didn’t talk, and they just left you alone?” Her story just didn’t make sense. Unless Guerrero had been planning to use her as a bargaining tool and the guy had needed to keep her alive.
For a little longer, anyway.
Juliana shook her head and her hair slid against her chin. “When you found me … they’d taken me into the torture room.” She laughed, the sound brittle and so at odds with the soft laughter from his memory. “They were going to make me talk then. The same way they made John talk.”
But they’d waited four days. Not the standard M.O. for Guerrero’s group. All the signs were pointing where he didn’t want them to point. “This John … what did he look like?”
“Tall, dark … late twenties. He kept me sane, kept me talking all through those long hours.”
Yes, Logan just bet he had. But “tall and dark” could be anyone. He needed more info than that.
“You get a good look at his face?” Logan asked.
She nodded.
He offered her what he hoped was an easy smile. “Good enough that you could probably talk to a sketch artist back in the States? Get us a clear picture?”
A furrow appeared between her eyes.
“We’ll need to search the missing-person’s database,” he told her. Liar, liar. “A close image will help us find out exactly who John was.”
She nodded and her lips twisted. “I can do better than meet with your sketch artist.” Her shoulders moved in a little roll. “Give me a pencil and a piece of paper, and I’ll draw John’s image for you.”
He tried not to let his satisfaction show. Juliana was an artist; he knew that. Sure, she usually worked with oils, but he remembered a time when she’d always carried a sketchbook with her.
She’d always been able to draw anything or anyone … in an instant.
“We’ll want sketches of every man or woman you saw while you were being held.”
Now her shoulders straightened. “Done.”
Hell, yes. This could be just the break they needed.
“I want these men caught. I want them stopped.”
So did he, and Logan wasn’t planning on backing off this mission, not until Guerrero was locked up.
The mission wasn’t over. In fact, it might just be getting started.
He turned away from her. “Try to get some more sleep.” They could take care of the sketches soon enough. For the moment, he needed to go talk with his team to tell them about his suspicions.
But she touched him. Her hand wrapped around his arm and every muscle in Logan’s body tightened. “Why did you come for me? Why you, Logan?”
He glanced down at her hand. Touching him was dangerous. She should have remembered that. He’d always enjoyed the feel of her flesh against his far too much.
With Juliana, only with her, he’d never been able to hold back.
Maybe that was one of the reasons he’d run so far. He knew just how dangerous he could be to her.
“The senator came to our unit.” Yes, that was his voice already hardening with desire—just from her touch. “He wanted you brought to safety.”
“Your unit?” Her fingers tightened on him.
He gave a brief nod. “We’re not exactly on the books.” As far as the rest of the world was concerned, the EOD, or Elite Operations Division, didn’t exist. The group, a hybrid formed of recruited navy SEALs, Rangers and intelligence officers from the FBI and CIA, was sent in for the most covert missions. Hostage retrieval. Extreme and unconventional warfare. They were the ones to take lethal, direct attacks … because some targets had to be taken out, no matter the cost.
“Does your unit—your team—have a name?”
Not an official one. “We’re called the Shadow Agents.” Their code name because their goal was to move as softly as a shadow. To stalk their prey and complete the mission with a minimum amount of exposure.
They always got the job done.
“My father really came to you? How did he even know you were—” Her hand fell away, and he missed her touch. Close enough to kiss, but never close enough to take.
It was the story of his life.
“He didn’t come to me for help.” The senator had nearly doubled over when he’d seen Logan sitting across the desk from him. “He came to my division, the EOD—the Elite Ops Division.” Because the FBI had sent him there. The senator still had power and pull in D.C., enough connections to get an appointment with the EOD.
Juliana shook her head. “I didn’t think he’d try to get me back.” A whisper of the lost girl she’d been, so many years ago, trembled in her words. Lost … but not clueless.
She knew her father too well. The mission to Mexico hadn’t just been about her. And if Juliana knew the full truth about the trade-off that had been made in that quiet D.C. office, she’d realize that she’d been betrayed by them both, again.
As if the first betrayal hadn’t been hard enough for him to stomach. For years, he’d woken to find himself reaching for her and realizing that she’d forever be out of his hands.
But she’s not out of reach right now.
He turned fully toward her, almost helpless, and caught her chin in his fingers. “I was getting you back.” Logan recognized his mistake. He was letting this case get personal, and that was the last thing he should be doing.
Hands off. Get her on the plane. Deliver her home.
Walk away.
But it had been so long since he’d held her. Even longer since he’d kissed her. One moment of weakness … would it really hurt? Would it really—
She rose onto her toes and kissed him.
Yes.
Logan let his control go. For that moment with her, he just let go. Logan’s arms closed around her as he pulled her against him. Her breasts pushed against his chest, and he could feel the tight points of her nipples. She had perfect breasts. He remembered them so well. Pretty and pink and just right for his mouth.
And her mouth … nothing was better than her mouth. At twenty, she’d tasted of innocence. Now she tasted of need.
Seduction, at that moment, from her, wasn’t what he’d expected. But it sure was what he wanted. His hands tightened around her, and he held her as close as he could. His tongue thrust against hers. The moan, low in her throat, was a sound he’d never forgotten. Arousal hardened his body as her hands slid under his shirt and her nails raked across his flesh.
She was hot. Wild.
But
