by Avery Duncan
Still, though, as the sun beat down on his back and the riffle heated up in his hands, an uneasy shift slid through his back, up his neck, and right into his stomach.
He didn’t have time to think on it though — at that exact second, Nathan hissed into the comm. link. “Target out.”
That meant action time. Feeling cool, deadly intent slide through his body, replacing any worry he’d had over Claire, he trained his riffle and waited. If he did plan on going to the back of the hotel, which Logan was certain he was, he would show up in their sight right…about…now.
He almost smiled when the blond hair came into view — but froze.
Logan knew that figure, that hair. It was choppy and messed up around his head, like burnt straw. And he knew that the second he got down there, he’d hear that damn voice. Should have figured, he thought, aiming. Luke shifted beside him, apparently getting the go-ahead from Nathan to begin moving.
He watched the hulking figure take a discreet place near the far back corner of the alley.
This guy had tried to take Claire form him.
Carl Smith. Such a plain name for such a fucked up person. Images of their encounter flashed through his mind as his finger tensed on the trigger. His anger had his eyes flashing, vision turning red.
Overseas, Carl Smith had taken up with terrorists. They’d been tracking Logan and his group down for weeks, months, as they’d struggled to get control of the refugee camps. People were anxious for it to be all over, and anxiousness bred impatience, and when someone so close to the edge of the line was impatient…it all turned into a zoo. Luke and stayed back to take care of the sick, so he hadn’t been there to witness the attack.
But because Carl had slipped up and freaked, a lot of people had died that day. Not just Carl’s people, but Logan’s and volunteers as well. Carl had gotten locked up and now…he was here. Fury flashed through Logan.
It was so hard to aim for the leg instead of the heart — or better yet, the head.
He inhaled, and then clenched his finger — the shot fired through the air with so much speed that the only indication it had left the barrel was the site of Carl crumpling against the wall. He let out an explicit that Logan heard from all the way the roof, but he paid no heed.
Luke and him were too busy scaling the side of the building to get down there before Carl had a chance to do anything. His partner, obviously, was the first to get down there. He tackled Carl, who had been struggling to his feet, back to the ground.
Blood gushed from the wound in his leg, and as Logan reached him, he could do nothing but smile.
He knew what it must look like. Cold, dead, cruel. Soulless almost.
Carl’s eyes, a sickening shade of brown, slowly met his. At the site of Logan, he turned considerably pale — more than before, with the blood that was leaking from his leg.
“Hey, man,” Logan said easily, crouching on his heels. He held up his fist. Slowly, tentatively, Carl brought his up to pound it. As they touched, Logan used his other hand to grab his wrist. “How’s it going?”
Carl’s lip beaded with sweat, and Logan smiled, tightening his hand around the wrist in a painful grasp. “C’mon, we’re all cool here.”
He sensed Nathan and Eric come up behind him.
“Logan, you… I had no choice. I had to do this!” Carl’s high-pitched voice rang off the walls of the buildings that surrounded him.
He ignored his pleading, starting to press his thumb into the wrist he still held, twisting it softly. He could feel the muscles begin to tense up the man’s arm, and his eyes popped wide.
“How long you been in town?” he asked casually, cocking his head as he waited for an answer. Fury was riding him hard — but he liked to play with the prey. Especially when it was this guy.
“Man, he made me! I was going to just bring her to him —“
Logan twisted the wrist sharply, feeling the muscles pull beneath the thin layer of flesh. Carl let out a gasp and the blood flow of his leg quickened when he jerked. “Don’t —“
“My dear friend,” Logan murmured, pressing into the bone farther with his thumb, turning his hand. Bone crunched under his grasp. “You killed so many people with one dumb mistake. You betrayed your country and your family. I let you off easy — but you attempted to hurt the one thing that I would die for…”
Large, bubbly tears filled the pathetic piece of shit’s eyes. His head shook desperately. “I didn’t come after you — just her, that’s it.”
“Exactly,” he said soothingly, his lips lifting into a merciless smile.
“Listen —“ Logan twisted the wrist harder and his screams, along with the sound of popping bones, echoed around them. “Joey,” he gasped, great, heaving sobs leaving him.
“What about him?” Nathan asked, surging forward. That same unease that he’d felt on the roof came back, striking him in the stomach.
“He’s — he’s at…” He paused, coughing and trying to speak through trembling lips.
Even before the words were gurgled, Logan knew the answer. Forgetting about protocol completely, he reached for Carl’s shaking figure. Placing one hand on his forehead, the other on the shoulder, he grabbed Carl’s straw and yanked his head to the side sharply.
The snap of his neck was silent, but there.
“Someone take care of him. The rest, come with me.”
Logan could already feel the bile rising in his throat. Chase was there, so she had to be alright. He wouldn’t let anything happen to her — he might not like her that much, but he didn’t let women get hurt. God, if they didn’t get there in time…
He shook his head. They would. No, they had to.
Nathan took the wheel and in seconds, they were on their way to the ranch. Logan lunged for his cell, dialing the home phone first. If Claire answered, then everything would be okay. He wouldn’t have to —
“Please leave a message after the tone. Beeeeeeep.”
“Drive faster,” Logan growled, dialing his brother now. His heart was in his throat, and he could have vomited. Fucking pick up….Chase, you better answer the fucking phone.
He didn’t.
Jesus. Maybe he’d forgotten it upstairs in the study, or maybe it was on silent. He hadn’t been in the house when they’d all left, so he could still be outside. Even as Logan thought of it, he realized that it was futile to try to hope for anything different than what the truth actually was.
It was going to be another five to ten minutes before they got to the ranch. Even with Nathan going ninety in a fifty zone. The whole time, fear was laced through his soul.
Claire. His beautiful, innocent Claire. He should have stayed to protect her, should have known something would happen. God, he’d been so driven by his anger and terror over the thought of losing her, that he’d placed her in danger again.
The ride was silent, and tense. Logan sat there, picturing her face, trying to still the horror that was gradually rising inside of him like a tidal wave. Claire was never going to forgive him for this.
Even as he thought about it, though, he realized that she might never have a chance to decide. By the time they got there she could be…gone. Pain lacerated his heart.
The woman he loved was in danger — and because of him.
Love.
Logan did love her. It felt so natural to think it, to feel like he did. He loved her with all of his heart and soul — and without her, he had nothing. Absolutely nothing. Logan swore that the second this was over, he was going to tell her everything.
That he was sorry. That he loved her. That he wanted her forgiveness — and if he had to beg on his hands and knees, then so be it.
But, as they sped down the road like hell was on their heels, Logan had a terrible feeling like that wasn’t going to be happening.
His eyes, for the first time in his life, watered.
He pulled away from the limp girl on the floor, letting her body sag awkwardly. He gazed at her, taking in the black tights, the shirt, the
lush curves of her body…
It was only a matter of time before the cowboy came back. Taking care of Carl was a small distraction. Whatever happened to the guy, he didn’t really care, so long as he got what he wanted. This was the final straw before he flat-out sent someone after Campbell himself. Taking out the daughter was meant to spare his pathetic opponent as much embarrassment as he could, but it seemed like he might have to take it a step further.
He was going to have to make this quick, but for once he was starting to become uncertain. Kidnap, or kill? He’d done some pretty shady things in his life, but murdering someone on a kitchen floor seemed pretty drastic. It would be just as simple to kidnap her until the election was over. Maybe rough her up a bit, send some pictures to her father… He smiled, eyeing her.
Her long, slender legs called his gaze to her once again. So young and beautiful, lively. He didn’t understand how such a pretty thing like that could come from such a nasty creature like Campbell. The smile dropped from his face.
He knew what would hurt Campbell the most.
Not her death. Because for sure, if she were dead, she wouldn’t suffer or feel any pain. But if he kidnapped her, took her as his own, roughed her up a bit… The bitch wouldn’t be so innocent and Campbell would be devastated.
A perfect plan.
He knelt down, sliding his arms under her body. Damn, she was heavy! Trying to fit her over the bulge of his stomach, he began working her up into the air, slinging her over his shoulder.
She flopped against him like a rag doll.
He’d better hurry. He knew women were much weaker than men, so her recovery of being knocked out should be a lot longer than that of the dark man who’d been standing outside. He was glad for his stroke of luck tonight — for a second, he had been worried that the dark man might take him out. But of course, a man couldn’t beat a car. And run him over is exactly what Joey had done.
The perfect cure to any threat, he thought jovially, walking through the back door. The sun was shining, the birds were singing, and he had a great prize on his shoulder. Even better the day will be when she wakes up…and he gets a piece of that ass. Just thinking about it, his hand came up and palmed her smooth, perfect ass. Oh yeah, he’d be deep in that the second he got them out of this ho-dunk town.
Her foot twitched, but he barely noticed the movement. He was too busy trying to open the door to his black car with her on his shoulder. Maybe he should work out, lose some of the pounds — he could make a hobby out of getting girls if he lost the pounds… Joey shrugged. He got what he wanted, when he wanted, and on the conditions he wanted.
Just like he had today with perfect little Claire.
The bitch had been teasing him since their first encounter, at one of her father’s galas. She must have been sixteen then. He’d been more fit back then, he knew. Dashing, elegant, as his wife described him even today. He laughed aloud at the thought — that woman didn’t know black from white as far as he was concerned.
Flirty blue eyes, thick blonde hair — every man’s dream girl…and completely unavailable to Joey. He growled as her remembered the way her father had had him escorted out one evening, just because his hand had slipped when he had been standing behind her at the hors d’oeuvres table. Slipped down her back and to her ass.
Damn, even after all these years…still had a better ass than his wife did. His cock jerked at the thought while the door sprung open. He began shoving her in there —
Fuck.
Joey was shoved back roughly, and he lost his step.
Snapping blue eyes were wide open, and as the perfect little bitch came out of the car, fists raised, he realized he might have miscalculated.
He slammed into the ground, his weight a momentous force. Claire attacked him like a psycho, and pain erupted behind his eyelids as her fist connected over and over again.
“You little —“ Her fist rammed into his mouth. One of her legs was trapping his arm to the ground, and his other one was underneath his body at a painful angle. Pain shot through his temple, under his eyes, around his nose.
“Touch me again,” she screeched, pummeling him with her fists. “Do it, you fat motherfucker!”
He only saw the flash of fury in her eyes before she shoved her hand in his hair, pure, demonic intent in every aspect of her being, and slammed his head into the ground. Stars erupted — but adrenaline crashed through him at the same time.
Fear, shame, and pain all shot up his back like a needle shoved heroin in a junkies arm. He screamed in pain as he managed to wrench his arm out from beneath him, swinging it at her head.
She crashed to the side, into the ground.
Just as a police car, followed by a pick-up, rolled into the driveway.
Chapter 31
Joey Smith was fat, bloody, and cursing like a sailor.
His suit was tangled above the bulge of his stomach fat, his pant leg was ripped, and dirt was smeared into every crevice of his face. The sweat that was building over him caused the specks to turn muddy, grungy. Body odor wafted from him in waves. Logan could smell him the second he stepped out of the truck.
That was the first thing he noticed. The fat, four-hundred pound man took up most of the scene, blocking his view of Claire.
The next thing he noticed was the tennis shoe. It was off to the side, alone. Claire’s tennis shoe.
Panic flared inside his soul and he forgot about everything else except Claire.
Running around the cursing Senator, he knelt beside her, feeling for a pulse, taking in her ashen appearance. A bloody gash ran along the side of her face, her hand was cut along the wrists and her knuckles were forming some pretty deep bruises.
He’d been coming up the driveway when she’d made her move. The car had blocked some of what had happened, but he’d heard her shouting, saw her fists working into Joey’s face. Pride had shot through him at the sight – even know, seeing her there, knowing she had defended herself as best she could…. His eyes stung again.
Logan gathered her into his arms after finding the pulse. It was strong and steady. He breathed out a sigh of relief, smoothing back her hair, whispering to her. Men moved around them, gathering Joey.
“Claire,” he said urgently, raining kisses all over her face. He didn’t care that people were watching them, watching him cry over her. “Baby, wake up.”
She roused, turning her face into his shoulder – and then jerking back with a whimper. Guilt and relief once again clashed through him. He prayed to God that she didn’t have a concussion.
“Hey…” Her voice was faint, but worried. A shaking hand reached to touch his jaw, then his cheek. Her hand came away, glistening with one of his tears. “I’m okay…so why are you crying?” Her big, blue eyes gazed up at him, scared, concerned.
He let out a laugh, a big gust of air. “God. You scared me… We need to get you to the hospital.” He began standing with her in his arms. “I also need to tell you something.”
Claire nodded weakly against his chest, trustingly curling her body into his. He sheltered her with his arms protectively from the men that wanted to catch a look at her.
“No hospitals,” she said suddenly, flipping her eyes up to his. “Don’t take me to a hospital, Logan. I hate those things. Don’t want it.”
“Claire, you might have a concussion…”
“I don’t. I landed on my arm and the pain knocked me out.” He could tell she was grasping for straws.
He smiled gently, kissing her temple. “Sorry, baby. You’re going to the hospital. You could have a concussion and a broken arm.”
She attempted to move her arms, but Logan held her fast. “Damnit, Logan, I really don’t like those places.”
“I don’t care. We’re going.”
Claire ended up going along with whatever Logan wanted. He was gentle with her, but she could feel that he was on a thin line. He didn’t leave her side; he got so close as to punch the doctor before the poor man realized it was useless to figh
t them.
He also couldn’t keep his hands off her. If he couldn’t hold her hand, he touched her knee. If he couldn’t do that, his hand would be on her back. When the doctor left, he took those moments to hold her and kiss her. She didn’t mind it, and when he asked if she did, she gave him the truth.
“I love it,” she sighed, laying her head on his chest. “But I hope it doesn’t last too long… I can’t breathe.” They both laughed.
“I won’t ever let you go anywhere without me again. And God forbid Chase ever lets anything happen –“
She gasped, pulling back sharply. “Chase! Oh my god – I saw him! When Joey was carrying me to the car, he was like…under it.” Her eyes started to well with tears at the memory. “Call someone to bring him here; he’s hurt, Logan!”
“Don’t get so worked up,” he said calmly, rubbing her back. “My brother is stronger than you think. A car sitting on top of him won’t do much damage. His head is too thick.” He smiled at her and she stared at him, aghast.
“How can you be happy about this?! Logan, Chase was ran over by a car! You can’t just sit here—“
The door of the examination room opened and in walked the doctor. He was tall, thin, and his black hair was greying at the temples. His eyes were shrewd as he set down the clipboard on the counter and settled himself in the spin-chair in front of them.
“Your brother is here,” he commented blandly, sitting there with his hands folded in his lap.
“I thought so,” Logan said. He grabbed Claire’s hand. “Is she going to be okay? Is anything broken? Does she have a concussion?”
Claire blushed at Logan’s concern while the doctor shook his head. “Her vitals are good. No concussion, but I would suggest taking some ibprophen when you get home, and some rest. No bones are broken but her collarbone and shoulder bone are bruised. Ice will take care of the swelling.”