by Avery Duncan
“One, as far as I know. Luke told me to give you this.” Logan sat up gingerly, adjusting Claire so that she wasn’t pressed against his side. She whimpered in her sleep and reached for her man.
“I don’t know if you want her awake for this or not,” Nathan said, knowing that the best thing for both her and Logan would be for them to both be awake and aware. But then, she was an innocent. She wouldn’t understand what was happening.
“I’ll guard her,” he said quietly, dangerously. Logan caressed her cheek, silencing her, and then stood. Nathan turned away at the nakedness while the man got dressed.
“Are you sure you want to leave her like that?” he asked, alluding to her state of undress.
Logan growled at him. “I don’t want her awake for this —“
“Logan?”
Nathan turned with a grimace, looking at the wide, blinking, blue eyes.
“Too late,” he said.
—-
Claire sat up slowly, her mind fuzzy, numb. “What’s going on?” Logan sat next to her, pulling the covers up to hide her body from… “Who’s that? What’s he doing in here?”
She looked at Logan, confused, face heating and worry began to edge it’s way into her mind. “You remember Nathan, right?” he asked slowly, his voice hushed. She could tell he was trying to keep her calm but…
“What’s he doing in here?” she hissed, now jerking the covers over her shoulders, getting more away each second.
Nathan shifted on his feet uncomfortably, looking away from her general direction. “Nothing, angel. I just need you to stay really quiet and listen to me. Nathan, I got it from here.”
The giant man nodded his head shortly then headed out of the room, leaving them alone.
“Logan,” she whispered, feeling trepidation creep through her. “What did he want? Why so late at night?” She hitched the blankets higher, feeling bare and vulnerable.
He ran a hand through his hair. “I want you to listen to what I’m going to tell you, and you have to be quiet.”
Fear laced through her.
Her heart began to pound as he spoke. “In my closet, on the left side, there is a door. I have two rifles in there, and one handgun. There should be enough room for you to hide in there. Have you ever used a gun?”
Her eyes burned with tears, yet she nodded. She began to shake, clutching the covers even tighter. Logan was staring at her, fury and worry mixing with his now-onyx eyes. “You have to be quiet. You have to go into the closet and wait. Whatever you hear, whatever you think — it doesn’t matter. You stay the hell in there and don’t come out. If they find you, shoot them.”
“But… Oh, God Logan I’ve never had… I’ve never had to do this before… I don’t know if I…”
“Claire,” he said darkly, bringing his hands up to cup her cheeks with a gentleness that belied the emotions in his voice. “If you don’t protect yourself when I can’t, you can garuntee that your sweet little ass will be over my knee in a damn second.”
She laughed, somewhat hysterically. His cheeks smoothed something over her cheeks, and she realized it was her own tears. “Where… Where will you go?” Her heart thundered in her chest once again, and a nauseous feeling climbed up her throat.
His arms came around her tightly. She fell into him with relief, her fears hitting a peak. A sob escaped her throat. Never in her life had she been so terrified — not for herself, but for Logan. She never should have stayed. She never should have put him and his friends in this position. Leaving the second she’d laid eyes on him in town was what she should have done.
“Logan…”
“Get into the closet. Now. Grab a shirt and a pair of shorts and get in the closet. There’s a small booklight in there. Use it to find one of the rifles, turn off the safety, and get comfortable. Then turn off the light. The guns are already loaded. If anything happens, and someone finds you, scream as loud as you can. There’s a small shute, under the table that has the guns. I only want you to go down it as a last resort — it’ll take you outside, to the back of the house. I don’t know how many men are out there and I don’t want you to walk into a fire-zone.”
The only thing she could do was nod and cry against his chest. Why did this have to happen now? She pulled back from him, wiping her cheek with her hands.
Logan stared at her, drinking in the site of her.
He took her hand, and kissed her palm. “I’m going to want this kiss back when it’s all over. Got that, angel?”
She choked down a sob and nodded, tears blinding her.
“Good. Now go. I’ll be back soon.”
Claire ran to the closet. The last site she had of Logan was him, staring at her, with agony shining in his eyes.
Chapter 20
Logan watched her disappear into the closet.
Rage.
Fear.
Agony.
That’s all he felt. He didn’t feel relief at finally ending Claire’s fear of being taken. He didn’t feel exhilaration over getting rid of the fucker—or fuckers— who have been chasing her. Maybe, once this was all over, she would finally feel free of worries, of fear, of everything except him.
That was the only thing that made him leave the bedroom. Within seconds, he was skipping steps to get down the stairs quicker and going to the basement. His men had set up the basement exactly as it had been when they’d been based over seas, so it wasn’t hard to find the arsenal and gear up. He grabbed one of the comm. links and slipped the piece into his ear, activating the thing and beeping in.
“Sight?”
“Got.” Luke.
“Places?” he asked shortly, going up the stairs. He had no clue how many people were on his property — but he knew one thing. They wanted Claire.
And that wasn’t going to happen.
“Luke is up top. I’m standing in the room next to yours. Blake and Eric are down.”
Logan sent up a small prayer. At least Claire wasn’t completely unprotected — Nathan was in the room adjacent to his. Logan would be there, but he had to keep his head on. Taking care of the situation was ultimately taking care of Claire, and that’s exactly what he had to do. Worrying over her was only going to get someone hurt.
He forced his training to kick in.
No Claire. No anger. No nothing except the intent to kill whoever was threatening his home.
Logan was just climbing up the stairs when he heard a creek.
A heavy creek. Too much weight to be Claire.
Cool, icy calmness came over him. When he moved, he was nothing but a ghost. No sound or emotion. He was in complete control of his actions and every move was precise.
At the top of the stairs, he saw them.
Two men.
Dressed in suits. Crisp white shirt, spiral cord leading to their hips, and a standard pistol clutched in their hands. He heard one of the men say “clear” before two more came in from the entrance.
And there were most likely more outside.
Logan holstered his berretta and stood to his full height.
Then he did probably the most dumb thing one could have in that situation. He strode into the room as if he owned the place — and he did — and met each of the men’s eyes.
Shock. That’s all he could say for them. Feeling a little smirk reach his lips, he nodded at each of them and walked to the kitchen, going for a casual glass of water.
“So,” he started, knowing that every single gun was trained on his back. “What are you men here for?”
He forced his voice to be casual. His hands were steady as he poured himself a glass of water. Logan was slow in his movements, knowing that just the smallest jerk would cause one of them to shoot.
Why hadn’t they already? His lips curled with the new knowledge.
Suits. Low-grad comm. links. And, soon, they would be popping badges.
“Where is she,” one of the men demanded.
“Who?” he asked, turning around to leisurely lean against the edge o
f the counter, taking a drink of water. Two men worked their way around him. The kitchen window was cracked open and the curtains were pulled back from the panes, letting in soft light.
“You know,” another one said, his voice clipped.
“Do I?” Logan slowly set down the cup, smiling the same time the cup clinked against the smooth marble.
“Where. Is. She.”
“I don’t really have any clue about who you’re asking for. Try elaborating,” he asked them softly, his voice taking on an edge.
Government agents. In his home. Were they with Joey? His eyes narrowed on the man closest to him. His gun was drawn and trained on Logan. He ran a hand through his hair, at the same time murmuring, “Four-one.”
His men would understand the warning.
A soft, gentle breeze wafted into the room, accompanied by a shaft of moonlight — and that’s when it all came down.
Logan swiped his hand at the glass on the counter, using enough precise force to send the glass slamming into the agents head. He grunted, then fell. He ducked right as a shot came at his face, deftly drawing out his own gun and slamming the butt of it out, catching the other agent that was behind him in the calf. The man dropped, and it took only a second to swing his fist out and catch him at the back of his neck.
With the two men who had been behind him down, and the two in front of him still trigger-ready, he took a second to look behind him — and almost groaned at the site of the half-foot hole that was embedded in the back kitchen wall.
“You do know,” he said calmly as he stood up, taking out both guns and pointing it at each of the two men, “that if my mother were still alive, she would flay your asses to a burnt mess?”
The two remaining men showed no reaction, just held their Berettas at the ready, waiting for him to make the first move. He stood their easily, looking completely at ease except for the two guns that were pointing at their heads.
“Where is she,” the man on the right demanded once again, ignoring everything that Logan said.
Just then, without taking his eyes off of the agents, he noticed two shadows from the corner of his eye. They’d chosen an amazing time to step in, he thought, lowering his guns. Confusion flashed in their eyes before they dropped to the floor — out cold.
“How many were outside?” Logan holstered his guns and walked over to Eric and Blake.
Blake answered, grimacing. “I don’t know how it happened, but this place is full of them — I want to know what federal agents have to do with Claire, though. You’d think that since Senator Joey is after her, he wouldn’t want the government involved in it.”
“That’s exactly what I thought,” Logan growled, knowing that there would be a time and place to sort it all out. For, now, though…they had things to do. “Damn.” He ran a hand over his jaw. “What are my men doing?” They knew he was talking about the ranch hands.
“We warned them to stay where they were. Do you know that that one old guy has a collection of firearms?” Eric asked, going to one of the agents and checking for a pulse.
“Yeah.” He looked over the mess in the kitchen and main room. “Take them out to the ranchers and strip them down. Wait till they wake up and see if you can get anything out of them. I have to go check on —“
Just then, a terrified, blood-curdling scream echoed through the house.
Claire.
His heart dropped to his feet and all of the blood rushed to his head.
“I’ll take care of these guys. You and Eric get —“
Blake was cut off by the sound of a gunshot.
“Fuck,” Logan shouted, drawing his gun. He didn’t wait for back-up when he charged the stairs. Terror was shooting through his veins, sending hot, flashing warnings down his back.
Chapter 21
The second the shot rang through the room, and the body standing in front of her jerked, she flung herself down the chute that Logan had told her to take. There were three men just around the corner; she could see their shadows. Praying to god they didn’t notice the chute as her body hurtled through, she barely stilled the building scream as she was slammed into a hard corner.
Darkness surrounded her, and then she was stopped. Hard. Her head pounded like a bitch, and she barely caught herself from falling back into the metal of the chute. It was dark, and through the chute she could hear the sounds of steps and voices, echoing down to her.
God, how did she open this? She bent on her elbows, shoving her feet into the wall of metal. It groaned, but didn’t move. She took a deep breath.
Her side hurt.
She was terrified.
She didn’t know what she was going to do when she got out of there – if she did get free.
“Down there!”
Claire heard the exclamation and felt herself freeze. There was a sound of struggle from above, and then silence. Then a slow, steading thumping – like they were making their way down the chute.
Adrenaline shot through her. Not caring if she was heard anymore, she brought her legs back, and, using every bit of strength she possessed, kicked the metal. It sprang half way open with an ear-ringing creek. It wasn’t a very big gap – but it was enough for her to slip past. Maybe the men up there would have a little trouble getting through a small hole like that – or at the least, it would slow them down.
Her heart jumped in her throat as her foot landed on the cool, slick grass. Was there anyone out here? What was she going to do? She couldn’t take one the truck and leave Logan and the other’s to themselves. She still had the riffle. She’d just shot a man. She’d probably just killed said man.
What else did she have to lose? Either she made it through this or she didn’t. She swallowed roughly and swiped at something falling down her cheek—tears. Claire had tears raining down her face. God. Oh God. Her stomach heaved and she clutched it about to vomit –
“How much farther do you think this thing goes? Hurry up! She’s getting away!”
Claire forced herself to calm down. She had to get moving. Logan would never forgive himself if she got hurt. Still, as she put her other foot on the grass, she felt the bile in her throat, tasted it.
That was the only thing that had her sprinting from the chute – to where, she didn’t know. She had no idea how many men were actually on the ranch – bad guys or good guys. Hysteria bubbled in her throat.
She felt like she’d run for hours, when she’d only been running for seconds. Her throat was heaving and her palms were sweaty. It was dark out, with only the moon as a source of light, so when she tripped, Claire felt like someone out of a movie.
She struggled to get to her feet. When she tried to lift herself, her arms trembled to the point of shaking. Claire knew her legs would be exactly the same. Panic, worse than before, welled in her chest.
That was probably the only thing that gave her the strength to shriek when someone grabbed her by her shoulder. Adrenaline had long ago turned into blinding hysteria.
“Claire,” the person grabbing her shoulder hissed. It sounded vaguely familiar but that didn’t mean anything to her. How could it when she was about to die? Her chest heaved with a sob and she kicked out futilely.
She barely noticed when her foot actually caught something. More hands grabbed for her from out of nowhere. “Oh god. Just let me go,” she screamed, trying to twist her way out of the arms.
“Claire, calm down! Be quiet — it’s us. Frank and the others!”
She could hardly register the words. Firm, weathered hands grasped her cheeks, making her stare into kind, yet instant, green eyes. Familiar green eyes. Frank.
Frank?
“You have to get out of here,” she gasped, shoving at him. Not only had she put Logan into danger, but everyone on the ranch as well. Terror laced through her chest — until she noticed the rifle he held in his hands, along with the one that she had used to shoot the man with…the one she didn’t remember carrying with her at all.
“Stay quiet,” he ordered her, he
lping her to her feet. “We have to get you back to our barn.”
He helped her steady herself before nodding at someone behind her — then she was swung into thick arms and the group of men that had come with Frank, including the one holding her, rushed out of the open.
Claire didn’t know what to do. Helplessness coursed through her.
“Logan… Where’s Logan? Where are the other guys?”
The dimly lit barn, filled with beds, wooden closets, and table stands, held around twenty or so men. They all worked for Logan — that much was clear by the ruined jeans, dirty boots, and scuffed up long-sleeved shirts they all had on. They weren’t a part of the group that was trying to get her at least.
Frank answered her. “In the house, all of them. Now, are ya’ hurt anywhere? We heard a gunshot.” The men around them nodded and all crowded around her, trying to get a look for any injuries. She wrapped her arms around herself, shrinking away from them.
“I’m not hurt. My shoulder is a little sore but that’s it… Frank, we have to go help them. There are so many people in there…”
He gave her a grin. For some reason, she took it with unease quickly became suspicious. “What’s the smile for?”
“There were maybe twenty of ‘em to start off with. There are maybe forty of us. Ya’ really think a bunch of cowboys can’t take care of a bit of black jackets?” He straight out laughed, face crinkling up with a joy that belied the dangerous situation they were all in.
…All in because of her…
Fear lacerated her heart. “Four of them came after me; only three are left, though.”
Around them, the men sobered. Even Frank quieted. “It was ye’ that fired the shot?”
Claire stared up at them helplessly, unable to stop the tears that stung her eyes. “Logan said he’d be mad if I didn’t defend myself,” she said, tightening her arms around herself. God, she was terrible. It didn’t matter that those men had been after her — she’d shot one, possible killed one.
Her eyes closed and a tear slipped down her cheek.
