legs screeching on the tile floor. “I have to go,” she said abruptly.
Logan stood, as well. “Olivia, I don’t think that’s a good idea.”
She shook her head. “No, I really need to get out of here.”
He took a step to the side, effectively blocking her exit. She reared back to keep from running into him, and he held out his hands, trying to appear nonthreatening. “Here’s the deal,” he said, striving for a comforting tone. “It’s clear to me that something has happened tonight, something that has you upset. And while I’m not trying to dig into your private life, I would like to know why you’re so distressed by the fact that I work for the DEA.”
She stared up at him for a moment, worrying her bottom lip with her teeth. It was an incredibly sensuous gesture, but Logan knew she didn’t mean anything by it. “I really can’t talk about it.”
He merely watched her, knowing there wasn’t anything he could say to make her trust him. She had to decide that on her own—no amount of pretty words would convince her.
Finally she dropped into her chair, her shoulders slumping in defeat. “You can’t help me. No one can.”
“That sounds pretty final to me. In my experience, few things are.”
She shuddered at his words, as if they’d brought up a bad memory. “If I tell you, will you leave me alone?” She sounded utterly destroyed and he could tell her resolve to stay silent was crumbling.
Not a chance, he thought. But he needed her to talk, so he tilted his head to the side, hoping she would interpret the gesture as agreement. “You can talk to me,” he said softly.
She shook her head, pressing her lips together in a pale line. Then she laughed, a harsh, grating sound that was totally void of humor. “What the hell?” she said, the edge in her voice sharper than a sliver of glass. “Just promise me this—keep my friends safe. Will you do that for me?”
Logan frowned, the finality in her tone troubling. “I’ll do my best. Why do you sound like you’ll be missing them?”
Olivia met his gaze then, and the hopelessness in her brown eyes nearly broke his heart.
“Because in a few weeks, I’ll be dead.”
* * *
Logan’s green eyes widened at her outburst, but he recovered quickly. “I’m sure it’s not as bad as you think,” he started, his tone making it clear he thought she was being a drama queen. His obvious doubt annoyed her, but she tried not to hold it against him. She did sound like one of those characters on the telenovelas her Nana had loved to watch. Under different circumstances, she might have found the whole thing amusing.
“Do you want me to talk to you or not?”
He hesitated a moment, clearly trying to decide what to say. Then he simply nodded.
Olivia took a deep breath, pushing aside her doubts. Logan worked for the DEA, so he was probably the best person to talk to about Carlos and his offer. Besides, she didn’t really have any other options at this point.
To his credit, he didn’t interrupt her. He sat there quietly, his large hands folded on the table and his broad shoulders looking like they could hold the weight of the world. She felt a small spurt of satisfaction when he sat up straight at the mention of Carlos—See? I’m not crazy, she wanted to say—but he remained silent until she finished telling him the whole story.
“Have you contacted your friends?”
Olivia stared at him, feeling drained of all emotion. “No. Avery would know something is wrong just by the sound of my voice. And Mallory is in the Caribbean somewhere on her cruise ship. But even if I could get ahold of her, I don’t want to put either of them at further risk.”
He acknowledged her point with a nod. “Fair enough. I just thought you might feel better if you talked to them, reassured yourself that they’re still okay.”
She looked down at her plate, the food blurring as tears filled her eyes. “I would,” she admitted. “But I’m too scared to try right now.”
After a moment, she raised her head and met Logan’s gaze. Sympathy was bright in his eyes, but he didn’t try to offer her empty reassurances or hollow promises. He simply let her process things without trying to brush away her emotions, a fact that she appreciated. She ran her gaze over his strong chin and long, straight nose, then up to his eyebrows, twin brown arches over his deep green eyes. He was a very attractive man, a fact she was finding harder to ignore...
“Okay. Let’s talk about Carlos. Can you tell me what he looked like?”
Olivia took a deep breath, appreciating the distraction. “Here’s the paperwork he filled out at my office.” She slid the folder across the table, then took a second to recall his face and rattled off a description of the other man. “If that’s even his real name,” she finished.
“Probably not,” Logan agreed, glancing through the forms she’d given him. “But he sounds like a guy we’ve been interested in for a while.”
“You know him? Does that mean you know where he is?” This could all be over soon! If the DEA knew where to find Carlos, they could arrest him and her friends would be safe.
Her hope must have shown on her face, because Logan shook his head. “We don’t have that kind of information yet,” he said gently. “We know he’s involved with an organization called Fantasmas del Mal, but we don’t yet have specifics about where he lives or who he associates with.”
“Fantasmas del Mal,” she repeated. The name triggered a dim spark of recognition in the recesses of her brain. She tried not to get involved in that aspect of Colombian life, but no one who spent time in the country could long ignore the collection of organizations that operated in the shadows. “The Evil Ghosts? Is that some kind of drug cartel?”
Logan lifted one shoulder. “In a manner of speaking. The Colombian cartel system isn’t what it once was, but the power vacuum left behind by the deaths of Pablo Escobar and his rivals didn’t last long. Fantasmas del Mal is one of several militant organizations that stepped in to fight over control of the drug trade.”
So it was as bad as she had feared. “That’s a rather poetic name.”
A small smile flitted across his face. “It is, indeed. Rumor has it the locals coined it because the members of the cartel sweep in to mete out punishments, then disappear like fading ghosts.”
She swallowed hard. “I see.”
“Olivia, I need to ask you something.” He pressed his lips together and looked away, as if he were searching for the right words. “Why didn’t you go to the authorities after Carlos came to your office? We could have moved on this, started the process earlier if you’d said something.”
“Would it really have mattered?” She walked over to the coffee table, picked up the photos of her friends and held them out for Logan. “Those pictures aren’t all from today or even yesterday. Someone has been following my friends for weeks, if not longer. They’ve been in danger this whole time. What good would a few hours have done?”
He reached up and gently touched her
