Overseas, Carl Smith had taken up
with terrorists. They’d been tracking Logan and his group down for
weeks,
months
, as
they’d struggled to get control of the refugee camps. People were
anxious for it to be all over, and anxiousness bred impatience, and
when someone so close to the edge of the line was impatient…it all
turned into a zoo. Luke and stayed back to take care of the sick,
so he hadn’t been there to witness the attack.
But because Carl had slipped up and freaked, a
lot of people had died that day. Not just Carl’s people, but
Logan’s and volunteers as well. Carl had gotten locked up and
now…he was here. Fury flashed through Logan.
It was so hard to aim for the leg
instead of the heart
—
or better yet, the head.
He inhaled, and then clenched his
finger
—
the shot
fired through the air with so much speed that the only indication
it had left the barrel was the site of Carl crumpling against the
wall. He let out an explicit that Logan heard from all the way the
roof, but he paid no heed.
Luke and him were too busy scaling the side of
the building to get down there before Carl had a chance to do
anything. His partner, obviously, was the first to get down there.
He tackled Carl, who had been struggling to his feet, back to the
ground.
Blood gushed from the wound in his leg, and as
Logan reached him, he could do nothing but smile.
He knew what it must look like. Cold, dead,
cruel. Soulless almost.
Carl’s eyes, a sickening shade of
brown, slowly met his. At the site of Logan, he turned considerably
pale
—
more than
before, with the blood that was leaking from his leg.
“Hey, man,” Logan said easily, crouching on his
heels. He held up his fist. Slowly, tentatively, Carl brought his
up to pound it. As they touched, Logan used his other hand to grab
his wrist. “How’s it going?”
Carl’s lip beaded with sweat, and Logan smiled,
tightening his hand around the wrist in a painful grasp. “C’mon,
we’re all cool here.”
He sensed Nathan and Eric come up behind
him.
“Logan, you… I had no choice. I had to do
this!” Carl’s high-pitched voice rang off the walls of the
buildings that surrounded him.
He ignored his pleading, starting to press his
thumb into the wrist he still held, twisting it softly. He could
feel the muscles begin to tense up the man’s arm, and his eyes
popped wide.
“How long you been in town?” he
asked casually, cocking his head as he waited for an answer. Fury
was riding him hard
—
but he liked to play with the prey. Especially when it
was
this
guy.
“Man, he made me! I was going to
just bring her to him
—
“
Logan twisted the wrist sharply,
feeling the muscles pull beneath the thin layer of flesh. Carl let
out a gasp and the blood flow of his leg quickened when he jerked.
“Don’t
—
“
“My dear friend,” Logan murmured,
pressing into the bone farther with his thumb, turning his hand.
Bone crunched under his grasp. “You killed so many people with one
dumb mistake. You betrayed your country and your family. I let you
off easy
—
but you
attempted to hurt the one thing that I would die for…”
Large, bubbly tears filled the
pathetic piece of shit’s eyes. His head shook desperately. “I
didn’t come after you
—
just her, that’s it.”
“Exactly,” he said soothingly, his lips lifting
into a merciless smile.
“Listen
—
“ Logan twisted the wrist harder and
his screams, along with the sound of popping bones, echoed around
them. “
Joey,
” he
gasped, great, heaving sobs leaving him.
“What about him?” Nathan asked, surging
forward. That same unease that he’d felt on the roof came back,
striking him in the stomach.
“He’s
—
he’s at…” He paused, coughing and
trying to speak through trembling lips.
Even before the words were gurgled, Logan knew
the answer. Forgetting about protocol completely, he reached for
Carl’s shaking figure. Placing one hand on his forehead, the other
on the shoulder, he grabbed Carl’s straw and yanked his head to the
side sharply.
The snap of his neck was silent, but
there.
“Someone take care of him. The rest, come with
me.”
Logan could already feel the bile
rising in his throat. Chase was there, so she had to be alright. He
wouldn’t let anything happen to her
—
he might not like her that much, but
he didn’t let women get hurt. God, if they didn’t get there in
time…
He shook his head. They would. No,
they
had to
.
Nathan took the wheel and in
seconds, they were on their way to the ranch. Logan lunged for his
cell, dialing the home phone first. If Claire answered, then
everything would be okay. He wouldn’t have to
—
“Please leave a message after the
tone. Beeeeeeep.”
“Drive faster,” Logan growled,
dialing his brother now. His heart was in his throat, and he could
have vomited. Fucking pick up….
Chase, you
better answer the fucking phone
.
He didn’t.
Jesus. Maybe he’d forgotten it upstairs in the
study, or maybe it was on silent. He hadn’t been in the house when
they’d all left, so he could still be outside. Even as Logan
thought of it, he realized that it was futile to try to hope for
anything different than what the truth actually was.
It was going to be another five to ten minutes
before they got to the ranch. Even with Nathan going ninety in a
fifty zone. The whole time, fear was laced through his
soul.
Claire. His beautiful, innocent
Claire. He should have stayed to protect her, should have known
something would happen. God, he’d been so driven by his anger
and
terror
over the
thought of losing her, that he’d placed her in danger
again
.
The ride was silent, and tense. Logan sat
there, picturing her face, trying to still the horror that was
gradually rising inside of him like a tidal wave. Claire was never
going to forgive him for this.
Even as he thought about it, though, he
realized that she might never have a chance to decide. By the time
they got there she could be…gone. Pain lacerated his
heart.
The woman he loved was in
danger
—
and
because of him.
Love
.
Logan did love her. It felt so
natural to think it, to feel like he did. He loved her with all of
his heart and soul
—
and without her, he had nothing. Absolutely nothing. Logan
swore that the second this was over, he was going to tell her
everything.
That he was sorry. That he loved
her. That he wanted her forgiveness
—
and if he had to beg on his hands
and knees, then so be it.
But, as they sped down the road like hell was
on their heels, Logan had a terrible feeling like that wasn’t going
to be happening.
His eyes, for the first time in his life,
watered.
He pulled away from the limp girl on the floor,
letting her body sag awkwardly. He gazed at her, taking in the
black tights, the shirt, the lush curves of her body…
It was only a matter of time before the cowboy
came back. Taking care of Carl was a small distraction. Whatever
happened to the guy, he didn’t really care, so long as he got what
he wanted. This was the final straw before he flat-out sent someone
after Campbell himself. Taking out the daughter was meant to spare
his pathetic opponent as much embarrassment as he could, but it
seemed like he might have to take it a step further.
He was going to have to make this quick, but
for once he was starting to become uncertain. Kidnap, or kill? He’d
done some pretty shady things in his life, but murdering someone on
a kitchen floor seemed pretty drastic. It would be just as simple
to kidnap her until the election was over. Maybe rough her up a
bit, send some pictures to her father… He smiled, eyeing
her.
Her long, slender legs called his gaze to her
once again. So young and beautiful, lively. He didn’t understand
how such a pretty thing like that could come from such a nasty
creature like Campbell. The smile dropped from his face.
He knew what would hurt Campbell the
most.
Not her death. Because for sure, if she were
dead, she wouldn’t suffer or feel any pain. But if he kidnapped
her, took her as his own, roughed her up a bit… The bitch wouldn’t
be so innocent and Campbell would be devastated.
A perfect plan.
He knelt down, sliding his arms under her body.
Damn, she was heavy! Trying to fit her over the bulge of his
stomach, he began working her up into the air, slinging her over
his shoulder.
She flopped against him like a rag
doll.
He’d better hurry. He knew women
were much weaker than men, so her recovery of being knocked out
should be a lot longer than that of the dark man who’d been
standing outside. He was glad for his stroke of luck tonight
—
for a second, he had
been worried that the dark man might take him out. But of course, a
man couldn’t beat a car. And run him over is exactly what Joey had
done.
The perfect cure to any threat, he thought
jovially, walking through the back door. The sun was shining, the
birds were singing, and he had a great prize on his shoulder. Even
better the day will be when she wakes up…and he gets a piece of
that ass. Just thinking about it, his hand came up and palmed her
smooth, perfect ass. Oh yeah, he’d be deep in that the second he
got them out of this ho-dunk town.
Her foot twitched, but he barely
noticed the movement. He was too busy trying to open the door to
his black car with her on his shoulder. Maybe he should work out,
lose some of the pounds
—
he could make a hobby out of getting girls if he
lost the pounds… Joey shrugged. He got what he wanted, when he
wanted, and on the conditions he wanted.
Just like he had today with perfect little
Claire.
The bitch had been teasing him since
their first encounter, at one of her father’s galas. She must have
been sixteen then. He’d been more fit back then, he knew. Dashing,
elegant, as his wife described him even today. He laughed aloud at
the thought
—
that
woman didn’t know black from white as far as he was
concerned.
Flirty blue eyes, thick blonde
hair
—
every man’s
dream girl…and completely unavailable to Joey. He growled as her
remembered the way her father had had him escorted out one
evening,
just
because his hand had slipped when he had been standing behind
her at the hors d’oeuvres table. Slipped down her back and to her
ass.
Damn, even after all these
years…still had a better ass than his wife did. His cock jerked at
the thought while the door sprung open. He began shoving her in
there
—
Fuck
.
Joey was shoved back roughly, and he lost his
step.
Snapping blue eyes were wide open, and as the
perfect little bitch came out of the car, fists raised, he realized
he might have miscalculated.
He slammed into the ground, his weight a
momentous force. Claire attacked him like a psycho, and pain
erupted behind his eyelids as her fist connected over and over
again.
“You little
—
“ Her fist rammed into his mouth. One
of her legs was trapping his arm to the ground, and his other one
was underneath his body at a painful angle. Pain shot through his
temple, under his eyes, around his nose.
“Touch me
again
,” she screeched, pummeling him
with her fists. “Do it, you fat motherfucker!”
He only saw the flash of fury in her
eyes before she shoved her hand in his hair, pure, demonic intent
in every aspect of her being, and slammed his head into the ground.
Stars erupted
—
but
adrenaline crashed through him at the same time.
Fear, shame, and pain all shot up his back like
a needle shoved heroin in a junkies arm. He screamed in pain as he
managed to wrench his arm out from beneath him, swinging it at her
head.
She crashed to the side, into the
ground.
Just as a police car, followed by a pick-up,
rolled into the driveway.
Chapter 31
Joey Smith was fat, bloody, and cursing like a
sailor.
His suit was tangled above the bulge of his
stomach fat, his pant leg was ripped, and dirt was smeared into
every crevice of his face. The sweat that was building over him
caused the specks to turn muddy, grungy. Body odor wafted from him
in waves. Logan could smell him the second he stepped out of the
truck.