by Dianna Love
Her mouth fit with the lips of only one man.
His arms wrapped around her, lifting her up on her knees. The bed dipped with the weight of him sitting down and pulling her to him. Her fingers fisted in his hair. He was a fire threatening to rage out of control.
How could she want this man after all he’d done?
She didn’t. Her body did.
She’d keep telling herself that.
Margaux grabbed his shoulders and pushed even though she’d have better luck trying to budge a mountain. He slowed the kiss, nipping at her lips. Then broke away to drop his forehead to hers. “I’m sorry for Paris. I would never have put you in danger.”
Was that true?
She wanted to rail at him, but she hadn’t gotten her bite back yet. It would come out like a terrier instead of a Rottweiler. Besides, no matter what had happened between them in Paris, she had a job to do.
This man had still gone to the Trophy Room to hook up with the Banker.
Sabrina needed to know about that and who Logan was.
The eggs in Margaux’s stomach started an acid reflux party at the thought of handing him over to Sabrina.
“You’re trembling, dammit.” He lifted her up and laid her down on the bed.
Her stupid body was shaking. She hated weakness. But that was already on her hater list so she changed it to hating to feel defenseless.
Logan was pulling the sheet up over her. He leaned down with his hand propped next to her head again, but he didn’t look as tense as before.
What would he do with her? Lock her in this room? She’d get out. He had to know that. Had last night been about getting some leg before the truth came out?
Not fair, Margaux. He’d tried to make her wait until they talked today because he knew what this morning would bring. And she’d been the only one to benefit last night. She’d tried to convince him to donate his body to sate her lust.
How was last night any worse than using her as a cover back then? It hadn’t felt like just sex once he came back to the bed and now she knew why.
She’d thought they had something special in Paris. That she’d found a place she could live a simple life with a man who turned her insides into a butterfly convention every time he looked at her.
That had been the last time she’d allowed herself to dream.
Dreams were for the chosen few who got to walk in the light like normal people, not those who were destined to live in the dark where lost souls belonged. She’d learned the hard way that allowing herself to be vulnerable was dangerous.
Never again.
Logan brushed his hand over her hair, exhaling a long breath. His gaze took in her face, pausing to meet her eyes. He rubbed his knuckles over her cheek. “You may not want to hear it, but calling you that morning in Paris was the hardest thing I’d ever had to do. I was insane with worry that you wouldn’t escape. I know you think I never cared, but I saw you board the ship you left on. I had people in the States who assured me you were safe, then you disappeared. I ... ” He looked away, shutting down.
Her lips parted but nothing came out.
He’d seen her get on that freighter? Why hadn’t he come to her then? Why had his people watched over her when she got back to the US?
Why go to that trouble when he said he never wanted to see her or didn’t want her to contact him? “Why didn’t you have someone tell me you were alive?”
Logan stood up, pulling his hand back. “Get some rest.”
“No. You reappear in my life and tell me to just forget about it? What happened that day in Paris?”
“Let it go for now, Margaux.”
When he moved to step away, she reached out to catch his hand and gritted at the sudden movement of her injured arm. He stood there for a moment, finally turning to look at her. This time, the anger and frustration slid away from his gaze, leaving only longing, but for what?
He was the one who had played with her in Paris then cast her away. He could have sent word to her.
He turned and gently tucked her arm back against her side. “Keep resting and don’t try to leave. You won’t succeed and I don’t want to have to restrain you.”
Note to self to heed that warning. Her skin pebbled at the cold. “Are we still in the jungle?”
“No. It’ll warm up some during the day. Water is in a canteen on the bottom shelf. Latrine is—”
She piped up. “Found it.”
He kept on as if she hadn’t spoken. “—in the corner. I’ll bring more food in about an hour.”
“This is bullshit,” she muttered. She’d dragged him from that hut in the jungle and he locked her up? Why? “What do you plan to do with me, Logan?”
He stood with his back to her and his hand on the door. “I haven’t decided, but you can’t stay here and I can’t risk turning you loose.”
“Why?”
“I can’t answer that question.”
“But you were willing to tell me something when you thought you were going to die in that prison hut.” She sounded bitter. Who wouldn’t in her place?
He had the decency to look guilty, but not enough to release her. She could see it in his eyes. Whatever he was after was more important than the guilt she’d flung at him. Asking about the future was going nowhere so she let it be. “Where are we?”
“In a forest on a mountain.”
“What continent?” she asked dryly.
“We’re in the States. There’s no threat here now that we’re with my team.”
He tried to leave again and she stopped him with one more question. “How many in your team?”
“Enough.”
“For what?”
“To protect you.” He disappeared out the door.
To contain me.
He just thought he could contain her. She gave in to the weariness seeping through her bones and fell back asleep. When she woke, she’d be better rested for an escape.
If he didn’t move her before then.
CHAPTER 22
Logan could smell a hint of campfire the closer he came to the camp on return from his stint at patrolling the outer perimeter. It would be dark in another hour and he was ready to sleep after spending last night more awake than asleep.
Ty Brander headed toward him, taking the graveyard patrol shift. The team called him Slider because he had a 90+ fastball. A shame that he’d never played pro ball, but he never said a word about regretting his decision to sign on with Logan, who’d needed someone who could fly anything.
If he’d had Ty back in Paris, he’d have flown Margaux out of there.
A yawn took him by surprise. He shook it off.
How was he supposed to get any rest with Marguax so close at hand? He’d close his eyes and drift off to sleep, then she’d step into view with nothing but his shirt and a smile on her face. In his fantasy, she lifted the edge up slowly, dragging it across her breasts and those gorgeous nipples would pucker.
He wiped his mouth with his hand.
Then she’d laugh and he was lost.
She’d haunted him for years. There’d been other women since Paris, but none had imprinted on his brain the way Margaux had. How could they? Margaux wasn’t just a woman. She was a living, breathing treasure. A woman who’d asked no questions about his life or tomorrow, but had given him her all every minute they were together. She’d lived for the moment.
When he’d been with her, he had, too.
Spending that time with her in France had been a mistake. He’d started thinking about tomorrow and having someone like Margaux in his life.
Not just someone. Her.
He’d been young and ready to do something stupid, then he got a wake up call in the form of a bombing that killed two. Someone had found out the Russian diplomat was going to defect. Logan had gotten an emergency call to get the diplomat out. He reached the consulate just as the diplomat’s office exploded.
Logan called and was told to disappear.
There had been a leak.
He’d done the only thing he could to keep Margaux safe—ordered her to run, sent others to watch her back so she made it, and told her to never look back.
Forget he existed.
If only he’d taken his own advice.
Forget Margaux? Impossible.
Six years should have taken the edge off his desire, but it was as sharp now as the last morning he’d pulled her under him.
For a while in the jungle, he’d considered that Margaux might have known where he was going that morning. He’d reported his location when he’d checked in while surveilling the consulate. Her prints would have been taken from her apartment and sent to INTERPOL as part of standard procedure.
If anything had hit on her back then, he’d have been informed.
He had to decide what he was going to do about discovering her involvment with the Banker.
As the head of the secret Hamr Brotherhood that went deep undercover for months at a time, Logan had responsibilities to a number of international clients, particularly with regard to his contract with INTERPOL. They required him to share any discovery connected to past and future terrorist events.
But Logan decided when he shared that intel.
He wasn’t ready to expose Margaux’s existence or point to her presence with him during the Paris bombing. The minute he did, INTERPOL would order him to hand her over.
She was going nowhere until he got answers.
That sounded like strategy in his head. In reality, he was putting off the inevitable.
Logan gave tweet whistles as he approached the outer boundaries of the camp. He stepped over one of the many trip wires set up for security just as he got a turkey call in answer. His team changed up the sounds daily.
When he strolled past a hammock that belonged to Sam “Party Man” Leclair, he found all the guys except Moose in a close circle around the fire, which surprised him. Not that they didn’t get along great, but they liked space when they weren’t on a job that usually required a lot of time in tight quarters.
Moose leaned against a tree with his M4 carbine at ease, but ready. He glowered at the other four men who had been leaning into a huddle then broke open with a loud round of laughter.
Now Logan could see what entertained them.
Sitting dead center was Marguax, smiling so wide her green eyes sparkled.
Seeing her smile forced a knot in his throat. He’d missed that smile more than everything else about her. She could give the sunshine competition for brightening a day when she was happy.
Her eyes flicked up at him, focused with recognition, then her face locked down so quickly into a blank composure that each of his men turned around. They glared at whatever had ruined her upbeat mood.
Him. He glared right back, letting them know he didn’t like her smiling at them.
Why the hell was she out of the shack?
All of them shifted back toward the fire except Nitro who had to push every fucking button he found in life. He asked Logan, “Problem, Cuz?”
“Not unless there’s no food left.” The last thing he could do was let any of them know this woman turned him inside out.
Nitro grinned like a son-of-a-bitch who had seen right through Logan’s answer. “There’s plenty. Like always. Grab a seat. Margaux was sharin’ a good joke.”
Margaux’s attention drifted down to a plate of food in her lap that she started picking at. She had on someone’s cammie pants and a brown T-shirt instead of Logan’s gray one. That just pissed him off all over again, which was stupid because he didn’t want her out here in only a T-shirt.
But he didn’t want her in any other man’s clothes either.
Logan ground his jaw to keep from saying something this group would never let him live down. His stomach growled, reminding him the best way to keep his foot out of his mouth was by shoving food in it right now.
Nitro cooked most of the time because he’d been a chef in another life and refused to eat what the rest of them cooked. He loaded Logan’s tray with hefty portions of tonight’s entrée of venison steak, potatoes wrapped in foil and tossed in the fire and fat corn on the cob.
“What’s your joke?” Logan asked as he lowered his tired bones into a camp chair.
“It’s not that funny.” Margaux popped up and handed Nitro her plate. “Thanks. Better than I’d have expected out in the woods.”
“You’re welcome, ma’am.”
She looked hard at him. “Margaux, Cuz. Not ma’am.”
“Yes ma—uh, Margaux.”
Cocking her head at Sam “Party Man” Leclair, she asked, “Ready?”
Party Man glanced at Logan who nodded.
Margaux rolled her eyes at Logan. “So now I need permission to be locked up?”
Logan caught the snap in her tone. She was itching to have words with him, but she was too pale to be out of bed as it was and in no condition to be going a verbal round with him. Telling her that would only piss her off and make things worse.
Logan ignored her, focused on cutting his meat. “Yes.”
She made a disgusted sound and stepped out of the circle with Party Man right behind her, armed, eyes alert, just as Logan had ordered everyone that morning.
Logan had told them not to harm her, but if there was any question that she would get away to taze her and don’t reinjure her arm unless they wanted to face him.
Nitro had been insulted at the idea that she could outmanuever any of them until Logan shared how after days of no water, no food and torture, Margaux had taken down two armed guards to escape and free him as well.
She had no idea how much respect that had earned her.
Just thinking about how she’d refused to leave him in that hut slugged Logan in the chest with another fist of guilt.
He owed her. That was bad enough if it had been a stranger, but it was Margaux. Having her within reach again turned chaos loose in his brain. He watched her walk away and it cut him to the bone, because he’d never forget her walking down the dock to that ship and out of his life permanently.
She nodded in Moose’s direction. “What’s his name?”
Party Man answered her in a low voice that belonged to the spawn of Wyatt Earp and Darth Vader. “He goes by Moose.”
“Why?”
Nitro called out, “Because he can’t spell sasquatch.”
Margaux’s laughter bubbled and every man paused to listen.
Logan really liked this bunch. He’d hate to have to hurt them. His stomach grumbled, drawing his attention back to his dinner. His guys were unusually quiet. Party Man remained near Margaux’s building, standing guard.
Logan finished his meal, handing Nitro the plate that his second in command stacked with the others for someone’s turn at KP. “How long was she outside?”
“This time?” Nitro asked.
“What do you mean, this time? I told you she could come out and stretch her legs once until she got tired.”
Onnjel “Angel” Castell shrugged. “The woman is stir-crazy. Who would not be in that place all day?”
Logan argued, “She’s only been awake twenty-four hours. She still needs rest.”
Nitro never knew when to let it go. “She looks better now than she did this morning. Think getting out to walk around was good for her.” Nitro kept picking up, not even trying to hide his taunting grin. “She looked better until you showed up. In fact, she cleaned up nice, was looking downright pretty then—”
“Can it, Nitro.”
“You don’t think she’s pretty?”
Logan snapped, “That’s not relevant.”
“Then you don’t mind that we’re drawing straws to see who gets to watch her tomorrow.”
Angel growled. “We have decided that tomorrow I will guard.”
Party Man called out, “I heard that word tomorrow. I’m on for the next twenty-four hours, so don’t start no sh and there won’t be no it.”
Logan snarled, “No one does a damn thing until I give the orders for t
omorrow. Understood?”
Moose, who rarely smiled, had a sarcastic grin. He was the only one not vying for a spot in the rotation.
Party Man did a two finger salute in answer and Angel ran his hands in his thick black hair and stretched back. “Si, señor.”
Logan’s team functioned better than a well-oiled machine. They thought of each other as family and called each other Cuz, short for cousin. They were tight. They didn’t salute him or say si, señor, which was the equivalent of “Yes, sir.”
He shoved an acidic glare at Nitro, sure that this was somehow his fault. Nitro wasn’t happy unless he was getting under someone’s skin. “Where’d she get the clothes?”
“I loaned her some of mine.” Nitro picked up what was left of the leftover food that they stored high in the trees to keep it away from bears, but he didn’t move. “She wanted a bath. I helped her out.”
Logan had sucked in a drink of water from the plastic tube of his backpack hydration bag and choked on it. He lowered it to ask softly, “How exactly did you help?”
“Took her a bucket of warm water, soap and change of clothes.” Nitro raised his head to face Logan, eyes bulging with mirth. “I unwrapped her bandage, then stepped outside. When she said she was dressed, I went back and bandaged her arm again. Sir.”
“Don’t be a dick,” Logan muttered.
“Excellent advice, but then she doesn’t think I’m a dick. Sir.”
I’m going to kill the best second in command I’ve ever had. “Sir me one more time and we eat what I cook tomorrow while you’re out on patrol.”
Party Man, Angel and Moose called out, “No!” at the same time.
Nitro lost his chipper look and mumbled, “Understood, Cuz.”
Logan wanted to see how well her cut was healing for himself, and if she was in such improved health, she could answer questions on what she was doing in the Trophy Room.
He finished his meal and handed off his plate before walking over to where Moose stood with his eyes tracking everything. The Swede was built like he had viking blood somewhere in his ancestry, and he had little patience for anything not related to a mission.
