by Becky McGraw
“Kiss me, sweet cheeks,” he growled, as he leaned in to brush his mouth over hers.
Susan’s heart squeezed again, then did a strange little leap in her chest. Logan was trying to distract her again, and she definitely wanted to kiss him for that. Really wanted to, and not for the usual reasons. She held his face in her palms and made a couple of light passes over his lips, before she slid her arms around his neck and shoved her hand into his hair to pull his mouth closer, go deeper with her tongue. She didn’t know how long they kissed, Susan just embraced his warmth, sucked from his fount of calm, and let him sooth her with his touch until he dragged his mouth from hers and smiled. “As much as I love making out with you, you need to get in your seat now. We’re about to land.”
Surprised, Susan scrambled off of his lap and sat in her seat to put her seatbelt back on. She reached over and grabbed his hand to lace her fingers through his. He smiled at her, and squeezed. “We’re almost there, Mrs. Lawrence,” he said then his eyes widened. “Oh, crap, I forgot!” he said letting her hand go to reach into his pocket.
Logan pulled out a blue velvet box, and Susan’s heart skidded to a stop, then did a rubberband bounce to her toes and back when he opened the box and she saw what was inside. A ring with a yellow square-cut diamond the size of a walnut, set in the middle of diamonds that were the size of normal solitaires. Her breath stuck in her throat as he pulled it from the box, and grabbed her hand. Susan felt like she was in an alternate universe, like someone was walking over her grave as her blood rushed to her head when he slid it over her knuckle onto her finger. Logan added a matching wedding band, and Susan couldn’t find her voice. All she could do was stare at it, and try to peel her tongue off the roof of her mouth. “There, till death do us part,” he said with a laugh, and a chill raced down her spine. Logan leaned across her seat and kissed her. “I now pronounce us husband and wife, Mrs. David Lawrence.”
The burn was back behind her eyes, but Susan sucked in a breath. Fuck, she was not a crier. It had been years since she cried. Since her parent’s funeral. But damn, she’d been on the verge of that a lot in the last few days.
Get a grip on yourself, Barracuda. This is a job—just pretend. Don’t make it more than it is, even if Dave Logan is doing his damndest to make you fall in love with him, do not let yourself fall into that trap.
You didn’t with Carlos, and he was lovable at times. Even when he walked out the door of her house for the last time, Susan cared about him, but she didn’t love him. Dave Logan was an abrasive, obnoxious, sexist pig, definitely not qualities she would ever tolerate in a man. But he was also understanding, noble, sweet, exciting…and so fucking sexy she wanted to throw him down on the floor of this helicopter and rip his clothes off.
You’re just asking for a heartache, Susan, she counseled herself. The aircraft rocked, and Susan whimpered as she grabbed onto the arm rests for dear life, with memories of the hard landing the plane she’d been on as a teenager flashed before her eyes. She didn’t realize a tear streaked down her face until she tasted the salt on her lips. Another followed, and she sucked in a shuddering breath to stop them.
“It’s okay, baby, we’re on the ground. You’re safe now,” Dave said, rubbing her shoulders. He pried her hand off of the arm rest and laced his fingers through hers. “Come on, let’s go find us a baby now that we’re married.”
Dave let her hand go to get out first, then put his hands on her waist to help her down to the ground. It was then she realized they’d landed on the roof of the clinic, and her legs gave out. She would’ve crumpled to the ground, if Dave’s arm around her back hadn’t held her up.
“Whoa, Bunny. Keep your legs under you, sweetheart,” he said with a laugh.
A metal door opened across the roof, and two men in dark suits with slicked back hair walked out. From the bulges under their jackets, Susan knew they were packing, and she felt a little better about having her own pistol in a thigh holster under her dress. She knew Dave was armed too. She’d seen the shoulder holster under his suit when he’d pulled her onto his lap. That made her feel better as well. What didn’t make her feel a bit better was the armed guards at every corner of the property in towers and the eight-foot razorwire-topped fence that surrounded the back of the property. She couldn’t see the front of the property from their vantage point, but she assumed it was equally fortified. They were inside this place, and would only be able to leave if they were allowed to leave. One had to wonder why a fertility clinic needed so much security.
“Mr. and Mrs. Lawrence?” the taller of the two men asked, in an accent that showed east coast Italian roots. The other man, a blonde guy who definitely didn’t fit in the Italian mobster mold, stayed a few steps back, and Susan knew that was so he could keep an eye on everyone including Hawk, who was doing a walk around of the aircraft.
“Yes, and our pilot will be taking off again momentarily. Our luggage is in the tail section,” Dave said haughtily, and Susan bit back a laugh. Both men frowned, and she could swear the one closest to them growled. Logan might not be one of the social elite, but he could damned well pull off acting like one. Susan could only aspire to his greatness.
“I’ll radio a bagman to come and take your bags to your room,” the dark-haired man closest to them said. Sticking out his chin, but not his hand, he said, “I’m Mario Beschi, the head of security here at Ardmore. Dr. Warman asked that we escort you to your suite. He thought you might want to freshen up before the reception this evening.”
“Well, that was thoughtful of him, but we may not be attending the reception tonight. My wife isn’t feeling well today,” Logan said with a glance at her.
Susan caught her eyebrows as they tried to raise and coughed to back up his claim. She didn’t know what his plan was, but there had to be a reason Logan wanted to skip the meet and greet with the doctor.
The man’s jaw worked, and it was obvious he was angry, but he didn’t let it filter into his voice as he said, “Fine. I’ll pass along your regrets to Dr. Warman. I’m sure he’ll be disappointed not to have you with the other guests tonight. If you’ll follow me, I’ll show you to your room.”
This man wasn’t just the head of security here, he was a gangster of some kind, Susan thought, as she walked beside Dave toward the door across the rooftop. That fit in with the fortification at the clinic, but surely not their supposed purpose here. This case was getting more and more curious by the moment, she thought, as she walked through the door being held open by the mobster. When her foot hit the first step of the staircase, the hair on the back of her neck raised and she stopped, but Logan stepped beside her and put his hand at her lower back to urge her forward. Something wasn’t right at this clinic, Susan could feel it in the air, and from the tension in Logan’s arm, she knew he felt it too.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
“Why did you decide we weren’t going to the rec—“ Susan asked Logan as soon as the door of their suite closed behind Mario Beschi, but he held up a finger to shush her.
He reached inside the breast pocket of his suit, and pulled out a small wand. Susan got it when he started skimming the device over the painting hanging by the fireplace, then methodically made his way all the way around the room. Logan thought the room might be bugged. When he stopped beside a large urn filled with palm fronds and frowned, then scanned it down to the base, Susan also figured out he was right. Reaching around the back of the brass urn, he felt along the bottom, then stood with a small silver disc between his fingers.
“Well, Bunny, I guess you’re going to get your baby soon,” he said with an eye roll.
“Yes I am. Thank you so much, pookie bear,” she replied in a sickeningly sweet southern drawl, which earned her another eye roll from Logan. She smiled, and held back the laughter bubbling in her throat. “I’m sorry you can’t get the, um equipment, to function so we can let nature do the job, but this is probably best anyway.”
Logan’s face flushed, and he raised a brow. “Yes, and since
you’re not exactly in your prime anymore, your eggs are probably dried up raisins now anyway.” Susan gasped, and he smiled as his eyes raked her. “Besides, I wouldn’t want you to screw up that beautiful body I paid so much for with stretch marks. This is definitely a better option all the way around.”
Past her prime? The bastard had just called her an old lady. Logan wasn’t exactly a spring chicken himself. Susan opened her mouth to blast him, but Logan turned and walked toward the bathroom, as someone, probably the bellman, knocked at the door. Susan opened the door, the toilet flushed and Logan walked back into the room.
“Put them in our bedroom,” he said shortly. “I need a valet to lay out my clothes.” With a look of superiority on his handsome face, Logan walked to sit on the plush sofa in the center of the room.
“We don’t offer valet service, sir. I’m sorry,” the younger-looking bellman replied as he pushed the cart toward the bedroom.
“Fine, I’ll need you to unpack for us then,” Logan said pompously, inspecting his fingernails.
The kid’s jaw worked, his face flushed, but he nodded. He opened the bedroom door and pushed the cart inside. “I don’t want him in my suitcase, Logan!” Susan hissed, as the bedroom door closed. She sat beside him on the sofa. “I put my extra ammo in there!”
“You’re packing?” he asked with surprise
“I’m always packing,” Susan replied, with a frustrated sigh. “I thought you’d realize that. Your hand was far enough up my skirt in the helicopter.”
“What kind of gun is it? A derringer?” he asked with a laugh.
“No, it’s a—” she looked toward the bedroom to make sure she wasn’t overheard. “It’s a subcompact my father gave me…a .38.”
Logan’s eyes narrowed. “A pea-shooter that will get you killed.”
“No, a perfectly fine weapon that will buy me enough time to get away, and it’s a lot more concealable than that cannon under your arm!”
“Saw that did you?” Logan asked.
“How could I miss it? How could anyone? You need a hold gun, Logan, not a bazooka,” Susan said as she got up from the sofa. “And I need to stop that guy from digging through my suitcase.”
Susan walked into the bedroom in the nick of time The young bellman had the zipper open halfway around her suitcase. “I’ll get that, honey,” she drawled. “Log—um David is so high maintenance, and I surely apologize for that. I’ll unpack for us.”
“I have it ma’am,” he replied pulling the zipper to the end of the track. Susan jogged over to him in her heels to put her hand over his. “Really, I have it.”
He looked up at her. “Are you sure?”
“Yes, she’s very sure,” Logan snarled as he walked through the door. “Finish unpacking mine and leave us.” His tone, as if he were a king speaking to a lowly servant, grated on Susan’s last nerve. Ugh, Susan definitely would not put up with that. She rounded on him. “Unpack your own damned suitcase, David! This young man has other things to do!”
“Woman, you need to watch that tongue,” Logan growled.
The bellman pulled his hand from under hers and edged his way toward the door. “I’ll leave you two now. If there’s something else you need, just dial 17 on the phone,” he said pivoting at the door and almost sprinting through the suite. Logan laughed when the door slammed behind the kid. “That should keep him and his co-workers out of here,” he said.
“You were rude on purpose?”
“Damn, straight. Word will get around and the staff will leave us alone, so we can do our jobs.” His attitude sounded like the one she’d adopted at the agency, and Susan could attest the tactic did indeed work.
“Why did you tell Mario we wouldn’t be at the reception tonight? You have something planned for us to do?”
“We’ve got some snooping to do, and that would be a good time to do it. Warman will be tied up entertaining, and most of his security team will be with him. I’d almost bet on it.”
“Why do he and this clinic need so much security? An eight foot fence with guard towers and audio monitoring of guests rooms is a bit of overkill, don’t you think?”
“Yeah, it is, and we need to find out why. We’re here and my curiosity is piqued,” Logan replied with a shrug. “I want to get information on the surrogate, but I also want to know what they do here other than breed designer babies. Slade told me they’re on the feds’ radar, so it must be something not quite above board.” He scanned the suite again with his eyes. “Seeing this place, I could definitely believe that.”
Susan was with Logan on that conclusion. “What I wonder is how a woman with a baby could possibly get past all of this security to escape.”
“She couldn’t without help. What I’d like to know is why she would need to escape. If those surrogates are here of their own free will, she should’ve been able to just walk out, without the baby of course.” He shrugged. “Who knows? Maybe she did, and we’re just overthinking things.” Logan paused a second as if thinking, then looked back at her and smiled. “Bunny, I think you need to go get yourself a massage to help with your headache. I could use one too.”
“A couples massage? That’s us getting to work?” Susan asked with a shake of her head.
“You got it, sweet cheeks. We have a few hours to burn, and that will give us an excuse to look around a little, get the lay of the land.”
An hour later, Susan felt like a noodle, as the excellent massage therapist dug her long, thin fingers into the muscles of her shoulders. The lavender oil she was using in the massage had relaxed her to the point of being comatose. For the forty minutes Helga had been working on her, Susan had forgotten everything. This job, her sister’s problems—hell, she’d almost forgotten her own name. It amazed her she’d never tried this before now. Helga hit a sore spot, and Susan gasped, then moaned, as she rubbed out the tension there.
“Those sounds you’re making over there are making me jealous, Bunny,” Logan mumbled with a laugh. He grunted, and she heard slapping as his male masseuse beat the shit out of him. Logan deserved to be treated to the meat tenderizer massage special. He had been a prick to the whole staff, including Vlad his masseuse. Susan was surprised anyone agreed to give him the service at all. He’d been that rude.
Of course, in his defense, Logan had to go on the offense to cover their asses when they got caught snooping. The mysterious wall separating the rear of the grounds from the guest area was just too curious. Especially since they heard young female voices on the other side through the decorative slots in the stucco wall. Those female voices were speaking in hushed tones, but Susan recognized they were speaking Russian, and some other language that sounded like Portuguese or Greek, maybe Italian. She caught a few words they said, but the voices were too faint to hear more than snatches of the conversations. They decided to try and see what was on the other side, but failed to take into consideration there might be security sweeps down the hall that was blocked by a metal door that said STAFF ONLY, which was protected by keycard entry. They discovered that quickly, when they were stopped and personally escorted to the spa area by the burly thuggish guard.
The door of the massage room opened, and Susan was jarred out of her Zen state. She glanced up to see the blonde security guard who had met them on the roof come inside. He walked up to Helga and whispered to her in Russian. Keep them here for thirty minutes more. We need do a security sweep of their room. Escort them back to their room when you finish.
Helga nodded, and the guard left. It was a damned good thing Susan had hidden her gun and ammo in the air vent in the bathroom, and convinced Logan to hide his there as well. She just had a feeling these people were already onto them somehow. The room search could just as easily be a result of them getting caught where they shouldn’t have been though. Or that Logan had flushed the bug in the room down the toilet. In her mind, she went over what they’d left visible in the room. Nothing. The only ID they had were the documents that fit with their cover story, which Dex had giv
en them before they left that morning. She tried to clear her mind, and relax again, but that wasn’t happening.
Susan rolled onto her side. “Thank you, Helga. My headache is gone,” she drawled sweetly. Susan wanted to get back to their room and see what had been done. Logan needed to do another bug sweep in the room for sure. “I’d like to go back to my room for a rest now.”
Susan heard a whack, as Vlad planted a fist in Logan’s back tissue. “Fuck,” Logan growled sitting up to glare at the masseuse. “Did you go to massage or boxing school?” he asked rubbing his shoulder.
“Sorry, sir. You asked for deep tissue massage,” Vlad replied in heavily accented English. It was obvious to Susan he was Russian as well. Russians and Italians? That was a helluva combination to staff this Texas clinic. Oh, and throw in the Greek contingency and you had a gathering of the United Nations. Yeah, something strange was going on here. It was a very good thing that Susan spoke two of those languages. Maybe that would help her discreetly find out what was going on here. The staff didn’t know she could speak five languages fluently, so they’d speak freely around her. She was a dumb, blonde socialite, as far as they knew. Docile and submissive to her overtly overbearing husband. That cover could work in her favor too.
Vlad turned to Helga and told her in Russian that they needed to stall for fifteen more minutes. Helga cleared her throat. “Would you like some refreshments, Mrs. Lawrence? Sparkling water with lemon maybe?”
“No, I’m fine,” Susan replied with a smile that made her cheeks hurt.
They needed to get back to their room now. Helga looked at Vlad and shrugged, then huffed out a breath. “We’ll leave you alone to dress.” She walked to the door, and Vlad followed.
