by Anna Hackett
“What happened to the Cloud Warriors?” Logan asked.
“They held out, but eventually the Inca conquered them. They were forced to leave their cities, and then disease brought by the Spanish wiped them out.”
“Okay, so what do these Warriors of the Clouds have to do with your brother?” Dec asked.
Logan watched the woman as she lifted her chin. Staring at her face, all he saw was icy perfection. No emotion, no distress, nothing. Yeah, she was a real cool one.
“I got a call at my office last night. A group says it has my brother and they want five million dollars in ransom. They said I have to go to Lima, Peru to carry out the transaction.”
Logan shook his head to himself. Forget cool, she was ice all the way. Man, the woman didn’t even look like her pulse jumped when she talked about her brother being held hostage. Ice water in those veins.
Dec was frowning. “We don’t do a lot of ransom demands. We have interceded when some archeologists have been snatched off digs—”
Interestingly, Logan saw Sydney press her hands together on the table. Her fingers flexed, then relaxed. “I came to you because the group who have Drew…they call themselves Silk Road.”
Now, Logan pushed to his feet. Aw, hell.
Chapter Two
“I know you’ve had some experience with Silk Road,” Sydney said, desperately controlling the emotions rolling inside her. “That’s why I came to you.”
“You could say that.” Declan Ward exchanged a glance with the big bear of a man named Logan. “They’re a black-market antiquities ring. They have money and no conscience.”
His words made Sydney’s skin go cold. And these people had Drew. “Will you help me? My brother is the only family I have left.” Grief and fear melded together inside her, and she fought back a shiver. Suddenly, she was very cold. She dug her nails into her palms to keep from letting any of it show on her face.
She saw Declan share another look with the intimidating Logan.
Darcy stood. “Why don’t you let me run some searches? Let me see if we can find out what’s going on down in Lima.”
“I’ve tried to contact the authorities—”
Darcy nodded. “It’s difficult, I know. Distance, language barriers, different systems. Let me see what I can find.” The brunette shot a look at Logan. “Logan, can you get Ms. Granger a drink?”
“A drink?” The big man looked confused. “I’m not a waiter.”
Darcy rolled her eyes. “Well, I don’t need you to shoot anybody for me right now, so get her a drink.” Darcy strode over to the computers.
Sydney cleared her throat. “I’m fine—”
He made a noise, stomped over, and pulled out her chair. “Come on. Kitchen’s this way.”
Seeing no way of politely getting out of it, she reluctantly followed him. Another shiver wracked her. The shock of everything that had happened was hitting her all at once. She rubbed her arms. She’d left her suit jacket in the car.
“What do you want to drink?”
The gruff, ungracious question came from the direction of the small, organized kitchenette tucked away in a corner of the large room.
“Water, please.”
He snorted, and she watched as he grabbed a mug from a cupboard and a pot of coffee off a coffee maker.
“Didn’t you hear me?” she asked.
“You’re cold. You need something to warm up. Cream? Sugar?”
His overbearing tone made her bristle. “Black.” She liked sugar in her coffee, but she’d be damned if she’d tell him that.
He shoved the mug at her. It was chipped on one edge and had World’s Greatest Shot emblazoned on it.
“Sorry. This isn’t high tea at the Ritz,” he said.
Sydney bit back a smart retort and forced herself to calmly take a sip. As she did, she watched him start unbuttoning his shirt.
Her eyes widened, and she fought not to sputter her coffee everywhere. Underneath the well-worn blue shirt, he wore a gray T-shirt. It was stretched to breaking point across the large, hard planes of his chest. He shrugged his button-down shirt off, and then reached out and slipped it around her shoulders.
“What are you doing?” She hated that her voice sounded like a squeak.
“You’re cold.”
“I’m fine.” Then the warmth from the fabric hit her. God, the man must run really hot. It felt so good on her chilled body. Her gaze moved over his muscled forearms and the gray fabric straining over his massive biceps. He shifted and she saw the backs of his arms were covered in tattoos. They looked like…the scratches of bear claws. He had claw marks tattooed on his arms. She quickly took another sip of coffee. She wasn’t used to men like Logan O’Connor.
“You’re not fine. You’re shivering. You might have ice in your veins, but I won’t let you freeze to death right in front of me.”
She narrowed her gaze on him, hearing the contempt in his voice. “Ice in my veins?” She felt her temper spike. “I just got here. You don’t know me.”
“I know enough. Your brother’s missing, and you’re talking about it without a flicker of emotion. Like you couldn’t care less. That’s cold.”
She took a deep breath. “You’d prefer to see me rant and scream and cry? Maybe I should throw in some hysterics for good measure?” Why was she even bothering with this man? He was a stranger. “Forget it. I don’t have to deal with judgmental strangers who look like they just wandered out of the woods.” She spun away from him.
With some relief, Sydney spotted Darcy waving them over.
“I can confirm that your brother was staying in Lima.” Darcy’s fingers flew over a keyboard. “He had a room at the Hotel San Antonio. No one has seen him there for the last twenty-four hours.”
Sydney closed her eyes. Oh, Drew. She opened her eyes and saw that Logan was watching her.
“I’m running some searches now for any police reports,” Darcy was saying. “Yes, I’ve got something. A few people reported an American man running down the street, being chased by a group of other men. That’s all the details I have. We’ll know more on the ground there.”
“You’ll help me?” Sydney’s voice was a quiet whisper. She felt all the THS people watching her.
“Yes.” Darcy reached out and pressed a hand to Sydney’s arm. “My brothers and my adopted brothers—” she shot Logan a look “—drive me crazy most days, but I’d move heaven and earth to help if they were in trouble.” A wry look crossed her face. “Actually, I’ve done it on numerous occasions.”
Dec had a faint smile on his face. “Former Navy SEALs here. Usually we can rescue ourselves.”
Darcy snorted. “It’s a macho SEAL thing. They like to believe they’re superheroes and don’t need any help.”
A small laugh escaped Sydney. She realized they were trying to cheer her up. Their easy camaraderie was nice…she loved Drew, but they didn’t have a relationship like this. “So what happens now?”
“Logan and Declan will run this op. Along with two of our other specialists—Morgan Kincaid and Hale Carter.”
Logan. Sydney tried not to show any reaction to that. When she lifted her gaze, it met the big man’s startlingly golden eyes. His eyes made her think of her father’s favorite Scotch. Or the eyes of a big, lazy lion ready to hunt.
Sydney schooled herself to show her most polite smile. “Wonderful.”
“I’ll call ahead to have our jet fueled and prepared,” Declan said. “And I need to call Morgan and Hale. They’ll meet us at the airport.”
Logan nodded. “I’ll need to stop by my place on the way. Get changed and grab my stuff.”
Declan nodded. “I’ll do the same and say goodbye to Layne. You can take Sydney with you, and I’ll meet you guys at the airport.”
Logan made a noise that reminded Sydney of a wild animal. An untamed beast.
After that, things moved fast. Sydney called out goodbye to Darcy, and found herself being ushered out of the warehouse. Logan led her over
to a huge black truck with enormous tires. They stopped for a minute while he grabbed her bag out of the back of her rental car.
“Darce will make sure the rental gets returned.” He lifted her Louis Vuitton suitcase and tossed it in the back of his truck.
Sydney opened the truck’s passenger side door and eyed the height to get in. How the hell was she going to climb in with a pencil skirt on?
Suddenly, large hands circled her waist and she found herself boosted up onto the seat. Logan stared at her for a second, then stepped back and closed the door. Sydney sat there, pondering the fact that Logan O’Connor’s hands could span her entire waist.
He climbed in behind the wheel and pulled his seatbelt on. “I don’t live too far from here. We won’t be long.”
He drove them through downtown Denver, and then they headed east toward City Park. He drove with an easy confidence. Finally, he pulled up in front of a three-story, newish condo block and cut the engine.
“No cave?” The words just slipped out of Sydney’s mouth.
His gaze narrowed on her, and for a second she imagined a flash of amusement. “You’re coming in.”
She felt her jaw tighten. “Do you not have any manners? You ask, O’Connor, not issue a gruff, rude order.”
“I’m not one of your polite society guys. I don’t really do fancy manners.” He held up his large hands. “I don’t have soft palms or wear fancy suits.”
He said ‘suits’ like he was talking about a venomous animal. His hands were covered in nicks, scars, and calluses.
“Yes,” she responded. “I can see that.”
He got out, circled the truck, grabbed her bag, and yanked her door open. “You need to get changed as well. Unless you’re planning to travel to South America in your fancy designer clothes.”
Sydney decided it would be more prudent just to go inside while he collected his things than continue the argument.
She followed him through a security gate and into an elevator. They walked across an open walkway and he paused to unlock a door. Then he ushered her into the condo, setting her bag down. She raised her brows. The place was clean, despite screaming single guy. While the kitchen was surprisingly well-decked-out, the rest of the place had a slightly sparse kind of feel to it. No pictures, no paint, no plants. She didn’t figure Logan was one for home decorating.
“I’m going to take a quick shower and change.” He waved at the black leather couch in front of an enormous flat-screen television. “Make yourself at home.”
He walked through a door she guessed led to the master bedroom, and closed it behind him. Instead of sitting, Sydney wandered through the open-plan living room. On a mantle above the television, she spotted a couple of framed photos. One was a picture of him with a group of tough-looking guys wearing fatigues—what she guessed was his SEAL team. She spotted Logan—black paint spread over his face—his shoulder pressed up against Declan Ward’s. The next photo showed a picture of a small boy with golden-brown eyes standing beside a hulk of a man in an Army uniform. She guessed Logan had come from a military family.
Tiredness and worry started to crowd in on her. She sat on the edge of the couch and pulled out her cell phone. There was an image of Drew that she’d snapped when they’d had dinner just before he’d left for Peru. He’d been distant, and she’d known he was hurting from losing their father. She stroked the screen. She’d always felt protective of him. He’d finished school early and gone on to college. He didn’t have the best social skills, could be clueless at times, but he was always smiling and friendly.
She hadn’t wanted him to go to South America. But she’d been so busy taking over Granger, reeling from her guilt over her father, and, as Drew liked to remind her, he was an adult. She couldn’t protect him from everything. Still, she should never have let him go to Peru. Tears pricked her eyes and she pressed her fist to her mouth to stifle her sob.
She heard a noise and looked up. Logan stood in the doorway with only a white towel wrapped around his lean hips.
Shock, and something else very hot that she refused to name, hit her system. He was hard and big. There was no fat on him and he had ropes of muscle across his chest. And his abs…she sucked in a breath. Those hard ridges of muscle didn’t look real. His long, brown hair was damp and brushing his shoulders, framing that tough, rugged face.
Sydney’s last lover had been a lawyer. And before him, she’d dated a workaholic lobbyist for a few months. She didn’t recall any of them giving her this hard shock of heat just by looking at them. She’d never seen a man like Logan before. So big, so dominating, so primal.
“What’s wrong?” His voice was a deep grumble.
“Nothing.” She dashed her tears away, her other hand clenching on her phone.
“Did Silk Road contact you again?” He stalked over.
For a second, Sydney had the image of a wolf stalking its prey. He grabbed her hand and pried her fingers off the phone. Up this close, she smelled the scent of damp skin and soap. He glanced at the picture of her brother and then back at her face.
Then he scowled and pulled back. “I’ll get dressed and then we’ll get going. I suggest you change out of that skinny skirt and put on something more comfortable for traveling. Spare bathroom’s that way.” He jerked his head.
And just like that, he turned and stalked away. Now, she got a perfect view of his muscular back. It was covered in black ink, the lifelike image of a howling wolf.
Sydney released a shaky breath. She felt like she’d just barely survived a deadly encounter with something dangerous.
***
Logan stomped through Denver airport, his duffel bag slung over his shoulder, and holding Sydney’s fancy suitcase in his hand. At least she’d changed back at his place. Now, instead of the fitted skirt, she wore dark denim jeans and a tailored jacket. Unfortunately, the jeans gave him a perfect view of long, slim legs and a perfectly shaped butt.
Dammit. Back at the warehouse, it had been easy to write her off as a high-society snob and unfeeling ice queen. But when he’d come out and seen her sitting on his couch, tears glittering in her eyes, he’d felt blindsided. He hadn’t wanted to see beyond her cool exterior. He still hadn’t decided if she was just controlled or manipulative. Maybe she put on her mask to show people what she wanted them to see, and to get her own way.
He’d had up-close-and-personal experience with the kind of woman who was shiny on the outside and all rotten core under the gloss. Annika had taught him a hard lesson. She’d shown him one side of her—exactly what he’d wanted to see—while her other, hidden side had almost killed him.
Logan shook his head, annoyed at himself. He walked along the airport corridor, and out the large glass windows, he saw the THS jet waiting on the tarmac.
It wasn’t just Sydney Granger’s tears that had gotten to him. It had been the way the woman had looked at his bare chest.
He’d seen heat and hunger. And that had made him feel something completely different.
He stopped near a door. “We’ll wait here for Declan, Morgan, and Hale.”
Sydney nodded. Her hair was still in its twist, but a few strands had escaped, falling around her face.
Shit. Now he was noticing her hair. Thankfully, at that moment, he saw Dec and the others coming toward them.
“Sydney, this is Morgan Kincaid.” Logan pointed at the tall, deadly woman. Morgan was one of the best he’d worked with. She kept her dark hair short and had a scar down the side of her face she never talked about. The woman also had a big-time obsession with weapons. “This other guy is Hale Carter. Guys, Sydney Granger, our client.”
Hale stepped forward with a smile. “A pleasure to meet you, ma’am.”
As the man shook hands with Sydney, Logan rolled his eyes. Hale was a good-looking guy—dark skin, brown eyes, and a wide smile. He’d been a hell of a soldier, and now he was a hell of a security specialist. He was also a ladies’ man.
“All right, let’s get aboard,” Dec sa
id.
Logan stepped in front of Hale and pressed his fingers against Sydney’s lower back. “This way.”
Behind Sydney’s back, Hale took a step back, holding his hands up in mock surrender. He grinned at Logan and winked.
They headed out onto the tarmac, and walked over to the sleek, black jet. Once inside, Logan directed Sydney to one of the plush leather seats. The jet wasn’t outfitted for luxury; instead, it was lined with computer screens and compartments for storing their supplies.
Sydney settled into a seat, and Logan moved to talk with the others. But he felt her gaze on him the entire time. Once the pilot started the engines, Logan settled into the chair beside Sydney’s. He wasn’t sure why. He’d been telling himself he couldn’t wait to get to the airport and hand her off to Declan.
Maybe he was just really keen to see a glimpse of that emotion again. To try and figure out the real Sydney Granger.
“What was your brother hoping to find in Peru?” Logan asked.
“He’s obsessed with the Warriors of the Clouds. He said that only about five percent of their ruins have been uncovered in the cloud forests. He thinks there’s much more to learn about them.”
Morgan leaned forward from the seat behind. “What’s so special about these Cloud Warriors?”
Sydney crossed her long legs. “Drew said that they were very advanced for the time.”
“Oh?” Logan said. “Even though they didn’t make metal?”
“The Inca were wary of them. Their warriors were famous in battle. Their shamans were feared. They mummified their dead and entombed them in fascinating sarcophagi that they lined up on rock ledges above canyons in the forests. Drew had been investigating evidence that they were advanced healers. He found evidence that they’d been performing bone surgery and successful amputations. He believed there was more about them that was still unexplored.”
Logan grunted.
“Are you even interested in history?” Sydney asked, eyeing him.
“Sure.” He enjoyed history, and it made him enjoy his job at THS even more. But he wasn’t dumb enough to fall for the old “lost city” and “lost treasure” fables. He’d been on too many expeditions that had come up empty-handed. He shrugged. “I like it. I like my work. The jobs are always different, and put my skills to good use.”