Kiss the Enemy (Slye Temp) (21 page)

Why the hell was she out of the shack?

All of them shifted back toward the fire except Nitro who had to push every fucking button he found in life. He asked Logan, “Problem, Cuz?”

“Not unless there’s no food left.”  The last thing he could do was let any of them know this woman turned him inside out.

Nitro grinned like a son-of-a-bitch who had seen right through Logan’s answer. “There’s plenty. Like always. Grab a seat. Margaux was sharin’ a good joke.”  

Margaux’s attention drifted down to a plate of food in her lap that she started picking at. She had on someone’s cammie pants and a brown T-shirt instead of Logan’s gray one. That just pissed him off all over again, which was stupid because he didn’t want her out here in only a T-shirt.

But he didn’t want her in any other man’s clothes either.

Logan ground his jaw to keep from saying something this group would never let him live down. His stomach growled, reminding him the best way to keep his foot out of his mouth was by shoving food in it right now.

Nitro cooked most of the time because he’d been a chef in another life and refused to eat what the rest of them cooked. He loaded Logan’s tray with hefty portions of tonight’s entrée of venison steak, potatoes wrapped in foil and tossed in the fire and fat corn on the cob.

“What’s your joke?”  Logan asked as he lowered his tired bones into a camp chair.

“It’s not that funny.”  Margaux popped up and handed Nitro her plate. “Thanks. Better than I’d have expected out in the woods.”

“You’re welcome, ma’am.”

She looked hard at him. “Margaux,
Cuz
. Not ma’am.”

“Yes ma—uh, Margaux.”

Cocking her head at Sam “Party Man” Leclair, she asked, “Ready?”

Party Man glanced at Logan who nodded.

Margaux rolled her eyes at Logan. “So now I need permission to be locked up?”

Logan caught the snap in her tone. She was itching to have words with him, but she was too pale to be out of bed as it was and in no condition to be going a verbal round with him. Telling her that would only piss her off and make things worse.

Logan ignored her, focused on cutting his meat. “Yes.”

She made a disgusted sound and stepped out of the circle with Party Man right behind her, armed, eyes alert, just as Logan had ordered everyone that morning.

Logan had told them not to harm her, but if there was any question that she would get away to taze her and don’t reinjure her arm unless they wanted to face him.  

Nitro had been insulted at the idea that she could outmanuever any of them until Logan shared how after days of no water, no food and torture, Margaux had taken down two armed guards to escape and free him as well.

She had no idea how much respect that had earned her.

Just thinking about how she’d refused to leave him in that hut slugged Logan in the chest with another fist of guilt.

He owed her. That was bad enough if it had been a stranger, but it was Margaux. Having her within reach again turned chaos loose in his brain. He watched her walk away and it cut him to the bone, because he’d never forget her walking down the dock to that ship and out of his life permanently.

She nodded in Moose’s direction. “What’s his name?”

Party Man answered her in a low voice that belonged to the spawn of Wyatt Earp and Darth Vader. “He goes by Moose.”

“Why?” 

Nitro called out, “Because he can’t spell sasquatch.”

Margaux’s laughter bubbled and every man paused to listen.

Logan really liked this bunch. He’d hate to have to hurt them. His stomach grumbled, drawing his attention back to his dinner. His guys were unusually quiet. Party Man remained near Margaux’s building, standing guard.

Logan finished his meal, handing Nitro the plate that his second in command stacked with the others for someone’s turn at KP. “How long was she outside?”

“This time?” Nitro asked.

“What do you mean, this time? I told you she could come out and stretch her legs
once
until she got tired.”

Onnjel “Angel” Castell shrugged. “The woman is stir-crazy. Who would not be in that place all day?”

Logan argued, “She’s only been awake twenty-four hours. She still needs rest.”

Nitro never knew when to let it go. “She looks better now than she did this morning. Think getting out to walk around was good for her.” Nitro kept picking up, not even trying to hide his taunting grin. “She
looked
better until you showed up. In fact, she cleaned up nice, was looking downright pretty then—”

“Can it, Nitro.”

“You don’t think she’s pretty?”

Logan snapped, “That’s not relevant.”

“Then you don’t mind that we’re drawing straws to see who gets to watch her tomorrow.”

Angel growled. “We have decided that tomorrow I will guard.”

Party Man called out, “I heard that word tomorrow.
I’m
on for the next twenty-four hours, so don’t start no sh and there won’t be no it.”

Logan snarled, “No one does a damn thing until I give the orders for tomorrow. Understood?”

Moose, who rarely smiled, had a sarcastic grin. He was the only one not vying for a spot in the rotation.

Party Man did a two finger salute in answer and Angel ran his hands in his thick black hair and stretched back. “Si, señor.”

Logan’s team functioned better than a well-oiled machine. They thought of each other as family and called each other Cuz, short for cousin. They were tight. They didn’t salute him or say si, señor, which was the equivalent of “Yes, sir.” 

He shoved an acidic glare at Nitro, sure that this was somehow his fault. Nitro wasn’t happy unless he was getting under someone’s skin. “Where’d she get the clothes?”

“I loaned her some of mine.”  Nitro picked up what was left of the leftover food that they stored high in the trees to keep it away from bears, but he didn’t move. “She wanted a bath. I helped her out.”

Logan had sucked in a drink of water from the plastic tube of his backpack hydration bag and choked on it. He lowered it to ask softly, “How
exactly
did you help?”

“Took her a bucket of warm water, soap and change of clothes.”  Nitro raised his head to face Logan, eyes bulging with mirth. “I unwrapped her bandage, then stepped outside. When she said she was dressed, I went back and bandaged her arm again. Sir.”

“Don’t be a dick,”  Logan muttered.

“Excellent advice, but then she doesn’t think
I’m
a dick. Sir.”

I’m going to kill the best second in command I’ve ever had.
“Sir me one more time and we eat what I cook tomorrow while you’re out on patrol.”

Party Man, Angel and Moose called out, “
No!
” at the same time.

Nitro lost his chipper look and mumbled, “Understood, Cuz.”

Logan wanted to see how well her cut was healing for himself, and if she was in such improved health, she could answer questions on what she was doing in the Trophy Room.

He finished his meal and handed off his plate before walking over to where Moose stood with his eyes tracking everything. The Swede was built like he had viking blood somewhere in his ancestry, and he had little patience for anything not related to a mission.

Logan asked, “Got something bugging you, too?”

“She’s trouble.”

He was probably right, but that had no bearing on any decision Logan made. “So noted. But as long as she’s here, she’s to be protected at all costs.”

Moose nodded. “Understood.”

“When Nitro finishes packing the food and picking up, get an inventory of supplies from him. Then you and Angel take one of the ATVs and make a run to town.”

“Nitro bitched last time. Said he didn’t like what we picked.”

“Fine. Let him and Angel go. You and Party Man run a check on the outer perimeter.”

“You got it, Cuz.”

Logan grunted in response. Everything was back on keel with his men. He strode away as Moose called Party Man over and started directing the team. That would get them out of camp for a bit and give him a chance to deal with Margaux.

There was no telling what she might say and loud enough for everyone to hear.

He faced the door, reminding himself to keep his temper in line. He’d meshed together the Margaux from Paris with the one he’d met at the Trophy Room as Violet and the Amazon warrior who escaped the jungle with him. Out of all that, her true nature emerged when put under pressure.

Back her in a corner and she’d fight to the bloody end.

He didn’t want her in that corner, but neither could he sugarcoat this.

His need to protect her surged against the need to do his duty. He couldn’t imagine any right answers to his questions, but he hoped she had some or he’d have to make the second hardest decision of his life and contact INTERPOL about taking her into protective custody. He had nowhere in this country that would be safe.

CHAPTER 23

The scratching sound of the door latch being moved announced Logan’s entrance. None of his men would dare enter without knocking on her hovel-slash-prison.

What spirit had she pissed off to end up in another primitive camp?

She looked over from where she sat cross-legged on the bed.

He closed the door quietly and swung around, arms hanging loose at his sides, watching her. That was no casual pose. Logan only wanted his hands in the best position for moving quickly if she came at him.

He underestimated her ability to plan if he thought she’d hit him straight on when he was expecting it. Now was not the time to expend energy she’d need soon enough.

He turned silence into an adversarial atmosphere, his stare poking at her to say something.

She had nothing to say to him.

Her body had plenty to discuss, starting with who would end up on top. But her body had sent her down wayward paths in the past—Logan Highway being one—and she was done being guided by nothing more than a physical urge.

She’d reduced him to that in her mind today.

Now it was just a basic exercise of mind over lust. The fact that he made her skin feel too tight just by standing in the same room was nothing more than an animal response, and one that she
would
control.

He wasn’t the man she’d known all those nights in Paris who made her happy and she’d thought could do no wrong.

That was a memory, nothing more.

This man was
all
wrong.

Logan moved another step forward and leaned against a pair of three-foot-long metal boxes stacked up as high as his waist. Food and supply storage. No ammo or weapons. She’d checked.

He propped a hand on the top of one crate. “How’re you feeling?”

“Screwed over.”  She hated that I’m-in-control monotone of his.

“I didn’t drag you into this. You came in on your own.”

“So that makes it okay for you to hold me prisoner? Even after what I did to get you out of that hut in the jungle?”

He looked away, taking his time before he met her gaze with a hard one of his own and that flat voice again. “Tell me what you know about my meeting and—”

“Oh, for crying out loud. The Banker is looking for mercs. You were there to meet him. So was I. There. Feel better about your interrogation skills now?”

“What do you want with him?”

“Same thing you do.”

“I doubt that.”

He hadn’t hesitated long, but it had been enough for her to read disappointment flicker in his eyes. Really? “So that’s what you were doing in Paris, too? Hiding in my apartment while you scoped out a target? Two actually, now that I remember. I read about the diplomat and his attaché being killed. I never thought you’d actually killed them until now.”

She still refused to accept that he would kill in cold blood, but she was channeling Sabrina right now.

“I didn’t kill them.”

“Oh, so you
weren’t
in the business of committing terrorist attacks back then?”

“No.”

“But you are now.”  She waited for him to say the words that would drive a stake through the part of her heart that still cried out for him. Keeping her libido in check was one thing, but stomping on the feelings that rushed to the surface when he was near would take hearing him admit he murdered innocent people for a living.

Or for a pasttime. Maybe he didn’t need the money, just the sick adrenaline rush.

“We’re not terrorists,” he finally answered.

“But you hire out for them. You have no political agenda, therefore you’re saying you are only a tool?”  She smiled, something she hoped that should border on deranged with the mood she was in. “Yep, you’re a tool alright. I heard about the bombing in Pakistan. Six died. Did the low head count pay less?”

“I didn’t do that. I don’t hire out to terrorists.”

She studied the sincerity in his eyes. “Why would someone else give you credit for their work?”

“That’s a question I’ve been trying to answer myself.”

She kept watching for any sign of lying. Nothing, but he was no prisoner being grilled and was clearly trained well.
Take the facts and flip them over to see if they look different when they land.
Could someone have been giving Logan and his team credit for attacks they hadn’t committed? Was that why Logan was after the Banker? To find out who was spreading erroneous intel?

Or was Logan just that skilled—enough to sound convincing when he was lying, even to someone trained to watch for it?

He turned the inquisition back on her. “What else do you know about the Banker?” 

Mr. Just-give-me-the-facts was back.

She considered how to play this and what might gain her some usable intel she could give to Sabrina. “Word is he plays broker between terrorists and mercs. What do you know about him?”

“Why did you want to meet him?”

“He owes me.”

“How much.”

“Why? You willing to pay his debt?”  She’d fed enough edge into that to make a cautious person think twice about answering.

“Maybe.”

No caution in that body. Anger turned her voice icy cold. “You can’t pay this debt with money.”

“What did he do to you?”