by Meryl Sawyer
Chapter 38
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"Benson?"
The word shot from Woody's lips, a taut, ragged sound. Evidently, he was as shocked as Kelly to see Benson Williams bearing down on them, a gun in his hand and a lethal smile on his face. She had been convinced Tyler had been helping his sister.
Woody kept his gun trained on Benson. It was a classic Mexican standoff. Neither man was willing to drop his weapon—or shoot. The moon had disappeared behind a cloud, and the only light came from the flashlight in Alyx's hand. Evidently, the men were concerned about accidentally hitting one of the women in the dim light.
Woody's left arm was still draped over Kelly's shoulders. It trembled slightly, more of a tremor or muscle spasm, she thought, not fear. His right arm was steady, his jaw rigid with determination.
Benson walked over to Alyx. "Surprised, Woody? We've been carrying on under your nose for years. Years."
Alyx smiled with a glint in her eye that curdled Kelly's blood. "Years. It all started when I was fifteen, the day cute little Logan vanished."
"That's sick," Kelly blurted out.
"No, it isn't. I had been flirting with Benson for months. He thought I was just a child until I told him that I had shoved Logan into a ravine and left him to die. I promised to do anything—anything—if he would help me."
"I guess we know what 'anything' was." Kelly ground out the words, amazed that such a young girl could have been so calculating, and even more astounded a grown man would take advantage of the situation.
"I've never been ashamed of our relationship," Benson said, his eyes on Woody, his gun aimed at Woody's heart. "I was good enough to be your flunky, but I was too old for Alyx and not rich."
Woody continued to glare at Benson with the coolly challenging expression that reminded her so much of Logan.
"Of course, hopping in the sack with young girls was your specialty," Alyx said. "First Amanda McCord, then Suzanne. But you refused to let me date Benson when I asked. You threatened to throw me out of the house, remember?" Alyx linked her arm with Benson's free arm. "We were forced to keep our relationship a secret."
"As long as you were in Washington on the track to the White House, it was worth it to sneak around, but now…" Benson's words hung in the air like toxic fumes.
Power was an aphrodisiac as potent as any narcotic, Kelly knew. She'd seen more than her share of people on power trips when she'd been in New York. Washington would be even worse. Still, it didn't seem possible two people could love each other all these years and be content to sneak around.
"What about Tyler?" Kelly asked. If he were to leap out of the bushes, the delicate balance of power would shift.
"He's always been worthless," Alyx said with a sniff of disgust. "We talked about killing Logan lots of times, but Tyler never did anything more than break a tree branch so Logan would fall. Once he tripped him and Logan stumbled against the barbeque and burned his shoulder."
"When Alyx told me she'd pushed Logan down the ravine, I told them what to say and do," Benson informed them. "Tyler did exactly what he was told and he always has."
"When we had to take care of Suzanne, we told Tyler to find business in Dallas, and he did."
The evil satisfaction in Alyx's voice and Woody's silence heightened the tension mounting in Kelly with each passing second. Something else was wrong here, but she couldn't quite decide what it was. Benson and Alyx were enjoying telling Woody what they had done, taunting him, but he wasn't taking the bait.
"What about Ginger?" she asked.
"What about her?" Benson responded with a sly smile at Alyx. "She lives for booze and pills and clothes. Ginger's in another world."
Kelly glanced down at Alyx's gun and saw it on the ground nearby, but it was too far away to get it. The small canister of Mace was still in her pocket. It would be no match for a gun.
She didn't see a way out of this. Woody certainly wasn't helping. He still had his revolver aimed at Benson, but that was all he'd done. In a way, she supposed Woody's not reacting to their revelations robbed them of a sense of satisfaction. Maybe he'd done it on purpose.
Benson shifted his stance, brushing aside Alyx's arm. "This little chat has been interesting. Let's get down to business." He aimed his gun at Kelly, and Alyx flashed the light on her, so Benson wouldn't miss the target in the darkness. "Woody, drop your gun or your grandchild will never be born. And don't try to fool me by saying you'll shoot me. We both know you're piss-poor with a gun. I had to teach both Tyler and Alyx to shoot."
In one swift movement, Woody's arm dropped from her shoulder and he stepped in front of Kelly. Without saying word.
Kelly pulled the canister of Mace out of her pocket. She peeked around Woody's massive frame, asking herself what had happened to the police. Woody was supposed to call them.
Alyx and Benson were huddled together, whispering, the flashlight now dangling downward. Obviously, this scenario did not fit whatever plan they had. A blast of Mace would disable Alyx and Benson, giving them a chance to sprint into the cover of the trees. On the other hand, Benson might be able to get off a shot.
You're the only woman I've ever met worth dying for.
She couldn't allow another man to die because of her. Shifting onto one foot, ready to spring out from behind Woody and blast Mace at them, she caught a glimpse of Woody's wrist. His jacket had pulled back slightly, exposing his wristwatch.
A titanium band. A face with several dials.
Couldn't be! Yet it was the watch she remembered so well. How had Woody gotten Logan's watch? Why would he wear it? Woody had a showy gold Rolex.
Her brain began to process bits of information that hadn't quite registered. The man standing in front of her was slightly taller than Woody. His arm had trembled because it hadn't quite healed. He had said little, knowing his distinctive voice would give him away.
Her stomach lurched, then dropped to her toes. By some miracle Logan had escaped. She couldn't imagine why he was pretending to be Woody. Suddenly, she was weak-kneed with relief that he was still alive. Miraculously, he'd cheated death yet again.
"You're the only man I've ever met worth dying for," she whispered under her breath.
She didn't give herself a second to think. Knowing his left arm couldn't have healed completely, she yanked it back, hard, while hurling her weight against the back of his knees. He pitched forward and she threw herself on top of him, furiously blasting Mace at the couple nearby.
She lunged over Logan, desperate to get the gun Alyx had dropped. Too far away. She scrambled toward it as a blast of light hit her.
"Shoot her! Shoot her!" screamed Alyx.
Kelly grabbed for the gun, her fingers finding the cold barrel and closing around it. A bullet singed her shoulder, knocking her sideways. Somehow she managed to fire another round of Mace.
"Stop! Police! Nobody move," a strange voice ordered.
Everything was swimming around Kelly, a hazy blur of trees and rocks and faces. Woody broke into the clearing, several police officers at his side, their guns drawn. The acrid smell of Mace filled the air, making her eyes burn and gagging her.
Where was Logan? She hadn't imagined him, had she?
"Shit! It's a trap," hollered Benson. "That's not Woody. It's Logan."
"Logan McCord! What does it take to kill you?" Alyx screeched.
Kelly wanted to shriek, "You heartless bitch," but pain seared through her shoulder into her chest.
The metallic smell of blood, her blood, filled her nostrils. She sucked in the noxious air, struggling to supply oxygen to her starving lungs. Cold sweat sheened her forehead.
There was a lot of shouting and another shot, but it hurt too much to open her eyes and see what was happening. Suddenly, her world was silent and as black as hell, but ice cold.
* * *
Logan sat outside the operating room with Kelly's grandfather at his side. She had been in surgery for over two hours to remove the bullet lodged in her shoulder. Unde
r normal circumstances, such a wound wouldn't have been considered life-threatening.
But Kelly had lost a tremendous amount of blood. He remembered how powerless he'd felt when Benson had refused to surrender, leaving Kelly facedown in the dirt, bleeding to death.
Logan gave the police a second to shoot. When they hesitated, he'd killed Benson with a single shot between the eyes.
"Self-defense," Woody had assured him.
Logan didn't give a damn. He hadn't felt threatened, but he'd known that Kelly didn't have a prayer of surviving if she didn't get to a hospital immediately. The trek down the trail with her in his arms, bleeding, had almost cost them valuable time.
When they wheeled her into the Coconino Emergency Room, Kelly barely had a pulse. The surgeon's grim face as he examined her made Logan's guts twist. Reaching Pop in Phoenix and telling him to come home fast had been the worst call Logan had ever made.
"I don't understand why she did it," Logan said to Pop as he wiped his eyes with the back of his hand. Maybe he was crying, maybe the Mace was still making his eyes water. He didn't care which. He just wanted Kelly to survive.
"I had the situation covered," he continued. "I knew Woody would be along with the police in a matter of seconds."
"But Kelly didn't. She didn't want you to be—"
"I didn't think she realized it was me. The makeup and the darkness fooled the others. They believed I was Woody. I could tell by the way they bragged about things they'd done."
"Kelly's a whole lot smarter than they are. She knew it was you. She's been heartsick because she didn't warn Matthew Jensen not to tell anyone about Rafi. That's how they discovered where you were. She blamed herself."
Logan hadn't known, but it no longer mattered. Please, don't let Kelly die, please.
Pop gazed at Logan and gave him an encouraging smile. "You can't imagine how much she loves you. When she thought you'd been killed, she nearly collapsed. Only Rafi kept her going."
Logan didn't question Kelly's love. He remembered everything she'd done for him when he'd been shot. He could still see her beautiful mouth, the lower lip trapped between her teeth as she removed the bullet. He could still see … aw, hell, he remembered every moment with her.
For the first time in his life, he truly enjoyed being with someone. And he never wanted to leave her. He hadn't come all the way back to Sedona to get her killed. He'd returned to find out the truth.
"I love Kelly, too," he said to Pop.
"Did you ever tell her that?"
"No. She asked me to marry her because she needed help. Daniel had meant so much to—"
"Forget Daniel. Kelly had trouble letting him go because she wanted to mother him. He was a little boy in many ways and that appealed to Kelly. I never liked him and knew their marriage was doomed."
He put his hand on Logan's shoulder. "You took Kelly by surprise. She's used to being smarter than most men, able to manipulate them. She had to deal with you differently. By the time you left for Venezuela, she loved you. She just hadn't admitted it to herself yet."
Logan knew Pop was right. He'd detected a change in Kelly on the flight to Caracas. Several times, he'd caught her looking at him in a certain way. She'd never had that tender expression before then.
He'd been proud of himself in a conceited, arrogant way that disgusted him now. Never having been loved before, he didn't know how precious a gift love was. Later, in the jungle he discovered the depths of Kelly's love.
"If only I'd had time to warn Kelly."
Beyond his initial explanation on the telephone, Logan hadn't given Pop any details. The older man had hung up and raced like an Indy driver from Phoenix back to Sedona.
"I needed to sneak into town and talk to Woody. I didn't want to put Kelly in danger again until I knew who was after me. Woody told me the plan he and Kelly had concocted." Inwardly, he smiled. It was just like Kelly to confront his enemies, trying to get justice for him.
"I convinced Woody to let me take his place and carry a small tape recorder in my jacket pocket. That way we would have solid evidence against them. I'm trained for these situations, so he agreed to give me some time, then arrive with the police."
"It was the logical thing to do."
Logan could tell Pop didn't entirely agree. He wasn't the kind of man to allow someone else to take on a dangerous mission in his place. Logan wouldn't have done it either, but Woody had more than one character flaw.
"Why didn't you call Kelly to tell her you'd survived?"
"Pop, I had no idea if the phones were still bugged or not. I haven't slept in seventy-two hours. I barely got here. I hid outside the stable to catch Woody and talk to him without anyone seeing us or using some electronic device to eavesdrop. I had just enough time to disguise myself and meet Kelly."
"I didn't mean to criticize. I know you were trying to protect Kelly. I love her so much I don't know if I could face losing her. "
"I know I can't."
The surgeon shouldered his way through the swinging doors into the small waiting room. His greens were splattered with blood. Kelly's blood.
Logan had seen blood since he was a kid. He'd skinned rabbits, dressed deer. As a Cobra, blood had been part of his chosen career.
Still, his gut twisted in sheer agony at the sight of Kelly's blood.
* * *
Chapter 39
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"She made it through the surgery, but we're not out of the woods yet," the surgeon told them. "Surviving the night will be crucial."
"May we see her?" Pop asked when Logan couldn't find his tongue.
"Yes, but she's heavily sedated. She won't know you're there."
Pop nudged him. "You go first."
A nurse led him down the corridor into the recovery room and left him alone. Panic hurtled through his body, hammering at his temples until he became a cement block of rigid fear. The room blurred before him, shimmered like a mirage, then morphed into Kelly's captivating smile.
Except she wasn't smiling now.
All color had been leached from her face, leaving it a pallid white. Her exquisite petiteness had always appealed to him in a sensual way. A phalanx of machines and tubes were attached to her body, making her look fragile, delicate, not strong enough to survive.
"Oh, darling. I'm so sorry. This is the last thing I meant to have happen."
His words were stolen, twisted and garbled by the myriad of machines in a deathwatch over Kelly. He stood there, frustrated at his helplessness.
There was a fracture somewhere deep inside him, a secret place that he kept well hidden, even from himself. Kelly had touched him there and made him realize that he desperately longed for two things he'd never had. Faith and trust.
With Kelly, he'd found them both. If he lost her, he would lose himself. Somehow he had to will into Kelly the strength, the mind-altering concentration that had given him the guts to make it out of Venezuela against all odds.
"Strength has nothing to do with size, Kelly. You're a fighter. Hang in there … for Rafi."
Logan couldn't quite bring himself to tell her that he needed her as much as the child did. He'd told her he was ready to die for her, but he'd never said how much he needed her. Aw, hell, why was he holding back now?
"Kelly," he said as he stroked her hand with his fingertips, careful to avoid the IV, "fight hard … for me. I need you much, much more than you could possibly know."
Her hand was cold, the fingers icy. He warmed her hand between both of his, silently willing strength into her. "Think of all you did in Venezuela. You're stronger than you realize. Don't let this get you."
He couldn't bring himself to say the word—kill. It was impossible to imagine a world without Kelly. His Kelly. There had never been light in his life. Until Kelly.
Whispering into her ear, his lips brushing her soft skin, he gave her another encouraging instruction. "Think of Rafi. Think of Pop. Think of all the reasons you have to live. Think of me."
Logan relucta
ntly left her, knowing how much Pop wanted to see her. When Pop was finished, Logan returned and sat by Kelly's side. For the first time in his life, Logan prayed.
In the middle of the night, she whimpered, a low moan that was barely audible above the gurgle and clicking of the machines. He vaulted to his feet and hovered over her.
"Kelly, Kelly, do you need something? Are you in pain?"
Her eyelashes fluttered and finally opened. He gazed down at her and saw stark terror in her eyes. He knew she expected to die and was pleading for him to care for Rafi and Pop.
Her fear was nothing compared to his. He honestly had no idea what would happen to him if he lost her.
"Darling, don't give up. You're going to make it."
Her long lashes slipped shut. He waited, hoping she would open her eyes again, but she didn't. The machines continued to spew out updates on her body while he held her hand and prayed.
Through the hours, he kept his eyes on the cardiac monitor. Her body was pathetically still, nearly lifeless. Only the machines in their cold, clinical way assured him that Kelly was still clinging to life.
Finally, the warm gold dawn light seeped between the crack of the drawn curtains, heralding a new day in Red Rock country. She'd made it through the night.
"Thank you, God," Logan said, his voice sounding unusually harsh even to his own ears. "Thank you for helping her get this far."
The nurses made their rounds, making enough noise to wake the dead. But Kelly showed no signs of waking. It was another hour before Kelly finally opened her eyes. This time she managed to whisper, "Logan—Woody?"
"It's me, Logan. I sprayed gray stuff on my hair so I would look like Woody, and put on makeup, but it's me."
He heard the tears in his own voice and thought he might cry. It had been an agonizingly long night, half seconds ticking by as though they were hours. The whole time he'd thought he might never hear the sweetest sound in the world again—Kelly's voice.
"H-how?" she asked.
He knew she wanted to know how he'd managed to escape. He began talking. If he didn't, he'd break down and bawl.
"Sometimes you just get lucky. You'd have to know more about local politics, but there's a lot of tension along the border. A Colombian helicopter in their territory set them off, and they fired, not at me, but at the chopper.