Newborn Conspiracy (15 page)

Logan glanced at Mia. She was still crouched in front of the SUV and she was staring at him.

The prison guards were still in place, and one of them was talking on a two-way radio. Logan figured it wouldn’t be long before police backup arrived. After all, this wasn’t a prison incident and the local authorities would no doubt be called in.

Maybe the authorities would get lucky and catch the SOB.

But just in case they didn’t arrive in time, Logan raced toward another vehicle. The shooter followed him with another round of shots. However, the new position was worth it. It put him at the far end of the parking lot, where there were fewer obstructions.

And he finally saw the shooter.

Like the other attack in front of Mia’s house, Logan couldn’t tell if the shooter was male or female. The person wore black bulky clothes and was literally perched in a tree about five hundred yards on the other side of the road. Well out of range of Logan’s Glock.

He inched forward, staying next to the vehicle, but this was no longer a lateral reposition.

Logan was moving toward the shooter and would continue to so long as the person took aim at him and not Mia.

Plus, by getting closer, Logan might be able to get off his own shot, and he could perhaps figure out who was under all that bulky black clothing.

When he reached the end of the car, he raced toward the second row of vehicles. Logan heard the sirens then and knew the authorities were on the way. He also heard something else.

The sound of the next shot.

This one didn’t come toward him. It had been fired in Mia’s direction, “Hell," he snarled. That did it. Logan was well past his boiling point and he came up ready to blast that moron to smithereens.

Logan fired.

Keeping track of his own shots. He had thirteen rounds and had already used two. He clipped off two more, and he knew that while he didn’t have the range, he damn sure had the accuracy. His bullets went right at the shooter.

“Logan, get down!" he heard Mia yell.

But he didn’t, even though it was a risk. There was a chance that he could end this right here, right now.

Evidently, the gunman thought that, as well.

Because the person stopped tiring and began to scramble down the tree. That was Logan’s cue to move—fast.

Logan stopped inching forward and broke into a run. He had to hurdle over fallen trees and underbrush. That didn’t help the pain in his leg, but he refused to let it stop him. He ran as hard as he could, trying to make up the distance between the shooter and him.

He lost sight of the person just as he reached the edge of the road. Going into the thick woods wasn’t his first choice of things to do, but he figured the gunman was well on his way to escaping.

He wasn’t going to let that happen.

Because if he or she got away, there’d only be another attack. And another. Until Logan put a stop to this.

The sirens grew closer, but Logan didn’t wait for them since they were probably still a minute or more out. The shooter would be long gone by then.

He hurried across the road and ducked behind a tree. Logan did a quick visual check around him and raced forward to the spot where he’d first seen the gunman.

The person wasn’t there, of course.

But there were some spent shell casings and trampled leaves that left a clear trail to the shooter’s exit path.

Logan followed with his gun aimed and ready.

He moved through the maze of trees and prickly shrubs, and he listened for any sound to indicate that the shooter had doubled back and was about to ambush him.

But that wasn’t the sound he heard.

Even over the shrill of the approaching sirens, he heard something he didn’t want to hear.

The sound of someone starting a car engine.

He cursed and continued to race through the woods. He pinpointed his focus on the sound of that car and tried to shut out everything else. This was his chance to make sure Mia and his son were safe.

Maybe his only chance.

Logan slapped aside a low-hanging tree branch and saw the clearing. He raced toward it. But it wasn’t just a clearing. It was a narrow country road, and there was a dark-green car parked next to a shallow ditch.

The person dressed in black bulky clothing was in that car.

Logan could see the shadowy figure through the heavily tinted windows, but he couldn’t make out any distinguishing features.

But that was the least of his problems.

The driver hit the accelerator.

Logan tried to stop the escape. He ran toward the road, aimed his weapon and fired. His bullet shattered the glass in the back window.

But the driver didn’t stop.

He tired again, but he took his focus off the driver and turned it to the license plates. VMJ were the first three letters. He didn’t get a good look at the rest because the car barreled over a hill.

And disappeared.

With his breath gusting and adrenaline firing on all cylinders, he repeated those three letters, committing them to memory.

Because those three letters were going to lead him to the person who’d just tried to murder them once again.

The hot bath hadn’t helped Mia, Neither had the chamomile tea that Logan had delivered to the suite. Ditto for the chicken soup she’d had for dinner. Even holding, nursing and rocking Tanner hadn’t worked. Instead of spending pleasant quiet moments with her son, her mind and heart were still racing with the most unpleasant thing of all.

She couldn’t stop thinking about the shooting.

They had come close to dying again. Another attack, another near miss. And they still didn’t have a culprit identified and behind bars.

However, Mia refused to give in to the helpless feeling that their situation was creating. She refused to cry and she darn sure refused to give up. The stakes were too high for her to do that. Besides, Logan was working on the case. She had to believe that sooner or later—hopefully sooner—he’d be able to put a name and a face with the person who had fired rifle shots at them.

She eased Tanner into his bassinet and went to the door that separated the bedroom from the sitting area. Logan was still on the phone. He had the call on speaker phone and she could hear bits and pieces of what he and Jason were saying. However, Logan’s tone told her a lot more than his words.

He was barking out orders, which meant he was still well beyond being riled.

That didn’t surprise her. He’d been in that particular state of mind since he’d stormed out of those woods near the prison. Mia had been so thankful to see him, so thankful that he was alive and unharmed. But Logan had immediately launched into an investigation that included phoning for members of his team to find the car that the gunman had used to escape.

Logan had wanted to go after the car himself.

He’d as much as said so when they were giving their statements to Sheriff Knight, the officer who’d responded to the scene. The sheriff, however, had advised Logan to take Mia and go someplace safe, since the shooter might return for another round, Mia tiptoed into the sitting room so that she wouldn’t disturb his call. They were alone. Dorien Novak, the bodyguard, had excused herself to go to her room across the hall. Mia figured the woman really just wanted to get away from a snarling, scowling Logan.

And speaking of Logan, he was indeed still scowling as he listened to Jason explain some paperwork. Logan was sitting on the sofa, his feet propped on the ottoman. He’d taken off his boots and jacket and had discarded them on the floor next to his suitcase. His shirt was halfway unbuttoned, revealing a tightly muscled chest sprinkled with dark coils of hair.

Despite the nightmare they’d just been through, or maybe as a result of it, she felt herself go all warm.

Okay, hot.

It was strange, the effect he had on her. Even now, she could appreciate and react to the sight of him.

She stepped closer and spotted the uneaten sandwich and coffee on the table next to the baby monitor equipped with a camera. And his gun, which he’d covered with a cloth napkin. He hadn’t touched either the sandwich or the coffee, though it was nearly six in the evening, which meant he’d skipped both lunch and dinner. He had to be starving by now.

Logan looked at her, snared her gaze. And he seemed to do a double take. The look he gave her was long. Smoldering.

And if she wasn’t mistaken—appreciative.

Mia immediately glanced down to make sure she hadn’t left her top unbuttoned after nursing, but she was thankfully covered.

Well, almost.

She’d changed since the incident at the prison and was wearing one of the outfits Logan’s team had sent to the hotel. It definitely wasn’t her normal attire. A short black skirt and a loose citrus-green shirt that barely made it to her waist.

Logan returned his attention to the phone when Jason finished speaking."Please tell me that the car dealer had surveillance videos on the lot or in his office," he said to the man.

“Afraid not. It’s a mom-and-pop place out past Kerrville. They probably only sell a handful of cars each month, if that."

Despite that dour-sounding news, it was also promising because it sounded as if they’d found the place where the gunman had bought the escape vehicle.

“Besides." Jason continued, “The dealer is pretty sure the guy who bought it wasn’t buying it for himself. He claimed that his name was David Smith and he paid cash."

“So the person could have been buying the car for Genevieve," Logan concluded.

“Unfortunately, yes."

That was unfortunate. Because if the shooter had used a go-between for the sale, then his or her identity was still a secret, “Call me the minute you have an update on Collena or anything else," Logan insisted. He stabbed the end call button and angled his body so that he was facing her."How’s Tanner?"

“Asleep,"

He made a rumbling sound deep within his throat and rubbed his hands over his face."I’m glad he’s too young to know what’s going on."

Mia walked closer and sank down on the ottoman across from him."What exactly is going on?

Did Jason have any news?"

“Nothing that pleases me."

He turned again on the sofa, the movement dragging the right side of his shirt wider open so that it exposed even more of his chest. She’d been right about the tight muscles, but she also saw the scars. One angled across his left pec, and because his jeans rode loose and low on his hips, she could also see another one on his equally tightly muscled abdomen.

“How did that happen?" Without thinking, Mia reached out and traced her finger over the scar on his abdomen.

She knew it was a mistake when she heard Logan draw in his breath. It wasn’t an ordinary breath. Nor was it sharp or even the sound of surprise. It was a low husky male sound that stirred the heat inside her again. The sound a man would make when having great sex.

That had her drawing her hand back."Sorry." She shook her head and silently cursed. What was wrong with her? “Uh, you were talking about Jason."

Logan waited a moment, staring at her."Jason traced the license plates to a dealership.

Someone bought the vehicle yesterday afternoon, but you heard that it’s a dead end."

“Maybe not" She took a deep breath to try to keep her head clear, “Maybe once the vehicle is found—"

“My team found it about a half hour ago. It was in the parking lot of an abandoned warehouse in south San Antonio. Someone had set fire to it and there doesn’t appear to be any recoverable evidence."

After hearing that, it was difficult not to give in to the disappointment, but Mia knew that Logan didn’t need any more frustration.

He was feeling enough for both of them.

“What about Collena?" she asked."How is she?"

Logan shook his head."Good news on that front. She’s better. She’s supposed to meet with her doctor this afternoon and I’m getting an update once she’s spoken to him. If she’s going home anytime soon, I need to arrange security to monitor her house because I can’t rule out that she’s still a target, too."

In fact, there wasn’t much of anything they could rule out. They still had four suspects:

George Devereux. Genevieve, Royce and Donnie. And any one of them could have fired the shots or hired someone to do the job.

“You have so much on your mind," she mumbled.

“What about you?" His eyes skimmed over her again. From head to toe."How are you doing?"

He leached out and caught her hand, Mia tried not to wince, but his touch, no matter how slight, caused the scrapes on her palms to sting. The scrapes she’d gotten when he’d pushed her to the ground in the parking lot.

Still, she preferred having his touch. For some reason, in addition to making her hotter than summer asphalt, Logan made her feel safe.

But she rethought that.

He didn’t just make her feel safe—he made her feel. And that in itself was nothing short of a miracle. He’d accomplished what years of therapy couldn’t.

“I’m doing a lot better than you think I am." She forced herself to smile."Logan, what happened at the prison wasn’t your fault."

“Like hell it wasn’t."

Just like that, the tender moment was over. He got up, shoved his cell phone into the pocket of his jeans and walked to the bar.

Or rather, he limped to the bar.

He poured himself a glass of the Kentucky bourbon he’d had delivered to the room and he took the shot in one gulp. It must have been strong because it watered his eyes, Mia got up and went to him."We went there looking for information. Now, whether it was a setup or not, it still wasn’t your fault. We can’t stop looking for the truth and stayed cocooned in here."

“I can keep you cocooned." And he looked her straight in the eyes when he said that “I can’t put you in harm’s way anymore."

“That’s not really your decision to make, is it?" Mia pointed out.

Anger flared through him."You bet it is. I got you into this mess—"

“I got you into this mess" Mia countered. But then she shook her head."This discussion is obviously not going anywhere. We should be putting the blame on the shooter and not ourselves." She glanced down at his leg."You’re in pain."