No Stranger to Danger (14 page)

Logan's stare flicked over the prone man as he opened the wallet, minimally aware that Mara came from the steps of the cabin and to his side. She stood on her tiptoes to peer at the driver's license with him.

"Marcos Araujo. A fake Brazilian identity. Go figure," Logan murmured as he flipped through the rest of the wallet. There was not—unsurprisingly—much else but hundred dollar bills inside. Logan dropped it onto the man's bloodied chest.

"One of Conyers's?" Mara asked.

"That would be my guess."

He looked down at the AR in her hands. She had lowered the weapon, but it wasn’t until then her grip loosened. Logan didn’t miss the grayish look to her face as she started to turn from the body at their feet, toward the cabin.

"Mara," he started as her step picked up. She didn’t stop though.

Logan gave the dead man one last look as he followed her back into the cabin, stopping only to close the door. All his anger with her vanished, and his only concern now was for what she had done. Exactly what he
had not
wanted her to do.

He looked up to find her in the living area with her back to him, her arms crossed over her chest and her head bent down. The curtains were open and so were the blinds, from where he had slipped out. The rifle she'd used was propped at her feet against the window frame.

Logan turned the lock and started for her. When he came to her back, he rested his hand on her shoulder, gently rubbing there with his thumb. "Are you all right?" he asked.

With a roll of her shoulder, Mara shrugged his hand off. "I suppose." She didn’t turn to face him, but continued staring out the window through the glass.

"You suppose?" he pressed. Logan reached in front of Mara, his chest brushing her back as he pushed the window closed, locked it, and pulled the cord to the blinds. He took a small step forward, pressing into her as he pulled the curtains together.

Mara moved to the side to avoid him, but Logan pulled her back and turned her around by the shoulders. He kept hold of her arm with one hand, and with the other, tilted her chin upward so he could look into her eyes.

Deep pools of velvet brown stared back at him, and although she hid it well, he knew somewhere in there she was quivering. But damn if she would let him know it.

"You shot a man, Mara. You killed him. You can't tell me you are okay with that."

She pressed her lips together firmly. "He could have killed you if I hadn’t shot him."

Logan straightened a bit. "Oh, and I suppose that just wouldn’t have set well with you."

He said it jokingly, but Mara rolled her eyes all the same and turned her head away. As she desired, Logan dropped his hand and took a step back from her. He crossed his arms over his chest and stared at her a moment. He wasn’t sure what to say. She wasn’t
fine
, but he had never been in this situation before.

He smiled at her suddenly. "So, breakfast before o
r
after we move the dead man into the woods."

Mara gave him a faltering—yet derisive—smile and dropped her head into her hands. "What happened to my life?" she groaned.

He wanted to hold her, he wanted to draw her into his arms—but what comfort could he give her when he was the reason she was hurt on so many levels?

"After," Mara said, dropping her hands and starting around him. "Whites only?" she asked.

"Yeah," Logan mumbled, pulling his new burner from his pocket. "I'll call
MacKall
while you're cooking. Haven't heard from him, and these guys showing up already doesn’t give me a good feeling. They're good, but not that good." In the back of his mind, he worried their location had been leaked.

Logan selected the only number on the call log. It rang. No answer.

"I'm sorry, but the mailbox is already full and unable to accept new messages. Please try your call again at another time."

Logan cursed under his breath and flipped the phone shut against his leg before he stuck the phone back in his pocket.

"Damn it," he said.

"
MacKall
?" Mara asked from the kitchen as she sat a bowl on the counter.

"No answer." Logan clenched his jaw.

A moment later, Mara opened the fridge and then shut it, pausing with a Styrofoam container of eggs in her hand. She offered a gentle smile, but it didn’t reach her eyes. She was as worried as he was. "He'll call back. I'm sure he will." Mara watched him a moment. "You trust him, don’t you?"

Logan briefly looked away, blankly at the front door, and then turned back, locking his stare with hers. "With my life."

"With mine, too?" she asked.

Logan crossed the room to the kitchen and stopped in front of her. He took her chin in his fingers and turned her to face him, in attempt to soothe her worries. "I wouldn’t have gone to him if I didn’t."

Chapter Fifteen

1000 hours, Saturday

Outside Pigeon Forge, Tennessee

"I think we should leave the cabin," Mara said, dropping the man's booted feet. The polished black leather heels hit the cushioning damp leaves of the forest floor and—still staring down on him as though she expected him to jump up—she dusted her hands slowly, then rubbed her palms down the length of her jean clad thighs.

She gave the body a twist of her nose, but reminded herself that this man hadn't been a good person. He had been there to kill them.

Logan pulled the body across the damp ground, into a thicket of brush. His hands gripped under the man's limp arms, and he let their dead assailant go.

He put his fists on his hips. "No," he said.

"No?" Mara squinted at him and reached up to push back her bangs. "We aren’t ready for them, and with
MacKall
not answering, who knows what has happened."

"We can hold out. I'm not worried about defending the cabin." Logan started back in the direction they had come, but paused at her side. "It's defensible, as you proved. Besides, where else are we going to go?" Logan continued on, back up the hill. "I gave
MacKall
the coordinates to the cabin in case shit went wrong. He knows where to find us, and if we aren’t here…." He trailed off with his point made.

Mara turned around just in time to catch his over-the-shoulder stare leaving her ass. Logan turned quickly and didn’t look back. She crossed her arms over her chest a moment and lifted her brows at him.

Seriously?

She started after Logan, and once at the top of the slope, Mara uncrossed her arms and prepared to climb up the almost straight rocky face to the cabin's backyard. She supposed this was why Logan found the place so easy to defend. There was no sneaking up this cliff in the dark. There was no other a way around it either, aside from the drive leading to the front.

Mara pulled herself up one stone after another, her heart drumming harder and a glistening of sweat began to drip down her neck, into the crevice between her breasts, by the time she was halfway up. Her fingers gripped, tearing a little on each stone and root. When she reached the top, Logan thrust his hand into her face before he rose above her on the edge.

Mara stared at him a moment, loath to touch him, but the ache in her arms insisted she take his offer. She let go of the rock with one hand and, almost as instantly as her palm touched his skin, he gripped her forearm and she vaulted upwards, landing hard against Logan's body. Their clasped arms pressed between their bodies as she stumbled to right herself.

Mara's stare instantly flew up to his, and for a moment, she started to back away—until she felt the heel of her boot on the jagged edge of the rocks. A few of those rocks knocked over the edge to tumble to the bottom. There was nowhere but down to take a step away from him, and so she did the only other thing she cared to do to Logan. She tilted her head back and started down her nose at him.

"I'm still not happy about being here, whether the cabin is in a good location to suit our purposes or not."

Logan's eyes flickered down from her stare and caught on her mouth. Mara swallowed away the heat ratcheting up her spine at the lust spilling from those dark blue pools.

"Thank you for saving my life earlier," he said, ignoring her words. His voice was low and rough and sent a quiver through Mara. "Even though you could have shot me."

There was a time when that voice could seduce her by only the timbre. So silky and deep, the sound almost something dark and seductive without him even putting forth effort.

Mara smirked at the thought, but when she found herself staring at
his
mouth, and Logan watching her with an amused grin, she shook herself and gave him a push.

"You're welcome," she muttered, locking her stare to her shoes. "I guess in some cases you are a lucky bastard."

"Yes, I am," he said.

Mara punched him in the arm. She had a good aim. She wouldn’t have missed or she wouldn’t have
chanced
the shot. The man had come up so fast, she'd not seen him until the last instant. She shuddered to think of what may have happened if she
hadn’t
taken the shot.

Logan let go then and started back toward the cabin. "We have to be careful when we're outside. I'd be willing to bet there are more Marcos
Araujos
out there lurking in the brush," he said, all sincerity now.

Mara didn’t respond, but trekked along behind him, the heat in her cheeks from being caught staring at his mouth still burning.

What the hell is wrong with me
? she chided as she climbed the wooden steps to the porch and followed Logan inside.

She continued past him as he locked the door, hoping for an escape, but when she looked back and found raw emotion in his eyes, she stilled a moment.

He took a step toward her, bracing his arm against the back of a kitchen chair. "I never intended for you to have to do any of what you have done today."

She swallowed and looked down, but Logan brought his fingers under her chin.

"I'm sure you didn't
intend
any of this," she said.

He gave her a
tsking
look. "You're a strong woman."

"A lot stronger than you ever gave me credit for." She knocked his hands aside. "Your loss, Logan. Now, I need a shower after
that
," she said, glancing past his shoulder to the door and then back to his eyes. She gave him one last daring look, before turning and flipping her hair against his chest.

"After the way you were looking at my mouth, or after hauling a dead man into the forest?" he asked, matching her taunt.

Mara's step faltered, and she gritted her teeth, huffing.

Why did he always have to be so exasperating?

This wouldn’t be forever. Soon he would be gone and out of her life once more.

The best thing she could do was shield herself and not end up devastated again.

But therein lay the crux. If they parted without sealing old wounds, she would be hurt. If she couldn’t say she gave this fateful chance her best at taking back the man she loved, she would be hurt.

She glanced back to Logan as she mounted the stairs.

Que
Será
,
Será
,
right?

****

1100 hours Saturday

Outside Pigeon Forge, Tennessee

Try as he might, Logan couldn’t remove the image of Mara's stare on his mouth. Nor could he remove his thoughts from her to more important matters—like securing the cabin.

"Damn it," he cursed and tossed a reloaded magazine across the table. It scattered in a little circle to the opposite side. He stood, raking his hands through his hair and tousling the hell out of it before he dropped his hands to grip his hips as he began to pace.

Logan's jaw ticked. His anger at his earlier stupidity remounted after they came back into the cabin and she left to take a shower. If his head were in the right damn place, he wouldn’t have nearly gotten himself killed—nor would Mara have had to shoot the man for him.

He gripped his sides tighter as he made a little path between the kitchen and dining area, softening a bit at her intentions of protecting him.

Mara.

The image of those brown eyes on his lips stirred him back into a frustration born of hell itself.

Who had he thought he was to tell Jericho to leave his woman behind in Brazil, when he himself couldn’t leave Mara behind? He had never been able to, no matter how hard he had tried. That’s why they were in this situation now.

His eyes trailed up the stairs all the way to the closed bedroom door.

Damn it.

Logan growled and brought his clenched fists to his forehead in a moment of utter frustration. He stopped in his little path, hearing the shower turn on above. The thought of Mara slipping from her clothing heated his blood, had it thumping in his veins like a primal drum.

Telling himself to forget her was not working the way he wanted it to—and there was only one reasonable action that could purge her from his blood, from his thoughts.

Logan cursed himself under his breath.

He took the stairs two at a time and threw the door to the bedroom open, taking long strides to the bathroom.

Mara whirled on him from the shower, freezing beside the high marble tub, her back to the matching shower with glass door—but she didn't say anything.

She didn’t tell him to go.

Didn’t try to stop him.

Her eyes said it all as they fell down the length of his body, coming back up to lock with his.

She wanted him, too.

Her breasts lifted on a hard breath against the white towel wrapped around her, and her dark hair fell loosely around her shoulders, dry, as though she hadn't gotten in the water yet. His eyes scorched a path up her bare legs where the towel parted at her thigh, too short to cover all of her and the towel too thin to keep her taut nipples from pressing outward against the covering.

The slender curve of her hip, the flat of her belly, the rise of her breasts: his undoing. He watched those breasts as they lifted and fell, tried to search his memory for what they looked like, but it had been too long. Too long for many things—especially too long since he had been with a woman.

His cock stirred at the utterly provocative sight of her, and Logan took a step forward, a small one. His fists clenched at the thought of her having been with another man since him. He had no right to those thoughts, he knew that—but that didn’t halt the feelings coursing through him.

"Mara," he started, quietly. But what the hell was he supposed to say? After all he had put her through, if he was anything decent, he would turn away from the bedroom and lock her inside—alone.

Logan clenched his fists again, not in anger, but to keep himself from reaching out for her.

Mara noticed, her gaze falling to his hands at his sides.

She shook her head at him. "The man who left me because he couldn’t fit me into his world looks like he can't live without me now. What is it you want, Logan?"

What did he want? The primal man inside him demanded he claim her.
His
woman, whether a piece of paper said she was his wife or not.

Logan came closer and took her pert chin in his hand, drawing her closer to him. "You have no idea what you do to me, Mara. What you’ve always done to me." His eyes were on her mouth, that damn perfect mouth that always had provoked him so. "You're a part of me that never left. There were some days when I was alone in one godforsaken desert or another where there was nothing else with me
but
you. I kept that picture with me because it was the last thing I owned that reminded me I was capable of feeling, that I wasn’t just a government-paid assassin. That there are people out there besides the President and Congress who need me to do what I do for reasons other than self-advancement, whether they know it or not." Mara's chin quivered under his fingers. "I don’t do what I do for glory, and I never have. I do it so I know you sleep safely."

Mara came up on her toes then, sweeping his hand from her face and threw her arms around his neck. She kissed him, hard at first, but her passion fell from rough to tender and her lips moved against his softly.