by Kathryn Shay
"Why?" he asked hoarsely, his lips on her ear.
Drawing back, she looked up at him. "Because I love you."
"That’s all we need." He hugged her close. "We’ll be fine, you, me, Tommy and our daughter."
"I know."
"Yeah, sweetheart…" he kissed her hard "…so do I."
An Impossible Mission
Logan Kane stared over the rim of his coffee mug and smiled at Molly Kimball McKay. She often came over to lunch at his restaurant, Kane’s Table, the business next door to her nature shop. He loved keeping her company while she devoured whatever he put in front of her.
She caught him staring and blushed. "I’m really pigging out, aren’t I?"
"Just eating for two." He nodded to her protruding belly. "How’s the little princess?"
"Kicking up a storm. Having dance parties at two a.m. Her daddy spoils her already."
"As he should. He’s got a lot to make up for."
Molly’s chestnut eyes twinkled at him. "You don’t fool me. You were the one who was responsible for getting us together."
Well, that was true. Molly and her now–husband Jase had been on an emotional merry–go–round and Logan had been the one to force Jase’s hand in claiming her. If the guy hadn’t, Logan would have married Molly himself—not that he loved her that way. He just had a thing about protecting pregnant women and babies.
When Molly finished and stood up, she arched her back and was silhouetted against the April sun coming in from the window behind her. At one time there had been another woman Logan had wished with all his heart to see pregnant and ungainly like Molly. And it would have been his kid she carried. But that woman was nothing like Molly. That woman was a lying, devious bitch who would never, after what she’d done, have his child.
"Logan, are you all right?"
He stood too to get out of the memory. "Sure."
"You looked sad."
He ruffled her hair. "You always tell me that."
"Because you always look sad. But today, just now, there’s a sort of a wistful sadness in those green eyes of yours."
Thankfully, his cell rang. Molly glanced at her watch. “Go ahead and get that.” Kissing him on the cheek, she headed for the door calling her thanks out to him.
"Kane here."
"Logan, it’s Simon."
Speak of the devil. It was through this man, Simon Kirby, that Logan had met Isabelle Sachetti. He’d never forget it. She’d come on to him right away.
I think we’re going to be really good together, Kane.
Hmm, I like the sound of that, Sachetti.
They had been good together—in bed, where they’d ended up the weekend after they met. And in the field, too, until she’d not only almost gotten Logan killed, but had also broken his heart in a way that he hadn’t ever recovered from in the full two years since leaving her in that hospital room in Barcelona.
"Hey buddy, how you doing?" Simon was also his close friend. Outside of Logan’s half-brothers and Molly, his best friend.
"Don’t ask. Nothing goes right here." A pause. "I need you, bro."
Damn it. "I helped out a few months ago. You said it would be a while before I heard from you again."
"It should have been. Phil Alderman was shot yesterday."
"What? Is he all right?"
"Yeah. He was in the wrong place, at the wrong time—a drive–by."
"Give him my best." Logan waited. "Let me guess. He was scheduled to go out."
"Yep." Simon wasn’t a man of many words, much like Logan himself.
"When?"
"Next week."
"Hell, I can’t learn an operation that quickly."
"It was one you helped sketch out a while back."
Mentally Logan flipped through the menu of what he’d worked on in the planning sessions he’d done with Simon after he quit. The immigrant smuggling in Mexico. The jail drug deals in Indonesia. The baby kidnapping ring in Italy. Oh, hell, don’t ask me to do that one, Simon.
"It’s the baby kidnapping ring."
Logan remained silent.
"I know this conjures demons for you, buddy."
"Still, you ask me."
"I’m stuck or I wouldn’t."
And of course, Logan would never say no to Simon. He owed the guy. Logan had been undercover in a Belfast jail when all hell had broken loose and the prison had been taken over by the inmates. A very violent riot ensued. Posing as a guard, Simon had gotten Logan out—but in the midst of their escape Simon’s leg had been ripped apart by barbed wire. As a result, Simon’s retirement from active duty had come early, and his marriage had ultimately ended. Now he just ran The Organization.
They all got a kick out of the name of their rogue agency. And out of the way they got their orders, real Mission Impossible style. Funded by the U.S. government, the Organization took on foreign assignments that Uncle Sam couldn’t get involved in publicly for various reasons. Washington also vowed to deny its existence should they ever be caught, just like in the movies.
Logan expelled a heavy breath. "When?"
"You leave Monday."
"What do I do?"
"Come to New York tomorrow. I’ll brief you, then you can get things in order at home."
"All right." Logan hung up before asking who would be on the mission with him. Hell, it didn’t matter so long as Isabelle wasn’t involved. But Logan knew he didn’t have to worry about that. No matter how desperate he was, Simon would never pair them up again.
Because not even for Simon Kirby would Logan work with her again.
oOo
"You didn’t tell him, Simon."
"No, I didn’t."
Belle sat back in a chair in Simon’s office and stared at the phone. "You know he won’t work with me."
"He will, once he gets over the shock."
"Best friends don’t do that to each other."
Simon slapped his hand down on the desk. Only her training in non–reactive techniques kept Belle from jumping. Simon Kirby almost never lost his temper. "Don’t you think I know that?" From his desk drawer he fished out photos and tossed them across the surface. "Look at these. Then tell me you wouldn’t move heaven and earth to help."
Bracing herself, she picked up the photos. The Granger baby smiled innocently from the first picture. The next was of her parents, a young couple whose world was wrecked when some psycho snatched their child out from under them when they were in Rome on a holiday.
"What’s her name?"
"Susie."
Belle’s hand slid to her stomach. She must have paled. Simon swore vilely. "Look, I know this hits close to home. But I have no choice. You’re the best operatives I’ve got."
"He’s an ex–operative."
"Don’t I know it." Simon studied her. "Do you miss him?"
She pictured sage green eyes, a thick shock of dark hair, and a body to die for.
"It’s been two years."
"You were closer than any couple I’ve ever seen. Always on the same wavelength. Never fought."
The possibility of an argument was why Belle had been afraid to tell Logan she was pregnant. She’d kept the knowledge to herself when she’d gotten the news and had sealed their fate in the process. Simon was watching her closely.
"Don’t think about what happened with your pregnancy, Belle. It won’t help."
She stood and smoothed down the straight black skirt that she wore with a black cotton sweater and low–heeled leather shoes. Logan had always teased her about her penchant for dark clothes, calling her his Black Magic Woman. "I won’t. But I suggest you tell him I’m in on this before he gets here."
"I can’t do that."
"Your funeral. You want me here when he comes tomorrow?"
"Yes."
"See you then." She got to the door of the office before he called to her.
"Belle?"
Flipping back her rope–like braid that Logan used to wind around his fingers, she looked over her shoulder
. "Hmm?"
"I’m sorry."
"Yeah, me too." She made it out the door before she let herself react. Once in the hallway, she leaned against the wall, and closed her eyes. "You have no idea, Simon," she whispered, "how sorry I am."
oOo
Logan smelled her perfume as soon as he entered Simon’s office. Momentarily, he was assaulted by it. He stood stock still, staring at his best buddy from just inside the doorway. Finally he managed to get out, "You didn’t."
"I did." Simon rose and circled the desk. His limp was noticeable, reminding Logan of what he owed this man. "I had to."
Old debts aside, Logan glared at him, then turned on his heel. He was marching back out towards the elevators when he heard, "Logan."
That one word halted him. Her voice was something out of a wet dream—husky, always a bit amused, snaking out of his memory bank at the oddest times.
Logan, love, touch me there…Logan, thank God you’re all right…and the last time on the answering machine, when he wouldn’t see her or talk to her or open her emails…Please, Logan, I made a mistake, forgive me.
He couldn’t force himself to exit. For two years he’d wondered how she was, what she was doing, if she still wore that glorious black hair long so that it would spread across his belly like velvet. So he turned around. She’d always been strikingly beautiful, but he’d forgotten the vibrancy of her presence. Those dark eyes had a snap in them, the same luscious mouth, a body taut as a whipcord and capable of taking a man down—or inside it—so he’d never forget her.
Standing outside of Simon’s office, she gave him a half–smile. "It’s good to see you."
"I can’t say the same."
Simon shifted behind her and leaned on the doorframe for support. From there he said, "Come back and we’ll talk." He turned, making his way back to his desk.
Out of a sense of duty to Simon, Logan strode back inside. She didn’t move out of his way so he was forced to brush up against her. Her arm swiped his sports coat. He thought he could feel the heat of her skin.
The feel of you is intoxicating.
Good, I’ll keep you drunk and under my spell.
How about if I keep you under me?
Whatever. Just so long as we’re together.
They’d been so good talking in bed, but not outside of it. Hell, he didn’t care until the end, until that last assignment where he’d felt the need to confess what he was truly feeling to her. And she’d gone ahead and did it anyway.
Now, as they took seats opposite each other, Logan tried to keep his mind blank and not remember her betrayal.
Simon handed him some pictures. He took them, and felt the familiar kick in his stomach. This was the baby they were supposed to rescue. "You don’t play fair."
"Neither do the monsters who took her, and will take others unless we stop them."
Logan traced the child’s nose and the soft curve of her chin. He glanced up and found Belle staring at him. "Does it have to be with Sachetti?" he asked, talking to Simon but not releasing her dark–eyed gaze.
"It has to be. Otherwise I would have done the operation differently."
There was a long moment of taut silence. "Fine. I’ll be a part of this."
Her chin raised, she didn’t look away either. "Simon, could you please leave us for a minute?"
Simon left saying, "Don’t storm out, either of you. We got details to cover."
When the door closed, Logan lazed back in his chair. "What do you want?"
She bit her lip, a truly uncharacteristic move for Ms. Tough–As–Any–Man. "I thought we might make a truce."
"No."
"Logan, it’s been two years."
He lurched forward and grabbed her shoulders roughly. "What did you think, sweetheart. That I’d forget, in two years, that you killed our baby?"
oOo
Asleep, she curled into Logan like a longtime lover and buried her face in his shoulder. He would have thrust her away, but he didn’t want to wake her up because the plane ride was bumpy as hell, and he knew how she hated to fly. Traveling at high altitudes was the only thing she was afraid of.
He also didn’t know if they were being watched on the flight to Rome. The powers–that–be warned them to expect constant surveillance as a test period of sorts on this mission.
To distract himself from the feel of her body, he reviewed in his mind what else he’d read in documents that had been destroyed as soon as they memorized the contents.
Names: Logan and Belle Kane
Residence: Upper East Side, Manhattan
Ages: 38 and 34 respectively
Status: happily married ten years, irrevocably infertile
Purpose of trip: private adoption, contracted on the internet, no lawyers involved, instructions to be given to agents when they arrive in Italy
Provider’s MO: to surveil the couple for an unknown time period, usually a few days, no longer than a week. Make sure they’re who they say they are. Agents must pretend to be a loving couple, wanting a baby that no other source would provide because Mrs. Kane is in remission from breast cancer. Couple should assume they’re followed everywhere except inside the hotel room. The Hotel Cavalieri will not be bugged as dignitaries and heads of state stay there and rooms are equipped with internal detecting devices for surveillance hardware.
Logan’s hands curled into fists. He couldn’t believe he’d allowed himself to get drawn into this. But the thought of other people losing their child, as he’d lost his, compelled him to comply. He’d suffer proximity to the beauty next to him—hell he’d have worked with Satan himself —to stop this ring. Still, he berated God and The Organization and life in general until they finally landed in Rome.
Time to play loving hubby. "Sweetheart, wake up."
Her nemesis, coming awake. He used to do it…uniquely.
What are you doing?
Waking you with a kiss.
She’d arched against him. This is more than a kiss.
Now, in the airplane, she stirred. Huge eyes opened. They always looked like melted chocolate first thing in the morning. "Logan." She smiled, forgetting where she was, he guessed. She burrowed into him. Then she glanced down at her clothes and scowled. "What?" The pink linen suit was high–end and pretty but the real Isabelle Sachetti would never wear something like it. She brushed the thick skein of her hair out of her eyes and met his gaze. "Oh." The agent fell back into place. "Good morning, darling."
Because he had to, not because he wanted to, he hooked a hand behind her neck and kissed her nose. "Morning," he said huskily.
He busied himself getting their carry–ons, helping her out of the seat, deplaning. Once they hit baggage claim, customs and immigration, they found their chauffeur, who could have been one of the bad guys, and headed out of the airport.
The day was still cool as they rode to Rome. She asked the driver, in fluent Italian, if the weather had been good.
Logan didn’t understand the response. She was the language expert. The man kept glancing back at them, so Logan was forced to slide his arm around her. "Excited, honey?"
She melted into him. She always did. He used to tease her about it.
You can’t stay away from me. You want me bad.
I could, she’d said honestly. But why should I? We’re soul mates, Kane.
He’d joked, like one of them always did when the other got serious. Body mates is more like it.
They took the twenty minute trip to their hotel, cooing to each other, touching each other. At last they pulled onto the hotel grounds, full of spring vegetation, waterfalls and service people at their beck and call, befitting the exorbitant nightly price tag.
And Logan wondered how he was going to survive a week pretending he was in love with this woman when he’d spent two years trying to forget that fact.
oOo
Her body humming from Logan’s touches, albeit for show, Belle struggled to keep her head as she closed the door to their hotel room. At least here,
they wouldn’t have to pretend. Her goal was to make some peace with Logan, but she didn’t exactly know how to begin, and now that they were alone, she was nervous and needed some distance to collect her thoughts.
She opened the wall of glass doors and stepped out on the balcony. Rome, in all its ancient splendor and modern progress sprawled before her. "No matter how many times I come here, I’m awed by the city."
Logan came up behind her and wrapped his arms around her waist. She startled. He whispered, "Binoculars. They could be watching us."
So much for distance. She leaned back into him and he nuzzled her hair away. Put his mouth in a favorite spot on her.
Your neck is an erogenous zone, Sachetti.
Everywhere you touch is an erogenous zone, Kane.
He kept up the ruse for a minute then finally stepped away. "Let’s go inside. They’ll think we’re making love if we close the blinds."
Once in the room, she pressed a button by the door. A curtain of vinyl blinds descended, plunging them into darkness. He switched on a low light.
She said, "Wow, that’s cool. Remember the time in Paris when we—"
He held up his hand, his eyes an icy green. "Don’t. No reminiscing." She watched him walk to the dresser and remove his wallet, coins and other belongings from his pockets. "I’m going to shower."
"Logan, please, can we talk?" She’d taken a seat in one of the three plush chairs in the sitting area.
He slid off his belt. "About what?"
She tapped her foot. "This forced proximity. How are we going to handle being together?"
His shoulders tensed beneath the suit he wore. He looked ready to spring. "Like we always handled ops. We play the part." His gaze lasered her. "Even if we can't stand each other’s company."
Raising her chin, she narrowed her gaze on him. "I like being with you again."
He plopped angry fists on his hips. "Don’t you dare use this situation to manipulate me. After what you did, I told you I never wanted to see you again. I have nothing to say to you."
Clearing her throat, she summoned her undercover cool. She stood, stalked to him and got in his face. "I have a lot to say to you."
"Tough." He started away.
She grabbed his arm, holding him back. "Six months before that last mission in Barcelona, I had a pregnancy scare."