by Cynthia Eden
“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.
* * *
JULIANA 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.
* * *
DIEGO GUERRERO 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—”
Juliana’s old man had been a coward until the end.
“—when the explosion rocked the service.”
No, it hadn’t rocked the service. The blast had erupted after the service. His sources were better than hers.
“One man was killed in the explosion—”
The driver had been collateral damage. There was always collateral damage.
“—while four others were injured. Juliana James left the scene and is now in an undisclosed location.”
His eyes narrowed. The reporter rambled on, saying nothing particularly useful. After a moment, he shut off the television, then turned slowly to face his first in command.
Luis Sanchez swallowed, the movement stretching the crisscross of scars on his throat. The man was already sweating.
“Was I not clear?” Diego asked softly.
“Sí,” Luis rasped. His damaged voice was often limited to rough rasps and growls.
“Then, if I told you—clearly—that I wanted Juliana James brought back to me alive—” he shrugged, a seemingly careless move, but it still caused Luis to flinch
“—why did she nearly die today?”
Luis shifted from his right foot to his left. “I heard...word on the street is that...s-someone else has a hit on her. They’re offering top dollar...for her dead body.”
Now, that gave him pause. “Who?”
“D-don’t know, but I will find out. I will—”
“You will,” Diego agreed, “or you’ll be the one dying.” He never made idle threats. Luis understood that. Luis had been with him for five years—and he’d witnessed Guerrero carry out all of his...promises to both friends and enemies.
“Put the word out that Juliana James isn’t to be touched.” Except by him. They had unfinished business. She couldn’t die, not yet. He needed her to keep living a bit longer. “And when you find the one who put out this hit—” he leaned forward and softly ordered “—you make his death hurt.”
Because no one interfered with Diego’s plans. No one.
Chapter Four
The place wasn’t exactly what she’d expected. Juliana glanced around the small elevator from the corner of her eye. When Logan had said that he was taking her in for a briefing with his team, she’d figured they’d go somewhere that was...official.
Not so much a hole-in-the-wall.
From the outside, the building hadn’t even looked inhabited. Just a big, rough wooden building. Maybe three stories.
But Logan had led the way inside, walking with sure steps. Now they were riding up the creaking elevator, and Juliana was forcing herself to take slow, deep breaths.
She’d cried in the shower. She hadn’t been able to help herself. But she wouldn’t, couldn’t cry now. Now wasn’t the time for weakness.
The elevator came to a hard stop, jarring Juliana and sending her stumbling into Logan. The guy didn’t so much as move an inch, of course, because he was like some kind of military superhuman, but his arms closed around her.
“I’ve got you.”
That was her problem. Being with him—it was just making everything more painful.
She pulled away and saw a muscle flex in his jaw. “I’m fine.” The doors were sliding open. Very, very slowly. “Is this the best that the EOD could do?” The EOD. He’d told her a little more about the EOD on the drive over, but the information that he’d given her regarding the Shadow Agents just hadn’t been enough to satisfy her curiosity.
When she’d tried to press him, she’d gotten a just-the-facts-ma’am type of routine. That hadn’t been good enough. Juliana had kept pressing. The need-to-know routine was getting on her nerves.
Logan had told her that the EOD was composed of individuals from different military and government backgrounds. Their missions were usually highly classified.
And very, very dangerous.
A situation tailor-made for Logan and his team.
“On short notice, this building was the best we could find in terms of providing us with a low-profile base,” a woman’s voice told her, and Juliana glanced up to see Sydney walking toward them. Sydney stared at Logan with one raised eyebrow. “We were starting to wonder if you’d gotten lost.”
He growled. Was that a response? Juliana guessed so, because in the next instant, they were all heading down a narrow hallway. A fast turn, then they entered an office. One that didn’t look nearly as run-down as the rest of the place. Two laptops and a stash of weapons were on the right. Some empty chairs waited to the left.
Juliana gladly slumped into the nearest chair.
I can still feel the fire on my skin. Even the cold water from the shower hadn’t been able to wash away that memory. Juliana rubbed her hands over her arms and caught Logan’s narrow-eyed glance.
The guy watched her too much. Like a hawk.
She cleared her throat, glanced away from him and saw the others file into the room. No masks this time. Just tough, fierce fighters.
The woman was already sitting down near the side of the table. Sydney. Juliana had no idea what the woman’s last name was. She was booting up her laptop while a big, blond male leaned over her shoulder.
Gunner closed the door, sealing them inside, and he flashed her a broad grin. Was that grin supposed to be reassuring? It looked like a smile that a tiger would give the prey he was about to eat.
The silence in the room hit her then, and Juliana realized that everyone was just...staring at her. Hell, had she missed something?
“You understand why you must have protection, right?” Sydney pressed. Juliana realized the woman must have asked the question before.
Her breath eased out slowly as her gaze swept over them. “Tell me your names.” A simple thing, maybe, but she was tired of being in the dark. From this point on, she expected to
be in the loop about everything.
“I’m Sydney,” the woman said with a slow blink, “and I...um, believe that you know Logan pretty well.”
Too well. She would not blush right then. She was way past the blushing point. An exploding car made a woman forget embarrassment.
“I’m Gunner,” the big guy to the right said. His dark hair fell longer than Logan’s, and his eyes—no eyes should be so dark and so cold.
Juliana glanced at the last man. The blond wasn’t leaning over Sydney any longer. He’d taken a seat next to her. His arm brushed against hers.
“Jasper,” he said. Just that. More rumble than anything else.
Gunner frowned at the guy, and his dark, cold gaze lingered on the arm that Jasper had pressed against Sydney.
Ah...okay. “First names only, huh?” Juliana murmured. That was nice and anonymous.
“For now, it’s safer that way,” Logan said.
Right. Though Juliana wasn’t even sure any of them had given their real names. She put her fingers into her lap, twisting them together. “How are you going to stop the man who is after me?”
Sydney and Logan shared a brief look. Juliana’s shoulders tensed. She wasn’t going to like this part; she knew it even before Logan said, “Your father...made a deal with the EOD.” Logan’s quiet voice shouldn’t have grated, but it did.
Juliana forced herself to meet his stare. “What sort of deal?” She needed to know all of her father’s dark secrets, whether she wanted to hear them or not. It wasn’t the time to wear blinders.
“Your safety, your life, in return for evidence that he had against Diego Guerrero.”
Guerrero. Her heart slammed into her ribs. The man that Logan had told her was the same guy she knew as John Gonzales.
“What did my father—” Her voice sounded too weak. Don’t be weak. Juliana tried again. “Just what was my father doing with this Guerrero?”
“Selling out his country.” From the one called Jasper. When he spoke and she heard the drawl of Texas sliding beneath his words, Juliana remembered him.
Maybe he expected her to flinch at the blunt charge, but she didn’t. She just sat there. She’d known her father wasn’t exactly good for a long time.