Burned

by Roberts, Emma

  The big one I’d seen shove Mina into the car spun around to face me. As tempting as it was to go for a headshot, I was going to be in enough shit without adding double homicide to the list of crimes I was committing by just being here with a gun.

  I pulled the trigger, going for a knee shot.

  The guard toppled, knocking back Dennison and landing in a heap on top of Mina. For a second, I worried that I might have nicked an artery and killed him.

  The police swarmed into the warehouse, surrounding Dennison, knocking the scalpel from his hand. Below then, splayed out on her side on the floor, Mina was manacled to a chair, unable to move under the weight of the guard.

  Handing the nearest officer my gun so I wouldn’t be shot, I went to Mina, despite the officer warning me to stay back. I hoisted the guard up by the lapels of his suit and tossed him aside like a rag doll, ignoring the stream of curses he aimed at me.

  “Mina,” I breathed.

  Her face was pressed into the dirt, her flame-bright hair splayed out around her like a halo. Deep purple bruises were blossoming across the ivory skin of her throat, and I felt the urge to end Dennison right then.

  “G-get me out of this thing, p-please,” she stammered as I set the chair upright.

  “Hang in there a second.” I pulled aside one of the cops and asked if he had tools in his car.

  Mina’s face was hard to read. I wasn’t sure if she was in shock, or if she really was as tough as nails. From any other woman, I’d have expected hysterics. Screaming, crying, and possibly a fainting spell. The only concession Mina made was to throw her arms around my neck as soon as her hands were freed.

  She wound herself around me and I lifted her from her feet. She was a welcome weight in my arms, and one I could have carried till the end of time.

  I buried my face in her neck, breathing her in. The warm press of her body took the edge off my panic. She was alive and whole. It was more than I had been expecting to find.

  “I thought I’d lost you,” I whispered.

  Subtle tremors ran through her body. “I thought so too,” she admitted. “Oh God, Logan. I’m so, so sorry. I didn’t want any of this. I just–”

  I silenced her with a swift but fierce kiss, bringing her lips to a standstill. “We’ll talk about it later.”

  After a blur of questions and statements, we were allowed to leave with the warning that the police would be in touch with us. They didn’t buy my story of following the criminals to this location. That was alright. I’d pay whatever fee I needed to make this incident disappear forever. Another battery of questions came with the paramedics, who wanted to take Mina to the hospital, which she staunchly refused, saying she would be fine.

  Mina was silent as she settled into the passenger’s side of the car I’d appropriated from the hotel guard.

  “How’d you find me?”

  I hesitated as I drove out of the warehouse district. I’d been hoping to avoid that question until we were back in the States.

  “I placed a tracker inside your necklace.”

  Mina glanced down at the rose des vents necklace I’d purchased the day before. It nestled in the hollow of her throat and stood out starkly against the bruising there.

  I ground my teeth, feeling murderous. Dennison and his goon needed to be taught a painful lesson for what had been done to Mina.

  She let out a weary, humorless laugh. “And here I thought the necklace was an apology.”

  “It was,” I said slowly, rubbing the back of my neck sheepishly. “And a precaution. I couldn’t be sure we weren’t being followed.”

  She rubbed the mother of pearl and diamond settings absently and smiled a little.

  Her smile eased some of the tension that lay like a sleeping tiger on my chest. If she could find anything funny after the night she’d had, it was a very good sign.

  “Good God, Logan. What am I, your Pekingese? I didn’t think it was really necessary to put a chip on me.” She paused to consider. “I really should be pissed about it,” she said, shaking her head ruefully. “It’s right out of the stalker’s handbook, you know. But it saved my life, so I’m having trouble finding a reason to complain.”

  Silence stretched between us. What did one say after something like that? Somehow, declaring my love to her seemed inappropriate. She’d come into this under the weight of blackmail and death threats. Any overtures she’d made toward me had been done under duress. Such was hardly the makings of a good relationship. I also had my own problems to deal with back home.

  “Why did he take you?” Reaching the docks, I threw the car into park.

  I would be informing Cassius of our departure shortly after we packed our bags and headed to the airport. There was nothing anyone could say to make me stay here any longer than necessary. This trip was canceled. Fuck what my father had to say about it.

  She leaned her head against the headrest and stared out the window at the twinkling lights of the marina. It was a classic Mina tactic. She knew, but she didn’t want to tell me. I waited for the oppressive silence to draw the answer out of her. She held out for a long moment before she relented with a sigh.

  “Antony Dennison hired one of my girls six years ago,” she whispered. “He was one of our first clients. I thought I recognized him, but I couldn’t remember from where. It was a one-time engagement and it appeared to go normally. Apparently, his wife found out and it ended in a messy divorce. He blamed me.”

  I pursed my lips, chewing on the words that wanted to escape me. The immediate and unthinking I told you so. I’d suspected the perp was someone she’d done business with. I’d been right.

  She turned in her seat to scowl at me. “Go ahead and say it. You’re about to burst with righteous indignation over there. Will it soothe your overinflated ego to say ‘I told you so?’”

  Instead of saying anything, I took one of her hands in mine, smoothing my thumb over her palm. Her skin was mottled with dirt from the warehouse floor. She’d need a shower and a change of clothes when we boarded the Boeing.

  “You need to get out of this business, Mina. It’s going to blow up in your face if you try to keep this up. There might have been a market for this once upon a time but you’re not anonymous anymore. How many more Antony Dennisons are out there?”

  Mina glowered out the window, refusing to meet my gaze. Her jaw flexed stubbornly. She knew I had a point, but she would rather walk over glass than admit it. I pressed on, trying to ignore the poisonous look her reflection was giving me.

  “He’s been dealt with, but there will be others like him in the future if you keep mucking about in people’s personal lives.”

  “We help people,” Mina muttered darkly. I wasn’t sure if she was trying to convince me or herself.

  Pulling her half across the center console, I crushed her to my chest, claiming her for a possessive kiss. Her lips were soft and supple and molded to mine perfectly. Her hands clutched at my shoulders, holding me to her. When she broke away, she was panting, weariness showing clearly on her face.

  “I’m too tired to argue with you, Logan,” she breathed, leaning her head on my shoulder. “It’s been a really long fucking night and my throat hurts. I just want to lay down and go to sleep before we have to drag this farce out again tomorrow.”

  “There won’t be a tomorrow,” I said with a rather dark chuckle. “This business trip is officially canceled. We’re going home.”

  Mina perked up just a fraction and the look she gave me was nothing short of adoring. “I think I might just love you, Logan Farraday.” She’d said it in a light, teasing tone, but it nonetheless set my heart racing.

  “Ah, you’ll get over it.” I offered her a lazy grin. “Let’s get you home, Miss Blakely. It’s well past your bedtime.”

  “Yes, sir.” She snorted out a laugh and the spell was broken.

  My heart settled into a normal rhythm as we slipped back into the antagonistic routine we’d had for days.

  I was actually sad to s
ee the moment go.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Mina

  I bolted upright in bed, a shriek rising to my lips.

  My surroundings spun as I tried to drag in air. The interior of the room was shaded a dark purple in the pre-dawn light, and I couldn’t escape the sense that someone was waiting in the corner, knife in hand, wanting to kill me.

  Scrambling up out of bed, I slammed my palm on the light switch. It flickered on after a second of lag, illuminating the room in its sadly bedraggled state. Once the plane had been prepped and ready, and Logan had deposited my things in the room, I’d strewn my belongings haphazardly getting ready for bed. I’d been on a personal quest to don more layers than a party dip.

  My teeth chattered. Despite the sweltering Moroccan heat, I hadn’t been able to get warm since being plucked from the warehouse. Shock, no doubt, but I didn’t want to alert Logan to it. He’d been hovering since leaving the warehouse, trying to convince me to leave my beloved Hustlers behind.

  His words had been quite seductive in the post-rescue haze. And if it had just been me depending on the business for income, I could have convinced myself it was for the best. There were other industries I could get into. But I had thirteen girls on my payroll as full-time workers. Three part-time hairstylists and makeup artists as well. What would they do if the Hustlers closed its door?

  I leaned my forehead against the cool wall of the cabin and drew in a shaking breath. This was the third time I’d awaken in as many hours. Visions of Antony, leering and triumphant, flashed before me any time I closed my eyes. And in my dreams, there was no rescue. Only pain and shame, and darkness.

  “I need to sleep,” I moaned.

  My hand hesitated over the doorknob. The urge to crawl into Logan’s bed—Logan had sequestered himself in the smaller bedroom, afraid he would keep me awake—and wrap myself around him was almost impossible to ignore. I was sure his strong arms could ward off the nightmarish visions of Antony and his cronies for the rest of the flight. The trip would cause jetlag and going without sleep for the entire flight sounded like a recipe for a really wicked case of exhaustion.

  Turning the knob slowly, I opened the door.

  The hallway outside my room was dark and I balked, half-expecting someone to leap out of the darkness and carve my face like a Thanksgiving turkey. When no one did, I let out a soft exhale and padded across the short distance and opened Logan’s door.

  To my surprise, Logan’s bedside lamp was still alight, illuminating the man sprawled across the mattress, reading a book. Shirtless and wearing only a pair of boxers, under Logan’s eyes were bruise-like shadows, a result of so many nights of poor sleep. He looked even more exhausted than I felt.

  He snapped his book shut when I entered, setting it aside with a frown. “Mina, what are you doing up? You’re supposed to be sleeping.”

  “I could ask you the same question,” I pointed out. I sidled over to the bedside table and read the title aloud. “Sapiens: A Brief History of Humankind is a riveting midnight read.”

  His mouth curled into a small half-smile. “You’d be surprised. But you’re not here to criticize my taste in literature, I assume?”

  I shifted my weight from foot to foot, suddenly embarrassed by the panicked flight from my room. Admitting that I was having nightmares seemed a little childish. What was I, some little girl who needed her daddy’s protection? He wasn’t my father and I wasn’t six anymore.

  “Never mind,” I sighed. “I’ll see you in the morning.”

  Logan’s hand shot out and wrapped around my wrist before my pride could drive me out of the room.

  “Stay,” he whispered. “I’d feel better if you were in my bed. I’d rather not have you out of my sight after what happened.”

  Some of the tension knotted in my back and neck fell away. I felt a little less pathetic when Logan Farraday—ex-army badass and my savior—felt as twitchy as I did.

  He threw back the corner of the beige comforter and offered me the right half of the bed.

  I crawled gratefully beneath the heavy material and curled as close to him as my many layers would allow.

  Logan’s arms wrapped around my waist in a manner meant to be nonsexual. The weight of his heavy, calloused hands on me sparked the first lick of warmth I’d felt all day. I pressed myself even closer to him, winding my legs and arms around him as though I could leech that heat.

  Logan’s hips ground against mine, as he growled a little. “Mina, you should sleep.”

  “I’m cold,” I complained. “Warm me up.”

  Logan’s fingers delved beneath my layers of shirts to skim the soft expanse of skin just above my belly. “I’m not sure you’re alert enough for my recommendation to warm up,” he murmured.

  “I’m wide-awake, Logan.” Technically not true. I was bone-tired but hoping that an early morning escapade would wear me out enough to allow for at least five hours of solid, dreamless sleep. “I’m up for any suggestions.”

  Logan seized the first shirt and whipped it over my head, only to discover another beneath it. He removed the next and the next and laughed when he finally reached the fourth and final layer. “Good grief, Blakely. You’re like a Russian nesting doll.”

  I chose to ignore the comment for the time being in favor of shoving his boxers down. He sprang free of the confines of the material at once. Holy shit, I’d forgotten just how quickly this man could get hard. I’d discreetly compared notes with other Hustlers over the years and no one had ever believed me when I’d recounted his reaction and recovery time.

  Logan’s lips trailed down the side of my face to my throat as his hands shoved the fuzzy pajama bottoms from my hips. I made a choked sound of discomfort when he made contact with my bruises.

  He stilled with palpable horror. “Shit,” he hissed. “I’m so sorry, Mina. We shouldn’t. I’m just going to hurt you more.”

  “It’s fine,” I breathed. “Just don’t kiss me there.”

  Logan hesitated above me for just a moment before he smiled, kissing past my clavicle with a wicked gleam in his eyes.

  He kissed every square inch of my stomach, ignoring my whine of impatience when I tried to push him farther down my body, where I wanted him most. Somehow, this seemed to be the exact thing I needed—an action that required a partner who at least somewhat cared. And that care and concern would feel like a warm blanket after all the horror I’d gone through at the hands of Antony and his cronies. There was still a part of me that was terrified of what had been done to my unconscious body. The police had assured me it was unlikely. The flight from the hotel to the warehouse had taken only about twenty minutes, all of it spent in a speeding car.

  Logan’s breath fanned across the inside of my thigh, making every nerve stand to attention. I writhed when his soft stubble grazed my skin.

  And then he was touching me, his tongue sliding through my folds, sending incredible sensations up my spine. He was soft, unhurried, and caressed me with both hands and tongue, almost as if he sensed that I was seconds away from breaking to pieces.

  When my orgasm stole through me, the floodgates opened, and I finally screamed. I finally cried, tears streaking down my face until I was curled on my side, wracked with sobs.

  Logan crawled up the mattress, braced himself against my back, holding me until I was completely spent.

  But tears weren’t the only thing that came tumbling out of me. To my intense chagrin, in my thankfulness, I said, “I love you. Oh God, Logan, I love you...”

  Poignant silence fell between us as I realized what had come out of my mouth.

  Logan tucked my head beneath his chin and curled the blankets around us both. He was pressed hard against my ass, and clearly uncomfortable, but all he said was, “Get some sleep, Mina. We’re arriving in fourteen hours. You need to get some rest before then.”

  I knew he was right. That I had to get to sleep. But the weight of what had been left unsaid pressed on me, making it difficult to drift off.
/>   Even after Logan’s breathing had gone steady with sleep, I stared at the wall, eyes stinging.

  Despite everything, I couldn’t help but wonder why he hadn’t responded with, I love you too.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Logan

  With Mina tucked beneath my arm, the struggle through customs and security at LAX was less of a burden than it might have ordinarily been.

  She stretched her arms above her head, thrusting her chest outward as she tried to work the kinks from her muscles.

  I shouldn’t have found the motion as appealing as it was. Her injuries had only appeared to get worse during the fourteen-hour flight back to the States. The bruises that shadowed her throat from the night of the attack were a vivid purple. They sent my blood pressure skyrocketing any time I looked at them.

  In an effort to conceal them, she’d tied a red scarf around her throat in a jaunty style and paired the look with an outfit vaguely reminiscent of a stewardess. Her hair was rumpled from the handful of hours she’d managed to scrape out some rest on the plane. Even after crawling into my bed, her sleep had been fitful at best.

  As a habitual insomniac prone to nightmares, I could empathize.

  “I should probably call Heather,” she mused. “My car is in the lot out here somewhere but...” She stifled a yawn behind one hand. “I’m so tired. I think getting behind the wheel at this point would be considered impaired driving.”

  “I’m driving you home,” I said, producing keys from my pocket.

  She pursed her lips and stared up at me doubtfully. “The con is over, Logan. You don’t have to keep looking after me out of some misguided sense of guilt. We should go our separate ways.”

  “And if I don’t want to?” I shot back, giving her a level look.

  She paused for a second, peering up at me cautiously from beneath her long, coppery lashes. There was more doubt playing across her face than I’d ever seen before.