She smiled up at him.
His hips pulled back, then he thrust deep. Her breath caught and the smile faded from her lips. The passion built between them, the desire deepening. The thrusts came faster, harder, and the control he’d held so tight began to shred.
The pleasure filled her eyes, making them seem to go blind. He’d never seen anything more beautiful than her. Nothing...no one...
Her climax trembled around him and she cried out in release. Her breaths came in quick gasps as her legs tightened around him.
The release hit Logan, not a wave or a rush but an avalanche that swept over him with a climax so powerful his body shuddered—and he held on to Juliana as tightly as he could.
And when his heartbeat eased its too-frantic pounding, he stared back into her eyes and realized just how dangerous she still was...to him.
* * *
THE SCENT OF BOOZE HUNG heavily in the air. Beer. Whiskey.
But even more than that...he could smell the blood.
“Dad?” Logan called out for him even as he pushed against the dashboard. It had fallen in on him, and he had to twist and heave his body in order to slide out from under the dash. He yanked at the seat belt, his hands wet with blood, and finally, finally, he was free.
His dad wasn’t.
Logan stared at the wreckage of the pickup. Twisted metal. Broken glass. And his father pinned behind the wheel, head craned at an unnatural angle.
His fingers trembled when he put them to his father’s throat. No pulse. No life. Nothing.
“Help...”
The barest of cries. So soft. A whisper. But he stiffened and whirled around.
That was when he saw the other car. A fancy ride, with a BMW decal on the front—and the entire driver’s side smashed inward.
“Help...” The cry came again, from inside that shattered wreck. A woman’s voice.
And Logan remembered...
The scream of tires. The roar of crunching metal.
The sound of death.
He tried to get to the woman. Cuts covered her pretty face. She was so pale. So small.
“It’s going to be all right,” he told her, reaching for her hand. “I’ll get you help.”
She looked at him, opening dazed eyes. “Ju...Juliana?”
Then her breath heaved.
She didn’t say anything else ever again.
* * *
LOGAN STOOD AT THE TOP of the stairs as the memories rolled over him. He’d fought to keep that dark night buried for so long, but here, in this place, with Juliana once more...the past had gotten to him.
Some nights could never be forgotten, some mistakes never erased.
The life he’d known had ended that night. Two people had died. He’d...
“What are you doing?” Juliana’s soft voice came from the darkness behind him.
Logan stiffened. “Just doing a sweep.” Total BS. But he couldn’t face her yet. Not after what he’d done.
Back then and...now.
Juliana had fallen asleep in his arms. Sleep wouldn’t come so easily for him. Never had.
He’d searched the house. The agents and cops had already done plenty of sweeps. He’d done his share of searching before, too, but he’d had to look again.
Because there’d been something in Susan’s eyes...
The woman had wanted Juliana to go into Aaron’s room. Now Logan knew why.
He’d found the safe, conveniently left open. He’d seen the documents inside.
That safe had been empty just days before—well, empty except for the small gun. The senator had always seemed to be keeping guns close.
Too close.
Juliana hadn’t seen her father’s body after the suicide, but Logan had. He’d never forget the image.
But those files hadn’t been in the safe days before. He knew because he’d cracked it himself and made sure the senator hadn’t hidden any evidence inside. Since the safe had been empty then, it meant that someone else—Susan—had deliberately placed the files and the car-crash photos he’d discovered in that safe.
Susan knew what he’d done, what the senator had done.
And she’d wanted Juliana to find out, too.
Why? So she’d turn against me?
He couldn’t afford to have Juliana turn away from him, not now. It would be too dangerous for her.
“Dawn’s close,” she said, her voice husky. Sexy.
Dawn was coming. He could see the sky lightening behind the big picture windows. Faint hues of red were streaking through the darkness.
They’d have to get ready for her press conference soon. More plans. More traps.
Her fingers were on his back, tracing lightly over the scar that slid down near his spine. “What happened here?” she asked him softly.
Her touch was light, easy.
Logan swallowed and tried to keep his body from tensing. “A mission in the Middle East. Hostage rescue. It didn’t go...quite as planned.” He’d had to take the hit in order to protect the hostage. At the time, he’d barely felt the pain. And he’d killed in response to the attack—
instantly. No second thought, no hesitation. In the field, there wasn’t ever time for hesitation.
Kill or be killed.
Her fingers slid around his side. So delicate on his flesh. Logan turned to face her.
“And here?” Juliana asked. She was tracing the jagged wound that was too close to his heart. As she leaned forward to study the scar, her hair slid over his arm.
Logan took a breath and pulled her scent deep into his lungs. “A bullet wound in Panama.” A drug lord hadn’t liked having his operation shut down. Too bad for him. And that shot had almost been too close for Logan.
Her head tilted back as she studied him and let her fingers rise to slip under his chin. “And here? What about this one?”
His smallest scar. He stared into her eyes. “That one came from a bar fight...in Jackson, Mississippi.”
A furrow appeared between her eyes.
Why not tell her? “One day, I lost my girl, so I got drunk in the nearest bar I could find.” The only time he’d gotten drunk. Won’t be like him. Can’t. “There was a fight.” His fingers lifted, caught hers, moved them away from the scar. “A broken whiskey bottle caught me in the chin.”
Her gaze searched his. “You didn’t lose me.”
“Didn’t I?”
She pulled her hand away. Logan saw that she was wearing a robe, long and silky. He wanted to pull her back into his arms but—
The phone in his back pocket began to vibrate. Logan pulled it out, keeping his eyes on hers. “Quinn.”
“We just found McLintock,” Jasper said, his voice rough.