet. Bitterness ran like acid in her veins. Standing up for herself, she insisted, “Whatever contact information Trevor has for me is nonexistent. I haven’t seen or spoken to him in two years. He has no idea where I am. I work hard to keep it that way.”
Logan rose slowly, drawing her glance. A light dawned in his light-brown eyes, as if her statement unlocked a puzzle he’d been trying to solve.
No surprise, Rick refused to take her word. “Not hard enough, because—”
“Rick.” Logan’s controlled voice sliced through the hostility. “Stop.”
The warning went unheeded. “Your divorce papers only have one signature. Yours.”
“In the state of Pennsylvania, that was all it t
ook.” The broken feeling inside her, when she’d walked into the courtroom that day, came back fresh. The criticisms Rick hurled ripped open old wounds. Her voice was a raw sound. “Why are you doing this?”
Suddenly, Logan was at her side. “There’s been a misunderstanding.”
Rick fumed. “Like hell.” He returned his attention to her as she braced for another verbal lashing. “Your past compromises everything we are, everything we’ve worked for. And you knew it the moment you walked through the door.”
“Back down.” Logan stepped in front of her, shielding her behind him. “Now.” His tone was low and lethal.
“You’re defending her? After the proof I’ve given you?”
Proof?
Icy suspicion poured down her spine. She glanced at the stack of papers on the desk. Trevor’s military record, other government-issued documents…
“I’ve heard your argument.” Logan sounded far away, drowned out by the ringing in her ears. “Now, I want her side.”
“Oh, my God.” Terror sheeted across her flesh. “What have you done?”
“Due diligence.” Rick scowled at Logan. When he turned his stare to her, his face released some of its harshness. “You okay?”
Her vision clouded white. She couldn’t speak, couldn’t move. Like a statue facing a tidal wave of destruction, and there was nothing she could do to stop it.
“Allison.” She vaguely heard Logan at the edges of her consciousness. He grasped her arm. “What’s wrong?”
She scraped out a whisper. “Everything.” Her hand went to her abdomen protectively. She turned wide eyes to Logan, then Rick. “You just killed me and my baby.”
She swayed.
Facing her, Logan cupped her shoulders. “What did you say?”
“Our baby—”
Suddenly, she passed out. He caught her, supporting her limp body. “Allison?”
Logan wasn’t sure what he’d heard. He wanted her to repeat it back to him, slowly. Every syllable. But he needed her awake to do that.
Ignoring the way Rick raked his hand through his hair impatiently, Logan scooped her into his arms and carried her to a plush wingback chair, one of two positioned against the far wall flanking a narrow mahogany console.
“This is a ploy,” Rick muttered.
“I don’t think so.” Logan touched the back of his hand to her forehead. It came away clammy. “Something triggered this reaction.” He believed he knew the source.
The missing pieces of her story that had bothered him—her bare-bones apartment, the packed boxes in her closet, her constant vigilance—came at him from a new angle. Just now she’d said she worked hard to keep her ex-husband from knowing where she was. That’s when it all made sense. She was terrified of the man. The sort of terror he’d seen in women’s eyes in Rwanda after warlords sent minions into the bush to rape, kill and torture at will. A shudder went through him.
His security instincts kicked in. “Rick, what resources did you use to trace the background on Allison?”
He expelled a breath. “What does it matter?”
“Tell me.” Logan’s reserve of patience ran dangerously low.
“You know, the usual. Public government docs, court records, international intel.”
“How did you pull the searches?”
“Internet. Online news clips.” Rick shrugged.
“Hell.” Logan’s blood churned. Allison had reason to fear Rick’s prying. Trevor Hurtz had a past in Black Ops that came with an armory of specialized tactics, known to only two-percent of the population. From what Logan had read when Rick handed him the file, Hurtz was a pro. The man’s skills ranged from communications espionage to sniper training. And he’d gone to the dark side. Hurtz knew how to trace inquiries on him. Straight back to the source. He was a wanted man, a trained killer. Logan grew sick with remorse.
“You’re a real bastard sometimes,” Logan muttered over his shoulder.
“Excuse me?” Rick coughed. “I’m the bastard?”
Allison’s eyelashes fluttered. Logan held up his hand. “Shush, she’s coming to.”
“Good. I have questions that need answers.”
Logan gritted his teeth. “You’ll shut up until I tell you different.”
“Did you just draw a line in the sand?”
Logan nodded. “Cross it, and you’ll wish you never knew me.”
Rick huffed with indignation. “What the hell’s gotten into you?”
Logan sank onto his haunches in front of Allison. He swept her hair back from her damp forehead. “You’re all right, Allison.” She blinked awake, eyes dazed. Then her face registered a resurgence of panic. “Easy, sweetheart.” He touched her gently, soothing away the fear. “Don’t try to sit up yet. Take it slow.”
Rick smacked his forehead. “Unbelievable.” He paced and muttered under his breath. “Try to do a guy a favor…the thanks I get…looking out for the company…then because of some chick…”
Logan leaped to his feet, whirled on Rick. “Get. Out. Before I throw you out.”
Rick stormed off.
Focusing on Allison again, Logan leaned in coaxing gently. “It’s just you and me now. You’re safe.” He tried to ease her through the transition from unconsciousness back to the world of hostility and fear that had overwhelmed her. “Everything’s okay.”
As she regained her grip on the present, she seized up. “It’s not okay, Logan.” The way she cupped her abdomen caused him to arch an eyebrow. “Everything is a mess.”
“What were you saying before?” he urged. “Something about a baby?” For some reason he had trouble breathing.
A wretched look stole over her features. “I didn’t want to tell you like this.”
“Tell me what.”
“Logan, I’m pregnant.” She choked back a sob. “And you’re the father.”
Five
Logan’s heart came to a standstill.
Pregnant?
Slowly, the news penetrated.
Allison was pregnant with his child.
Awe swelled in his chest. Archaic triumph awakened inside him.
Unexpected? Yes. Unwanted? God, no.
Suddenly, his world centered on a hope he’d forgotten to wish for. Something that had crossed his mind but he’d dismissed, his focus on building his business. There hadn’t been time to pursue anything else. Honestly, he’d assumed since he hadn’t found the right woman or the right situation, a family wasn’t going to happen for him. He’d been okay with that.
But now…
That faded hope came into sharp focus. Everything he’d thought was important before drifted away like a handful of feathers. All that mattered was Allison and this baby.
“It’s okay.” He said it to her as much as to himself, as it all sank in. “We’ll figure it out.”
Recognition flared of what now threatened this awakening dream. A danger Rick had created like a one-man wrecking ball, when he should’ve stayed the hell out of it.
At the same time, Rick’s logical retaliation came at him hard—that Allison could be making up the pregnancy to blind Logan to a bigger, darker truth. He hesitated.
Then he looked at Allison.
Shoulders hunched, she stared at him with eyes full of dread. She appeared on the verge of weeping.
No, she wasn’t faking this. Logan dropped to his knees and cupped her face. “We’ll be okay, sweetheart.”
“How?” Her disbelief crushed him.
“We’ll work it out.” He kissed her forehead. His mind flashed to the past two hours, the suspicion and doubt he’d caved into so easily—shame on him—and the threat Rick had dredged up by pawing into her past. “I have to take care of something.”
He dug out his cell phone and made a call to the manager who headed the bodyguard division of Stone Security. “Send a detail up to my office. Yes, one of our security guards. Yes, my office. No one comes in or out except me.”
“Where are you going?” Allison asked, worry cling
ing to her words.
“To hand Rick his ass.”
“Don’t leave. Please.” Her green eyes were misty like a field after a thunderstorm. “It’s not Rick’s fault. He didn’t know. No one was ever supposed to know.” A tear leaked from the corner of her eye.
Reaching out, he brushed it away. “Sit tight. I’ll be back before you know it.”
Heading for the door, he flung it open. He marched into the hallway and collided with a dark-haired whirling dervish. “Geez, Logan. Watch where you’re going.” Devon dusted herself off. “I’m glad I ran into you. You’ve got to tell Rick to back off his Spanish Inquisition,” she demanded.”
“Exactly what I’m doing.”
“Logan, every piece of intel on Trevor Hurtz is laced with encryptions and alerts that lead back to an untraceable IP address. The man has his online information strapped with virtual tripwire.”
“That’s what I figured.” He returned on course.
Devon grasped his arm, tugging him until he stopped to shake her off. “What?”
“Listen to me. Your girl is scared to death and she should be. Trevor’s a pro. I’ve never seen anything like him.” Devon’s dark eyes widened. “Did you know the first year of their divorce she took out three restraining orders on Trevor Hurtz—and he broke every one?”
Logan’s jaw clenched. “Come with me.”
Devon’s heels clicked behind him. Reaching the end of the hall, he shoved into Rick’s office and pointed a finger at his chest. “You just hit a hornet’s nest with a sledge hammer.”
“I’ll say.” Devon set her hands on her hips. “I hope you’re happy, Dunn. Because whatever favor you thought you were doing for Logan has jeopardized this entire company.”
