“Yeah. You have your girl Mira to show for it.”
Jackson frowned. “It wasn’t easy, Logan. And I pray you don’t go down that road any further than this.”
But no matter what anyone said, particularly Jackson, Logan was already halfway down that road and moving forward full steam ahead.
Jackson, as if he could read his thoughts, shook his head slightly and said, “Mixing what we do with DARC, and what we want to do with women, let’s just say it’s not a good idea.”
“It’s real,” Logan said. “It’s real life. I can’t just shut off my feelings about her.”
“You might have to try.”
“What else do you got?” Logan said. “What other advice?”
“That’s it.”
“Good.”
Jackson said, “Are you going back home?”
“Yeah. Why?”
“Make sure to get some rest,” he said. “I mean it. This thing is about to really heat up, and I need everyone sharp.”
Logan was already thinking about Holly. Taking her home, making sure—
“Take it easy,” Jackson said, one eyebrow raised. “Both of you.”
“Sure.”
“I’m having Tansy talk to her. I think she trusts him. She might not like what she hears, but we’ve got to be on the same page with this. Alright? She needs to just lay off for a minute.”
Logan didn’t quite know what he meant, but he nodded anyway.
“You’ll back me up, then? Do a little damage control?”
“How much damage?”
“Just remember what I said about emotions and the importance of everyone keeping a level head. It’ll pay off in the end.”
“Sure,” Logan said. “I’ll do what I can.”
Holly was standing at Logan’s fridge, looking into the opened door, then spinning around and letting the door slam shut. Now she was leaning on the fridge with one hand, her head cocked in the air.
“What’s wrong? Chinese leftovers aren’t doing it for you?”
“I think you’re underestimating me,” she said. “My skills as a hacker, and more importantly my determination. I’m not gonna let this opportunity sail away. I’m not going to sit on the sidelines while your friends—”
“They’re our friends. And their only concern is helping out with the—”
“Helping steer themselves away from any trouble with CIA again,” Holly said, coming away from the kitchen, her feet sounding heavier than usual on the loft floor. “You guys seem more focused on preventing an international incident than helping Beth and the rest of the girls she’s being held with.”
Logan sucked in a breath. Jackson had no idea what he’d been asking. It broke his heart to see Holly so upset. “Jackson’s being careful for a lot of reasons. One of the most important is the well-being of your family. This is brand-new intel. They’ve got to work and then—” Logan moved over on the sofa and patted the space next to him. “Come on, sit here.”
“No.”
“What are you doing?”
She moved to the window, parking herself and looking down to the darkened street as if she was scoping out the kill zone for a sniper job. Something must have caught her eye, her head jerking in the other direction. Her little hands balled up into fists.
“We’ve been at this pretty heavy,” Logan said. “You need to take a night off. Rest up.”
“We did enough of that last night,” she said, sending a little dagger into his heart whether she meant to or not.
Logan ran a hand through his hair, cursing Jackson in his mind. The problem was the fucker was right. “We need to recuperate, regroup. Get ready for the plan.”
“I can’t just sit here and let someone come up with a plan. I don’t work that way.”
“Holly,” he said, “you know me. You know I understand exactly where you’re coming from. It’s what got me in trouble so many times.”
“So you’re being a hypocrite.”
Logan sighed hard and got up from the sofa. He walked to the door to check the deadbolt again. It was locked. Still locked from when he’d turned it. When he returned to the living room, Holly was still at the window.
“Can I get you a drink?” He figured it would either quiet her down or do the opposite. But he was just desperate for any kind of change. He cursed Jackson again for his latest impossible mission. Handling Holly. Her disappointment was so strong it was piercing through him like a scalpel.
Logan tried looking at her softly. “Whiskey on the rocks?”
Holly turned to face him. “Why didn’t you back me up today? Why didn’t you agree about taking action immediately and rescuing her?”
“Because I learned something really important these last few weeks.”
“What?” she said sharply.
“The dangers of tunnel vision and acting on impulse.”
“It’s not tunnel vision, Logan. It’s my fucking cousin.”
“It’s more than her. You know it is.” He paused, a little glad she didn’t immediately fire something back. “We have to consider everything before we act. I don’t want to be responsible for anyone else being killed because we acted too fast again.”
“Me? What did I do that—”
“Me,” Logan said, “what I did. I can’t have that happen again.”
“So,” she said, “now you’re suddenly trying to fly straight, follow orders, be a good little soldier?”
“I’m trying to be more careful.”
“Heeling to Jackson . . .”
“Making sure you and Beth and whoever else is safe.” His mouth felt dry. Throat tightening slightly as he looked into the depths of Holly’s unblinking stare.
“Again, why the sudden change? What happened to the rebel without a cause?”
“I have a cause now,” Logan said. “I’m in love with you.” She stopped dead. Still unblinking. And then, with an almost imperceptible shrug, she moved away from the window. He followed her across the room. “Why are you making this so hard?”
She stopped and spun around to him. “I’m not doing anything.”
“You’re—”
“I’m not doing fucking anything at all. That’s the problem. I’m just sitting around on the sidelines while God-knows-who at DARC Ops comes up with a strategy.”
“They’re the best you could ever have in your corner.”
“I’m not used to sitting around like this. And I know you aren’t, either. It’s not like you.”
“It’s not.”
“If you really loved me, you would take this chance. Right now.”
“I’m taking a huge chance,” Logan said, his mouth feeling dry again. It was hard to swallow.
“If you loved me, it wouldn’t even be a huge chance at all. It would be instinctual. Second nature to take my side on this and back me up and support me.”
“I support the hell out of you, Holly.”
“You don’t trust me.”
He waited.
“You don’t trust my judgment. My ideas.”
“Tell me your ideas.”
“Why? So you can run to Jackson?”
“My only focus is to keep you safe. Alright? Maybe that’s why I’m being so conservative and careful. I’ve never had to look after someone like—”
She turned, her hands flying up in frustration. “You don’t have to look after me.”
“It’s too late. I have to. You’re all I care about.”
“But what about Beth!? Do you care about her at all?”
“Jesus Christ,” he muttered. He was fucking everything up. Maybe there was no point in trying any further tonight. It was like he couldn’t say a single thing right.
But then he thought about Beth, and the stress Holly must have been feeling. Traumatic emotions coming in on her at all angles. And now this sloppy confession of love.
So far, unrequited love.
What was he thinking with that? As if Holly wasn’t already at her peak emotional overload
. . .
Christ, he was overloaded, too. Almost losing Holly had shown him that he needed to open up that part of himself. But now she didn’t seem open to anything.
Instead, now she seemed morbid, drawing inward. She almost seemed angry at him.
The night definitely hadn’t gone as planned.
Would he ever open up like that again, to anyone? It might have been his last chance with Holly. Logan spoke, wincing at the crack in his voice. Fucking emotions. “Are you okay?”
“I don’t know,” she said. “I think I need a shower. I need to wash some of this off.”
The admission of his love hadn’t been received the way he imagined it. He wasn’t sure how she would respond—he’d never assumed he would just blurt it out like that—but he’d at least expected something a little different. Now it sounded like she needed to shower it off like some sort of filmy scum.
Without any more talk of the L-word, or any words for that matter, Logan found her a towel and disappeared into his room while she had some alone time. He lay in the bed, trying not to listen to the sound of her shower. Trying like hell not to imagine her wet and slick with soap. He opened a book over his face and stared at the page, eyes not focusing on any of the words. He might as well have been looking at a magic eye, waiting for the 3D image to appear. But nothing did.
No useful strategies appeared in his mind, either. No answers for the predicament he’d put himself in. He had rushed things with Holly, both physically and now emotionally.
There was a change in the way the shower water sounded, the patting against the tub sounding quieter. Shifting sounds. Holly must have been underneath the flow of water, her eyes closed, head arching back. Hands up in frothed hair. He could picture her serene and calm under the water. Soap running down her beautiful, naked body. Here, everything was safe and good. Here, she was his.
Logan let the book fall and rest over his chest. He watched it heave up and down with his breathing.
At least she was still in his apartment. Thank God for that. That must mean something.
She could have stormed out.
Yes, she was still here with him. She was in his apartment, in his shower. She was naked.
She could have made some rash, horrible decision and gone out to try to do something on her own.
Logan pushed the book off his chest, feeling a renewed sense of hope. Maybe the night could be salvaged after all. The night, and Beth, and everything.
Feeling the warm glow stirring in him once again, Logan let his mind wander and wonder about Holly. He closed his eyes again and tried concentrating on the sound of her voice, her soft moaning under the gentle fall of warm water. He wanted to see her again. He wanted her.
Logan picked up his book again, trying to move on to something else. He needed to relax just as she did. Maybe after the shower, he could turn things around, get her laughing again. Get her comfortable. Get her to trust him. Maybe love him. Nothing was too late.
He took a deep breath, filling himself with a newfound hope.
He held that breath.
And then exhaled at the sound of a blood-curdling scream coming from his bathroom.
He launched himself off the bed and ran toward the bathroom. Logan didn’t bother wasting time checking if it was locked. His front kick was all he’d needed to bust it open and storm in to find Holly in the shower, screaming and then covering her breasts with her forearm, seeing him, and then screaming again.
Logan looked around the bathroom at all corners and found no other intruder but himself. Then checked back to Holly, seeing her frightened and staring at him through the shower glass.
“What the hell?” she cried, out of breath.
“What happened? I thought . . .” He no longer knew what it was he thought, why he’d run in there like that in the first place. She had screamed . . . why did she scream?
“The water went cold,” she said, her voice lowering now to the tone of a simple complaint. “It went ice cold for a second and then you . . . you kicked the door down?”
“Sorry,” Logan muttered, turning around, away from her naked body. “I heard your scream.”
“I know,” she said, suddenly sounding not so surprised.
“Sorry, I just thought . . .”
Her face softened. “I know, it’s okay.”
He had turned to offer Holly some of the privacy he’d just taken away. But now he realized that he could still see her in the mirror above the sink. He didn’t want to look away.
His hand had stopped shaking. “Sorry. Are you okay?”
“I’m fine,” she said. “Well, the water’s not cold anymore. How’s your door?”
“Probably not very fine. How are you, really?”
She turned away from him, facing the tiles. “Not fine at all.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Stop saying sorry.”
“Okay.”
There was a pause. Logan finally had enough self-control to look away from her body, to at least give her that respect. To at least stop staring at her delightful bare ass.
Over the sound of the water, he could hear her sniffling. Was she crying?
Holly said, “I’m sorry.”
“For what?” He turned from the mirror, still looking away. Looking at the floor. “Why are you sorry?”
Shit, was she really crying? He looked at her directly, seeing her shoulders heaving. “Holly . . .”
“I’m really fucked up right now,” she said.
“I know.”
“I don’t know what I’m saying, and why I can’t say things. I tried to say I love you, too, but I couldn’t.”
“You don’t have to. You don’t have to say it, or even feel it.”
“I feel it,” she said, turning slowly. “I feel it, Logan.”
She offered herself to him, in her turning to face him. In her words. In every way.
Holly slid the glass door open and said, “I love you.”
Logan stepped inside and wrapped his body around her wet nakedness, his clothes instantly soaking. He pressed his lips against hers. She was warm and wet, and it felt wonderful. No more cold water. No more cold words.
And no more shirt. Holly pulled his t-shirt over his head, yanking it off from clinging wetly to his skin. Their bodies came back together, skin slapping against skin as he felt the slippery tips of her breasts push into and slide across his chest. Her face buried under his chin, against his neck, her mouth sucking there.
It had been less than a day, a few hours, and Logan felt a desperate need to rediscover her body. To feel out the curves and edges, the secret places. He’d found his hand there already, tightly between her legs, wet from the shower or wet from her, Holly spreading her legs a little, her body opening up for his fingers. She let out a small cry, one born from a different type of anguish. A good kind of ache, his fingers sliding back and forth inside, her breathing hotter and harder against his neck.
Holly’s hand felt shaky as it slid down the length of his torso, shaky over his abs around the hard, wet bulge in his shorts. The water had made the fabric close and tight, the restraint of it almost too painful to bear. The pleasure of her hand was too much to bear. He needed release, in multiple ways, but starting with a release from his shorts. She took care of that, pushing them down and freeing him, wet and naked under the hot shower water.
Logan freed his hands and used them to turn her around, holding her by the hips, then grabbing two nice handfuls of her firm ass before moving his body against hers. He pressed her farther back against the tiled wall until her face slid sideways against it. Until his cock slid all the way inside her tight warmth. Until the warmth of their bodies together, and the water, and their love had sedated him like some drug. Like the sodium pentothal of Gary Johnson’s interrogation, squeezing out the truth. Now Holly’s body squeezed out Logan’s truth, his love and lust for her overflowing as he pumped into her core harder. Her cries grew louder, echoing against the ceramic tile. Not a scream of
fear or of cold water. Perhaps grunts of another type of discomfort as he moved harder within her, pressing her against the cold tile. Pleasure and pain. And then real pain, shocking, blinding pain as the water ran ice cold over them once again.
This time, they were screaming together, fumbling and stumbling out of the shower, sliding across the tile floor, coming together again, and finally, laughing.
Logan stepped out of his shorts and yanked the towel from the hook. He wrapped it around Holly, then his body around her. They shared the towel for a brief instant. And a kiss.
Still wet but no longer dripping, Logan led her to the bedroom. It had been a hot night, and he didn’t mind the water on his body, on his bed. He was looking forward to the mess they’d make together.
He laid her on the bed without a word and climbed between her legs. He slid back inside her sex and they made love, this time slower and softer. Longer. They worked and became one, a single propelled motion. A single goal. After they reached it together, Logan bent his elbows and collapsed on top of her, both of their chests still heaving together. Skin sticking against skin and staying there, wet from the shower and from their love. Together. Separation might never come. Nor would the sun ever rise again. They’d fallen deep into a single moment when everything had been perfect, locking there with each other, in his apartment. In his bed, in each other’s arms and knowing nothing but. All they’d needed was there. Here. Now.
25
Holly
Only she could have gotten herself into this sort of trouble. A fluctuating shower temperature. An old malfunctioning relationship turned on its head, then turned anew. Flying across the country, and back, and sleeping and screwing in the bed of her ex-lover. Then current lover.
The current catastrophe with Beth . . .
No matter what, and how far she got into the weeds, when she found the path again, it always led back to that same conclusion. Beth, kidnapped. Beth, hours away from spending her life—however short they’d make it—as a sex slave.
Dark Enemy (DARC Ops Book 9) Page 14
