Undercover Wife

by Debra Webb

Watch out, Jeffrey, old boy, I’m coming for you.

  Bailey had a definite purpose about her stride this morning, Logan noted. The decision to leave her hair blond had been the right one, he acknowledged as well. Women dyed their hair frequently enough. Esteban wouldn’t experience more than a moment’s pause over that particular detail. Knowing the man’s fetish for blondes, he’d probably like it. But that hadn’t been the primary motivation for the decision.

  Besides being a top-notch driver and crack shot, Ramon had been a hairdresser in a former life. In his expert opinion, capturing Jess’s exact hair color without Bailey’s hair turning out too black or too salon-done would be next to impossible. It was better for it to appear that she had decided to go blond than for anyone to notice that her supposedly natural color looked a little “unnatural.”

  In addition, Ramon had suggested that Bailey go for a more “voluptuous” look. To that end, he’d layered her hair and shown her how to tease and spike the straight tresses. With tight jeans and an equally tight top that displayed a couple of inches of her midriff, she looked the part Jess had played.

  But she wasn’t Jess.

  Logan took a deep, cleansing breath. He had to keep that reality tightly compartmentalized until this was over. He and Jess had been a team for a long time, they’d been close. Grief nipped at his heels every minute of every day. But he had to stay focused, had to get this done. Jess would want it that way. He had to do it for her. And then he would make sure Sanchez got what was coming to him. No matter what Lucas and Casey said, Logan would personally see to it that the scumbag paid dearly.

  Forcing his attention back to the present, Logan watched Bailey circle the SUV as if she wanted to memorize its every detail. A weary smile hitched his lips. She was a quick study, there was no denying that. And, he had to admit, her computer skills were just a degree more advanced than Jess’s. Another admission he didn’t like making. She’d cracked every secure fire-wall and security net he’d put before her in record time. Bailey was good. No wonder her ex’s cyber security business had taken off. With a Grade A “hacker” like her, no place was off-limits in the cyber world, and she knew just what to do to make a system safe because of it. As long as she didn’t break under the pressure or say the wrong thing in Esteban’s presence, Logan was convinced she could get the job done.

  But she was so damned far out of her element. Would she be able to remain composed when the bullets started flying around her? When people started dying around her? Or when Esteban went on one of his famous rampages? Would she be able to play this game all the way out—whatever it took—until they were clear?

  Logan suppressed the concern that surged inside him each time he considered anything beyond the next five minutes. He’d told Lucas just last night during the final teleconference that he still had major concerns. But it was too late to back out now. He hadn’t needed Lucas to tell him that. Logan knew it better than anyone involved.

  “Hey, man, are you following me here?”

  Logan jerked to attention, then frowned when he realized he’d lost all track of what Maverick was reporting to him. “Let’s go back to yesterday’s activities,” Logan suggested as if he simply wanted to hear that part again. “When did the Caldarone brothers arrive at the compound?”

  “At 1600,” Maverick deadpanned, then shook his head slowly from side to side. “Don’t try to fool me, Johnny boy,” he warned knowingly. “I told Lucas you could handle this. I wasn’t wrong, was I?”

  Logan met the other man’s scrutinizing gaze. “I don’t need you or Lucas checking up on me. If I wasn’t up to the challenge we wouldn’t be here. You know me better than that.”

  About forty, Maverick had a military demeanor, which dared anyone to mess with him and a piercing glare that could undermine any man’s confidence. But not Logan’s. Maverick had trained Logan as a specialist. The man was too much like a brother to put any fear in Logan. Ramon and Maverick were part of Mission Recovery’s Detail and Housekeeping team. They took care of the little things, like Bailey’s hair and setting up the phony couple at the hotel and renting the SUV. And, when necessary, they cleaned up behind a field operative.

  Maverick looked from Logan to Bailey and back. “She’s not Jess. This whole damned thing hinges on your being able to keep her out of trouble. The only way you’ll be able to do that is by keeping your head on straight about who Erin Bailey really is—”

  “I know she’s not Jess,” Logan ground out, his impatience quickly whipping into fury.

  “I’ve watched you two together, Johnny,” Maverick said quietly, his tone tight yet carefully controlled. “There’s something there. Any fool could see it.” He raised a hand when Logan would have argued. “It’s a good thing, to an extent. Esteban will see it, too. Use it to your advantage. It doesn’t matter if it’s based on plain old protective instincts or just basic sexual interest. Use it, but don’t lose it. You hear what I’m saying, Johnny boy? Even the best has his Achilles’ heel. Just maybe this woman, considering the circumstances that brought the two of you together, is yours.”

  “And maybe the altitude has gotten to you,” Logan said as he met that steely gaze with lead in his own. “You should know by now that I’ve never let anything, certainly not a woman, stop me from accomplishing the mission.”

  Maverick didn’t say anything for what felt like a full minute, just studied Logan as if he needed to confirm that last statement. “Yeah.” Maverick let go a bark of tension-releasing laughter, backing off physically and mentally. “You’re right, Johnny boy, you always get the job done.” He slapped Logan on the back as they started toward the waiting SUV. “I’d go through a door with you anytime, even with that frightened little filly over there in tow.”

  To his supreme irritation, Logan’s gaze settled on the filly in question just as she nervously forked her fingers through her hair. She forced a smile at something Ramon said, as she clasped her arms over her chest. She was nervous all right—with good reason, Logan admitted. She was about to enter into an alien world where no one could be trusted and nothing was what it seemed.

  This was as far as Maverick and Ramon would go. Logan and Bailey would be on their own from here. He wondered if she fully understood that once inside Esteban’s compound, no one could help them. Maybe it was better that she didn’t.

  “Good luck, Logan.” Ramon nodded to him, then winked at Bailey. “Don’t let him bully you, honey. He may be the boss, but you’re the key.”

  Erin didn’t quite know how to respond. “Thanks for the advice.”

  “By the time we return to Chiapas, the training center will have been packed up and we’ll be on our way back to the States,” Maverick said to Logan. “Ferrelli is your G.A. for this one.” He turned to Erin and instantly realized she didn’t understand. “Guardian angel,” he explained. “Ferrelli will watch your backs to the extent possible when you’re outside the compound. Inside, be sure to keep your head low, Bailey.”

  She smiled as best she could, which may have turned out to be no more than a twitch. She’d done a lot of that this morning.

  This was it. The reality closed in around her like the tightening of a noose around her neck as she watched Maverick and Ramon climb back into the plane. A few minutes later and they were airborne. She watched until they were out of sight, her heart racing, her mind paralyzed with the mounting fear.

  The sound of a vehicle door opening dragged Erin’s attention to the SUV. Logan waited by the open passenger side door.

  “Time to go to work, Baby.”

  She blinked, then shivered. Not so much from the annoying way he said the word, but from the way that dark, dark gaze skimmed her body in punctuation of it. Steeling herself, Erin walked over to where he waited, but hesitated before climbing into the vehicle. She had to find a way to keep her balance with him…to even the playing field.

  “Tell me, Logan,” she said in the most seductive tone she could marshal. “Didn’t Jess have a pet name for you?” She shru
gged. “I mean, after all, we’re a loving couple fresh from our second honeymoon. Surely I’d call you something besides Logan.” Or jerk, or any number of other less than flattering names, she didn’t add.

  He leveled the full weight of that intense gaze on her, yanking back the little bit of ground she’d gained. “Of course. I should have told you already.” He flared one wide hand, indicating that she should get into the vehicle. Suddenly uncomfortable with this little war of wills, she obeyed. He closed the door firmly behind her and leaned into the open window. “Lover,” he said…whispered actually. “Whenever you feel the urge to be affectionate, you can call me Lover.”

  She faced front, suddenly considerably more afraid of being alone with and this unbearably close to Logan than any threat Esteban represented. Just when she thought she’d scream in frustration, Logan drew away. She watched as he skirted the hood, thankfully without so much as a glance in her direction. Well, now, she’d asked for that one, hadn’t she? It wouldn’t happen again. This was going to be tough enough without playing silly little cat and mouse games. But there was just something about him that brought out the competitiveness in her, that made her want to…play.

  Erin shook her head and resisted the urge to sigh. Hadn’t she already learned her lesson the hard way? A girl couldn’t trust a guy whose only motivation was getting the job done. And John Logan definitely fell into that category.

  UP CLOSE, Medellín reminded Erin a bit of typical Western U.S. cities, except for the salsa spiciness here and there that lent the city a definite old-fashioned Latin spirit. Nestled in the hills, the landscape was lovely. The climate mild, yet balmy. Or maybe it was just the overall ambiance. Again she wondered at how this city could be home to such a brutal drug cartel. According to Logan, Esteban was the voice of authority in the cartel. Only he wasn’t limiting his business to organic exports. The Department of Alcohol, Tobacco and Firearms already knew Esteban was stealing shipments of military weapons and reselling them. What they didn’t know was how he was managing to slip under their security nets.

  According to Logan, when none of the other Federal Agencies had been able to pinpoint the mole, his people were put on the case. And the rest, unfortunately for Erin, was history. Of course she tried to look at it from the perspective that Logan was giving her a second chance at life…the one she’d foolishly lost to the likes of her ex-fiancé. Whether she would live to enjoy her promised freedom was yet to be determined.

  A few turns later and they’d moved into the seedier side of town. Medellín or Atlanta, it made no difference, all cities had their less attractive, more dangerous neighborhoods. She surveyed the run-down buildings and street people lingering beneath decrepit awnings and on street corners. Many were children, she realized with growing uneasiness. She wanted to look away, but couldn’t. Their solemn faces and big eyes beckoned to her.

  “Staring will only make you feel worse.”

  The gently spoken advice startled Erin. She turned to Logan and wondered how a man so seemingly emotionless could speak so kindly. His expression was grim.

  “It’s a way of life down here. Between the poverty and the violence and the machismo in this culture, the kids are left to fend for themselves.”

  She frowned. “What do you mean by machismo?”

  He glanced at her as he continued down the street. “The fathers frequently abandon their families. They’re far too cool to deal with parenting. With no welfare benefits or health care and a passel of babies, the mothers have little choice but to send their oldest kids out to help earn for the family.”

  Erin’s confusion deepened, as did her frown. She couldn’t begin to fathom the concept. “How could those kids back there hope to earn money? They’re practically babies themselves.”

  Logan stopped at a cross street. His gaze locked with hers. “You don’t want to know.”

  He was right. She didn’t. Her imagination conjured up enough atrocities without any help at all. Erin swallowed the sickening feeling that welled in her throat. She could have gone the rest of her life without seeing those children, but it was too late now. The haunting images would stay with her forever.

  Logan eased the SUV to the curb in front of what Erin estimated to be a cantina. There was no neon sign outside broadcasting the name of the joint or the proprietor. In fact, there was no sign at all. She supposed that was a good thing since she doubted any self-respecting businessman would admit to owning the place.

  “Just follow my lead.”

  He said the words too quietly and without looking at her. When Logan opened his door, she opened hers. They emerged from the vehicle slowly. Erin took her time and cautiously observed her surroundings just like Logan had taught her. The key is in the details, he’d repeated relentlessly during the past week’s training. Never, ever let yourself be blindsided. Stay alert. Note every single detail as if your life depended upon that one however seemingly insignificant item.

  At least a half dozen kids flocked around her before Logan reached her side of the SUV. They cried out to her. Senorita! Senorita! Dirty palms were outstretched. Faces were expectant…hopeful.

  “Keep moving.” Logan urged her toward the less than savory establishment’s door.

  “Can’t we give them something?” she protested, looking back as he propelled her forward. “What if they’re hungry?”

  Logan halted abruptly and pulled her around to face him. He jerked her into an intimate embrace and whispered for her ears only, his voice savage, his words brutal. “Because we’re the bad guys now. We don’t care if they’ve eaten. Get into character, Bailey, it’s show time. And I, for one, want to live to see another day.”

  Her breath came in sharp, rapid bursts. She wanted to tell him to forget the whole thing. That helping these children was far more important. But she knew it wouldn’t matter. In the end, if they brought Esteban down, maybe it would make life better for these children. That was something, wasn’t it?

  Logan released her, but kept one long arm around her shoulders as he ushered her in the direction of the cantina’s half-open door. Just before they stepped inside he pressed his lips to her temple and murmured, “Act like you want to be here, Baby. We’ve worked hard to get here.”

  Several heart-thumping moments passed before her eyes adjusted to the dim interior of the cantina. When they finally did, she suddenly wished they hadn’t. Wooden tables and chairs, all occupied, cluttered the floor space. She decided instantly that everyone in the place looked exactly like a criminal. It wasn’t so much precisely how they looked as it was the expressions on their faces. Openly challenging and just plain old mean.

  A long bar sprawled across the far side of the room. Several stools were vacant and Logan headed that way. He slid onto one and pulled her between his widespread thighs in a possessive manner.

  Despite the fear pumping furiously in her veins, a tiny jolt of awareness shot through her. She tensed, ready to draw away, but Logan was having no part of it. He anchored her to him with one powerful arm. She tried to relax…to lean into him, but she just couldn’t do it.

  He ordered a bottle of tequila. His Spanish was perfect, the accent sounded authentic. The bartender plunked the requested liquor down along with two glasses and went about his business the moment Logan deposited a crisp American bill on the counter. Ice formed in Erin’s fingers, tightened like a band around her chest while no less than twenty gazes devoured her as if she were the newest entrée on the buffet.

  Logan nipped her earlobe, simultaneously sending a chill over her skin and heat searing through her insides. “Smile, baby, these are our kind of people,” he murmured against her skin. “We want to fit in.”

  She managed a smile as she reached back to stroke Logan’s jaw. “Whatever you say, Lover,” she whispered back despite the electrical surge that had almost rendered her speechless the moment her fingers made contact with his chiseled profile.

  Slowly, the attention of the men gathered around the tables drifted back to t
heir own circle of conversation. Relief made Erin weak. Logan didn’t have to worry about her bolting now, she sagged against him.

  “See that guy who just walked in?”

  Erin leaned fully against Logan’s chest so that she could look without being too obvious. Butterflies took flight in her middle at the feel of his masculine body against her back. She definitely didn’t need to analyze every contour and bulge she felt pressed intimately against her. If she did…well, she wasn’t going to.

  “Ummm-hmmm,” she purred. The guy, tall, broad-shouldered, a reject from a bad western movie, remained in the doorway for three or four seconds, then went back outside.

  Logan kissed her neck. “That’s our contact.”

  Erin turned around to face him. She braced her hands on his muscular thighs and struggled to maintain her composure in spite of how touching him that way stole her breath. “What do we do now?” She wanted to run like hell. That’s what she wanted to do. Her heart pounded, as much from Logan’s nearness, dammit, as from fear of what was about to take place.

  Those dark eyes probed hers…read her like an open book. “We,” he said with just the tiniest hint of smugness, “join him outside.” His fingers splayed on her waist, then slid down her hips and molded to her bottom. He knew the effect he had on her. She could just die. How could he make her feel this way when she didn’t want to? God, she was pathetic.

  He kissed her lips this time, scarcely a touch, but enough to rock Erin’s world all over again. The next thing she knew, he was leading her back out into the bright light of day. Her ears were ringing, her skin tingling. Fear and desire whirled inside her like hyperactive ballerinas.

  She had the sudden, overwhelming urge to run or cry or both. Oh, God. She couldn’t do either. She had to focus. To pay attention. Logan all but dragged her toward the waiting man at the corner where a narrow street crossed the broader one that ran in front of the cantina. Erin almost stumbled when Logan dropped a wad of crumpled bills, but he pulled her closer, forcing her to move forward with him.