his Glock free and almost rushed outside, but an odd sound made him hesitate at the last instant. Was that an engine? Was the person who trapped them leaving, thinking they were dead? Or had the killer seen the horses escape and moved closer?
Another rafter fell, just missing Logan and Kat, and setting the area next to them on fire. No choice. They had to leave or die. He hauled Kat over his shoulder, then palmed the gun and edged through the opening.
He didn’t see anyone, but every instinct screamed imminent danger. A grove of oak stood a few hundred yards away. They’d provide cover. If he could get her there.
Just as he rushed out of the barn with her in his arms, a bullet thwacked into the wood over his head.
Hell.
Around the corner of the barn, a man in a black mask took aim from the window of a beat-up red truck. Mud covered the plate.
Logan turned sideways to shield Kat and fired in one fluid motion. The bullet ripped into the man’s shoulder.
He swore and his gun dropped to the ground outside the truck.
Logan quickly set Kat down away from the barn and headed for the vehicle, his gun in hand. “Get out of the truck!” Logan yelled over the roar of the blaze behind him. “Face in the dirt. Now!”
The masked man’s eyes squinted at the Bowie glinting on the dashboard, then at the gun lying in the dirt. Logan could see the cogs rolling in the shooter’s mind, gauging the layout between them. Logan’s finger tensed against the trigger, but they both knew it wasn’t a clean shot.
With a quick move, the guy dove away from the window, out of Logan’s line of sight, and slammed the truck in gear. Within seconds, Texas dust kicked up as the tires spun out.
Logan took a few more shots, but the truck had gone too far for the handgun to be accurate. Heat seared Logan’s back. He glanced behind him at the burning barn, redirecting the remaining adrenaline from his anger, and carried Kat to the stand of oak trees.
He sank in the grass and dirt and knelt next to her. Her head lolled to the side. The light hit her face. Her lips were tinged blue. Despite the heat pouring at them from the burning barn, everything inside him froze. “No.”
In seconds, he’d slanted her head back and forced breath into her lungs. Once. Twice.
She remained still.
He clasped her face in his hands. “Don’t do this, Kat! Stay with me.”
The fire and shooter had almost got them. He wouldn’t lose her now. He slammed two more breaths into her, willing them to be enough, then clutched her to him, rocking her against his body. “Come on. Breathe, dammit.”
Suddenly, she sucked in a deep breath, shuddered and started coughing.
“Kat?” He cupped her cheek, his touch tender, his hand trembling.
Her eyes fluttered. “Look after them,” she whispered. “Promise….”
“The horses are out, Kat. You saved them. You’re going to be fine.”
She opened her lips as if to say more, then groaned and her head fell back.
He sent up a prayer and felt for her pulse. The regular thud restarted his heart.
She was breathing more regularly, but beneath the soot, her face had gone pale as cream. He gently touched the goose egg on her head, and his gut twisted. She could’ve been killed. How had this happened? Logan looked around the deserted Daughtery ranch where she worked. Why hadn’t anyone shown up for a burning barn?
Well, one thing was for sure. He and Kat couldn’t stay here in case their attacker had friends to finish what he’d started.
“Kat, honey, wake up.”
Logan willed her to regain consciousness. Her chest rose and fell, but those icy baby blues remained closed. She’d been out too long. He needed help.
He sent a code through his unit’s pagers to have the doc and a full security team meet him at the rendezvous hotel. He wished he could take her to a hospital, but he couldn’t risk the exposure. If she didn’t wake up soon, though, he’d have no choice.
Quickly, he swept the car for bombs, grabbed the attacker’s gun for evidence, then lifted Kat high in his arms. Her softness settled against him. Memories of holding her assailed his mind. He hugged her close before carefully placing her in the truck.
As he pulled out of the ranch, Logan tugged his cell phone from his pocket and tapped out a number.
“Yes,” a harsh growl answered through the earpiece.
“Sergei, get His Majesty on the phone,” Logan said, his own voice raspy, but his tone brooking no argument from the flunky on the other end of the call. “Now!”
A few whispers sounded in the background.
“You dare command me, Mr. Carmichael?”
Logan could imagine the tic near King Leopold’s eye. The man’s obvious tell showed his anger, but he had nothing on Logan’s current fury. He should’ve known the ruler of Bellevaux was up to something when King Leopold ordered Katherine Nelson brought to him. The assignment didn’t make any more sense now than when he’d instructed Logan to find her three years ago, then the king had abruptly ordered Logan to drop the investigation after he’d sent in the preliminary report.
“You better start talking, Your Majesty. You lied to me. There’s nothing simple about this job, and Katherine Nelson isn’t coming near you without an explanation.”
“Your contract is with me. I sign your paycheck. Therefore, your loyalty is mine.”
“You’re not getting this. An innocent woman was nearly burned alive this morning and then shot at. You held out on me.”
“Someone tried to kill her?” The king gasped. “Nothing can happen to her, Carmichael. If she dies, all is lost.”
“She’s not going to die,” Logan snapped. “But if I’m to protect her, you have to let me in on your big secret. What’s your interest in her? Why does someone want her dead?”
The king let out a frustrated sigh. “What I’m about to tell you goes no further than us. No one in your company or your government must learn of this. Do I have your guarantee?”
Logan tamped down his urge to reach through the phone and choke Leopold. Logan’s international security firm had handled dozens of highly sensitive issues for the family in the five years since he’d left the CIA. “You’ve never doubted my word before.”
“You promised to protect my dead son,” the king said flatly. “His assassination is on your head.”
Logan stilled at the truth.
Prince Stefan had died in the throne room bombing. The M.O. had matched Logan’s top operative and good friend, Daniel Adams. Rumors of terrorists’ payoffs and betrayal still raced through the intelligence community.
For Logan, it was personal.
