Authors: Shelly Bell
Besides, he'd left his rope and the bandanas at Joe's, so there'd be no tying her to the bedposts tonight. Not that this bed even had posts or a headboard to tie them to.
Settling on the bed, she switched on the television and flipped the channels to her favorite cable news station.
It didn't take more than a minute before her and Logan's photographs flashed across the screen. At least they'd used her publicity shot. Logan's photo was of him in his army uniform, his youthful face free of hair and the lines of hard experience that roughened his appearance now. His eyes were different then too. Less guarded. Less . . . haunted. Since she'd known him for only a year, she had no foundation for what he was like before he'd joined the army, but she'd interviewed several men and women who had served, and they had all acknowledged a loss of innocence that had nothing to do with age.
The news anchor reported an exclusive from someone “close” to Rachel, who alleged Rachel was having an affair with both Rinaldi and Logan. The anchor and two other guests debated the validity of the story, one of the guests proposing Logan may have killed Rinaldi in a jealous rage.
Rachel chuckled, wondering who claimed to have inside knowledge into Rachel's love life. The jealous-lover theory made for a great news clip, but as soon as the FBI dug into her history, it would deflate like a soufflé taken out of the oven too early. She wouldn't have slept with Rinaldi even if he'd promised her an exclusive that would've won her a Pulitzer. The man had tortured and murdered numerous women then buried them in the woods behind his cabin.
Even she had some standards.
A firm knock shook the door. She slid off the bed and checked the peephole before opening it. Carrying two brown bags, Logan strode into the room and dropped them on the floor beside the air-conditioning unit.
Logan kicked off his shoes and picked up one of the bags, bringing it with him to sit next to her on the bed. He motioned to the television. “Anything good on?”
She laughed. “Us. Did you know we've managed to rob three different gas stations from New York to Texas? And that I was having an affair with both you and Rinaldi, so you killed him in a jealous rage? I can't believe they're reporting this crap.”
“Don't you normally report crap as well?” he asked, holding out a turkey sandwich for her.
She tried not to be offended by his question. “No, unlike anchors, I'm responsible for my own stories and not a mouthpiece for the network. As an investigative reporter, I sift through the mountains of crap to uncover the truth.”
She unwrapped her sandwich, cringing. Ugh, mayo. She despised the condiment, but right now if she had been a vegetarian, she'd kill her own cow if she needed to in order to eat. She wolfed down a couple of bites before noticing Logan staring at her intensely. “What?”
Exhaling loudly, he ran his hand over his scalp. “I'm sorry. You know, about this morning when I unjustly accused you of making a phone call and compromising us. I know you would never use our predicament to advance your career.”
She shrugged. The fact was she
would
do almost anything to advance her career, but she prided herself on following a strict moral code. She'd never endanger someone else for a story. “It's okay. You don't know me well enough to trust me. I understand.”
“You're wrong. I do know you. You're a woman who will risk her own safety to protect a dog.” He turned down the television. Then he put his hands on her hips and lifted her onto his lap, so that she straddled him. Sliding the ends of her hair through his fingers, he stared at her intently. “Back at the port, you had a chance to escape when Evans had his gun on me, but instead, you stayed. Why?”
She lowered her gaze. “We're in this together. You would have done the same for me.”
“Look at me.” He tipped up her chin, so that she had no choice but to look into his warm eyes. “I've never been more scared in my life as when I thought Evans was going to shoot you.”
“Me? He had a gun on you a minute later. You put yourself in front of me, protecting me from Evans.”
He caressed her cheek with the tips of his fingers. “I wasn't worried about myself. I wanted you safe. That's all that mattered to me. Do you understand what I'm saying?” He wrapped his hand around her nape and drew her face closer. “
You
matter to me.” He blew out a breath. “Since leaving the army, it has all been about control for me. I'm not impulsive and I don't act based on emotion. At least I didn't.” He swallowed hard. “When I'm with you, all rationality flies out the window. I may have control over you in the bedroom, but you have to know you have more power over me than anyone else in my life. Do you get me, Tiger?”
Hummingbirds fluttered their wings in her belly. It sounded as if he was saying he was falling for her.
“What about Kate?” she blurted out.
Frowning, he cocked his head. “What does Kate have to do with you and me?”
“You know . . . ” She waited for him to figure it out, but he stayed quiet, his brow raised in question. “You're in love with her.”
He reared back. “I'm not in love with Kate. I'll admit I had a crush on her before she shot me down, but since that time I've only considered her a friend and law partner. If anything, I look at her as more like a sister, which is why we make sure not to play at Benediction on the same night.” Cupping her cheek, he stared into her eyes. “I misjudged you, and for that I'm truly sorry. Because now that I've gotten to know you, I realize how much time and energy I've wasted fighting my attraction to you this past year. The woman I've come to care about is selfless, compassionate, and sexy as hell. I apologize for having accused you of having less than noble reasons for doing your job. You've trusted me these past couple of days, and I want you to know I trust you too. I know we agreed to an expiration date, but I'd really like to see how far we can take this.”
Hope bloomed in her chest. He wasn't in love with Kate. But how would Logan feel about her when she told him she was going to do a story about what it was like when they were on the run? Would he understand or would he try to stop her?
She leaned in and kissed him softly on the cheek. “Me too.” She quirked up her lips. “This may surprise you, but you're not the only one with control issues.”
He grinned. “You don't say?”
She took a breath, preparing herself to tell him something no one knew about her. It had taken her several years after leaving home before she was no longer embarrassed by her upbringing, but by then, Rachel Kaczynski had faded into a distant memory and it had seemed easier to keep her that way. Unlike Rachel Kaczynski, Rachel Dawson didn't take shit from anyone. No one could ever confuse her with the girl who'd grown up believing women were subservient to men.
“Remember I mentioned I had been raised in a religious household?” she asked, linking her fingers together on her lap. “What I didn't tell you was that my father was our church's leader. Our preacher.” She huffed out a laugh at the shock on Logan's face. Sometimes, she couldn't believe it herself. “Calling it a church gives it much more credibility than it deserves. In a lot of ways, it was more like a cult. Even though I grew up in suburbia, surrounded by people of all faiths and cultures, I may as well have lived in the middle of nowhere like your uncle Joe. We were kept isolated from the rest of society, deprived of televisions, Internet, radios. We were only allowed to associate with other members of our church. Our school was at the church and taught by church congregants. Boys were encouraged to go to college and have careers while girls were expected to marry young and have lots of babies. I was taught that my opinions didn't matter. That I was less than boys simply because I had a vagina. That as a female, it was my job to serve my father and then my husband.”
She paused to clear her throat, years of resentment toward her parents bubbling up from deep inside her and spilling from her mouth. But as difficult as it was to finally reveal the truth about her past, it was equally as freeing. Because if she continued to keep it a secret from Logan, he would never really know her. And she wanted that. She wanted that more than anything.
Logan brushed his fingers up and down her arm. The gentle strokes on her skin soothed her, encouraging her to continue.
“When I was sixteen,” she said quietly, “I discovered my friend Leah was being physically abused by her father. She had bruises all over her body. At first she denied it, making those excuses you hear about falling down the stairs, but I didn't believe her. I mean, I could see the fingerprints on her arms. As the daughter of our church's religious leader, I felt it was my duty to tell him. She was so scared. I can still picture her shaking and sobbing in my arms in the girls' bathroom at our school. I went home that night and sat with my father in his office, telling him all the horrible things I'd learned about what went on in Leah's house. I was sure he'd call the police. Instead, he scheduled some counseling sessions with her father.”
He resumed holding her hand and squeezed it. “It wasn't enough to stop him, was it?”
She sighed. “No. It was the first time I saw my father as fallible. Not only did the abuse not stop, it got worse. Leah wasn't allowed to speak with me anymore, and she no longer changed her clothes in front of me, but I saw the stiff way she moved and the way she'd wince when anyone touched her. I begged my father to call the police, but he refused. It was a âcommunity problem.' So for the first time in my life, I broke one of my father's rules. I called the police myself and reported the abuse.”
It had torn her up inside to go against her father's wishes, but she was sure he'd forgive her.
“Did it help?” Logan asked.
She shook her head, remembering. “Leah lied to them and said she'd fallen down the stairs. Her father stormed over to my house, sure my father had called the cops on him. Instead of being proud of me for standing up for the weak and defenseless, my father apologized to the abuser and grounded
me
for breaking the rules. I realized at that time I couldn't stay in a community that was more worried about showing skin than the bruises hidden underneath the clothing. In my senior year of high school, I secretly applied to state colleges and got loans to afford it. I left for college the day after I graduated high school.”
The two years between the incident and leaving for college were the longest of her life. In some ways she wanted to savor each moment spent with her family, knowing her time with them was limited. In others, the inability to speak her mind or act on her beliefs caused her to resent her parents.
She loved them. She missed them. But she'd never become them.
Logan kissed the center of her palm. “What happened to Leah?”
“I'd been expected to marry the son of my parents' best friends.” The boy whom she'd given her virginity to a month before she left for college. “It wasn't an arranged marriage per se, but if I'd stayed in the community, I have no doubt I would've married him to please my father. Jacob was a good man. Before I moved away, I encouraged him to take care of Leah. They were married a few months later, and they now have five kids.”
She needed him to understand what drove her. “When I left my parents' house, I swore I'd never be powerless again.”
He drew her in for a kiss, his warm lips lingering as they breathed into one another.
She'd do just about anything to hold on to what she and Logan were building together. He was nothing like her father, and yet doubt lingered. Logan was a Dom. Didn't that mean he expected his partner to be submissive? Just because Rachel allowed him to take charge during sex didn't mean she'd take that role outside the bedroom.
She hadn't lied when she swore she'd never be powerless again.
Even if it meant losing Logan.
“The store carried clothes, so I got you a pair of University of Miami shorts and T-shirt. I bought us some toiletries. I don't know about you, but I could use a shower.”
A shower sounded heavenly, especially if Logan would be joining her. But right now, she needed food more than anything.
Logan turned up the television volume, and they listened to the news as they ate their sandwiches and washed them down with ice-cold bottled water.
The reporter segued into the chaos that had erupted on Capitol Hill within the past two days. Senator Hutton, the chairman of the United States Senate Committee on Health, Education, Labor, and Pensions, had successfully filibustered Senator Byron's bill to cut the budget of Homeland Security, taking the Senate floor for a record eighteen hours. As a result, he delayed the vote until the Senate reconvened from a two-week nonlegislative period, giving him time to launch a campaign to sway public opinion and swing the Senate votes in his favor. A panel of political analysts debated whether Senator Hutton was paranoid or justified in believing that a bioterrorism attack was imminent.
The report cut to a part of Senator Hutton's speech.
“No one thought Ebola would ever make it to our homeland, and yet recent events have proven otherwise. Our country was caught unprepared, and now, more than a year later, we've done nothing to address the issue. Imagine what would happen if a virus worse than Ebola crossed into our borders. Now is not the time to decrease the Homeland Security budget, not when terrorists all over the world are plotting attacks on the United States. Do we really believe we can keep our people safe from the greatest threat to our national safety? Bioterrorism isn't a possibility. It's a reality. With the amount of power and money these terrorist groups are accumulating, how long before they get their hands on a biological weapon and release it in our country? Viruses including Ebola, but also Marburg, dengue fever, smallpox, and malaria. Or possibly even the obscure Leopold virus, an airborne pathogen originating in what was formerly known as Leopoldville, Congo. This virus is similar to Ebola, but far deadlier . . . and airborne. According to the research performed by the Centers for Disease Control, this virus has the potential to wipe out the entire United States population within days of initial infection.”