Her dress was torn, slitting up a bit at the knee. And said knee felt as if it had slammed into a tree—because it had.
“You’re too calm.”
What? Was she supposed to be screaming? Breaking down? She wasn’t exactly the breaking-down type. Right then, all she could think was...
What’s next?
And how would she handle it?
“Shock.” He took her hand and led her to the matchbox bathroom. “Let’s get you cleaned up.”
She wrenched away from him as anger began to finally boil past the numbness holding her in check. “I’m not a child, Logan.”
He blinked his sky-blue eyes at her. The brightest blue she’d ever seen. Those eyes could burn hot or flash ice-cold. Right then, they held no emotion at all. “I never said you were.”
“I can clean myself up.” She took slow, measured steps to the bathroom. Took slow, deep breaths—so she wouldn’t scream at him. “Stop acting like I’m about to fall apart.”
“Someone just tried to
kill
you. A little falling apart is expected.”
Near the chipped bathroom door, Juliana paused and looked back at him. “Why do the expected?”
He stared at her as if he’d never seen her before. Maybe he hadn’t. “Your father’s gone.” Now there was anger punching through his words. “Your car just exploded into a million pieces all over a graveyard. Want to tell me why you’re so cool?”
Because if she let the wall inside of herself down, even for a second, Juliana was very afraid that she might start crying and not stop. “Wanna tell me why you’re with me now?”
“Because you need someone to keep you alive!” Then he was charging across the room and catching her shoulders in a strong grip. “Or do you not even care about the little matter of living anymore?”
She stared up at him. Just stared. She was finding that being so close to Logan hurt. Over him? Not hardly. Once upon a time, she’d been ready to run away with the jerk.
She’d waited for him in a bus station—waited five hours.
He’d never shown. Too late, she’d learned that he’d left her behind.
Could she really count on him to keep sticking around now? He’d saved her butt in Mexico. Hell, yes, she was grateful, but Logan wasn’t the kind to stay forever. Juliana wasn’t going to depend on him again. “Call the cops,” she told him, weary beyond belief all of a sudden. Her body just wanted to sag, and she wanted to sleep. An adrenaline burst fading? Or just the crash she’d been fighting for days? Either way, the result was the same. “They can keep me safe.”
Juliana opened the door and entered the closet that passed for a bathroom.
“Juliana—”
Then she closed the door in his face. She looked in the mirror. Saw the too-pale face, wide eyes and the blood that covered her forehead.
She took another breath.
Ash.
How long would it be until she forgot that taste?
Her eyes squeezed shut. She could still feel the lance of fire on her skin. If Logan hadn’t been there, she would’ve been in that car.
And it would’ve been pieces of
her
that littered that cemetery.
* * *
L
OGAN TURNED AWAY
when he heard the sound of the shower. He yanked out his phone and punched the number for his boss. “What the hell happened?” he demanded when the line was answered. “The site should have been safe, it should have—”
“You aren’t secure.” Flat. Bruce Mercer was never the type to waste words or emotion. “We need you to get the woman and get out of that hotel. Backup is en route.”
Not secure? For the moment, they were. “No one followed me. No one—”
“There’s a leak in the senator’s office,” Mercer said in his perfectly polished voice. A voice that, right then, gave no hint of his New Jersey roots. Those roots only came out when Mercer was stressed—and very little ever stressed him. “Money talks, and we all know that Guerrero has a ton of money.”
More than enough money to make certain one woman died.
“You need to bring her in,” the boss ordered. “We’re setting up a meet location. Tell her she’ll be safe with you. Get her to trust you.”
Yes, that had been the plan...until the cemetery caught fire. “We’re still going through with this?” He almost crushed the phone. The shower was still running. Juliana couldn’t hear him, but just in case, Logan took a few cautious steps across the room.
“The plan remains the same. You know how vital this case is to the department.”
“I don’t want to put her in the line of fire.” She’d come close enough to death.
“That’s why you’re there, Alpha One. To come between her and any fire...just like you did today.”
Yes, he had the burn marks on his skin to prove it.
“Your relationship to her is key. You know that. Get her trust, and we can close this case and finally put Guerrero away.”
But could they keep her alive long enough to do it?
A pause hummed on the line. “Does she realize what’s happening?” Mercer wanted to know.
“She realizes that she’s targeted for death.” Any fool would realize that. Juliana wasn’t a fool.
Once, she’d been too trusting. Was she still? The idea of using her trust burned almost as much as those flames had.
“Have you told her about John?”
The shower shut off. His jaw clenched. “Not yet.”
“Do it. The sooner she realizes that you’re her only hope of staying alive, the sooner we get her cooperation.”
It wasn’t just about keeping her alive. The EOD wanted to use her. They were willing to set her up if it meant getting the job done.
Logan exhaled. “When are we moving her?”
“Ten minutes.”
The line died.
Ten minutes. Too little time to convince Juliana that he was the only one she could trust to keep her alive.
* * *
J
ULIANA WAS CLIMBING OUT
of the shower when her cell phone rang. She’d washed away the blood and ash, but the icy water had done nothing to soothe the aches and pains in her body. She’d cried beneath that pounding water. Juliana hadn’t been able to hold back the tears any longer. Her whole body had trembled as she let her grief and pain pour out of her. Part of Juliana had just wanted to let the grief take control, but she’d fought that instinct. Gathering all of her strength, she’d managed to stop the tears. Managed to get her wall of self-control back in place.
As the phone rang again, she grabbed for the dress she’d tossed aside moments before and pulled her phone from the near-invisible pocket. Her fingertip slid across the smooth surface. Ben McLintock. Her father’s aide. The guy had to be frantic. She answered the call, lifting the phone to her ear as she said, “Ben, listen, I’m all right. I—”
The bathroom door crashed open. Juliana gasped and jumped back. Logan stood in the doorway, eyes fierce. “End the call.”
“Juliana!” Ben’s voice screeched. “Where are you? I searched for you after the explosion, but you’d vanished! Oh, God, at first—at first I thought you were in the car!”
She almost had been.
“Then a cop remembered seeing you jump into a truck.” His breath heaved over the line. “They’re saying it looks like a car bomb, it looks like—”
“I’m in a motel, Ben. I—”
Logan took the phone from her. Ended the call with a fast shove of his fingers. A muscle flexed in his jaw. “GPS tracking. Your phone just told him exactly where we are.”
His gaze swept over her. Crap, she was just wearing a towel, one that barely skimmed the tops of her thighs even while her breasts pushed against the loose fold she’d made to secure the terry cloth. He’d seen her in less plenty of times, but that had been a long time ago.
Juliana grabbed her dress and held it in front of her body. It was a much better shield than the thin towel. “No one is tracking me, okay, Rambo? That was just Ben. He was worried and wanted to make sure—”
“Guerrero has a man in your father’s office. Someone willing to trade you for a thick wad of cash.” His eyes blazed hotter, and they were focused right on—
“Eyes up,”
she told him, aware of the hot burn in her cheeks.
Those eyes, when they met hers, flashed with a need she didn’t want to acknowledge right then.
“I know how this works,” he told her. “And I sure as hell know that we have to move now.”
GPS tracking. Yes, she knew that was possible, but...“Why? Why can’t they just let me go?” Her father was dead. Shouldn’t that be the end with Guerrero?
Logan didn’t speak.
“Turn around,”
she snapped.
His brows rose but he slowly turned, giving her a view of his broad back. Juliana dropped the dress and towel and yanked on her underwear—a black bra and matching panties—as fast as she could. Her gaze darted to his back and—
Wait, had he been watching her in the mirror? She couldn’t tell for certain, but for a moment there, she’d sworn she saw his gaze cut to the mirror.
To her reflection.
“Done yet?” he asked, almost sounding bored. Almost.
Eyes narrowing, Juliana yanked on her dress. With trembling hands, she fumbled and pulled up the zipper. All while Logan stood right there. “Done,” she gritted out.
Not even trying to play the gentleman now.
“My father is dead. Why do they want to bury me, too?”
He turned to face her. His gaze swept over her. Made her chilled skin suddenly feel too hot. “Because you’re a witness they can’t afford.” He caught her elbow and led her back through the small hotel room. He paused at the door, glanced outside.
“A witness?” Yes, she’d seen the faces of a few men in Mexico, but...
“Did you know that no witness has ever been able to positively identify Diego Guerrero? The man’s a ghost. The U.S. and Mexican governments both know the hell he brings, but no one has been able to so much as touch him.”
She pulled on her pumps. Useless for running but she felt strangely vulnerable in bare feet. “Well, I didn’t see the guy, either. The big boss man never came in when I was being held.” He’d left the torture for his flunkies.
Logan shot her a fast, hard stare. “Yes, he did come in.”
She blinked.
“From what we can tell, he spent more time with you than he ever has with anyone else. You saw his face. You talked to him.”
Wrong. “No, I didn’t. I—”
“John Gonzales is one of the aliases that Guerrero uses.”
My name’s...John. John Gonzales.
She remembered the voice from the darkness.
Who are you?
“He didn’t need to torture information out of you, Juliana. All he had to do was ask for it in the dark.”
And they’d talked for so many hours. Her heart slammed into her chest.
“You weren’t talking to another hostage in that hellhole.” Logan exhaled on a low sigh. “My team believes you were talking to the number-one weapons dealer in Mexico—the man his enemies call El Diablo because he never, ever leaves anyone alive who can ID him.”
Goose bumps rose on her arms.
“That man with you? The one you were so desperate to save?
That
was Diego Guerrero.”
Oh, hell. “Logan...”
A fist pounded on the door.
Logan didn’t move but she jumped. “I need you to trust me,” he told her. “Whatever happens, you have to stay with me, do you understand? Guerrero’s tracked you. He’ll use anything and anyone he can in order to get to you.”
The door shook again. There was only one entrance and exit to that room. Unless they were going to crawl out that tiny window in the bathroom...
“I can keep you alive,” Logan promised, eyes intense. “It’s what I do.”
Her father had told her that he was an assassin. That for years Logan’s job had been to kill.
But he’d saved her life twice already.
“This is the police!” a voice shouted. “Miss James, you need to come out! We’re here to help you.”
Logan’s smile was grim. “It’s not the police. When we open that door, it might look like them—”
Nightmare. This is a—
“—but it won’t be them. They’ll either kill you outright or deliver you to Guerrero.” His voice was low, hard with intensity. “I’m your best bet. You might hate me—”
No, she didn’t. Never had. Just one of their problems...
“—but you know no matter what you have to face on the other side of that door—”
Cops? Maybe more killers?
“—I’ll keep you safe.”
“We’re comin’ in!” the voice shouted. “We’re comin’—”
Gunfire exploded. Juliana didn’t scream, not this time. She clamped her mouth closed, choked back the scream that rose in her throat and dived for cover.
Logan jumped for the window. He knocked out the glass, took aim and—
Smiled.
From her position on the floor, Juliana watched that cold grin slip over his face. She expected him to start firing, but...
But she heard the sound of a car racing away. Tires squealed.
And Logan stalked to the door. He yanked it open.
The man he’d called Gunner stood on the other side.
Juliana scrambled to her feet. “The cops?”
“Those trigger-happy idiots weren’t cops.” Gunner shrugged. “A few shots sent them running fast enough, but I’m betting those same shots will have the real cops coming our way soon enough.” His eyes, so dark they were almost black, swept over her. “There’s a hit on you. A very, very high price on that pretty head. So unless you want the next funeral to be your own...”
“I don’t.”
Logan offered his hand to her. “Then you’ll come with me.”
In order to keep living, she’d do anything that she had to do.
Juliana took his hand, and they ran past the now bullet-scarred side of the hotel and toward the waiting SUV.
Trust...it looked as if she had to give it to him.
Because there was no other choice for her.
* * *
D
IEGO
G
UERRERO STARED
at the television. The pretty, little reporter talked in an excited rush as the camera panned behind her to take in the destruction at the cemetery.
Smoke still drifted lazily in the air.
“Police aren’t talking with the media yet,” she said, “but a source has revealed that the limousine destroyed in that explosion was the car used by Juliana James, daughter of Senator Aaron James. Juliana was laying her father to rest after his suicide—”