Witness Protection (Defenders of Love Book 1) (5 page)

***

Lucy kept her eyes closed hoping Logan would think she was asleep. His insistence on taking her to the hospital frightened her. Someone had just tried to kill her. If she went to the hospital, they would know she was still alive.

Maybe the whole thing had been an accident. Someone driving too quickly on the curvy road. They didn't see her, slammed into her bumper.

Three times?

Okay, so it wasn't an accident.

She could try and talk herself out if it any which way she wanted, but she knew the harsh truth. The Riccis had found her. She was on their hit list and they wouldn't stop until she was six feet under.

Lucy groaned in frustration, forgetting the man

beside her and how she'd hoped to fool him into thinking she was asleep. Shifting to take the pressure off her injured side, she cracked one eye open and studied him. He was handsome, in a boy next door kind of way. Strong forearms contracted constantly as he gripped the steering wheel with an unexpected strength. When she had met him earlier in the day, Lucy had thought him a pretty boy who lived off his daddy's money and thought teaching in an all girl's school would be a real jaunt of short skirts and flirty teenagers. The way he responded to her accident, his take charge attitude—hell, the equipment in his Jeep—told her another story. She may have come to a snap judgment tarnished by her experiences with pretty, rich boys like Salvatore.

There was something about the way he held himself, an air of authority, his lead foot against the accelerator as he handled the Jeep with expert training, that gave his true self away.

"You're a cop, aren't you?" she blurted the words out without really meaning to.

His shoulders stiffened with her accusation, and his hands gripped the steering wheel until his knuckles turned white, but his voice was calm as he replied. "I'm a history teacher, remember? We met this morning when I parked in your favorite parking place."

"You're no more a history teacher than I'm the next Miss America."

"You have a head wound, Ms. Taylor. You

don't really know what you are talking about." Logan kept his eyes on the road, his voice steady, but she could read him like a book. It was one of her investigative talents. Logan Smith was trying hard to

portray a calm exterior, but she could see the little

beads of perspiration on his forehead, the slight hint of a frown at the corner of his thin lips.

Lucy swiped at the small wound, feeling the dried blood caked to her forehead. "It's just a scratch. I'm not delirious! I would know the signs a mile away. You're a cop and I would bet my paycheck on it."

Logan pulled into the hospital parking lot and brought the Jeep to a stop in the center of the roadway. Turning in his seat, Logan studied Lucy in the glow of the yellow streetlight.

"What's going on here, Ms. Taylor? I know that was no accident you just had."

"Don't call me Ms. Taylor. It's Lucy." Her tone was far sharper than she had intended. "What do you think? I drove my car down that ravine for fun?"

Logan ran his hand through his already wild hair and sighed heavily. "No, Lucy. I don't."

"Well, what then?"

"I think someone ran you off the road."

"No! Why would anyone want to do that to a school teacher? I have never even failed one of my students!" She tried hard to sound convincing, but Logan's eyes told her he saw right through her. Her cover was about to be blown.

"The back end of your car was pretty messed up. No way that could have happened if you went straight down that embankment."

"What? Are you some kind of expert in accident reconstruction now?" she snapped. There was no way

that man was a simple history teacher. He could have been an armchair investigator what with all the true television that was on these days but she doubted it. He thought too much like her.

"You
are
a cop." It wasn't a question but a

statement of fact.

"I'm a history teacher." He responded way too calmly. "Stop trying to change the subject."

A small
ping
against the side of the Jeep silenced them both. A second
ping
sounded against the windshield, but this one left a chip and a crack. Gun shots. "They found me! Damn it!" Lucy grabbed for the door handle. "I have to get out of here!"

"Get down!" Logan yelled as he shoved her forward below the level of the dash.

"Let me out! If I run, they will leave you alone!"

"Just stay down!" Jamming the Jeep into gear, he didn't wait for Lucy to heed his order, just slammed down the gas, racing across the nearly empty parking lot. Her side ached, but she stayed low. Despite her earlier statement, Lucy wasn't prepared to die.

Something crashed against the back of the Jeep shaking the vehicle as Logan accelerated like a mad man.

"What was that?" Lucy called above the din of the racing engine and the curses flying from Logan's mouth.

"I'd guess a .308. Apparently the .22s were just warning shots. What in the hell is going on? Why would anyone want to kill you? You're
just
a history teacher!"

That last statement was laced in sarcasm. Despite the tenseness of their current situation Logan wasn't buying her cover any more than she was buying his.

"Just get me somewhere safe and I'll tell you what you want to know." The aches and pains in her body were suddenly gone, replaced by a heavy ball of fear that had settled itself deep in the pit of her gut.

Salvatore had found her and no one, not

witness protection, and certainly not this strong, handsome man that she was absolutely certain was a cop, could protect her. Sal would have put his best man on it—Rico Marcetti. And Rico never left a job unfinished.

Chapter Five

Logan loved a good car chase when he was the one doing the chasing. The big gun trained on the back end of his Jeep added a whole new twist. Another slug bounced off his bumper, sending a ripple through the vehicle. He clenched the steering wheel tightly, focused on the rising needle of the odometer. The Jeep had a lot of power but the mountain roads were twisted. Spinning the wheel to the left, Logan slammed the gas pedal to the floorboards and shot forward around yet another turn in the road.

As soon as he got this woman to safety, he had some big questions he expected answers to. The vehicle careened around another curve. Logan had no idea how fast the four-wheel drive vehicle could go but he had a feeling they were about to find out. Glancing into the rearview mirror, he was shocked to see that no one was following them.

"What the hell?" he muttered easing up on the gas just a little bit.

No headlights. Where the hell had their pursuer gone? He slowed down to about ninety and looked in the mirror again.
Nothing.

"Lucy?" He shot a glance at the petite woman

huddled on the floorboard. She looked pale. Even in the darkness of night, he could see the hint of fear hovering in her eyes as she peered up at him. He got the feeling Lucy Taylor wasn't used to being so exposed when she quickly shuttered her expression and climbed up from the floor to settle in the seat.

"I'm fine," she whispered. There was no mistaking the slight tremor to her voice. "Are they gone?"

"I haven't seen another car behind us since we left the hospital. The shooter must have been on foot."

"I doubt it," Lucy murmured.

"Who was it?" Logan kept his eyes forward on the dark, deserted highway. They were heading away from the city, toward the mountains. It was a simple question, and he made it blatantly obvious that he wanted an answer.

"I don't know," Lucy replied. "Maybe it was a fluke. Maybe he wasn't shooting at us and we just got in the way."

Logan laughed humorlessly. "A fluke? I'm pretty sure the gaping hole in the tailgate of my Jeep is no joke. It was an intentional shot and since you are the one that was run off a country road and left for dead, I'm pretty certain those rifle rounds were meant for you. So who wants you dead, Lucy Taylor? And why?"

"I told you, I don't know. Can you please just take me home? I can't answer your questions."

"Home? Are you serious? They may not be following us now but if they have put in this much effort to get to you, you can damn sure bet they know exactly where you live."

Lucy turned in the seat to face him. Even in the dark he could feel her sharp glare.

"Look, Mr. Smith, I appreciate you hauling me out of that ditch and I am really sorry about your Jeep—I'll pay for the damage—but this isn't your problem. Believe me, you don't want to be involved in this—with me. It's too much for a mere history teacher to take on."

It had become his problem the minute someone aimed a semi-automatic weapon at him, despite the fact that he wanted her to believe his cover. "I don't believe you are who you say you are any more than you believe me. You said if I got you to safety you'd tell me why someone just tried to exterminate my vehicle. When we get there, I expect you to talk."

***

"Where are you really taking me?" Lucy demanded.

"Some place secure. A safe house." Logan kept his eyes straight ahead as they barreled down the deserted highway. He drove like a pro. There was no mistaking the eagle sharp instincts and the impeccable training.

"I knew it. You
are
a cop." Logan didn't respond. That was all she needed. The man had cop written all over him and her instincts weren't that rusty.

Lucy watched out the window as they traveled farther away from town. Logan wanted answers. Answers she wasn't sure she could give without putting him in danger too. And she was in some real danger here. Getting away from Sal's hit man twice was going to anger the hired gun something fierce. He would come after her with a vengeance—offing her in front of a school full of teenage girls if he had to in order to get the job done.

And then there was Logan Smith. What were the chances that he would just happen by where she had gone off the road? No history teacher she had ever met could drive like he could. And who carried around rappelling gear or had a fully functional winch on their vehicle? Most teachers she knew at St. Mary's were academics, not physical and adventurous. He had an eye like an investigator. He was lying about who he was as much as she was. That man was undercover and there was no way he could deny it.

But why was he undercover in the first place?

Who did he work for?

Maybe it was because of her? Had someone known before she did that there was a hit out on her? But if he were there for her, then why wouldn't he break cover and admit it? Her secrets were surely falling out of the bag left and right. Under the circumstances, he should come clean. Unless he wasn't there for her. It could be the whole thing was a coincidence. Maybe it was just blind luck that he happened to be around when Sal's man tried to take her out.

"Are you undercover because of me?" she blurted out in to the tense silence of the vehicle.

"I'm not undercover. I am a new teacher."

"Like hell you are. You are no more a teacher than I am."

He stayed silent as they drove. To Lucy, his silence was as much of an admission as the actual words would have been. A few moments later, the Jeep turned sharply down a dirt road, well hidden among trees and brush. As they bounced along over the deep ruts, Lucy held her side tightly, biting her lip against the agony of each bump.

Logan reached over and touched her arm

lightly. "I'm sorry, you must be in a lot of pain. As soon as we get to the cabin, I'll fix you up as best I can. We can't risk a trip to the hospital tonight."

She clenched her teeth, but it wasn't against any sort of pain. Logan's touch on her arm had ignited an unexpected flame in her gut that replaced the pain from her bruised side. It irritated her the affect this man seemed to have on her. The slightest bit of contact sent her hormones into overdrive. Months of sexual repression had to be getting the best of her. There was no way her body would be responding this way from the barely there brush of fingers from a man she had just met.

"I told you I didn't want to go to a hospital in the first place," she bit out against the unexpected rush of desire his touch had set in motion. She didn't want to sound ungrateful, but if he had listened to her in the first place they could have avoided the whole shooting thing, no doubt.

"Well, it wasn't exactly my idea of a good time either. Getting shot at wasn't on my to-do list this evening," he shot back. He tried to sound annoyed but Lucy caught the twitch of a smile at the corner of his lip in the reflection of the headlights on the trees around them.

The Jeep rounded a sharp corner and slipped down another stretch of land that couldn't even be considered a road. Lucy grunted each time the Jeep slammed into another rut. Her head throbbed and all her muscles had tightened up. She was eternally grateful when the headlamps illuminated a small, rustic looking cabin with tiny front porch and a single window sporting a thick layer of grime and spider webs.

"I thought you said we were going to a safe

house?" she mumbled.

"It is safe and it is a house. Sort of. It's an old hunting cabin. It's small, and from the outside it looks like a shack, but no one will find us here. Why don't you get out and go inside? There is a key taped to the bottom of that old wood bucket over there by the door. I'm going to pull the Jeep around back and secure the perimeter."

"Secure the perimeter? And you still expect me to believe you are a spoiled pretty boy who has a penchant for short plaid skirts?"

Logan just chuckled. "We'll talk when I get inside."

Lucy opened the door and lowered herself slowly to the ground. Every muscle in her body ached. She could feel Logan's eyes on her as she made her way to the front porch of the shack and felt around for the key. Once she had it in hand, he pulled around the small building leaving her lost in the dark.

The key turned easily. She pushed the door open and felt for a switch on the wall. As her fingers made contact with a dimmer switch, soft light bathed the interior of the cabin surprising her with what she saw. The outside made have been run down and old but the inside had been completely remodeled with a state of the art kitchenette, a flat screen television mounted on one wall, and modern, comfortable looking furniture. A door stood open across the small room. Lucy secured the front door and made her way to the second room. Inside was a queen-size bed with an intricate patchwork quilt spread over it. A small bathroom with a walk-in shower was attached to the space. The colors were all earth tones, warm and welcoming, the way a cabin in the woods ought to be.

The wood paneled walls were stained dark, giving the small space a cozy feel.

"Small shack?" she muttered as she walked through the place. "I wish my house was as much a shack as this one."

Lucy fought the overwhelming urge to lie down on the bed and go to sleep for at least a week. Her body ached. Perhaps a shower would be better first. If she got in the shower before Logan returned she could hopefully put off the conversation he wanted to have for that much longer. Liking the idea more with every step across the room, it took her less than a minute to strip off her clothes and step under the steaming hot water. Avoiding the injured area on her forehead, Lucy washed her hair and body as slowly and deliberately as she could, taking up as much time as she could. She stood under the hot spray until the water ran icy cold, and she had no choice but to exit. Wrapping her body in an oversized towel that was surprisingly soft and fluffy, she stepped out of the bathroom and right into Logan's arms.

"Oh!" she squealed, much to her own embarrassment.

"Oh is right," Logan muttered huskily as he looked down at her. She hadn't realized just how tall he was when she was wearing her work heels. Logan had to be at least six feet to her five feet five. He was stronger, more muscular than she had expected as well. The heat of his touch as he held her in his arms warmed her blood and made her knees go weak. They stood staring at each other, chemistry arcing between them for several moments before Logan suddenly stepped back. Her body chilled instantly where his

warmth had been. Logan's eyes trailed up her towel-

covered body, pausing briefly at her chest that was rising and falling with her rapid breath before settling lazily on her lips. The hunger in his eyes was fleeting, so much so she wasn't certain she had seen it at all. Heat flushed her cheeks as she realized she was only wearing a towel.

"I...I'm sorry. I didn't expect you to be standing there," Lucy stammered, her eyes on the floor between them.

Logan cleared his throat, his expression becoming all business. "I got worried when you didn't answer me. I came to make sure you didn't pass out in the shower. I still think you might have a concussion." He reached up and gently probed the area around the wound on her head, pushing a damp strand of thick blonde hair out of the way as he did so. His touch elicited a shiver down her spine that she hoped he didn't notice. It had to be the head wound affecting her in odd ways. Perhaps she bruised the temporal lobe, damaging her inhibitions.

"There's a bump forming." His voice was slightly husky again. "That's good. If the lump comes out it won't go in. That's what my aunt always says."

"And so no lump on the brain, right?" That was good news, although it shot her brain damage theory straight into the ground.

"Exactly." He suddenly looked as uncomfortable as she felt. "How're those ribs feeling?"

"They only hurts when I move." The words were meant to be lighthearted but the tone of her voice belied the truth. Her ribs hurt like hell.

"I should take a look, one might be broken."

"Oh, are you a doctor now?" Lucy hadn't meant

to sound so nasty but the words just sort of fell out of

her mouth. Logan made her feel so defensive, when he wasn't firing off every one of her nerve endings or making her blood boil in her veins, that is. Damn him. Of all the men she had be stuck with in a cabin in the woods, it had to be one that disturbed the careful balance she had worked so hard to achieve in the last year.

Logan ignored the edge to her words. Instead, he smiled. "Nope, not a doctor. Just a lot of experience with injuries. A little tape and some pain killers might do you good."

"I suppose you might be right. I do ache all over. I just have to get dressed first." She eyed the torn blouse and dirty skirt she had dropped on the floor. Logan caught the direction of her glance.

"If you look in the bureau you'll find some things you can put on. They won't fit you well but they are clean and warm. Much more comfortable than those things." He nodded in the direction of her clothes. "Go ahead and get dressed then meet me in the other room. We'll patch you up and then have that talk."