LOGAN (The Innerworld Affairs Series, Book 5) (13 page)

"Like I said before," Robin murmured, guessing at Tarla's thoughts. "He's a strange one."

"Don't tell me you're interested in him too?" Tarla smiled to hide the queasy sensation that touched her stomach as she thought of Robin going after Logan.

"Hell no!" Robin said with a laugh. "Even if he wasn't a murderer, he's the kind that never lets a woman push him around and I'm the kind that prefers the top." She wiggled her eyebrows at Tarla and made her laugh.

"Wait a sec," Tarla said. "Do you have doubts as to whether Logan's guilty?"

Robin shrugged. "I probably wouldn't if I'd never seen him close up. But if he was such a bad guy, wouldn't he have backed Wilkes instead of trying to keep the peace with Geoffrey? Don't get me wrong, there is something kinda scary dangerous about him but I feel like I can trust him not to hurt us. Okay, let's talk about Geoffrey."

"Seriously?" Tarla said with feigned shock. "You still find him attractive after an entire day? This sounds serious."

Robin made a face at her. "Very funny. I've met the man of my dreams and you develop a sense of humor." She looked out into the dark for a glimpse of him then sighed. "The truth is, he hasn't even noticed I'm alive."

"I doubt that! If anything, you might be
too
alive for him."

Robin's eyes opened wide. "Quiet, reserved little me?
Hmmm.
You could have a point there. I suppose I could tone down my aggressiveness just a bit. At least until I can get past his defenses."

Tarla knew better than to try to talk Robin out of something she'd decided to do but she secretly hoped Geoffrey didn't give in to Robin too easily. She might benefit from running up against a man who didn't instantly fall at her feet. Maybe she could even learn to appreciate him for something other than good looks and an English accent.

They returned to their tent but it took Tarla a while to fall back to sleep. During her time in the military, she'd discovered the darkest traits of men. Of course, she knew the textbook definitions of assault and rape but had never needed to put those words into a real-life context. It was very hard to comprehend, but she had no doubt that Wilkes would have raped Lee without a second thought, if she had been less skilled.

As a resident of Innerworld, she'd been accustomed to an orgasm being a simple physical release that could be shared with a friend or purchased at the Indulgence Center. Romance and love were not required for pleasure and coupling of any sort was only done with mutual consent.

Tarla had always enjoyed her fair share of pleasure, even on Outerworld. Although Terrans often made sex more complicated than necessary, she still had no trouble finding willing partners to play with when the urge struck her. Occasionally she'd found a man she wanted to spend more than a few hours with. But since her move to Outerworld, she'd never spent more than a month with any of them. When it was over, however good it had felt, it was completely over.

Even with Logan, the only one she'd even considered breaking her one-month rule for, there was no looking back.

So why did she care if Robin was interested in Logan?

Because he's dangerous and she feared for her friend's well-being.

She toyed with that explanation a moment and gave it some credence, but she knew it wasn't the whole answer. What she had felt earlier was closer to jealousy than fear.

Did that mean
she
still had an interest in Logan herself?

Absolutely not. If anything, she'd experienced a momentary pang of jealousy at the thought that Robin—with her sensual beauty, lush figure and quick wit—could get through Logan's shell and find the heart she'd been unable to locate with her vast experience at softening up tough guys.

Yes, that's all it was. A tiny pin prick in her professional pride.

Then why was she suddenly remembering what it felt like to be kissed by him?

There was nothing wrong with being a little curious about a man like Logan and the sort of woman he'd prefer. He had the kind of body any healthy woman might want to get to know better. It was a simple matter of feminine curiosity... and not having coupled with any man in over a year. She certainly didn't desire Logan McKay. She couldn't.

And if her body didn't agree... well, she simply wouldn't permit such disobedience.

* * *

Parisia maintained a show of calm control throughout Iris of Mergany's report. No other Imperial Prefect of Heart had ever been faced with so much turmoil at one time. The past twenty-four hours had been terribly upsetting for her, but her normally sedate Domestic Affairs Advisor was practically undone.

Parisia had not thought attending the monitors during the night would be necessary. A clear tactical error on her part. The barbaric Earth men apparently required continuous observation. She now realized that the men in chains may not have been slaves after all. They might have been bound because they were even more dangerous than usual. And she had been responsible for releasing them among the tranquilized innocents of the Earth commune. Another tactical error.

Should she take some decisive action immediately to correct her mistakes or wait the full three days for the antidote to take effect then re-evaluate?

"Despite the distance and lack of sound," Iris continued, "the visual scanner of the sky monitor provides evidence that two of the women were forced to defend themselves against the men and did so quite efficiently."

"Do you think we should bring the women here?" Parisia asked.

"Oh my, no," Iris instantly replied. "They would never fit in."

"Then you believe they should be left to fend for themselves against all those men?"

Iris hesitated a moment before giving her advice. "I don't believe we have a choice. We must be content in knowing that in a few days they will be as safe as we are among our own males."

Parisia sighed. "I suppose you're right but I don't feel good about it. After all, they are females and we must never forget our foremothers' oath to protect every member of our gender from male abuse."

"But that oath wasn't meant to include barbarian races," Iris protested.

"Are you sure they're as barbaric as the men? Or have they just learned how to deal with violence in the only way available to them? If you'll recall, our ancestors had to keep their men bound or imprisoned for centuries before the antidote was perfected. Throughout universal history, females have done what they have to do to survive in worlds dominated by males."

Frowning, Iris conceded a bit. "As always, you have managed to make me doubt my own convictions. Yet, I still believe you should leave those women be for now."

Parisia nodded. "And I agree... for now. But we will discuss this matter again before I speak to Parliament the day after tomorrow. Was there anything else?"

Iris's frown deepened. "It's about Nadia. An observation tech, Simone, informed me that Nadia is showing an unusual amount of interest in the new crossovers. She actually left her residence last evening and went to the sanatorium to get a look at the man with the headache. My guess is, the tech is playing both sides of the political field but she denied any knowledge of how Nadia learned about the patient. You might consider having Simone relocated to a less sensitive post."

Parisia shook her head. "No. Leave her where she is. As long as she believes we don't suspect her of duplicity, she might be of use to us at some later date."

That made Iris smile. "Very good. You never know when we might want to pass a little misinformation on to Nadia."

* * *

"McKay?" Tarla called from inside the tack room. "Could you come here, please?"

His team had begun examining the barn, inch by inch, right after breakfast. In the two hours since, no one had been able to pry even a sliver of wood off the walls with any tool they tried. Nor had they discovered how the outside door had been sealed then automatically opened.

Logan stood in the doorway holding a cup of water. "Yes, Captain?"

She immediately noticed his relaxed posture then she saw his expression. He was almost smiling. "Are you all right?"

He drained his cup. "Never felt better. Just a little thirstier than usual but that happens to me after a migraine. What can I do for you, Captain?"

He had just said more words to her at one time than he had all together during the last weeks of his stay at the hospital unit and it flustered her. "I... I, uh... please call me Tarla. Everyone else seems to have dropped formality."

"Fine. Did you need something...
Tarla
?"

His unusual congeniality was playing havoc with her composure. "Yes. I..." She had to pull her gaze away from his before she could remember what had been on her mind when she called for him. "We have to be missing something in here. I thought if you acted out what you did when you came in with the migraine, you might recall something else."

He shrugged. "It's worth a try." Imitating his previous actions as closely as possible, he stepped inside the tack room, pulled the door shut and threw the bolt. "It's only a guess, but it's probable that locking the door works like an alarm to let them know someone needs medical attention, in which case, you might get to experience the miracle firsthand."

"No. Duncan said they never take anyone unless they're alone, so that's out. But it also suggests they might be able to see into this room to know whether it's only one person." She scanned the solid walls and ceiling for the hundredth time. "I just don't see how though. Okay, so you bolted the door. Then what?"

"I turned around and said, 'I have a migraine, a very bad headache.' They must be able to hear what is said in here as well. Anyway, I stood here for several minutes but nothing happened, so I sat down." He lowered himself onto the straw, set down his cup and leaned against the bolted door. His gaze returned to her face and stayed there.

Tarla had seen plenty of male patients look at her that way before—as if she were some sort of angel. She knew enough not to take it seriously. But Logan shouldn't be looking at her that way. Not now. "Are you sure you're feeling all right?"

He laughed. "Of course. Why?"

"You... you don't seem... normal." It was the best explanation she could come up with. "Never mind. What happened after you sat down?"

"Some more time passed. The next thing I knew I was flat on my back, waking up like I'd had twelve hours of good sleep."

Tarla shook her head. "If nothing else, at least Wilkes's recollection is the same as yours."

Remaining on the floor, Logan closed his eyes. His brow furrowed as he struggled to remember when and how he was rendered unconscious. Suddenly his eyes opened and he stared at the ceiling.

"What is it?" Tarla asked, following his gaze to a wooden beam in the ceiling.

"I was gassed," Logan declared, rising to his feet, with his eyes still focused overhead. "I don't know why I forgot it but it just came back to me. I heard a hissing sound right before I blacked out. It seemed to have come from up there." He pulled her over to where he was standing. "Look up. See that dark knothole in the wood?"

She could see the impression he referred to but failed to see his point. She watched him pick up a long piece of straw and point it toward the knothole, but he was about two feet short. "Here," he said handing her the straw. "You try it."

She couldn't understand how he thought she could reach it if he hadn't, until he bent down, circled her thighs with his arms, and lifted her into the air. "McKay!" she scolded, quickly grasping his shoulders for balance.

"Now try it," he said with a grin.

She felt the strength of his arms beneath her bottom and knew he wouldn't drop her, but she felt his warm breath against her stomach and tightened her grip on his shoulders nonetheless.

"I won't drop you," he assured her in a husky voice. "See how deep you can make it go."

Her cheeks flushed hot and she felt his low chuckle all along her body.

"The straw, Tarla."

Despite his words, his eyes told her she hadn't misunderstood what he was really thinking about. Since a response would probably only further her embarrassment, she proceeded with his experiment. Without meeting any obstruction, she was able to feed the straw completely into the hole. "It appears to be a tube," she told him as she extracted the straw and dropped it on the floor. "Your assumption about being gassed is probably correct."

Rather than acknowledge her comment, he let her body slide a few inches lower and his mouth brushed back and forth over her taut nipple.

"
McKay
." She meant to sound offended but his name came out in a whisper that revealed too much of what he was making her feel. His mouth treated her other breast to the same light caress and she forced out the words her mind demanded she say. "Put me down, McKay." But her back arched into him instead of away.

He let her slide a few more inches down his body so that their eyes were now level. "Call me Logan."

She could feel his heart pounding hard against her own and told herself to run. His hold on her was supportive, but not so restraining that she couldn't escape... if she wanted to.

Her hesitation made him clarify his terms. "I'll put you down after you call me Logan. Say it the way you used to when I was your patient and you wanted me to believe you cared."