heart sank as she realized the full gravity of his threat. She couldn’t bear to think of a world without Avery and Mallory in it. They’d been best friends since medical school, and Olivia thought of them as family. The only family she had left, in fact.
Helplessness crashed over her, bringing with it a wave of weakness that made her head feel too heavy for her neck. She stared down at her lap, lacking the strength to even meet Carlos’s eyes. What choice did she have now? If she refused, she had no doubt Carlos would follow through with his threats. He was never going to go away. He was never going to leave her alone. She’d been so arrogant earlier, assuming he’d just accept her refusal and slink away. But now she realized she was nothing more than a pawn to him, and he was going to play this game with or without her consent.
Anger flared to life deep inside her chest, sending tendrils of heat through her limbs. Sweat gathered at the back of her neck, and she reached up to lift her hair, exposing her skin to the cool air of the room. She eyed the candlestick next to her—could she club Carlos with it? The idea was distasteful and went against the vows she’d taken to do no harm, but in this case, she might be willing to make an exception.
Her eyes shifted to the young man in the chair. He was watching her with dark eyes, his gaze alert. No. If she made any kind of move toward Carlos, he’d shoot her before she could harm his boss. She was well and truly stuck.
“Fine.” She spat the word at him, her acceptance leaving a bitter taste in her mouth. “I’ll do it. But I want your guarantee that you won’t harm them.”
Carlos lifted one shoulder in an elegant shrug. “If you fulfill your responsibilities, I will forget all about them.”
It was as close to a promise as she was likely to get, and while she didn’t trust him, she had to believe he was telling the truth. Why target her friends unless absolutely necessary? It would draw too much attention, and Carlos seemed like the type who didn’t make a move unless it was going to benefit him.
He stood and smoothed a hand over his jacket. The young man rose as well and moved to stand beside his boss. Carlos smiled down at her. “I am so glad we were able to come to an agreement,” he said solicitously. “You are an intelligent woman, and I knew you would see reason.”
Olivia stood but didn’t reply. She had nothing to say to him and didn’t trust herself to speak. The last thing she needed was to antagonize him just as he was leaving. He might lash out at one of the innocent people in her life just to teach her a lesson in manners.
Her silence didn’t seem to bother him. He gestured to the young man, and together they moved to her door. Olivia stayed where she was, turning to watch them go.
He glanced back at her before walking out the door, his eyes going cold when he saw her expression. He looked at his partner and nodded once. Before Olivia realized what was happening, the younger man closed the distance between them and slapped her hard across the face.
Her head snapped back and tears flooded her eyes. She staggered, grabbing onto the back of the couch for support to keep from falling down.
“What was that for?” she said, pressing her hand against her throbbing cheek.
“Consider it a warning,” he replied. “You work for us now. We won’t tolerate insubordination.”
“I didn’t say anything,” she protested.
He smiled, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “You have a very expressive face, Dr. Sandoval. You must learn to control it. The next time, I will not be so kind.”
Logan Murray pulled into his driveway with a sigh, glad to finally be home. It had been a beast of a day, and he was looking forward to a cold beer and a little mindless TV to help him unwind. Most days, he enjoyed his job as a DEA officer. Taking out drug dealers and breaking up smuggling rings was incredibly satisfying, but not every day was an adventure. And after spending the last week buried in paperwork he was ready for something—anything—to break the monotonous routine.
He climbed out of the car and headed for his mailbox, glancing at the house next door as he walked. The windows gave off a warm glow, indicating Olivia Sandoval was home. One of these days, he thought wryly. She was an attractive woman, and he’d been meaning to connect with her for a while. But the timing was never right. He was off on assignment, or she was out of town. Or they were both too busy to run into each other. Still, part of him held on to the fantasy that they’d magically connect and just click, the way his friend and his soon-to-be-fiancée had while in line at the grocery store. If it could happen to Greg, it could happen to him. Right?
He peeked into his mailbox and tugged out the pile of papers shoved inside. Bill. Junk mail. Card from Mom. He really should call her—it had been too long since they’d talked. And what was this? More stuff for Olivia.
A groan escaped his throat. He needed to call the post office to complain—he’d lost count of the number of times the mail carrier had delivered Olivia’s mail to his box. He had a pile of her stuff on his kitchen counter, just waiting to be delivered. Casting another glance at her house, he decided it was time to hand over her correspondence.
Ducking into his house, he dropped his bag on the kitchen table and scooped up Olivia’s mail. Maybe he could talk her into having dinner with him while he was over there—it was a long shot on such short notice, but worth a try.
He rang her doorbell, then wiped damp palms on his pants. Why was he nervous? He faced down drug dealers and violent criminals every day in his job, so why did the thought of talking to a beautiful woman make his heart pound in his ears?
Probably because it’s been a while, he thought wryly. Five years, to be exact. Ever since he’d arrived home to find his fiancée, Emma, in bed with his best friend, Chris.
Make that his former best friend.
The old, familiar anger began to well up in his chest and he pushed it down, dismissing the pair of them from his thoughts. He’d dated a few women casually since Emma’s betrayal, but his heart hadn’t been in it. Still, maybe it was time to try again, to let down his guard and give love another chance. He knew Olivia was a doctor. Maybe he’d tell her his story and ask if she wanted to help heal his broken heart.
Real smooth, he thought, mentally rolling his eyes. Shaking his head at his foolishness, he waited for a moment. Had she heard the bell? Maybe she was busy—in the back of the house, or in the garage. Or the bathtub, he thought, the image popping into his head before he could stop himself. He strangled the fantasy before it could take flight, unwilling to think about her tawny skin, wet and glowing in candlelight, her heart-shaped face framed by damp ringlets of dark curls...
Looking for a distraction, he pressed the bell again. He’d give her a few more minutes, then come back another time. They were bound to run into each other eventually.
He had just about given up when he heard a soft sound coming from inside her house. Music? No, that wasn’t right. He stepped closer to the door, angling his head to hear better. It was the sound of a woman, that much was clear. But something seemed off. Even though the noise was faint and muffled, he could tell from the tone that it wasn’t laughter or arousal he heard. It was distress. Something was wrong.
“Olivia?” He raised his voice, hoping she could hear through the thick wood of the front door. “Olivia, it’s Logan. Are you
