Unexplored (Treasure Hunter Security Book 3) (4 page)

It was still early in Denver, the day just beginning, and the air was crisp. Darcy Ward strode down the sidewalk, juggling her handbag, phone, and the latte she’d just bought from her favorite coffee shop. Their barista could work magic.

She took a sip and then huffed out a breath, watching the faint white puff of it in the air. Declan and the others would still be in the air but landing soon. She had to make this call…and it was late enough in D.C. now, so she was running out of excuses.

“Just get it over and done with, Darcy,” she muttered to herself.

She lifted her phone and thumbed through her contacts. She found the one called
Agent Arrogant and Annoying
and hit the call button.

He answered after one ring. “Ms. Ward, this is unexpected.”

That deep voice, that arrogant edge. Oh So Special Agent Alastair Burke did her head in.

“Agent Burke, I wish I could say it was a pleasure.”

“But we’d both know you’d be lying. So why are you calling me?”

Darcy pulled a face, glad the sidewalk was empty. The man just couldn’t be polite. She suspected he was a robot under his suits.

“I need some information—”

“You’re asking me for a favor.” His tone filled with amusement.

Ugh, if he was here, she’d throw her coffee at him. No, that would be a waste of good coffee. But she took a second to imagine him with coffee dripping off him. Tall, muscular body in one of his well-cut suits, brown hair, green eyes and the faint shadow of scruff on his cheeks giving him a dangerous edge. He’d tug his jacket off, displaying his shoulder holster and the wet shirt clinging to his well-defined muscles.

Darcy blinked, then went rigid.
Oh, no. No, no, no.
She wasn’t going anywhere near that.

“It’s about Silk Road,” she said.

“What’s happened?” Burke’s voice sharpened and turned serious.

“We have a new client. Silk Road has abducted her brother down in South America and are demanding a ransom.”

Burke muttered a curse. “Silk Road does not need ransom money.”

She could hear his frown across the line. “That’s what we thought, too. Have they ever done anything like this before?”

“No. This must be about something else. Usually something old, shiny, and priceless. Who’s your client? What country did—”

“That’s confidential.” Darcy kept walking toward the Treasure Hunter Security offices. She was smiling now. “Thank you for your help.”

“You aren’t going to tell me anything else, are you?”

“Nope,” she said cheerfully.

“You still owe me.” His voice deepened.

“I’ll add it to Declan’s tab.” Her brother owed the agent several markers for past favors.

“No. I don’t want a favor from your brother. I want it from you.”

Darcy’s steps faltered.

“You owe me, Darcy. And I will collect.” The line went dead.

Darcy’s smile disappeared. He was the FBI, so why did she feel like she’d just been threatened?

Damn the man
. She’d changed her mind. If he was here, she
would
waste the coffee on him.

***

Sydney stirred, hearing the familiar low rumble that told her she was on a plane. Against her left side, she felt an intense warmth, and under her ear she heard a steady thump.

Opening her eyes, she looked up and realized she was leaning against a large, muscled man.

Logan
.

She stayed there for a second, knowing she should pull away. But she didn’t. He was asleep, and she let herself look at him. He looked no softer or tamer in sleep. She let her gaze drift across the powerful bridge of his nose, the rugged face, the stubble on his cheeks that made him look rough and tough.

His eyes opened—that brilliant antique gold—and for one humming moment, they stared at each other. Then they both pulled apart.

“Rise and shine.” Declan appeared, holding two mugs of coffee. He handed them over. “Hope you slept well. We’re just about to land.”

Logan got up. Sydney clutched her coffee, and turned to look out the window. She saw the sprawl of the city below, and the strip of beach that separated it from the waters of the Pacific Ocean. She’d been to South America before, but never Peru.

The next few hours were a blur. They landed, then spent time clearing Immigration, waiting while the THS members’ weapons and paperwork were checked over. Then she found herself being ushered into an SUV waiting for them outside the terminal.

From the driver’s seat, Declan leaned back. “Darcy’s booked us into rooms at your brother’s hotel. Apparently, he paid for an entire month, and left some of his stuff there. We’ll check in and then take a look at his room.”

Wedged between Hale and Morgan in the backseat, Sydney just nodded.

It didn’t take them long to get checked in. The Hotel San Antonio was in a lovely, white, colonial-style building. It was only two stories high, and each room had a small balcony with charming French doors.

Declan dropped her bag at her room before continuing down the hall. Sydney set her suitcase out of the way, and studied the lovely room, with its dark-wood floors, and the large bed covered by a crisp, white spread. Two couches and an armchair were arranged around an elegant wooden coffee table, and a narrow desk pressed against one wall. It wasn’t long before there was a knock at her door. She opened it, and Declan, Logan, and the others piled into her room. Suddenly, the spacious room didn’t feel so big anymore.

Declan sank into the armchair, Morgan took the couch, Hale leaned against a wall, and Logan prowled around like a predator. Declan leaned forward, hands resting between his knees. “I’m going to meet with the police. I want to see if there’s any more information about the altercation that was reported. See if I can get a description of the people chasing him, exactly where they headed, and what happened.” He spoke in a steady, confident tone.

Sydney could see he was easy with taking charge, and must have made a very good commander in the Navy.

“Morgan and Hale are going to go and check out the location of the chase and question any locals. Logan will take you to look at your brother’s room and things.” Declan’s gray eyes were direct. “You know Drew better than any of us. You’ll have the best chance of gleaning any information from his belongings.”

Sydney nodded. She was quiet as she followed Logan out into the hall. They took the stairs down to the lower floor. The hall was identical to the one above. Logan stopped in front of a door and pulled out a room key. “I’ll check the room out first. You stay here.” He reached under his shirt and pulled out a handgun. Sydney’s eyes widened.

Logan slipped inside. Sydney shifted on her feet, waiting for him to come back. She didn’t hear any noise, and the minutes seemed to stretch on, making her skin itch. Was he okay?

He was back a moment later, pushing the door open. Sydney moved inside.

The room was exactly the same as hers. The bed was neatly made and nothing looked out of place.

“There’s plenty of his stuff still here,” Logan said.

Sydney did a circle of the room, studying the empty surface of the desk, then the closet and the suitcase still stored inside. She fingered some of the shirts hanging in there. Drew favored polo shirts.

Pulling in a deep breath, she turned to Logan. “There’s no laptop. He has one that he built himself. He never goes anywhere without it. He has a tablet, as well.”

“There are some notebooks by the bed. Got some handwritten notes in them.”

She saw where Logan gestured and spotted the plain black books. She flicked through them. They were filled with Drew’s messy scrawl. On the chair beside the bed, she saw a discarded shirt. She lifted it up and smelled her brother’s cologne. She closed her eyes.

“You really do care about him.”

Logan’s gruff words made her angry. “Of course I do. He’s my brother. I may not shout all my feelings to the world, but I have them.”

“So you lie. You show the world that bland, impassive face of yours, but inside you’re thinking and feeling something else.”

She released a sharp breath. “What I do and how I act is none of your damn business, O’Connor.”

He shrugged a shoulder. “I just can’t stand people who aren’t what they appear to be. I can’t seem to work you out.”

He’d no doubt be shocked by what he didn’t know about her background. She put on her frostiest voice. “You’re not supposed to work me out, you’re supposed to focus on finding my brother.”

She turned around to do another lap of the room, looking for anything that she’d missed. She tried desperately to ignore Logan.

“Drew’s clothes are here.” She studied the contents of the closest again. “Based on the size of his suitcase, this is everything he brought with him.”
God, Drew
. “He didn’t have time or the opportunity to take any of it with him.” What was Silk Road doing to him?

“Sit down.” Logan’s fingers curled around her arm, and he pushed her toward the armchair.

She bit her lip, trying not to cry. “You want emotion, here you go.” She glared at him, feeling a lone tear track down her face. “Would you like a few sobs as well? Maybe some weeping?”

She heard Logan mutter. Then he knelt by her knees. “Don’t you dare cry.”

The words were harsh, but she heard the panic beneath them. A big, tough man like Logan intimidated by a woman’s tears. It almost made her laugh. “You wanted to know if I felt anything—”

“No damn tears,” he said again.

“God, you are so frustrating.”

He touched her knee. “We’ll find your brother, Syd.”

“Don’t call me Syd.”

“I like it.”

“You—”

Suddenly, the door burst open.

Sydney turned, saw bodies rushing in. Then bullets peppered the wall above them.

Logan yanked her off the chair and pulled her onto the floor. The air was crushed out of her lungs, and she couldn’t have screamed if she’d wanted to. Logan’s big body covered hers as more gunfire erupted around them.

***

Logan pressed down over Sydney. He lifted his head and saw shots thumping into the couch nearby.

Screw this.
He reached down and pulled out his Desert Eagle pistol. He pressed his lips to Sydney’s ear. “Stay down.”

Logan sat up and fired back. But pinned down like this, he couldn’t get a decent shot at the intruders. They were hiding around the wall into the entry.

He got to his knees and then dived across the space toward the second couch. He heard more shots as he rolled and pressed himself flat to the ground.

He heard cursing, then footsteps. He rose up, firing.

The guy rushing at Logan dodged, his face covered by a black mask. A second man was following behind. He lunged and smashed into Logan. Together, they hit the coffee table with a loud
thud
. Logan wrestled the smaller man down and got on top of him. He slammed a hard punch into the man’s face and the guy groaned. Another punch and the bastard fell back, out cold.

More gunshots. Logan’s chest went tight.
Sydney
.

Logan fought the urge to stand up and rush in. He peered around the edge of the couch. Sydney was still behind the other couch, but a Silk Road thug was advancing on her, gun in hand.

Shit
. But before Logan could move, Sydney reared up, a lamp clutched in her hands. She swung it hard and it slammed into the guy’s head.

Hell, yeah
. Then another guy rushed in from the front door and launched a hard kick into Logan’s side.

Logan staggered and spun, and his gun flew out of his hand.
Hell
.

Anger flooded through his veins in a rush. He grabbed his attacker, clenching his fists on the man’s shirt. They spun, and then with a roar, Logan heaved the guy and tossed him toward the French doors.

Glass shattered. The Silk Road man screamed as he fell off the balcony. Logan was just sorry they weren’t on the top floor.

He spun, and saw the other man grappling with Sydney. There was a trickle of blood down her cheek and her face was strained. The man was much larger than her.

Logan let out a growl and started in her direction.

Suddenly, Sydney dropped her weight back, and she and the thug stumbled forward. In a smooth, seamless move, she tugged the guy over her head. She dropped, and the guy crashed to the ground.

She leaped back onto her feet, and landed a sharp blow to the man’s throat.

Logan let out a roar and charged. He grabbed the attacker and started pummeling him.

“Logan. Stop.
Logan
.”

He kept up the hard punches, the rage inside him an animal thing.

“Logan.” He felt a slim hand stroke his cheek.

He looked up at her.

“You need to calm down.”

He worked his jaw, fighting down his battle haze. He dragged in a breath.

“You back?” she asked.

Chest heaving, he nodded. His gaze zeroed in on the nasty scratch on the side of her face. The smear of blood on her smooth skin was wrong. “He hit you.”

“A slap. And you—” she cast a glance down at the groaning attacker “—pummeled him half to death. I’m okay, Logan.”

“You sure?”

She nodded.

More in control of himself, Logan pushed to his feet, and his brain started processing what had happened. He pulled the zip ties he always carried out of his pocket and tied up their attackers. “Hell of a move with the lamp. And pulling him over your head. He must weigh twice as much as you.”

“Guess I got lucky. Thanks to the adrenaline.” She looked away and stepped back. “I’m glad I took those self-defense classes. They paid off.”

She’d pulled herself together and now looked as cool as a glacier. She was also lying to him.

Memories of another woman—one who’d lied to him, duped him, and almost killed him and his SEAL team—roared to life in his head.

A bitter taste in his mouth, he advanced on Sydney and backed her up against the wall. Her back hit an abstract painting and it crashed to the floor. Her wide blue eyes stared up at him.

“Logan—”

He pinned her with his hands either side of her head. “Who the hell are you?”