by Dianna Love
She dropped her hands. “What? Play house somewhere? You were a merc of some kind then and you’re still one now. Besides, even if you could be around on occasion, I couldn’t.”
“Why not?”
“I don’t have a life to pilot. I live at the grace and mercy of others because of past mistakes. When this is done, I’ll be gone and you’ll never see me again, but I swear I won’t say a word about your team or you as long as you’ve told me the truth.”
He still couldn’t let her just go back to whatever life she had. Even if she did hold his confidence, she’d be at risk now that the Banker knew she was with him. The idea of not seeing Margaux again after this was going to be worse than losing her last time, but he’d ultimately do whatever was best for her.
Even if she ended up hating him for it.
Until that time came, there was no point in bringing it up and putting her on the defensive again when she was starting to soften. Curse his worthless hide, he wanted her soft and willing. He wanted her, period.
But touching her again was not happening. She was not leaving him this time feeling used.
Forcing his mind back on business, he reminded her, “I’ve told you what I want from the Banker. What do you want?”
“Blood. I want the person responsible for killing my cousin last year. She was with the FBI, working on an investigation tied to a terrorist.”
Just as he’d thought. She had a vendetta.
He could work with that as long as she didn’t get in his way on this mission. “I’ll help you if you help me.”
She chewed on her lip, in no hurry to agree, then finally stood away from the window. “Deal. I’m going to bed.”
This was a one-bedroom suite with a king size bed, because that was all he could get at the last minute with conferences overflowing. He took a look at the too-short and stiff sofa that belonged on the set of Gone With The Wind and sighed.
“You can share the bed, but not the booty,” she said on her way by, reminding him of her threat to break any finger that touched her.
Sleeping that close to Margaux and keeping his hands to himself would be as uncomfortable as the sofa.
Decisions, decisions and none that offered a decent night’s rest.
CHAPTER 36
Logan was only trying to save his brother.
Margaux rolled from her back to her uninjured side. Her arm was improving, but not enough to put her weight on it. The burns on that hand and arm were still tender, but were okay with small Bandaids now. She fluffed the pillow. This whole thing could backfire on Logan if the Banker found out he was being deceived.
Did the Banker know about Margaux Duke from Atlanta or not? Nick said there’d been no attacks on Slye Temp people. Maybe Snake Eyes hadn’t sent her into a trap for the Banker but for someone else. He was greedy—always desperate for money. Had he sold her out to someone working for the pissed-off DEA agent?
She’d know soon enough when she met the Banker.
If he did ID Margaux as the one who had been hunting him in Atlanta, Logan would end up added to the body count as well.
She flopped onto her back again.
Why hadn’t Logan taken her up on her offer and shared the bed? She shouldn’t have to be miserable alone.
If he was in here, she could give him shit over how much pain he’d put her through for the past six years.
You would have done the same thing in his shoes to keep someone safe.
Spare her from a chatty conscience or she’d never get to sleep. Was he sleeping? Margaux slid off the bed and pulled the thin strap up on her stretchy sleep top that stopped short of her panties.
Using the brush of light filtering in from the nearly full moon, she tiptoed across the bedroom and looked around the corner into the living room.
Logan hung half on and half off that dinky sofa. He wore a pair of sweat pants and had a blanket draped across his bare chest. None of that looked comfortable.
Your fault for telling him you’d break his fingers if he touched you, her conscience reminded her.
Shut up!
Margaux gave in to her guilt and walked over to nudge his leg.
Logan came up with his gun. Hair stood up on end, but his eyes were sharp and deadly. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing. Come sleep in the bed.”
He scratched his head with his free hand. “I’m good.”
She’d offered. That appeased her guilt.
Admit it, you want him to snuggle up with.
Could she get a conscience-ectomy?
He was keeping his distance, just as she’d asked. She believed what he’d told her about trying to save his brother and even about Paris. She’d welcomed him to her bed the first time and hadn’t cared what his life was at the time, because she’d never planned to see him after their affair.
But nine days had changed everything and now she had him back again. For a short time.
Why was she wasting even a minute of it?
Margaux stepped up and hugged her arms around him.
Logan stilled. “What are you doing, Sugar?”
“Telling you to come to bed with me.”
His arms came around her and he hugged her. “I can’t stand hurting you and you’re right about us not seeing each other after this is over. That might happen.”
She turned her head and kissed him. He kissed her back, a long sweet kiss that tasted like a precious memory. She whispered, “I don’t care about tomorrow. Just love me tonight.”
His body tensed. “You sure?”
“Absolutely.”
He hoisted her up and her legs went around him then he kissed her every step of the way to the bedroom. He dropped the gun on the nightstand and tossed her across the middle of the bed.
Then he followed her down, his mouth hot on her neck.
Hooking his hands under the edge of her panties, he slid them down slowly and moved as he did, kissing and tasting his way. His teeth nipped her breasts through the thin material and she felt it in her womb.
He stepped off the bed and tossed her panties aside then pulled her legs until they hung off the bed with him between them. The next thing she felt was his hands gently opening her legs and he kissed her there.
She made an “mm” sound.
He lifted her legs to put over his shoulders and his tongue slipped across her folds.
She arched and dug her heels into his back. He put his hand over her, pressing to keep her down. While he flicked his tongue across a mass of nerves that were screaming for release, his finger slid inside her. She shuddered, reaching for the pinnacle.
His hand slid up her body until he grasped her nipple between his finger and thumb, rolling it.
She lifted up, her body bowing.
He pinched her nipple and his tongue stroked her over the edge. She cried out, shaking as her world broke apart into a thousand pieces of crystal.
Then he lifted her to him and carried her as he moved to the middle of the bed, dropped her legs on each side and lowered her slowly onto him.
She pushed her knees beneath her and lifted up then drove down, squeezing as she did.
He growled and pumped hard up into her. She met him stroke for stroke and felt the coil tightening again. He was making that sound that said he was close.
His fingers touched her and the tension burst again. She called his name. He slammed into her, the strokes getting harder and harder until he made a guttural sound as he came.
They were soaked with sweat and the sweet smell of their sex took her back to the nights they’d first shared.
He rolled to the side, taking her with him and huffing breaths. “God, I missed you. Not just this, but you. Meeting you made me want to walk away from what I did so many times, but ... I can’t.”
He was a warrior.
He would be one until the day he decided he was no longer capable of standing with his men.
She was running her hand over his chest. “I get it. I really do. I’m ju
st glad to have you here now.”
His lips touched her forehead in a sweet kiss, but he didn’t offer her empty promises. She had loved him once and that love came bursting to the surface again. No matter how much she told herself this would probably end badly, she couldn’t help the way she felt. Couldn’t talk herself into keeping this light and casual any more than she could back in Paris.
She was stroking his hair and thought he’d drifted to sleep when he asked, “Tell me what happened here. Why you had to hide in Paris.”
“I’d made my first major mistake at eighteen and let someone I thought I loved convince me that I should walk away from my family and fight for a better world. I met him in school in a little town in nowhere, Arkansas down near the Louisiana border. But he turned out to be the son of a man who had built an anti-government anarchist group. They were going to make a better world by destroying this one.”
Logan’s fingers were sliding across her back, turning her content body into a lethargic rag. Feeling him close made it easier to tell what she’d kept hidden all these years. “They had a plan to blow up the capitol of Arkansas to make a statement. When I found out what he was going to do, I tried to leave. That was mistake number two.”
“What did he do?” Logan asked in a quiet voice, barely above a whisper.
“It wasn’t what he did, but what they did.”
~*~
Logan slowed his hand over Margaux’s back. Her head was tucked against his chest. Her hair fell everywhere. He picked up a strand to feel it between his fingers. “What did they do?”
“Lonnie, my so-called boyfriend, told his father I wanted to leave. His father said I not only couldn’t leave, but I had to earn my keep.”
Maybe it was so many years spent with the worst scum of the world, but Logan made a mental leap he hoped he was wrong about. “How?”
“We were in a nasty house. His father locked me naked in a closet for two days while they planned the bombing. I screamed at spiders and things I couldn’t see crawling on me until I was hoarse. When his men showed up to get their orders, he unlocked the door and said they should take what they wanted because there would be no time for fooling around later.”
Logan closed his eyes and had to be very still or he’d crush something. He wanted to kill every one of them. He would find this man and make sure that she never had to hide from him again. Logan forced his emotions back out of the way so he could hear it all. “Tell me you killed them and got out.”
“Oh, no. That was long before I had the ability to maim a man who tried to hurt me.” Her voice sounded small for his Superwoman.
They had hurt her viciously.
But they hadn’t broken her. “What happened to them?”
“The bombing went off, but not the way they thought. SWAT showed up so all of them didn’t make it out in time. The blast killed three of the pro-anarchists, including his son, Lonnie. All the other bombers at the attack site got caught but Lonnie’s father.”
“So the authorities found out in time to contain it?”
“Yes. His men had left me bleeding. Thought I was dead. When I regained consciousness, I crawled to a phone and called 911. I told them what was going to happen, but I wouldn’t tell them who I was or where I was. I passed out again. The next time I woke up, I heard boots outside the door and it burst open. This woman came in and got down to talk to me. I told her I had to leave or my boyfriend’s father would kill me.”
“Who was she?”
“You know how you can’t talk about your brotherhood? Don’t ask me about her, because I don’t want to lie to you and I owe it to her to protect her identity.”
Out of admiration for Margaux’s loyalty, he let it go. “What happened?” He wanted to hear how the bastard who had done that to her was caught.
“I must have passed out again, because I woke up in a safe house. I spent six weeks there. The woman became my friend and kept me hidden. I told her everything I knew about the man who led the anarchist group. He’d gotten away with six of his men, but he’d lost two sons. She talked about the WITSEC program, but the DA would have put me in protective custody because I’d been seen with Lonnie when he was buying supplies. That meant I’d be locked up until his father was caught and prosecuted.”
Logan could almost see the rest of it playing out. “You didn’t take that deal.”
“No. I asked her to help me with a new identity and to get me out of the country. I told her I just wanted to live in peace. That’s how I ended up in Paris.”
Then he’d screwed that up. The morning of the bombing, she’d lost her sanctuary because of him. “I’m sorry I messed up your plan.”
She waved a hand in the air and dropped it back. “I found my friend again and she said she’d train me to work with her people if I promised to stay on the right side of the law.”
“How did you end up at the Trophy Room?”
“Because the B—” She snapped shut. “I’m tired. Let’s talk later, okay?”
Logan had a feeling Margaux was holding back something significant about the Banker. But she’d given him more than he expected tonight. He’d keep getting it a piece at a time and when he was done with freeing Yuri, he was going to find that bastard who had her gang-raped.
He’d told her he didn’t kill innocent people.
Monsters like that deserved the worst Logan could do to them.
CHAPTER 37
“Does this flight come with service?” Margaux smarted off, not caring if she got backhanded. She’d asked for water right before the Banker’s men had covered her head with the black bag and she was still thirsty.
“What’s your problem?” a heavy voice said close to the side of her head. He sat behind her in the helicopter. A six-seater jet model used for corporate transporation that had a reasonably quiet interior.
“Same thing I wanted an hour ago. Water.”
A plastic bottle landed on her hands that were clasped in her lap. Not bound, though. Cuffs weren’t needed when you’d had three weapons pointed at you from the moment you were picked up outside a hotel. She unscrewed the top and lifted the bottle to her lips, taking a drink.
There was no telling where they were headed.
The limo had rolled up to the hotel where they’d been instructed to be ready at nine. A driver had hurried around to open the rear door. Tinted glass wrapped the limo, leaving the interior almost completely dark.
Party on the outside and lethal on the inside.
She and Logan had climbed in to face armed men who’d been out of view from the exterior.
Even if Logan’s men had followed the limo for the forty minute ride out of Denver, there was no way to keep up with a helicopter once she and Logan were searched in the hangar then walked out to where the helicopter was parked at the small airport.
It didn’t lift off until she and Logan wore the black bags.
She noticed the change in rotor noise and felt the helicopter begin a descent.
A hand covered hers.
She might have reacted if not for recognizing Logan’s touch. He gently squeezed her hand. Some things had changed last night, like Logan’s convincing her that he had cared after all.
But other things hadn’t changed.
Margaux still had to hand the Banker over to Sabrina, if she didn’t kill him first.
She couldn’t quiet that part of her that begged for him to resist when the time came to take him down. A fatal flaw in her personality, no doubt.
Of all the variables she couldn’t control in this operation, she could depend on one thing for sure. Once Logan got what he wanted to free his brother, he would help her capture the Banker.
The helicopter touched down. She climbed out with the help of men who handled her with sterile professionalism. Brutal cold clutched at her exposed hands and neck. The coat she’d picked yesterday and bulky sweater she wore were doing their jobs keeping her warm. Corduroy pants protected her legs, but the wind still cut through them. Her tee
th chattered.
No gloves or hat had been allowed. They’d taken her scarf.
Someone led her up a slight incline then said, “Take a step. Another step. Walk straight ahead.”
Her boot heels clicked on a hard surface.
The hand let go of her. “Stop there.”
She did. A door shut out the cold air. The bag came off and she raised her hands to brush loose strands off her face, pushing her hair over her shoulders. Her eyes adjusted to the sconces illuminating a foyer that had a stairwell going down instead of up. The room was oval. No windows. Felt like a fortress.
Logan stepped up next to her. “You good?”
“Yes.”
One man had called the shots from the minute they’d entered the limo. He was Logan’s height, but thicker with no neck and a long Slavik face with sharp cheekbones and a short nose. He said, “You will go downstairs for the meeting.”
Logan put his hand at her back and she moved forward, ready to meet the man who had ordered Nanci’s death. In her mind, she attacked one of his men and snatched away his FN P90, took out the three of them then charged downstairs to blow their boss’s head off.
In reality, she put one foot in front of the other and remembered the part she was to play. She was Logan’s woman, she was deadly, and she worked as a snitch. At the bottom landing, she stepped into a room that was a twenty-foot-wide half circle with a curtain running across the flat wall.
Two home-theater-style chairs with a console between them faced the curtain.
Her hand itched for a knife or a gun.
“Please have a seat,” a male voice annouced through a speaker system.
She exchanged a look with Logan. No turning back now.
He’d dressed for the weather in wool pants, a collared shirt and a black leather jacket. A civilized look for any man, but for Logan it was like putting a doggy sweater on a tiger. Be prepared to be ripped apart when you made the mistake of thinking he was pet material. He took the far seat and she sank into the one next to him.
If they were going to be executed, at least they’d be comfortable.
