Kiss the Enemy (Slye Temp) (20 page)

“Because I’m trying to keep you alive.”

That hadn’t been what she was expecting to hear. “Thanks for the concern, but you should have realized by now that I can take care of myself. That’s what you told me to do. Run and don’t look back.”

He was up and around the bed so fast he gave her whiplash. Then he was looming over her, hands pressing down on the matteress at each side of her hips. “This isn’t a joke, dammit. We were lucky to survive what happened out in the jungle and when they figure out we escaped they’ll come for us. I need to know what they wanted with you.”

“Me? What did they want with you?”  She’d take responsibility for screwing up whatever
Logan
had in play at the Trophy Room, and she’d messed up the meeting with the Banker, but she hadn’t brought the rest of that down on his head.

His head dropped until his face was inches from hers. “They kept you alive. There had to be a reason.”

“Not necessarily. I was just in the wrong place at the wrong time.”

“Bullshit. You’re no hooker.”

She fisted the sheets, twisting them and wishing it was his neck. “How would you know? A lot could’ve happened in the years since you left me in Paris?”

His jaw was rigid. “I. Know. Just tell me what you were doing at the night club.”

“Same as you.”

“Not possible.”

“Why? Did you corner the market cutting deals in this business?”

“
What.
Deal!
” he growled between clenched teeth.

Damn him. He didn’t get to walk back into her life, accidental or otherwise, and start demanding answers. She didn’t care what had crawled up his butt and homesteaded. Having him close and not touching him shredded her.

She would not let him know how much it hurt to see him again. But stupid her, she couldn’t take her eyes off his lips.

He’d used her in Paris. She’d been nothing more than a cover
.

Keep thinking that.
Maybe it would blot out memories of that mouth on hers.

“My deals are none of your fucking business,” she told him in an even voice that didn’t give away what she hid inside. “Just like your deal in Paris was none of mine. You said to forget you, so I did. Sugar.” 

Veins pulsed in his neck. His eyes blazed an angry shade of brown. He stayed that way, fixated on her for several seconds, then he seemed to give up on whatever held him back and he kissed her.

She refused to respond. Her pride screamed at her to hit him, hurt him somehow to make him feel a glimmer of what she’d gone through.

His mouth molded to hers, kissing her with a gentle power that was overriding her brain.

She should be pushing him away. Biting his lip. Anything to make him think twice about kissing her ever again.

Years of hurt poured through her. Enough that it should have drowned any feelings she had for him, but he was still kissing her and she couldn’t make herself break away. The longer his lips touched hers, the more indecision yanked on her until she thought her body was going to split down the middle.

He whispered, “God, I missed you,” against her lips.

Damn him. She finally gave in.

She wrapped her arms around his neck, ignoring the remaining soreness and the bite of her stitches, and held on, kissing the lips that she’d dreamed about for years. And never replaced, no matter how many other men had tried to sway her with their seduction techniques.

Her mouth fit with the lips of only one man.

His arms wrapped around her, lifting her up on her knees. The bed dipped with the weight of him sitting down and pulling her to him. Her fingers fisted in his hair. He was a fire threatening to rage out of control.

How could she want this man after all he’d done?

She didn’t. Her body did.

She’d keep telling herself that.

Margaux grabbed his shoulders and pushed even though she’d have better luck trying to budge a mountain. He slowed the kiss, nipping at her lips. Then broke away to drop his forehead to hers. “I’m sorry for Paris. I would never have put you in danger.”

Was that true?

She wanted to rail at him, but she hadn’t gotten her bite back yet. It would come out like a terrier instead of a Rottweiler. Besides, no matter what had happened between them in Paris, she had a job to do.

This man had still gone to the Trophy Room to hook up with the Banker.

Sabrina needed to know about that and who Logan was.

The eggs in Margaux’s stomach started an acid reflux party at the thought of handing him over to Sabrina.

“You’re trembling, dammit.” He lifted her up and laid her down on the bed.

Her stupid body was shaking. She hated weakness. But that was already on her hater list so she changed it to hating to feel defenseless.

Logan was pulling the sheet up over her. He leaned down with his hand propped next to her head again, but he didn’t look as tense as before.

What would he do with her? Lock her in this room? She’d get out. He had to know that. Had last night been about getting some leg before the truth came out?

Not fair, Margaux.
He’d tried to make her wait until they talked today because he knew what this morning would bring. And she’d been the only one to benefit last night. She’d tried to convince him to donate his body to sate her lust.

How was last night any worse than using her as a cover back then? It hadn’t felt like just sex once he came back to the bed and now she knew why.

She’d thought they had something special in Paris. That she’d found a place she could live a simple life with a man who turned her insides into a butterfly convention every time he looked at her.

That had been the last time she’d allowed herself to dream.

Dreams were for the chosen few who got to walk in the light like normal people, not those who were destined to live in the dark where lost souls belonged. She’d learned the hard way that allowing herself to be vulnerable was dangerous.

Never again.

Logan brushed his hand over her hair, exhaling a long breath. His gaze took in her face, pausing to meet her eyes. He rubbed his knuckles over her cheek. “You may not want to hear it, but calling you that morning in Paris was the hardest thing I’d ever had to do. I was insane with worry that you wouldn’t escape. I know you think I never cared, but I saw you board the ship you left on. I had people in the States who assured me you were safe, then you disappeared. I ... ”  He looked away, shutting down.

Her lips parted but nothing came out.

He’d seen her get on that freighter? Why hadn’t he come to her then? Why had his people watched over her when she got back to the US?

Why go to that trouble when he said he never wanted to see her or didn’t want her to contact him? “Why didn’t you have someone tell me you were alive?”

Logan stood up, pulling his hand back. “Get some rest.”

“No. You reappear in my life and tell me to just forget about it? What happened that day in Paris?”

“Let it go for now, Margaux.” 

When he moved to step away, she reached out to catch his hand and gritted at the sudden movement of her injured arm. He stood there for a moment, finally turning to look at her. This time, the anger and frustration slid away from his gaze, leaving only longing, but for what?

He was the one who had played with her in Paris then cast her away. He could have sent word to her.

He turned and gently tucked her arm back against her side. “Keep resting and don’t try to leave. You won’t succeed and I don’t want to have to restrain you.”

Note to self to heed that warning.
Her skin pebbled at the cold. “Are we still in the jungle?” 

“No. It’ll warm up some during the day. Water is in a canteen on the bottom shelf. Latrine is—”

She piped up. “Found it.”

He kept on as if she hadn’t spoken. “—in the corner. I’ll bring more food in about an hour.”

“This is bullshit,” she muttered.
She’d
dragged him from that hut in the jungle and he locked her up? Why? “What do you plan to do with me, Logan?”

He stood with his back to her and his hand on the door. “I haven’t decided, but you can’t stay here and I can’t risk turning you loose.”

“Why?”

“I can’t answer that question.”

“But you were willing to tell me something when you thought you were going to die in that prison hut.”  She sounded bitter. Who wouldn’t in her place?

He had the decency to look guilty, but not enough to release her. She could see it in his eyes. Whatever he was after was more important than the guilt she’d flung at him. Asking about the future was going nowhere so she let it be. “Where are we?”

“In a forest on a mountain.”

“What continent?” she asked dryly.

“We’re in the States. There’s no threat here now that we’re with my team.”

He tried to leave again and she stopped him with one more question. “How many in your team?”

“Enough.”

“For what?”

“To protect you.”  He disappeared out the door.

To contain me.

He just
thought
he could contain her. She gave in to the weariness seeping through her bones and fell back asleep. When she woke, she’d be better rested for an escape.

If he didn’t move her before then.

CHAPTER 22

Logan could smell a hint of campfire the closer he came to the camp on return from his stint at patrolling the outer perimeter. It would be dark in another hour and he was ready to sleep after spending last night more awake than asleep.

Ty Brander headed toward him, taking the graveyard patrol shift. The team called him Slider because he had a 90+ fastball. A shame that he’d never played pro ball, but he never said a word about regretting his decision to sign on with Logan, who’d needed someone who could fly anything.

If he’d had Ty back in Paris, he’d have flown Margaux out of there.

A yawn took him by surprise. He shook it off.

How was he supposed to get any rest with Marguax so close at hand? He’d close his eyes and drift off to sleep, then she’d step into view with nothing but his shirt and a smile on her face. In his fantasy, she lifted the edge up slowly, dragging it across her breasts and those gorgeous nipples would pucker.

He wiped his mouth with his hand.

Then she’d laugh and he was lost.

She’d haunted him for years. There’d been other women since Paris, but none had imprinted on his brain the way Margaux had. How could they? Margaux wasn’t just a woman. She was a living, breathing treasure. A woman who’d asked no questions about his life or tomorrow, but had given him her all every minute they were together. She’d lived for the moment.

When he’d been with her, he had, too.

Spending that time with her in France had been a mistake. He’d started thinking about tomorrow and having someone like Margaux in his life.

Not just someone. Her.

He’d been young and ready to do something stupid, then he got a wake up call in the form of a bombing that killed two. Someone had found out the Russian diplomat was going to defect. Logan had gotten an emergency call to get the diplomat out. He reached the consulate just as the diplomat’s office exploded.

Logan called and was told to disappear.

There had been a leak.

He’d done the only thing he could to keep Margaux safe—ordered her to run, sent others to watch her back so she made it, and told her to never look back.

Forget he existed.

If only he’d taken his own advice.

Forget Margaux? Impossible.

Six years should have taken the edge off his desire, but it was as sharp now as the last morning he’d pulled her under him.

For a while in the jungle, he’d considered that Margaux might have known where he was going that morning. He’d reported his location when he’d checked in while surveilling the consulate. Her prints would have been taken from her apartment and sent to INTERPOL as part of standard procedure.

If anything had hit on her back then, he’d have been informed.

He had to decide what he was going to do about discovering her involvment with the Banker.

As the head of the secret Hamr Brotherhood that went deep undercover for months at a time, Logan had responsibilities to a number of international clients, particularly with regard to his contract with INTERPOL. They required him to share any discovery connected to past and future terrorist events.

But Logan decided
when
he shared that intel.

He wasn’t ready to expose Margaux’s existence or point to her presence with him during the Paris bombing. The minute he did, INTERPOL would order him to hand her over.

She was going nowhere until he got answers.

That sounded like strategy in his head. In reality, he was putting off the inevitable.

Logan gave tweet whistles as he approached the outer boundaries of the camp. He stepped over one of the many trip wires set up for security just as he got a turkey call in answer. His team changed up the sounds daily.

When he strolled past a hammock that belonged to Sam “Party Man” Leclair, he found all the guys except Moose in a close circle around the fire, which surprised him. Not that they didn’t get along great, but they liked space when they weren’t on a job that usually required a lot of time in tight quarters.

Moose leaned against a tree with his M4 carbine at ease, but ready. He glowered at the other four men who had been leaning into a huddle then broke open with a loud round of laughter.

Now Logan could see what entertained them.

Sitting dead center was Marguax, smiling so wide her green eyes sparkled.

Seeing her smile forced a knot in his throat. He’d missed that smile more than everything else about her. She could give the sunshine competition for brightening a day when she was happy.

Her eyes flicked up at him, focused with recognition, then her face locked down so quickly into a blank composure that each of his men turned around. They glared at whatever had ruined her upbeat mood.

Him. He glared right back, letting them know he didn’t like her smiling at them.