Kiss the Enemy (Slye Temp) (22 page)

Not me. Nanci.
“It’s personal. Something I plan to discuss with him alone.”

“That’s not going to happen.”  Logan rubbed his chin, thinking. “You aren’t going to meet him. I’m going to send you somewhere safe.”

“No way! I admit that I blew your meeting with the Banker and mine, too. I won’t share your camp location, but if you don’t believe me, have your men blindfold me and take me to a drop off point.”

“The Banker would find you.”

If wishes came true. “Your point.”

“I could keep you safe with me—”

“Does that ego inflate on its own or does it pump up when you give yourself a hand job?”

“—but since that isn’t an option, I’m making arrangements.”

Like hell. “Are the accomodations there any better than these?”

“Marginally.”

She wanted to scream at him for making her wonder if he used his abilities for the wrong side of the law and for twisting her insides into a pretzel. He’d denied being responsible for the terrorist attacks his team had been credited with, but that only mattered if she believed him.

Did she?

What deal are you making with the Banker, Logan?

He wouldn’t answer and, if he did, that would be just another reason to keep her. She gave him one more chance to do the right thing. “Turn me loose or pay the consequences.”

“Make this easy on yourself. Do as you’re told and you’ll be treated fine. Try anything and the men will taze you. Then I’ll have to handcuff you.” 

“I’m not trying anything. We’re done talking.”
Just go so I don’t have to fight my emotions as well as you.

He nodded, walked over to the bed and sat down then started removing his boots.

“Don’t even think about sleeping here tonight,” she warned.

“Uh huh.”

“I mean it, Logan.”

He dropped both boots off to the side and stretched out on the bed with his arm under his head, clothes still on. “Your being here is stretching our man hours too thin. I’m staying in here so no one has to guard you tonight. If you’re thinking about escaping, don’t. I don’t want to hurt you.”

“You didn’t have any problem last time,” she muttered and slid down to sleep. She turned her back to him.

“Margaux, it wasn’t—”

“Shut. Up. Or I will hurt you and not feel a moment of remorse.” She needed one more night of sleep. It wouldn’t bring her all the way back up to full power, but she’d have enough strength to take her shot and run once she got away.

Logan had severly underestimated her if he thought she was going to go quietly and do as she was told. She had the skills to escape.

And she would.

CHAPTER 24

The General closed his office door in his Arlington home and locked it. His wife and sons knew never to walk in on him, but he didn’t take any chances when it came to getting caught corresponding with international terrorists.  

He only needed a few minutes to access the email that should be waiting in an account protected with heavy codes. He and the Banker exchanged one way emails that couldn’t be traced back.

Taking the laptop from his floor vault, he placed it on his desk and booted up. While he waited, he pulled out a bottle of Highland Park Single Malt scotch wrapped in a swirly silver casing designed by a jeweler. Real silver. He had to hide it in the vault, just like he had to keep his offshore savings protected. Live as large as he could and his associates in the Pentagon might take a closer look at his dealings.

The program opened and his email was waiting. He and the Banker had foregone encrypted messages once they’d both confirmed secure communications.

The Banker sent back:

I have located a source to perform the task you require.

That was the right answer with the Duner family breathing down his neck. If the Banker pulled off his part, and there was no reason to doubt that he would, the head of the Duner family would continue to enjoy the results of heavy investments in traditional oil production facilities. Those locations might not be green enough for the eco-militants, but sacrifice was part of progress.

He scanned the email further and stopped at one line.

With regard to your concerns about damaging US/China relations, I do have something in the works for that.

The General chuckled and took a sip of the smoothest single malt he’d ever touched to his lips. This was why he’d told his sons over and over again to never cut corners with money when it mattered. Pay the best to get the best.

The Banker’s closing sentence was:

I will of course dust away any refuse to prevent a trail that could be followed.

That’s why no one had ever managed to locate someone who had dealt with the Banker. He hired quality mercenaries, paid them well, then hired a new team he sent to handle cleanup, making it all look like part of a contract so they never caught on.

When this was done, the General would have the key part of Orion’s Legacy. He’d hold the most significant piece of the five artifacts.

Wayan had once said that piece would show the way to the other five artifacts, no matter where they were. Once the General had that piece, he and Wayan could find Chatton’s artifact.

With that in hand, Wayan would gladly chip in to send the Banker after Chatton.

CHAPTER 25

Logan had slept better sitting under a tree in a driving rain with the enemy hunting him. This shack had been used for storing supplies and as a temporary infirmary until he’d carried Margaux into the camp pale and unconscious. The team had come up with a self-contained toilet to turn this into a patient room fit for a female.

Margaux moved around and grumbled something in her sleep. Again. She kept bumping her injured arm and occasionally grunted in pain.

He could smell her.

No flowery scent, just her warm skin. That wasn’t all. Wrapped with her scent was the sensual musk on the bed linens from last night when he’d brought her to orgasm.

Damn. Wrong thing to think about with a hard dick and no relief in sight.

She muttered something.

He reached over to stroke her hair and soothe her, but pulled back.

She thought he’d used her in Paris.

He
had
needed her apartment, but sleeping with her hadn’t been a requirement. It was an expected gift. He’d planned on accessing her apartment while she was gone bartending so that he could study the main road the apartment was located on— two blocks away from the consulate. The area was so tightly built that he could work street level for only so long without becoming obvious. The street running in front of her apartment was the simplest route in and out from the rear entrance to the consulate and her apartment afforded Logan a birds-eye view of who traveled there and back.

He’d told her he was traveling Europe for six months.

The plan had been simple. Find a woman with an apartment situated in the right spot. Cozy up to her and steal her key long enough to make a copy, then slip it back into her possession before she left work. Somewhere in the following week to ten days, Logan would get a call with extraction plans for a Russian diplomat wanting to defect.

Logan would deliver him to the French intelligence.

He should have found a nearby dump to hunker down in, but he’d been on back-to-back missions for over two years and Margaux’s smile had triggered a thaw inside him.

She’d made it clear that she was not looking for anything serious and would never be marriage material. Neither was he, but after two days with her, he missed her when she left and wanted her even more when she returned. He started believing he could talk her into an arrangement that she’d have gone for. Something that was a win-win for both of them.

A life on the side he could maintain that no one would know about. That way she’d never be in danger.

Looking back, it was lunacy, but he was younger then and she’d seduced him with that crazy laugh of hers and the way she made him feel. Alive and connected.

He’d never felt anything like that again and had missed her every day since he’d watched her walk away from him, and away from danger.

Now? He had too many unanswered questions.

What did she want with the Banker? Logan latched on to her claim that the Banker owed her a debt, wanting to believe that she’d been wronged. But she could just as easily mean he welshed on a deal.

But she’d refused money.

Maybe she was only a snitch who got screwed on some deal involving the Banker?

He kept denying that she could have been an operative in Paris, but finally admitted that was his ego talking. He just couldn’t believe she’d been playing him, but he’d sent her fingerprints to a contact here in the States that should shed some light on her answer. He hoped she was nothing more than an informant. He could accept that better than believing she had tipped off someone the morning he went for the diplomat and gotten two people killed.

She rolled over on her good side, facing him and mumbling something incoherent. Then her arm landed on his bare chest.

His shirt and pants were piled on a crate. He normally slept in the buff, but had left his boxers on just to remind him there would be no touching tonight.

That rule pretty much exploded in his head when her fingers started grazing his chest. He held his breath, waiting for her to move away or touch more of him.

His dick was voting hard for the latter.

His skin was on fire and she was the only thing that would soothe that heat. She laughed softly then her fingers stroked his skin. He flinched.

He should get up, get dressed and sit outside in the cold. That would cure the aching hardon tenting his boxers.

But he’d have to give up this time with her. He’d told her he was here to let his men sleep, and let her think it was to prevent her trying to escape. A part of him definitely expected her to make an attempt to leave, but in truth, that was a small concern.

Staying with her tonight was selfish and masochistic at the same time. He wanted to be close enough to watch her as she slept, but not touching her was killing him.

Her hand moved down his chest.

His stomach muscles tightened. Just a little lower. His dick was drawing all the blood from his brain. Had to be why he couldn’t make himself get up and leave.

Her fingers curled, clutching at his skin.

Sweat broke out on his forehead. Enough was enough. He’d move her arm, roll her onto her back and leave.

She curled up closer to him and hugged her arm around his waist, killing that idea.

His heart thumped so hard it should wake her. He could wait a little longer to leave.

She muttered, “Idiot.”

He smiled. She must be dreaming about him. He leaned over and kissed the top of her head, but she lifted her head at the same moment and stared at him with soft eyes.

Don’t kiss her
. There was no coming back from that.  

She blinked slowly.

Heat churned in her gaze. He’d seen that look time and again in Paris in the middle of the night. She’d wake ready and wanting. One move toward him and he’d be all over her.
Go back to sleep, Sugar
.

She leaned even closer.

Just a tiny move, but his hands itched to pull her to him. Bad idea. Almost as bad as the one he’d had when he climbed back in bed with her last night.

She moved her hand up on his chest and his skin quivered under her touch. She leaned in and he couldn’t let it go. He cupped her head and kissed her. Her fingers were in his hair, pulling him closer. Then her hands were all over him.

He couldn’t get enough of her. He lifted her to straddle him and never broke the kiss. Her tongue invaded his mouth and challenged his to match her hunger.

She moved her hips up and down, rubbing against his hardon. Up and down, up and down. She was clearly in a hurry again.

What had happened to the woman who’d challenge him to see who could take the longest on each other’s body?

She’d always been passionate. Never one to rush things. She’d loved the way he took his time with her, but she was in a hurry now and letting him know it.

He was going to come any minute if she didn’t stop. He wanted her too much. She broke the kiss and whispered in a husky voice. “I want to feel you come all over me.”

She might as well have set the hair trigger on his cock.

His brain was beating on his consciousness, warning him something was off. He couldn’t hear it over the roar in his ears. She reached down and shoved her hand inside his boxers and gripped him. His chest and leg muscles locked up, fighting against the orgasm. “Whoa, Sugar.” 

She rubbed her hot folds over the tip, stroking him at the same time and his grip on reality slipped. No condom. He grabbed her at the waist and moved her, just enough that when she stroked him the next time he came hard, shooting on his chest instead of inside her. The force was so powerful it left him dizzy for a moment.

She started to move away.

His brain fought through the haze of post orgasm blur.

Where was she going? She was sliding off the bed on his side. The sink was on the other side.

Everything clicked into place.

He lunged for the gun sitting next to his clothes at the same time that she went for it. His forward momentum knocked her off balance, but she got her hands on the gun first. She lost her footing and rocked backwards off her feet. He grabbed for her arm to catch her before her head slammed into a wooden crate of MREs.

She shouted in pain.

He’d wrenched her injured arm, dammit.

She came up swinging the gun. He ducked and barely missed getting clocked upside the head. He clamped his hand on her wrist and banged it down against his arm to break her hold. The weapon clanged against the floor.

Logan snarled,  “Stop it before you get hurt any worse.” 

She got her feet under her and pulled away.

He only let go so he wouldn’t do more damage. They stood facing off, both breathing hard.

She had to be in pain, but she’d never say so. He pointed at the bed. “Sit so I can see if you pulled your stitches loose.”