Wild Heat
Page 44
She could feel the tension radiating from him as he struggled to make the difficult decision. At his core, Logan was a protector. If he could, he'd watch over them all. But there was more at stake here than her personal safety. So many lives. Houses. Slow-growth forests. All of his men.
He stroked her cheek with his thumb. “How can I do that when I know you're planning to dig deeper into danger without thinking about yourself?”
She smiled at him. “You do the same exact thing every single day. You're dedicated to your mission and always put others first, even when you're personally at risk by doing so.”
“We're a lot alike, aren't we?”
Yes, they were both committed to their goals, no matter the sacrifice. Which was why she'd given up everything else in her life after her brother had died. She couldn't afford to lose focus. Not when time was running out on stopping Tony's case from being labeled “cold.”
He threaded his hands through her hair. “Tell me what you're planning.”
She simply repeated her request. “Promise me.”
His mouth found hers again and when she'd almost forgotten everything but the slide of his tongue, the tingles that moved through her when he nibbled at that sensitive spot in the middle of her lower lip, he whispered, “I promise.”
Relief washed over her and she let herself relax into his arms—one last time. “Someone wants to scare us, doesn't mind killing us if we don't react fast enough. It's a game I'm done playing. I'm sick of being taken by surprise.”
She got up off his lap, forcing herself to ignore the sure pleasure that awaited her if she remained.
“Until this weekend, you and I only met each other once. And yet, we both seem to be targets. Is there anyone you can think of who could have seen us together six months ago?”
“I suppose there's a chance that my friend who owned the place came back early.”
“And if he had and he saw us together, I'm sure he wouldn't have wanted to say anything to embarrass you.”
“Maybe,” Logan agreed, “but why the hell would Eddie want to harm you? Or me? He sold the place a month later, moved out of town, and has been living with his new girlfriend in the city ever since.”
She couldn't see a good connection. It was one more puzzle piece that either fit—or didn't.
“I'd like to ask him some questions, just to make sure he didn't come back early and see someone outside.”
Logan scribbled his friend's name and telephone number on an old receipt on his dresser. “Go easy on him, okay?”
“I promise to be nice,” she said with a small smile. “Do you have a spare car we could use to get out of here?”
“A motorcycle,” he replied. “Do you know how to ride?”
She tried to pretend she didn't hear the double entendre, but she blushed nonetheless. “My father had a bike. He taught me how.”
She needed to step away from him, away from his heat, the endless power he had over her.
“My T-shirt is downstairs. Why don't you get dressed and I'll meet you in the kitchen. I'll drop you off at the hotshot station, and if you don't mind, I'll keep the bike for a while.”
His eyes were dark, unreadable. “I don't care about the bike, Maya. I care about you.”
Afraid of what else he was about to say, she quickly moved out of the bedroom before she could find out. Downstairs, as she bent over to pick up her bra and T-shirt from the kitchen floor, she ignored the throbbing in her skull, the flash of pain and breathlessness that told her she'd barely left Logan's truck alive. She was able to continue her investigation only because of his daring rescue.
She owed Logan more than she could ever repay.
A handful of minutes later, she was following him out his front door into a separate building when a soft snapping sound to her left surprised her and she instantly came to a standstill. Her heart pounded and the tiny hairs on the back of her neck rose in alarm.
Someone was watching them. The same person who had nearly killed them an hour ago.
“Did you hear that?” she asked.
“Hear what?” Logan looked all around them, into the trees, the sky, back at his house.
But as the seconds crept by, no one launched themselves out of the trees at her. The only sounds were the monotonous peep-peep-peep of a nuthatch and the rustling of pine needles in the late afternoon breeze.
With the slowing of her heart rate came an acute feeling of foolishness.
“Never mind. It was nothing,” she said, hating that she'd given him any reason to doubt she could take care of herself.
Logan's eyes were dark and his jaw was jumping. She knew he was thinking of a hundred reasons he needed to stay with her.
She needed five minutes alone to get a grip. Fortunately, she suddenly remembered that her samples from his garage had gone up in flames in the front seat of the truck.
“I need to get those samples again.”
She hurried back toward his garage. Thankfully, he didn't follow, and even though she felt naked without her leather bag of tricks, she shook some nails out of a couple of small glass jars and used them to collect what she needed.
When she returned with the full jars, he said, “I still don't like this.”
She tried to resist, tried to cut herself off cold, but she couldn't help planting a quick kiss on his beautiful mouth. “I know you don't. And it means a lot to me that you're trusting my decisions.”
Soon they were sitting astride his Ducati 695, a motorcycle people went to crazy lengths to own and ride. She dropped the sample jars into the center console and slipped on the helmet Logan handed her. His clean scent assaulted her senses. She was acutely aware that her underwear was still damp from the pleasure he'd given her … and that she'd been inexcusably alive in his arms not fifteen minutes earlier.
She wrapped her arms around his waist, letting herself enjoy his heat one last time as he revved the engine and drove out of the barn.
His motorcycle was a perfect part of the Lake Tahoe lifestyle. Too bad it was a life that didn't belong to her.
And never would.
Rage sounded in the silent forest.
They were still alive.
It had been an ideal setup. A tiny heat-activated bomb beneath the driver's seat that would randomly explode should have been the perfect way to kill them, perfectly untraceable as it melted inside the burning engine.
He stroked her cheek with his thumb. “How can I do that when I know you're planning to dig deeper into danger without thinking about yourself?”
She smiled at him. “You do the same exact thing every single day. You're dedicated to your mission and always put others first, even when you're personally at risk by doing so.”
“We're a lot alike, aren't we?”
Yes, they were both committed to their goals, no matter the sacrifice. Which was why she'd given up everything else in her life after her brother had died. She couldn't afford to lose focus. Not when time was running out on stopping Tony's case from being labeled “cold.”
He threaded his hands through her hair. “Tell me what you're planning.”
She simply repeated her request. “Promise me.”
His mouth found hers again and when she'd almost forgotten everything but the slide of his tongue, the tingles that moved through her when he nibbled at that sensitive spot in the middle of her lower lip, he whispered, “I promise.”
Relief washed over her and she let herself relax into his arms—one last time. “Someone wants to scare us, doesn't mind killing us if we don't react fast enough. It's a game I'm done playing. I'm sick of being taken by surprise.”
She got up off his lap, forcing herself to ignore the sure pleasure that awaited her if she remained.
“Until this weekend, you and I only met each other once. And yet, we both seem to be targets. Is there anyone you can think of who could have seen us together six months ago?”
“I suppose there's a chance that my friend who owned the place came back early.”
“And if he had and he saw us together, I'm sure he wouldn't have wanted to say anything to embarrass you.”
“Maybe,” Logan agreed, “but why the hell would Eddie want to harm you? Or me? He sold the place a month later, moved out of town, and has been living with his new girlfriend in the city ever since.”
She couldn't see a good connection. It was one more puzzle piece that either fit—or didn't.
“I'd like to ask him some questions, just to make sure he didn't come back early and see someone outside.”
Logan scribbled his friend's name and telephone number on an old receipt on his dresser. “Go easy on him, okay?”
“I promise to be nice,” she said with a small smile. “Do you have a spare car we could use to get out of here?”
“A motorcycle,” he replied. “Do you know how to ride?”
She tried to pretend she didn't hear the double entendre, but she blushed nonetheless. “My father had a bike. He taught me how.”
She needed to step away from him, away from his heat, the endless power he had over her.
“My T-shirt is downstairs. Why don't you get dressed and I'll meet you in the kitchen. I'll drop you off at the hotshot station, and if you don't mind, I'll keep the bike for a while.”
His eyes were dark, unreadable. “I don't care about the bike, Maya. I care about you.”
Afraid of what else he was about to say, she quickly moved out of the bedroom before she could find out. Downstairs, as she bent over to pick up her bra and T-shirt from the kitchen floor, she ignored the throbbing in her skull, the flash of pain and breathlessness that told her she'd barely left Logan's truck alive. She was able to continue her investigation only because of his daring rescue.
She owed Logan more than she could ever repay.
A handful of minutes later, she was following him out his front door into a separate building when a soft snapping sound to her left surprised her and she instantly came to a standstill. Her heart pounded and the tiny hairs on the back of her neck rose in alarm.
Someone was watching them. The same person who had nearly killed them an hour ago.
“Did you hear that?” she asked.
“Hear what?” Logan looked all around them, into the trees, the sky, back at his house.
But as the seconds crept by, no one launched themselves out of the trees at her. The only sounds were the monotonous peep-peep-peep of a nuthatch and the rustling of pine needles in the late afternoon breeze.
With the slowing of her heart rate came an acute feeling of foolishness.
“Never mind. It was nothing,” she said, hating that she'd given him any reason to doubt she could take care of herself.
Logan's eyes were dark and his jaw was jumping. She knew he was thinking of a hundred reasons he needed to stay with her.
She needed five minutes alone to get a grip. Fortunately, she suddenly remembered that her samples from his garage had gone up in flames in the front seat of the truck.
“I need to get those samples again.”
She hurried back toward his garage. Thankfully, he didn't follow, and even though she felt naked without her leather bag of tricks, she shook some nails out of a couple of small glass jars and used them to collect what she needed.
When she returned with the full jars, he said, “I still don't like this.”
She tried to resist, tried to cut herself off cold, but she couldn't help planting a quick kiss on his beautiful mouth. “I know you don't. And it means a lot to me that you're trusting my decisions.”
Soon they were sitting astride his Ducati 695, a motorcycle people went to crazy lengths to own and ride. She dropped the sample jars into the center console and slipped on the helmet Logan handed her. His clean scent assaulted her senses. She was acutely aware that her underwear was still damp from the pleasure he'd given her … and that she'd been inexcusably alive in his arms not fifteen minutes earlier.
She wrapped her arms around his waist, letting herself enjoy his heat one last time as he revved the engine and drove out of the barn.
His motorcycle was a perfect part of the Lake Tahoe lifestyle. Too bad it was a life that didn't belong to her.
And never would.
Rage sounded in the silent forest.
They were still alive.
It had been an ideal setup. A tiny heat-activated bomb beneath the driver's seat that would randomly explode should have been the perfect way to kill them, perfectly untraceable as it melted inside the burning engine.
