Lana smiled, and their dark, little corner of the restaurant blazed with light.
“Competitive much?”
He nodded as he dabbed his runny nose with a napkin. Luckily Gabby saved him from stuffing his face with any more of the hot stuff as she approached their table and took their order.
When Gabby left, Logan took a sip of his water and hunched forward. “Tell me, Lana, why do you think there’s more to the story than the government is telling us about the attack on the embassy?”
“Because my brother told me there was.”
“He died in the attack.”
She flinched. “He suspected something was going on before the attack.”
“He communicated this to you?”
“We had a few face-to-face conversations on the computer after he got there. He didn’t understand why they were at the outpost to begin with. There were a lot of secret comings and goings and a supply shed that they weren’t allowed to enter.”
“Who exactly was coming and going there?”
She lifted one shoulder. “Some Americans, some foreigners. The guards weren’t briefed, and he didn’t recognize any of them—except one.”
“Who was that?” Logan’s heart thumped so hard, Lana could probably hear it over the music playing in the background.
“A Major Rex Denver. The guards all knew him. They’d heard all about his exploits in Delta Force...” She snapped and aimed her index finger at him. “Delta Force, like you.”
This was not one of the things Logan planned to lie to Lana about. “That’s right. I know Major Denver. He was my squad leader before...”
“Before he turned traitor and went AWOL.”
“That never happened.” Logan slapped a palm on the table and a chip slid from the basket.
“You’re trying to exonerate him. That’s why you’re interested in the attack on the embassy.” She settled back in her chair and stirred her tea with the straw, the ice clinking against the glass. “Not sure the fact that Major Denver showed up at the outpost is going to do that. In fact, it makes him look guiltier if there was any hanky-panky going on at that compound.”
“Not if he knew about the...hanky-panky and was there to investigate it himself.”
Gabby brought their food. “Watch the plates. They’re hot.”
“Thanks, Gabby.” Logan pointed his fork at the salsa dish. “Can you bring more salsa, please?”
“Of course.” She swept the nearly depleted bowl from their table.
Lana smirked. “You don’t have anything to prove, Logan.”
“I know.” He plunged his fork into his burrito and sliced off a corner. “It’s growing on me.”
She picked up one of her tacos and held it over her plate while the busboy delivered another bowl of salsa. “Maybe Denver’s presence at the outpost triggered the attack, or maybe it was the questions he asked after his visit.”
“How do you know he asked questions?”
“I know he asked Gil and the other marines a ton of questions while he was there. The guys were kind of in awe of him, but they couldn’t give him any answers.”
“Did Gil tell you what kinds of questions Denver was asking?”
“Mostly about that shed.”
“I suppose you didn’t record your sessions with your brother?”
“I didn’t, but I’m sure he wrote down everything in his journal.”
“He kept a journal?”
“Gil was always a good writer and I think he believed he had the makings of a book.”
“Where’s his journal, Lana?”
“On its way to me.” She patted her chest. “The military is sending me his personal effects.”
“You’ve already—” Logan swallowed “—buried him?”
Lana dropped her taco and crumpled her napkin in her hand. “Yes, they returned his body and we buried him with full military honors—a military that refuses to honor him now by telling the truth.”
“I don’t know if you can blame the military, Lana. There’s something going on, something secretive, something so deep cover I don’t think even the top brass knows what’s happening.”
“And you believe it has something to do with Major Denver.”
“I know it does.”
“Why did he take off? Why not stay and fight the charges against him?”
“Sometimes it’s easier to wage a war on your own terms. Does that make sense?”
“Yes.” She jabbed her straw into her glass so hard, a chip of ice flew onto the table and skittered toward him.
Logan dabbed at the ice with the tip of his finger. “I think he could see the net closing in on him and he understood that it was a trap—especially for him. I’m sure wherever he is, he’s fighting. He’s doing it his own way.”
“I can understand that.”
She gazed over his shoulder as if at something in the distance, and he wondered what battles Lana had undertaken on her own.
Several minutes later, Gabby slipped the check out of her pocket and waved it over the table. “Anything else?”
“Not for me. Logan?”
“Anything more than that burrito?” He plucked the check from Gabby’s fingers. “No way.”
She picked up their plates and spun away, calling over her shoulder. “See you next time, Lana.”
Lana stretched out her arm to him and wiggled her fingers. “How much do I owe?”
“I’ll take care of it on one condition.”
“What’s that?”
“You keep me updated on Gil’s journal and anything else you find.”
“And you do the same.”
“Deal.”
“It seems like we’ll be helping each other, so we can split the check, too.”
“I’m the one who suggested lunch. You can get the next one.”
She plunged her hand into her purse and pulled out a wallet. “Let me get the tip.”
“Don’t worry. I’ll be generous with the tip.” He added a few more bills to the pile and held it out to her. “Is this okay?”
“More than generous.”
“You’re kind of a control freak, aren’t you?”
“You could say that.” She stood up and pulled her jacket from the back of her chair. “Where are you staying?”
“The Greenvale Inn and Suites back by the congressman’s office, but I’m not going there right now.” He reached the front door of the restaurant before she did and held it open for her.
“Where are you going?”
“I’m following you back to your place. You said you were expecting a delivery of your brother’s possessions any day, and I’m going to hold you to your word.”
“All right.” She flicked up the collar of her jacket. “I want to show you something in that report, anyway. Have you read it?”
“I’ve seen bits and pieces of it, not the entire report.”
“The report is bits and pieces. There’s so much redaction, it’s hard to read.”
He could believe that. There would be secrecy surrounding an embassy outpost like that even without an attack. “Your address?”
“Just follow me. It’ll be easier.”
He did follow her, right to her truck, and opened the heavy door after she’d unlocked it.
She placed one boot on the running board and hopped into the driver’s seat. “It’s about a forty-minute drive.”
“I’ll be right behind you.”
He followed her out of town and along the two-lane highway. He hadn’t given too much thought to Lana’s housing situation, but didn’t expect her to live out in the boonies like this.
Farmland rolled past his window, and occasionally he got a whiff of fresh manure, a smell that reminded him of home.
After about forty minutes of driving,
the right indicator on Lana’s truck flashed on and off and she slowed down. She turned and drove the truck between two posts onto a small paved road.
As Logan took his car through the posts, he tried to read the writing carved on the sides but it was too small. Lana lived on a ranch. Was it hers? Her husband’s?
The thought of a husband lurking beyond the gate up ahead socked him in the gut, but he brushed it aside. If Lana Moreno had a husband, she wouldn’t be running around on her own trying to get closure on Gil. And if she had a husband and he allowed her to do this on her own, the guy didn’t deserve her.
As Lana’s truck approached the main gate to the ranch, Logan threw his car into Park and jumped out. He jogged to the gate, unhitched it and swung it wide.
Lana waved as she drove through and then waited for him while he followed with his car. He pulled up behind her, left his car idling, closed the gate and slid back into his rental.
He kept after her as she wound up the road past a horse riding ring and a pasture. Her truck rattled past the big house that had a later-model truck than hers and a minivan parked in the front.
He didn’t take her for a minivan type, anyway. She kept driving toward a stand of trees and then curved around them, pulling alongside a much-smaller house than the one in front and hidden from the view of the road.
He left his rental car several feet behind her truck. When he got out, she was halfway to the porch.
“I think it’s here.” Her boots clattered on the wooden steps of the front porch.
By the time he joined her, she’d sunk beside a box by the front door and had slid a knife along the taped seam.
As she made a grab for one loose flap, he said, “Let me get it inside for you first.”
She scrambled to her feet, as he wrapped his arms around the box and hoisted it against his chest. With hands that could barely hold on to her key chain, she fumbled at the lock before he heard a click and the door swung open.
She stood to the side. “Put it in the middle of the floor.”
His boots clumped against the hardwood floor as he made his way to a throw rug in the middle of the room. Crouching, he allowed the box to slip from his grasp until it settled on the floor.
Lana fell to her knees beside it, knife clutched in her hand. She ran it along the other seam and peeled back the lid. She stopped, gripping either side of the box, her eyes closed.
“Are you all right?” Logan touched her hand. “Do you want to do this on your own? I can step outside.”
Her eyelids flew open and one tear glistened on the edge of her long lashes. “It’s okay. It’s the smell, you know? It came at me all at once—his smell.”
Logan inhaled deeply. Lana smelled her brother, but another scent hit him and resonated deep in his core. “It’s the smell of war.”
Hunching over the box, she buried both of her hands inside and pulled out some clothing. She placed a stack of clothes on the floor, smoothing her hands over the shirt folded on top. She dived in again and again, withdrawing toiletries, books and personal items.
As the pile of Gil’s things grew around her, her movements grew more and more frantic until she withdrew the final item from the box—Gil’s beret.
She collapsed against the base of the couch, clutching the hat to her chest, her eyes dark slits. “They stole it. Somebody took Gil’s journal.”
Chapter Three
Lana kicked the empty box with her foot, flipping it over. She should’ve known someone would snatch Gil’s journal. Maybe if she hadn’t blabbed to anyone who would listen about what she knew and how, Gil’s journal wouldn’t have come under any scrutiny. She’d led them right to it—and the only proof she had that the attack on the outpost wasn’t random.
“You’re sure it’s not in one of these smaller pouches?” Logan poked at Gil’s stuff with his finger, toppling one of the piles.
“I looked in each one as I pulled it out, but you’re welcome to do it again.” She folded her arms over Gil’s beret and dipped her head, the scratchy wool tickling her chin. “I messed up. I shouldn’t have mentioned that journal to anyone.”
“Maybe there’s another box on its way. Maybe the mail person delivered the second box to the house in the front. Does that ever happen?” Logan righted the empty box and placed his hands inside, as if he thought there might be a false bottom.
“The mail person doesn’t make mistakes but my stuff does have a habit of winding up at the big house.” Lana clenched her teeth at the thought of Bruce pawing through Gil’s belongings.
Logan sprang to his feet and extended his hand to her. “Do you want to ask them?”
“You’re coming with me?”
He cocked his head. “If you want me to.”
She couldn’t wait to parade Captain Logan Hess in front of Bruce, even though she couldn’t pass off Logan as anything more than a friend, not even that, really, but she’d relish the expression on Bruce’s face when he got a look at Logan and his rippling muscles. Not that she could see those muscles under his shirt—but she could imagine them and she had a wild imagination.
“Of course I want you to. You don’t want to stay here by yourself, do you?” She grabbed his hand, and he pulled her to her feet.
She dropped the beret on the couch, but didn’t drop Logan’s hand—not yet. The strength and warmth of his fingers sent a zap of courage through her body, and she sorely needed some of that right now.
This must be how it feels to have someone on your side.
He squeezed her hand. “Are you okay? That had to be rough going through your brother’s personal effects.”
“I’m all right. I’ll feel better once I get my hands on his journal.”
Logan had taken off his jacket when they’d walked into the house and he grabbed it from the back of the chair. She hadn’t bothered shedding hers but zipped it up now to meet the cold—and Bruce McGowan.
As they tromped down her driveway toward the main house, Logan said, “I’m assuming the people in the big house own this ranch.”
“They do.”
“And you do...what?”
“I train horses here. My father worked for the current owner’s father, Douglas McGowan, who kept me on after my father went to the restaurant. Douglas died just a few months after my father’s death.”
“So, you’ve been here two years on your own. You’re lucky. You must like it to have stayed on.”
A muscle twitched in her jaw, and she rubbed it away. “It’s a job and I need a job. I’m sending money to my mom in Mexico, so she can take care of abuelita.”
“You’re saying you don’t like it?”
“I like the horses.” She put a finger to her lips as they rounded the corner of the yellow house.
She climbed the two steps to the porch, and the familiar butterflies swirled around her stomach as she jabbed her knuckle against the doorbell.
The bell rang deep in the house, and Lana squared her shoulders and shoved her hands in her pockets, knowing Bruce was peering at her through the peephole, or soon would be.
Seconds later, the door swung open and Bruce’s big frame filled the doorway. His face broke into a grin. “Lana-Madonna, what brings you to my castle? You must...”
His words trailed off as the step behind Lana squeaked and Logan hovered behind her.
“Bruce, this is Logan Hess. Logan, Bruce McGowan.”
As Bruce lurched past her to grab Logan’s hand, his shoulder brushed hers.
“Nice to meet you, Logan. Friend of our little horse trainer?”
Lana held her breath as Logan seemed to suck in his with a sharp breath.
“Yeah.” Logan dropped his hand from Bruce’s and placed it on the small of her back.
Bruce’s gaze flicked to the gesture, and then the smile, a bit stiffer this time, returned to his face. “What can I do y
ou for on this fine winter afternoon?”
“I received a delivery today—a box—and I was wondering if by any chance there was a second box delivered here by mistake.”
“Those mail people—give them one job to do and you’d think they could do it right instead of screwing it up all the time.” Bruce glanced at Logan and shrugged. “They’re always delivering Lana’s mail up here to the big house.”
“Yeah, funny how that works though. I never seem to get your mail. Anyway, did you get a box delivered?”
“Nope.”
“Did you pick up the mail or did Dale? Where is Dale?”
“She’s upstairs...resting.” Bruce’s jawline hardened. “Dale didn’t pick up the mail. She’s pretty much been...resting since she took the kids to school—and they’re still there in case you’re wondering.”
“I figured that.” The butterflies returned and she pressed a hand against her belly. “You’ll let me know if you get something of mine.”
“Always, Lana. Anytime you need anything from me, well almost anything, my door’s always open.” Bruce winked.
Logan’s body, just behind hers, tensed, his fingers curling into her hip.
Bruce stepped back inside the house as his face momentarily lost its ruddy color. “Nice to meet you, Logan. Any friend of Lana’s is a friend of ours. You have a good day now.”
He practically slammed the door in their faces, and Lana released a pent-up breath.
She pivoted on the porch and marched to her house with Logan hot on her heels, but silent.
When they reached her porch, he grabbed her arm. “What the hell was that all about? Who does that guy think he is? He’s lucky he still has his front teeth after the way he talked to you. Our little horse trainer? I’m surprised you didn’t smack him after that one.”
“He’s my employer.” She lifted a shoulder. “And my landlord. He and Dale let me live here for free. It was an arrangement his father had with mine, but I’m sure Bruce could end that arrangement anytime he wanted, especially since he’s selling off most of his horses.”
“He clearly doesn’t want to end the arrangement. He likes having you at his beck and call, doesn’t he?”
Enemy Infiltration Page 3