by Debra Webb
It took a couple of tension-filled seconds for Erin to realize he was speaking to her. He gestured for her to come when her gaze belatedly collided with his. No fear, she reminded herself, though it was hard to hear even her own thoughts when the blood roared in her ears like a freight train. Logan immediately stood and turned to Esteban.
“I won’t tolerate—”
“It’s all right, my friend,” he said to Logan, cutting off his angry words, then looked back to Erin. “Come.”
Logan pulled out her chair and she rose on shaky legs. His gaze locked with hers for one heart-stopping second. He tried to reassure her with his eyes, but even the promise in that dark, dark gaze couldn’t alleviate the anxiety mushrooming inside her. As she moved around him, Logan resumed his seat, but she knew he didn’t take his eyes off her because she could feel him watching her.
She held herself straight in spite of the fear pumping through her veins. “Yes?” she said when she paused next to the man who had the power to end her life here and now.
Esteban placed a hand at the small of her back. She gritted her teeth against the shiver that threatened. Esteban gestured to the far side of the room. “Is this the man who hit you today?”
Shock radiated through Erin as the guard who’d dazed her entered the room. He didn’t look so fierce now, unarmed and with another guard propelling him forward. He looked as scared as hell—sort of like she felt at the moment. The man stopped on the opposite side of Esteban. He looked sickly pale for a man of Latin heritage.
“His name is Manuel. Is he the one?” Esteban asked again, the slightest hint of impatience in his tone.
Erin looked from Esteban to Manuel and then back. “Yes.”
Esteban turned to Cortez who remained on sentry detail right behind his lord and master. Esteban extended his hand. “La arma, por favor?”
Cortez placed a gleaming silver handgun in Esteban’s outstretched palm. Esteban shifted his attention back to Erin. “This man hurt you, did he not?”
Uncertainty pulsed in time with the racing of her heart. She moistened her lips and did the only thing she could, she told the truth. “Yes.”
Esteban offered her the weapon. “Then he deserves to die. Kill him.”
Terror exploded in her chest. She couldn’t breathe. Esteban’s black gaze bore down on her. She knew Logan was behind her, watching, most likely poised to intervene. But that would blow their cover. The memory of pulling that trigger with the weapon aimed at Logan rocketed to the forefront of her mind. But that had been a completely different situation. She’d been angry…now she was just plain scared.
She didn’t have to look to know that everyone, including Logan, was waiting…watching.
“No.”
The solitary word had come from her.
Esteban’s intense expression shifted to incredulity.
Before he could demand that she obey him, Erin rushed to explain, “I made a mistake.” She glanced at the man expecting to die any moment. “He asked me to return to my quarters and I refused.” She swallowed, difficult as that proved. “It was my fault. He was only doing his job.”
No one moved. No one spoke for what felt like an eternity. Her heart all but stopped beating.
Esteban passed the weapon back to Cortez. He didn’t quite smile, but got close. “You are a very brave woman, my dear.” He glanced disdainfully at the waiting guard. “And you saved Manuel’s life. Vaya!” The guard obeyed the command to go, rushing away, nearly stumbling in his haste.
Erin felt weak with relief. A couple more seconds of that kind of stress and she’d surely have had a heart attack.
Esteban glanced at those still seated. “Have a pleasant afternoon,” he said in dismissal. He turned his attention back to Erin when she would have backed away. “Your husband tells me you have a weakness for fine art.”
“It’s my one weakness,” Erin admitted. Back in her college days she’d spent most of her free time in one museum or the other. It cleared her head, helped her think better. But she hadn’t realized Logan knew that. A tiny frown marred her brow. Or maybe she’d told him and forgotten. His questioning had been relentless the first couple days of training. Then again, he seemed to know everything whether she told him or not.
Esteban gave her the full body once over with that devilish gaze. “Just one weakness?”
Before Erin could respond, Esteban continued, “Larry, entertain our new friend Logan while the lovely lady and I visit the gallery.”
Logan’s gaze didn’t leave hers until Esteban had ushered her from the room. Logan looked less than happy about the situation, but what was she supposed to do?
“The east wing is my personal suite,” Esteban was saying as they ascended the wide, curving staircase.
Erin snapped to attention. Though she was scared to death, she knew she had to remain calm on the outside at least…had to pay attention. Details, she reminded herself. It was the little things that made the difference.
“Your home is amazing,” she heard herself say. Good, she thought. Pump up his ego. A man like him thrived on control and status.
He paused on the second story landing and peered down at her with an undeniable hunger in his eyes. “I am fortunate to have many beautiful things in my life.”
When the moment dragged on too long, she interjected, “How long have you been collecting?”
He started forward once more. Erin remembered to breathe. “Only for a few years, but my collection is extensive.”
“I can’t wait to see it,” she enthused. Admiring good art would likely be the one highlight in this whole stinking mission.
“You intrigue me greatly, my dear,” he said as he hesitated near an intricately carved set of double doors. “A thief, a courier of various, shall we say, forbidden merchandise…and yet you would risk my wrath to save the life of a mere expendable guard.”
Uh-oh. Was that a compliment or a masterfully disguised accusation? Erin tensed inwardly. “I’m many things, Senor Esteban, but a liar I’m not. I tell it the way I see it.”
He smiled. “Indeed.”
A FULL HOUR had passed. Logan and Larry had parted ways fifteen minutes ago. Logan had spent every second worrying about Bailey and, since returning to their quarters, walking the damned floors.
Dammit, they were barely in the door and already things were going to hell. He could only hope that Bailey was holding her own with Esteban. Fury slashed through Logan all over again. He didn’t want Esteban or anyone else touching her.
Logan swore hotly. Jealousy, possessiveness—neither of those things was supposed to play into this. They had a job to do. His only concerns were accomplishing the mission and keeping Bailey alive—in that order.
But he couldn’t help himself. He couldn’t stop thinking about the way Esteban had looked at her…the way he’d touched her. Logan swore again. He had to regain his perspective here. There were far too many other concerns to focus too much energy on Esteban’s infatuation with Bailey.
Yeah, right.
Then why the hell was he ready to tear the man apart with his bare hands? Logan stopped in the middle of the room and plowed his fingers through his hair. He ordered himself to be calm. This was not an appropriate reaction to the day’s events. He’d lost his perspective entirely.
The sound of the door opening jerked his attention in that direction. Bailey walked in and closed the door behind her.
Logan gritted his teeth until he’d formed an appropriate response. “Where the hell have you been for an entire hour?”
Bailey looked startled. Good. He wanted her afraid. If she got too cocky, she’d screw up. Then he realized his mistake and tapped his ear in reminder.
“You know where I’ve been,” she said carefully, obviously understanding his reminding gesture that their every word was likely being monitored.
“Did you sleep with him?” he demanded, moving toward her, the fury he could not contain hardening the features of his face, tensing his muscles.
She frowned, confused or surprised, or maybe both. “What?”
He stopped right in front of her and glared down at her, his emotions far too real for comfort. “I asked, did you sleep with him?”
“Of course not. Are you insane? We just looked at his artwork. He has a great collection. Even has a Monet.”
“If you let him touch you…” Logan warned, his gaze relaying the rest of what he wanted to say.
“Get real,” Erin said, her tone turning seductive. For those listening, Logan guessed. “You’re the only man for me.” She moved against him. “Don’t you know that by now, lover?”
Logan’s tense muscles grew even more rigid. It wasn’t real, he reminded himself. He knew it wasn’t. But it damn sure felt real to his lower anatomy. “All right,” he relented. “Just remember that.”
She looped her arms around his neck and made a tsking sound. “Now how could I forget?”
Logan wanted to kiss her again. He wanted it desperately. His arms went around her waist and he pulled her hard against his hips. Her eyes widened with the realization that he was as hard as a rock and there was no hiding it.
An abrupt pounding on the door shattered the spell. Logan drew back, thankful for the interruption that had prevented him from making a complete fool of himself. He set Bailey aside and jerked the door open.
“What?” he demanded.
It was Cortez.
“Esteban wants to see you in the strategy room. Now.” He glanced past Logan. “Bring her, too.”
THE STRATEGY ROOM looked like a typical conference room to Erin. There was a long polished table surrounded by chairs, a teleconferencing unit in the center of the table, and a large projection screen on the far wall. Near the big screen was a huge map of North and South America. Pushpins of various colors were placed in strategic locations. Near the double doors that opened into the room was a sideboard complete with silver tray and crystal decanters of liquor. A humidor sat nearby, no doubt filled with the finest cigars available.
Cortez accompanied Esteban, as usual. Larry and Sheila were present, as well as two men Erin had not yet met. Erin wondered who else around here she hadn’t met. Logan had briefed her on Esteban’s top echelon, but she hadn’t had the chance to put faces with names. She wanted to know more about the sister who’d sat silently through the events at the one meal they had shared. She hadn’t spoken one word. And Logan had barely mentioned her prior to their arrival in Colombia. There was something about her…something more than her resemblance to her big brother.
Esteban pointed to Texas on the map. “There is a new shipment of military arms arriving tomorrow. We will intercept it here.” He tapped a spot west of San Antonio. “We have a twenty-minute window. There is no room for error. Hector and Carlos will take lead.”
Hector and Carlos? Oh, yeah. Erin remembered the names. They were the Caldarone brothers. Hector was the oldest, but Carlos was the one with the brains. Just two more on the top of the food chain around here. A den of venomous snakes, Erin decided. These guys didn’t give any advance warning either before they struck. She touched her tender lump. She knew that first hand.
“Logan,” Esteban continued, “you and Sara will provide backup.”
A new kind of tension coiled inside Erin.
“No problem,” Logan said offhandedly.
Esteban fixed him with a meaningful look. “We’ll see just how good the two of you really are.” He flicked a glance in Erin’s direction. “I certainly hope you can live up to the reputation which preceded you.” Despite the thinly veiled threat, the man smiled.
Logan propped his arms on the table and leaned forward. “You won’t be disappointed.”
Erin studied her make-believe husband’s profile. So confident…so true to his cover. They’d barely been here a day and already she was struggling to keep pace with the reputation Logan and his partner had worked for months to establish, earning themselves this personal invitation into Esteban’s world. How on earth would she ever pull off that kind of act when the chips were down come tomorrow morning? She would need all the good luck fate could afford to lend her.
Everything inside her stilled. Then again, tomorrow morning might just turn out to be the rest of her life anyway. But tonight…well that was a different story. Tonight was approaching rapidly and she had to spend it with Logan.
In the same quarters.
In the same bed.
She was going to need a lot more than luck to get her through this night.
Chapter Seven
As the night grayed into dawn, Logan lay awake for a long while before taking a deep breath. Bailey was snuggled against him like a sleeping kitten. His arms had somehow gotten wound around her during the night. There was no way he could move or breathe deeply that wouldn’t rouse her—arouse him—further.
A feather soft beam of light sifted through the wooden shutters and fell across her face. Logan had forced his eyes to remain closed for a time, in a futile attempt to keep the thoughts he shouldn’t be having at bay. No such luck. He peered down at the sleeping woman with a fascination that was way beyond his control.
It was easy now to pinpoint the differences between her and Jess. Erin Bailey was much softer and definitely sweeter. Her mouth was wider, fuller. His loins tightened as he considered that lush mouth. No matter that her ex-fiancé had taken extreme advantage of her, she harbored none of the real cynicism second nature in Logan’s line of work. She was a true innocent. She still believed that most people were good and meant well. Though she would adamantly deny the charge, she trusted far too readily on most levels.
She shifted in his arms, burrowing more fully against him. He almost groaned with the ache of wanting her. She was soft, and ripe with feminine curves. The feel of her, hell, just looking at her drove him crazy.
Another undeniable difference.
Jess had never turned him on this way. Had never made him want her physically…sexually. Even fully dressed, this woman got to him. She’d foregone the one flimsy nightgown that had been provided with her wardrobe and opted to put her clothes back on after staying in the bathroom for more than an hour pretending to take a leisurely soak. She’d been delaying the inevitable.
Sleeping with him.
He’d put her comfort before his own and slept in his jeans. The thin layer of worn fabric had done little to discourage his body’s response to hers.
His arm rested against Bailey’s small, pert breasts. The urge to move more firmly against them, to lower his hand there was nearly overwhelming. It wouldn’t be right. She was asleep. He’d be taking advantage. His gaze traveled up the length of her slender throat, then the curve of her cheek where long lashes lay against pale, delicate skin. He frowned at the red and purple bruise beneath the corner of her left eye. Outrage boiled up inside him and it took every ounce of control he possessed not to get up and go beat the hell out of the man responsible for it.
His frown relaxed when he considered how effectively she had handled herself when Esteban ordered her to kill Manuel. Whether it was dumb luck or brilliant strategy, she’d outmaneuvered the man.
Esteban had been amused…and pleased. A crease of concern edged across Logan’s brow as he considered that last part. He’d noticed more than once the way Esteban looked at Erin—Bailey, he amended. The professional in him wanted to pursue that avenue, to see how close she could get to the man. But another part of him, a much less rational part wanted her to give Esteban a wide berth. Logan would like nothing better than for her to stay away from the bastard. But that would defeat the purpose of the mission.
And the mission had to be priority one.
She stirred, her eyes slowly opening. He watched the confusion, then the realization flash in those violet depths. He felt her body tense. Her gaze lifted to meet his and the hunger he saw there weakened his resolve to keep this thing between them strictly professional.
“Good morning,” she murmured, her voice still thick with sleep or maybe something e
lse he didn’t want to name.
“Morning.”
“Is it time to go yet?”
He saw the desire in her eyes take a back seat to fear as yesterday’s events reeled through her mind. They had a run today. It would be dangerous and it would be her first. Then again, if she feigned an illness…
She wriggled from his hold and scooted to the edge of the bed. “We’d better get a move on,” she said deliberately as if she’d read his mind.
He sat up, still studying her. She looked so damned sexy all rumpled and with her hair tousled. But he wasn’t supposed to look at her that way except to lend credibility to their cover. And he wasn’t the only one looking. He was shirtless and her gaze had flown instantly to his bare chest when he rose up from the mound of pillows. She leaped to her feet as if realizing she’d been caught in the act.
“I’ll make coffee while you…” She backed toward the door, looking anywhere but at him. “You can take a shower or whatever.” She gestured vaguely, pivoted on her heel and rushed out of the room.
He threw back the coverlet and pushed up from the warm bed. This was a hell of a way to start the day. Him aching with need and her running like a scared rabbit.
Logan suddenly wondered who scared Erin Bailey the most, him or Esteban? Better he didn’t know, he supposed as he diverted his thoughts to the Caldarone brothers and the business at hand.
Erin shoved the carafe beneath the brew basket and punched the on button. She silently cursed herself for being such an idiot. This was ridiculous. She wasn’t supposed to be falling for the guy like this. Just a few days ago she’d hated him for pushing her so hard, for making her do things she didn’t want to do. And here she was going ga-ga over his bare chest.
Heaving a disgusted sigh she crossed her arms over her chest and leaned against the sink. Well, it actually started last night, she admitted. She’d stayed in the bathroom after her bath until the idea of remaining behind the closed door a moment longer had gone beyond rational behavior. She’d known the time would come when she’d have to sleep in the same bed with Logan, and still she hadn’t been prepared.
