by Meryl Sawyer
"If I could find Logan McCord, I would kill the son of a bitch," he assured her.
"It's too late. The damage is already done."
"True, the Haywood Stanfield for president campaign is dead. Why not kill the bastard who's responsible?"
"You'll have to find him first. If the National Reporter can't find him, no one can."
His derisive snort told her what he thought of the nation's leading tabloid. Anyone who believed what they read in supermarket checkout lines were idiots, but he had to concede the tabloids usually found ways to get stories no one else could. So, why couldn't they locate the prick?
"Logan McCord may have gone to ground, but he'll resurface." He slid his hand up and cradled her full breast in his palm. The rosy nipple spiraled into a tight nubbin as he brushed it with his tongue. "Meanwhile let's not waste time talking about him."
* * *
At breakfast the next morning, Logan announced he was leaving. "I'm getting a new assignment in the field, but it doesn't start for quite a while."
"You don't have to leave," Pop told him, concern furrowing his grizzled brows. "You're welcome here. I enjoy having you."
The heartfelt emotion in Pop's voice stunned Logan. Sure, he knew the older man liked him, but Logan wasn't prepared for the depth of Pop's emotion. Logan's eyes clouded with memories of the past, and he didn't know what to say.
No one had ever said they liked him—at least not a parental type. Women often said they loved him. In bed talk was cheap. Meaningless.
But this wasn't bedroom talk. They were on the terrace overlooking Oak Creek, eating Uma's fabulous breakfast burritos. A finch was warbling from the willow tree on the far bank. Jasper was at Logan's side, looking up at him with adoring eyes, silently begging to be petted.
Way, way past time to get out of Dodge.
"Did I hear you say you were leaving?"
Kelly came up to the table, a cup of coffee in her hand. The shadows under her eyes were deeper than he'd remembered. She appeared to be losing weight. No wonder. Lately she'd been living on coffee. Logan hadn't seen her eat much since the night Matthew Jensen arrived to take her to dinner.
They hadn't seen him, but Logan had watched them through his binoculars as the cocky jerk helped Kelly into the car. She'd been laughing and happy, at ease with Matthew in a way that she never was with Logan. She'd returned early that evening, and Logan could have sworn he heard her crying. But when he went to the patio door to listen, the only sound was the yipping of coyotes, foraging in the hills.
"I've got six months before I'm reassigned," he told her as she sat down. "I'm going to have some fun."
She nodded slowly, studying him intently. Had he done something wrong? Okay, he almost choked on the word "fun." He didn't know what in hell he was going to do or where he was going to go, but staying here wasn't an option.
"Where are you going?" she asked.
"Disneyland," he said without hesitation.
There was a second of stunned silence, then Pop and Kelly burst out laughing. What was so damned funny? His childhood had been one long course in survival training in preparation for a doomsday he now knew would never come. He'd never been to an amusement park of any kind.
He was curious that's all. He wasn't planning to go on any of the rides. Everywhere he traveled people talked about Disneyland as if it were heaven on earth. He wanted to see what the fuss was about.
"We're not making fun of you," Pop explained. "Haven't you noticed that when some sports figure wins a championship, they always say they're going to Disneyland? They get paid to do it, of course."
"Oh, yeah," he said as if he knew what Pop was talking about, but he didn't. Logan had grown up without a television or even a radio. The outside world had been a mystery until he'd enlisted.
Then his life had changed. He'd been busy playing catchup on his education and training as a Cobra. He rarely watched television.
"Are you really going to Disneyland?" Kelly wanted to know.
He shrugged, a little embarrassed to admit that was his plan. "How would you like to make some money instead?" she asked.
"Kelly—no!" Pop's voice was stern.
Logan could have told her that he was rich. Granted, he didn't have a fortune like his old man, the cat-litter king, but Logan had saved every penny he'd made since enlisting. Incentive pay for high-risk operations, combat pay, underwater demolition pay, joint-operation pay for special projects when the DEA had needed someone with counter-terrorism experience.
He'd invested wisely, avoiding Wall Street's more volatile stocks, placing his money in mutual funds. He had enough money to retire now. But what would he do with the rest of his life?
Being a Cobra was his life.
"What did you have in mind?" he asked, intrigued by the tension between them. It was obvious they had discussed this, and Pop did not approve. Weird. Pop usually acted as if Kelly walked on water.
Pop grimaced and Kelly hesitated, her hand clutching the mug of coffee. Logan's pulse skittered. His sixth sense kicked in and told him this was no ordinary job.
Great! A challenge beat the hell out of Disneyland. "My husband died in a plane crash," she began. "I recently discovered he has a son who's in an orphanage in Venezuela."
The boy in the picture, he realized. She was going to ask him to get the kid out of the orphanage. This wasn't much of a challenge, but it was a way to kill time.
"I'll go get him," he said. "Where is he exactly?"
"Son, wait a minute," Pop said. "You'd better listen to the whole story."
Kelly stared into her coffee cup as if she were reading tea leaves. "He's in a Catholic orphanage in Elorza."
"You're kidding. I've never been there, but I spent months just over the border in Cravo Norte."
"Colombia?" Pop asked with a worried frown. Logan shrugged it off. Sure, his activities in Colombia caused the drug cartel to put a bounty on his head. That's life.
Uh, oh. Logan had been so focused on the danger element that he'd missed the obvious. This wasn't a child from a previous marriage. This was a bastard son—left behind. Sound familiar?
Something inside him ripped, tearing open a wound he'd believed had been completely healed. He fired back without thinking. "The boy's better off with the nuns than being here."
They both stared at him in astonished silence. Finally, Pop spoke. "How can you say that?"
"Kelly will resent the child. It's better to leave the boy for the nuns to raise him. He'll be all right."
"That's ridiculous!" Kelly cried. "He's all I have left of Daniel. I don't care about his mother. I'll love him as if he were my own child."
"You think you will, but you won't."
"How can you be so sure?" Pop asked.
Logan shrugged, thinking he had to be careful. Pop understood him in a way that no one else ever had. But Logan had experience being the bastard son. He knew what he was talking about.
"I don't want you to even consider it," Pop told him. "It's too dangerous for you to go to South America again."
Tempting, mighty tempting. He loved a challenge. The rush he felt when he took risks made him feel alive in a way that nothing else ever did. Give him any other reason to accept this job and he'd accept her offer, but he didn't want another child to suffer.
He glanced at Kelly and wondered if she would be cruel to a child. Nothing he'd seen indicated that she would. Still, he didn't want to take the chance.
"How much money do you want?" Kelly asked.
"It's not about the money." His voice was more harsh than usual. He was insulted that she thought he was angling to get more money.
"You're afraid to go. All the publicity has made you easily recognizable."
Now he was damn mad and struggled not to show it. "I don't think you'd be a good mother—that's all."
"Of course, she would," Pop insisted. "I'm just worried about you going down there again. I don't want anything to happen to you."
There it was aga
in that heartfelt emotion in Pop's voice. The older man sincerely cared about Logan. He told himself not to be touched, to keep his guard up, but it was difficult.
"Find someone else," Pop told Kelly. "Don't ask Logan to take unnecessary risks."
* * *
Kelly stared at her computer screen. She'd lost what little interest she'd had in the upcoming Jazz on the Rocks. Writing articles like this one about the annual jazz festival usually interested her because Sedona drew high quality musicians, but today she was too distracted to write.
Where was she going to find someone to help her get Rafi? She'd thought Logan was the perfect choice. He'd worked in South America, and he spoke Spanish, which she did not. Oh, she knew a few words from living in the Southwest, but she didn't speak it well enough to convince the nuns to let her adopt Daniel's son.
Daniel's son.
The image of the adorable little boy instantly came to her. How could Logan possibly believe she would blame an innocent child for Daniel's betrayal? The ache in her chest returned, the way it did every time she thought about Daniel.
She wanted to be angry with him and told herself he wasn't worth her misery. But her heart wouldn't listen. She missed him terribly. There was nothing left of Daniel on this earth—except his son.
She loved Rafi already. Night after night, she thought about him and planned all the things they would do together. She'd always wanted children, and this child needed a home.
Pop had been dead set against asking Logan to help. She was being selfish, he'd told her, but she didn't believe that one short trip to Venezuela would endanger Logan's life. Granted, his work with the Cobras had involved several joint missions with the DEA, and he'd made powerful enemies. But how would they even know he was there?
It doesn't matter. Logan had not taken the bait when she'd mentioned danger. The "Haas Factor" hadn't prompted Logan to accept her offer. He was a very strange man. Evidently, he truly believed she would harm Rafi if she adopted him.
Where would he get such an idea? Undoubtedly, it had something to do with his own experience. Now she was totally convinced Logan was hiding things about himself. If she didn't have Rafi to worry about, she would have pursued the story.
She might not get another chance. By now Logan must have left, she decided glancing at the clock and seeing it was almost time to go home for dinner. Logan's leaving would hit Pop hard. Although she resented the way Logan had become so important to Pop so quickly, she had no choice but to accept it. She needed to spend more time with Pop to soften the blow of Logan's leaving.
Out of the corner of her eye, she detected a movement, and she turned, astonished to see Logan McCord walking into her office with Jasper at his heels.
He swung a chair around backward and straddled it, saying, "I'm in. Tell me when you want to go and get the kid."
Shock caused words to wedge in her throat, and it was a few seconds before she could speak. "What made you change your mind?"
His response was to lift his shoulders, hold them high for a moment before letting them drop. He could shrug if he wanted, but she knew the element of danger lured him. The "Haas Factor" had worked after all.
Could she use Logan like this? Did she have any choice? How else was she going to get Rafi?
"I don't want any money," he told her. "I'm doing this because Pop convinced me that he'll watch out for the boy."
But you don't trust me, she thought. Why not? Oh, well. It didn't matter to her what Logan believed. All he had to do was help her adopt the child.
"Great! I really appreciate this." She smiled for the first time since learning about Daniel's affair.
Logan returned her smile with an appealing grin. No wonder women found him so attractive. She had to admit he had an irresistible smile
"The first thing we need to do," she told him, "is get married."
* * *
Chapter 12
« ^ »
Kelly watched Logan, assuming Pop had explained that they would have to get married in order to adopt Rafi. Logan's blue eyes narrowed and the hand near Jasper's golden head clenched into a fist.
"Didn't Pop tell you?"
He shook his head, two quick, impatient jerks. She noted his set expression, jaw clamped shut, eyes trained on her with lethal calmness. A cold knot formed in the pit of her stomach.
Please, don't let him change his mind.
"Single women aren't allowed to adopt children in Venezuela. Even if they were, the state of Arizona must certify the parents and their home before they are permitted to adopt any child."
Her words punctured what had become a thick silence. His unsettling eyes bored into her across the small space of the desk.
"All you have to do is marry me, pretend to be a loving husband when the social workers interview us. As soon as I have Rafi, we can get a quick divorce in Las Vegas."
"Marry you?" he said, sounding as if she were speaking in tongues.
"It's the only way." She came around from behind her desk and stood before him. The intensity in his eyes had faded, and they were now as flat as the winter sky, cold and bleak. "All you have to do is pretend … for a little while. Then you can leave."
"Find some other sucker," he said, rising to his feet. He turned to head out the door. She almost tripped over Jasper but managed to grab his arm.
"Logan, listen to me, please."
Their gazes locked, and they stared at each other. If possible the air became thicker and charged with what she guessed was his anger. Somehow—despite his better judgment—he'd volunteered to help her, not realizing marriage was part of the deal.
"I know you had a terrible childhood. It was so bad that you won't talk about it, and you don't want anyone to find out what really happened." The words came out in a breathless rush, a hitch of desperation in her voice. She had no idea how to reach a man who carried all his belongings in a backpack, a man whose past was a black hole.
"You think I'll be like the McCord woman who kidnapped you. I swear, I won't. You've spent time with Pop. You know what kind of person he is. Well, he raised me with those same values."
Logan had a knack for smiling with the devil's own charm, yet he could erase every readable emotion from his face, his eyes. She couldn't tell what he was thinking, but raw anger seemed to shimmer in the air. Why?
"Every child has the right to be loved. I want to give Rafi … the love you never had."
He yanked his arm from her grasp and was in the outer office in two long-legged strides, Jasper trotting after him.
"I'll love him. I promise," she called after Logan. "Think about it—please."
* * *
An hour later when she returned home for dinner, Kelly discover that Logan had dropped off Jasper, then left on foot. He's a strange one. Kelly assured herself that she'd done the best she could.
"His pack is still here." Pop's voice was hopeful as Kelly helped Uma serve homemade flour tortillas and Carne Adovada.
Usually the pork and onions stewed in mild Chimayo red chili was one of Kelly's favorite dishes. Since Matt had told her about Daniel, her appetite had disappeared. She used her fork to rearrange her food, but doubted she'd fool Uma.
"Logan is trained in survival techniques," Kelly reminded Pop, who was worried because Logan hadn't returned for dinner. "He's probably out there honing his skills."
Sedona was surrounded by national park land, noted for its ruggedness and inaccessibility. A man who caught a lizard, then cooked it—to test his skills—had to love Red Rock country.
"I'm glad Logan changed his mind. It's better if he stays in this country."
"Pop, I contacted several sources in Washington. I don't think he would have been in terrible danger just by going to Venezuela for a few days."
"It would have made him an easy target."
She stalled an exasperated sigh. Pop truly cared about this strange man. Kelly tried not to be irritated, but it was difficult.
I must find someone else to help me, Kel
ly told herself. Who? Matthew Jensen would help her, but she couldn't let him. He deserved someone who would truly love him. Kelly had experienced that powerful all-consuming love with Daniel.
She never imagined Daniel didn't love her.
Her sense of betrayal was so profound that she wanted nothing to do with men. Most certainly, she would never again trust her heart to a man. She wouldn't even consider a marriage of convenience if it wasn't the only way she could bring Rafi home.
After dinner, Kelly said good night to Pop and went out to her casita. For the first time in over a week, she felt ready to sleep. A night's rest might give her brain a chance think of another man to help her.
She flicked on the light and went to the trastero where she'd left Rafi's picture propped up beside the telephone. Everything else was in its place on the cupboard, but the photograph was gone. Uma must have moved it, she decided.
She frantically looked around the room, but didn't see the photograph. The door to her patio was open a crack. A flicker of apprehension coursed through her. She was positive that she had left the door closed.
When she came near the French doors that opened onto the small flagstone patio, the light from the room revealed a tall man stretched out on the chaise. Logan, she realized, relief replacing the attack of nerves.
Earlier he'd been as volatile as a keg of powder. What mood was he in now? Why was he sitting in the dark on her patio?
"Looking for this?" He held up a photograph.
It was too dark on the patio to see it clearly, but she knew it was Rafi's picture. "What are you doing here?"
He swung his long legs to the ground and sat up, facing her. His T-shirt fit snug over a chest most women dreamed about. The light was dim but she could see a faint glint of humor in his eyes and noticed his grin. The devil's sidekick had vanished. The charming rascal had returned.
He put the photo on the small table between the chaises. "If I'm going to be a father, I might as well know what the kid looks like."