Kiss the Enemy (Slye Temp)

by Dianna Love

  Logan asked, “Got something bugging you, too?”

  “She’s trouble.”

  He was probably right, but that had no bearing on any decision Logan made. “So noted. But as long as she’s here, she’s to be protected at all costs.”

  Moose nodded. “Understood.”

  “When Nitro finishes packing the food and picking up, get an inventory of supplies from him. Then you and Angel take one of the ATVs and make a run to town.”

  “Nitro bitched last time. Said he didn’t like what we picked.”

  “Fine. Let him and Angel go. You and Party Man run a check on the outer perimeter.”

  “You got it, Cuz.”

  Logan grunted in response. Everything was back on keel with his men. He strode away as Moose called Party Man over and started directing the team. That would get them out of camp for a bit and give him a chance to deal with Margaux.

  There was no telling what she might say and loud enough for everyone to hear.

  He faced the door, reminding himself to keep his temper in line. He’d meshed together the Margaux from Paris with the one he’d met at the Trophy Room as Violet and the Amazon warrior who escaped the jungle with him. Out of all that, her true nature emerged when put under pressure.

  Back her in a corner and she’d fight to the bloody end.

  He didn’t want her in that corner, but neither could he sugarcoat this.

  His need to protect her surged against the need to do his duty. He couldn’t imagine any right answers to his questions, but he hoped she had some or he’d have to make the second hardest decision of his life and contact INTERPOL about taking her into protective custody. He had nowhere in this country that would be safe.

  CHAPTER 23

  The scratching sound of the door latch being moved announced Logan’s entrance. None of his men would dare enter without knocking on her hovel-slash-prison.

  What spirit had she pissed off to end up in another primitive camp?

  She looked over from where she sat cross-legged on the bed.

  He closed the door quietly and swung around, arms hanging loose at his sides, watching her. That was no casual pose. Logan only wanted his hands in the best position for moving quickly if she came at him.

  He underestimated her ability to plan if he thought she’d hit him straight on when he was expecting it. Now was not the time to expend energy she’d need soon enough.

  He turned silence into an adversarial atmosphere, his stare poking at her to say something.

  She had nothing to say to him.

  Her body had plenty to discuss, starting with who would end up on top. But her body had sent her down wayward paths in the past—Logan Highway being one—and she was done being guided by nothing more than a physical urge.

  She’d reduced him to that in her mind today.

  Now it was just a basic exercise of mind over lust. The fact that he made her skin feel too tight just by standing in the same room was nothing more than an animal response, and one that she would control.

  He wasn’t the man she’d known all those nights in Paris who made her happy and she’d thought could do no wrong.

  That was a memory, nothing more.

  This man was all wrong.

  Logan moved another step forward and leaned against a pair of three-foot-long metal boxes stacked up as high as his waist. Food and supply storage. No ammo or weapons. She’d checked.

  He propped a hand on the top of one crate. “How’re you feeling?”

  “Screwed over.” She hated that I’m-in-control monotone of his.

  “I didn’t drag you into this. You came in on your own.”

  “So that makes it okay for you to hold me prisoner? Even after what I did to get you out of that hut in the jungle?”

  He looked away, taking his time before he met her gaze with a hard one of his own and that flat voice again. “Tell me what you know about my meeting and—”

  “Oh, for crying out loud. The Banker is looking for mercs. You were there to meet him. So was I. There. Feel better about your interrogation skills now?”

  “What do you want with him?”

  “Same thing you do.”

  “I doubt that.”

  He hadn’t hesitated long, but it had been enough for her to read disappointment flicker in his eyes. Really? “So that’s what you were doing in Paris, too? Hiding in my apartment while you scoped out a target? Two actually, now that I remember. I read about the diplomat and his attaché being killed. I never thought you’d actually killed them until now.”

  She still refused to accept that he would kill in cold blood, but she was channeling Sabrina right now.

  “I didn’t kill them.”

  “Oh, so you weren’t in the business of committing terrorist attacks back then?”

  “No.”

  “But you are now.” She waited for him to say the words that would drive a stake through the part of her heart that still cried out for him. Keeping her libido in check was one thing, but stomping on the feelings that rushed to the surface when he was near would take hearing him admit he murdered innocent people for a living.

  Or for a pasttime. Maybe he didn’t need the money, just the sick adrenaline rush.

  “We’re not terrorists,” he finally answered.

  “But you hire out for them. You have no political agenda, therefore you’re saying you are only a tool?” She smiled, something she hoped that should border on deranged with the mood she was in. “Yep, you’re a tool alright. I heard about the bombing in Pakistan. Six died. Did the low head count pay less?”

  “I didn’t do that. I don’t hire out to terrorists.”

  She studied the sincerity in his eyes. “Why would someone else give you credit for their work?”

  “That’s a question I’ve been trying to answer myself.”

  She kept watching for any sign of lying. Nothing, but he was no prisoner being grilled and was clearly trained well. Take the facts and flip them over to see if they look different when they land. Could someone have been giving Logan and his team credit for attacks they hadn’t committed? Was that why Logan was after the Banker? To find out who was spreading erroneous intel?

  Or was Logan just that skilled—enough to sound convincing when he was lying, even to someone trained to watch for it?

  He turned the inquisition back on her. “What else do you know about the Banker?”

  Mr. Just-give-me-the-facts was back.

  She considered how to play this and what might gain her some usable intel she could give to Sabrina. “Word is he plays broker between terrorists and mercs. What do you know about him?”

  “Why did you want to meet him?”

  “He owes me.”

  “How much.”

  “Why? You willing to pay his debt?” She’d fed enough edge into that to make a cautious person think twice about answering.

  “Maybe.”

  No caution in that body. Anger turned her voice icy cold. “You can’t pay this debt with money.”

  “What did he do to you?”

  Not me. Nanci. “It’s personal. Something I plan to discuss with him alone.”

  “That’s not going to happen.” Logan rubbed his chin, thinking. “You aren’t going to meet him. I’m going to send you somewhere safe.”

  “No way! I admit that I blew your meeting with the Banker and mine, too. I won’t share your camp location, but if you don’t believe me, have your men blindfold me and take me to a drop off point.”

  “The Banker would find you.”

  If wishes came true. “Your point.”

  “I could keep you safe with me—”

  “Does that ego inflate on its own or does it pump up when you give yourself a hand job?”

  “—but since that isn’t an option, I’m making arrangements.”

  Like hell. “Are the accomodations there any better than these?”

  “Marginally.”

  She wanted to scream at him for making her wonder if
he used his abilities for the wrong side of the law and for twisting her insides into a pretzel. He’d denied being responsible for the terrorist attacks his team had been credited with, but that only mattered if she believed him.

  Did she?

  What deal are you making with the Banker, Logan?

  He wouldn’t answer and, if he did, that would be just another reason to keep her. She gave him one more chance to do the right thing. “Turn me loose or pay the consequences.”

  “Make this easy on yourself. Do as you’re told and you’ll be treated fine. Try anything and the men will taze you. Then I’ll have to handcuff you.”

  “I’m not trying anything. We’re done talking.” Just go so I don’t have to fight my emotions as well as you.

  He nodded, walked over to the bed and sat down then started removing his boots.

  “Don’t even think about sleeping here tonight,” she warned.

  “Uh huh.”

  “I mean it, Logan.”

  He dropped both boots off to the side and stretched out on the bed with his arm under his head, clothes still on. “Your being here is stretching our man hours too thin. I’m staying in here so no one has to guard you tonight. If you’re thinking about escaping, don’t. I don’t want to hurt you.”

  “You didn’t have any problem last time,” she muttered and slid down to sleep. She turned her back to him.

  “Margaux, it wasn’t—”

  “Shut. Up. Or I will hurt you and not feel a moment of remorse.” She needed one more night of sleep. It wouldn’t bring her all the way back up to full power, but she’d have enough strength to take her shot and run once she got away.

  Logan had severly underestimated her if he thought she was going to go quietly and do as she was told. She had the skills to escape.

  And she would.

  CHAPTER 24

  The General closed his office door in his Arlington home and locked it. His wife and sons knew never to walk in on him, but he didn’t take any chances when it came to getting caught corresponding with international terrorists.

  He only needed a few minutes to access the email that should be waiting in an account protected with heavy codes. He and the Banker exchanged one way emails that couldn’t be traced back.

  Taking the laptop from his floor vault, he placed it on his desk and booted up. While he waited, he pulled out a bottle of Highland Park Single Malt scotch wrapped in a swirly silver casing designed by a jeweler. Real silver. He had to hide it in the vault, just like he had to keep his offshore savings protected. Live as large as he could and his associates in the Pentagon might take a closer look at his dealings.

  The program opened and his email was waiting. He and the Banker had foregone encrypted messages once they’d both confirmed secure communications.

  The Banker sent back:

  I have located a source to perform the task you require.

  That was the right answer with the Duner family breathing down his neck. If the Banker pulled off his part, and there was no reason to doubt that he would, the head of the Duner family would continue to enjoy the results of heavy investments in traditional oil production facilities. Those locations might not be green enough for the eco-militants, but sacrifice was part of progress.

  He scanned the email further and stopped at one line.

  With regard to your concerns about damaging US/China relations, I do have something in the works for that.

  The General chuckled and took a sip of the smoothest single malt he’d ever touched to his lips. This was why he’d told his sons over and over again to never cut corners with money when it mattered. Pay the best to get the best.

  The Banker’s closing sentence was:

  I will of course dust away any refuse to prevent a trail that could be followed.

  That’s why no one had ever managed to locate someone who had dealt with the Banker. He hired quality mercenaries, paid them well, then hired a new team he sent to handle cleanup, making it all look like part of a contract so they never caught on.

  When this was done, the General would have the key part of Orion’s Legacy. He’d hold the most significant piece of the five artifacts.

  Wayan had once said that piece would show the way to the other five artifacts, no matter where they were. Once the General had that piece, he and Wayan could find Chatton’s artifact.

  With that in hand, Wayan would gladly chip in to send the Banker after Chatton.

  CHAPTER 25

  Logan had slept better sitting under a tree in a driving rain with the enemy hunting him. This shack had been used for storing supplies and as a temporary infirmary until he’d carried Margaux into the camp pale and unconscious. The team had come up with a self-contained toilet to turn this into a patient room fit for a female.

  Margaux moved around and grumbled something in her sleep. Again. She kept bumping her injured arm and occasionally grunted in pain.

  He could smell her.

  No flowery scent, just her warm skin. That wasn’t all. Wrapped with her scent was the sensual musk on the bed linens from last night when he’d brought her to orgasm.

  Damn. Wrong thing to think about with a hard dick and no relief in sight.

  She muttered something.

  He reached over to stroke her hair and soothe her, but pulled back.

  She thought he’d used her in Paris.

  He had needed her apartment, but sleeping with her hadn’t been a requirement. It was an expected gift. He’d planned on accessing her apartment while she was gone bartending so that he could study the main road the apartment was located on— two blocks away from the consulate. The area was so tightly built that he could work street level for only so long without becoming obvious. The street running in front of her apartment was the simplest route in and out from the rear entrance to the consulate and her apartment afforded Logan a birds-eye view of who traveled there and back.

  He’d told her he was traveling Europe for six months.

  The plan had been simple. Find a woman with an apartment situated in the right spot. Cozy up to her and steal her key long enough to make a copy, then slip it back into her possession before she left work. Somewhere in the following week to ten days, Logan would get a call with extraction plans for a Russian diplomat wanting to defect.

  Logan would deliver him to the French intelligence.

  He should have found a nearby dump to hunker down in, but he’d been on back-to-back missions for over two years and Margaux’s smile had triggered a thaw inside him.

  She’d made it clear that she was not looking for anything serious and would never be marriage material. Neither was he, but after two days with her, he missed her when she left and wanted her even more when she returned. He started believing he could talk her into an arrangement that she’d have gone for. Something that was a win-win for both of them.

  A life on the side he could maintain that no one would know about. That way she’d never be in danger.

  Looking back, it was lunacy, but he was younger then and she’d seduced him with that crazy laugh of hers and the way she made him feel. Alive and connected.

  He’d never felt anything like that again and had missed her every day since he’d watched her walk away from him, and away from danger.

  Now? He had too many unanswered questions.

  What did she want with the Banker? Logan latched on to her claim that the Banker owed her a debt, wanting to believe that she’d been wronged. But she could just as easily mean he welshed on a deal.

  But she’d refused money.

  Maybe she was only a snitch who got screwed on some deal involving the Banker?

  He kept denying that she could have been an operative in Paris, but finally admitted that was his ego talking. He just couldn’t believe she’d been playing him, but he’d sent her fingerprints to a contact here in the States that should shed some light on her answer. He hoped she was nothing more than an informant. He could accept that better than believing she had tipped off so
meone the morning he went for the diplomat and gotten two people killed.

  She rolled over on her good side, facing him and mumbling something incoherent. Then her arm landed on his bare chest.

  His shirt and pants were piled on a crate. He normally slept in the buff, but had left his boxers on just to remind him there would be no touching tonight.

  That rule pretty much exploded in his head when her fingers started grazing his chest. He held his breath, waiting for her to move away or touch more of him.

  His dick was voting hard for the latter.

  His skin was on fire and she was the only thing that would soothe that heat. She laughed softly then her fingers stroked his skin. He flinched.

  He should get up, get dressed and sit outside in the cold. That would cure the aching hardon tenting his boxers.

  But he’d have to give up this time with her. He’d told her he was here to let his men sleep, and let her think it was to prevent her trying to escape. A part of him definitely expected her to make an attempt to leave, but in truth, that was a small concern.

  Staying with her tonight was selfish and masochistic at the same time. He wanted to be close enough to watch her as she slept, but not touching her was killing him.

  Her hand moved down his chest.

  His stomach muscles tightened. Just a little lower. His dick was drawing all the blood from his brain. Had to be why he couldn’t make himself get up and leave.

  Her fingers curled, clutching at his skin.

  Sweat broke out on his forehead. Enough was enough. He’d move her arm, roll her onto her back and leave.

  She curled up closer to him and hugged her arm around his waist, killing that idea.

  His heart thumped so hard it should wake her. He could wait a little longer to leave.

  She muttered, “Idiot.”

  He smiled. She must be dreaming about him. He leaned over and kissed the top of her head, but she lifted her head at the same moment and stared at him with soft eyes.

  Don’t kiss her. There was no coming back from that.