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Undercover Wife
Debra Webb
Specialist John Logan was dedicated to duty–the mission always top priority–and he'd do anything to carry out an assignment. Even if it meant posing as the unthinkable: husband to the newly "recruited" Erin Bailey….He'd shown up in the middle of the night and offered Erin her freedom if she'd pose as his wife to catch an insidious drug lord/arms dealer. Except, given the compromising position she found herself in as victim of a frame-up, Erin was totally at the mercy of her "guardian" as an untrained, stand-in agent. All she had to do was assume someone else's identity, learn the ins and outs of weaponry and share a bed with her dangerously attractive "husband," John Logan. And if she came out of this with her life intact, she'd surely lose her heart in the process!When all else fails, the most highly trained, covert agents are called in to "recover" the mission. This elite group is known as "Specialists". Nothing is too dangerous for them…except falling in love.



MISSION RECOVERY
“SPECIAL OPERATIONS”
Director: Thomas Casey
Deputy Director: Lucas Camp

When all else fails,
a Specialist is called in to “recover” a situation.

This team of highly skilled men and women was created to serve the needs of all other U.S. government agencies whenever the usual channels failed. The elite force is trained in every area of antiterrorism and aggressive infiltration. All agents have extensive stealth and sniper training and are multilingual. They must meet the most stringent mental and physical requirements of any national or international security force. They are prepared to do whatever it takes to accomplish their mission….

Failure is not an option.

Undercover Wife
Debra Webb

www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)

ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Debra Webb was born in Scottsboro, Alabama, to parents who taught her that anything is possible if you want it badly enough. She began writing at age nine. Eventually she met and married the man of her dreams and tried some other occupations, including selling vacuum cleaners and working in a factory, a day-care center, a hospital and a department store. When her husband joined the military, they moved to Berlin, Germany, and Debra became a secretary in the commanding general’s office. By 1985 they were back in the States, and finally moved to Tennessee, to a small town where everyone knows everyone else. With the support of her husband and two beautiful daughters, Debra took up writing again, looking to mystery and movies for inspiration. In 1998 her dream of writing for Harlequin came true. You can write to Debra with your comments at P.O. Box 64, Huntland, Tennessee 37345.



CAST OF CHARACTERS
Erin Bailey—Wrongly imprisoned for a crime she did not commit, Erin is desperate to regain her freedom and her life. But can she trust the handsome stranger who makes her an offer that sounds too good to be true?

John Logan—A specialist in a highly covert government organization, can he accomplish the mission no one else has been able to, and keep his “new” partner alive at the same time?

Thomas Casey—The enigmatic director of Mission Recovery.

Lucas Camp—Deputy director of Mission Recovery. He will do whatever is necessary to take care of his specialists. His people are his number one priority.

Pablo Esteban—A brutal and infamous drug smuggler and gunrunner. He hires only the best and only couples. No one disappoints Esteban.

Maria Esteban—Pablo’s sister. He protects her to the extent that she is all but a prisoner in her own home.

Larry and Sheila Watters—A couple who want to remain number one in Esteban’s eyes. They will stop at nothing to keep that position.

Hector and Carlos Caldarone—Brothers who have worked for Esteban and managed to stay alive longer than anyone else.

Vincent Ferrelli—Another specialist, and Logan’s only backup in Colombia.

Ramon and Maverick—Two top members of Mission Recovery’s Detail and Housekeeping Team.
This book is dedicated to all the American men and women who risk their lives every day to keep our country safe and free in too many capacities to name.
God bless you all.

Contents
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen

Chapter One
“What’s so important that it couldn’t wait until I reported in day after tomorrow?” John Logan dropped into one of the upholstered chairs flanking the director’s desk. He and his partner hadn’t taken any real time off in over eight months. They were due some serious R&R—past due. This little trip back to D.C. hadn’t been on Logan’s agenda for the day.
He forced himself to relax. The jet lag was definitely catching up to him. Or, he thought wryly, maybe it was last night’s margaritas. A smile hitched his lips when he considered the private party he’d had with that sweet little senorita. Too bad this morning’s pre-dawn wake-up call had dragged him from the rumpled bed before they’d had the opportunity to share an encore.
“We have a problem.” Lucas Camp, Deputy Director of Mission Recovery’s Special Operations, leaned against the edge of Director Casey’s desk, his solemn gaze resting on Logan.
The undercurrent in Lucas’s tone tugged Logan’s wayward thoughts back to the here and now. Uneasiness tightened in his chest. He knew that tone, that look. Lucas was searching for the best way to say what needed to be said. Whatever it was, it wasn’t good.
Logan straightened in his chair, instantly running down a list of possible scenarios. “What kind of problem?”
Director Thomas Casey stepped into the dim pool of light provided by the brass lamp on his desk. The man always lingered in the shadows. As new to the organization as he was, Casey had already garnered himself a reputation for the cloak-and-dagger routine.
Logan, his senses rushing toward full-scale alert, shifted his attention to Casey. Something big was about to go down.
“We may have to abort the South American mission.” Casey’s gaze pierced Logan’s with the intensity of twin blue laser beams. “Taylor is dead.”
Dead?
Logan was on his feet with no memory of how he’d gotten there. Jess Taylor was his partner. They had parted company just forty-eight hours ago to take some quick downtime before their mission began. How could she be dead? Logan shook his head in denial. There had to be a mistake.
“We just—she was…” Logan’s voice faltered beneath the steady gazes fixed on him. There was no way either of these two men, his superiors, would lie to him. “How?” He barely recognized the harsh sound as his own voice.
“Sanchez hit her outside the airport in L.A.,” Lucas said quietly. “We know it was him because there were three eyewitnesses. Based on the description, there’s no question.”
Fury roared inside Logan. Sanchez, the weasel son of a bitch. Logan should have killed him when he had the chance. But Sanchez had begged for mercy and sworn that he would spill his guts about the drug runners trafficking for the Mexican kingpin Mission Recovery had worked to bring down for nearly a year. Jess had fallen, hook, line and sinker, for Sanchez’s act. Logan hadn’t trusted him, but he had deferred to Jess’s judgment. Now he was sorry. But not half as sorry as Sanchez would be.
“Where is he?”
Lucas raised an eyebrow at the savage sound of Logan’s demand. “We’re taking care of Sanchez.”
“I’ll take care of Sanchez,” Logan countered. His muscles tightened with rage. He wanted to tear something apart. He wanted to watch Sanchez die slowly, very, very slowly.
“You already have your assignment,” Casey pointed out in that calm, even manner of his that represented nothing more than another of his illusions.
Thomas Casey was one hundred percent lethal and completely heartless. The mission was always his top priority. That was the way of things in Mission Recovery, the most highly covert organization belonging to the United States government. Created to serve the needs of all other government agencies, CIA, FBI, ATF, DEA, whenever the usual channels failed, Mission Recovery was called in to “recover” the situation. The elite group of specialists were highly trained in all areas of anti-terrorism and aggressive infiltration. When all else failed, a specialist was sent in to salvage things. This was one of those times. But Jess’s death had changed everything.
Logan aimed his fury in Casey’s direction then. “Jess is dead. It’s going to be pretty damned hard to complete that mission now. No partner, no pass into Esteban’s tight little group. It was a package deal, remember? Couples only.”
“We may have an alternative.” Lucas opened the folder lying next to him on Casey’s desk. “Erin Bailey.” He tapped an eight-by-ten picture that made Logan do a double take.
The mane of thick hair was too long and blond instead of black, the lips a little fuller maybe, but otherwise the woman in the photograph could have been Jess in disguise.
“Who the hell is she?” Logan’s focus never left the photograph. The curve of her cheek, the delicate line of her nose, and the extraordinary violet eyes were exactly the same. It was unnerving…eerie.
“It gets better,” Lucas added knowingly, anticipation lifting his tone. “She’s a hacker, U.S. Grade A. Not in the usual sense, however, she specializes in computer security. Learned her hacking skills to better serve her needs as a security analyst.”
Computers? That had been Jess’s specialty. That particular skill was necessary to the success of the South American mission. “How’d you find her?”
“Completely by accident,” Lucas explained. “Forward Research found her.”
Logan knew all about Forward Research. The group was composed of a dozen men and women who did nothing but recon for people who showed unparalleled skill in a given field. It was Forward Research who had discovered Logan three years ago. Now he was a specialist who met the most stringent mental and physical requirements of any national or international security force.
Putting his fury on hold momentarily to assuage his morbid curiosity, he asked, “Have you recruited her?”
“No.” Casey answered the question. “First, we wanted to see if you would have a problem with this approach.”
Yeah, right. Casey didn’t give one damn if Logan had a problem with it or not. If the woman could be gotten, the mission would go on.
“We know you don’t want to let all the months of hard work you and Jess put into this mission go down the proverbial drain,” Lucas said, placating him. “Erin Bailey is our only hope for salvaging this mission.”
Logan wanted to say to hell with the mission, Jess was dead. But an instinct too strongly entrenched wouldn’t allow him to do that. This mission was top priority. If their circumstances were reversed, Jess would feel the same.
“Where is she?” Logan asked roughly.
“In an Atlanta federal penitentiary.”
Logan looked from Lucas to the haunting photograph and back. “What’d she do?” The innocent-looking woman in the picture hardly looked capable of criminal activity. Another strike against her, Logan mused. How in the hell would she ever survive in Esteban’s world?
“Nothing, she says.” Amusement twinkled in Lucas’s eyes. “But then, all prisoners say that.”
“She tampered with the security systems of several large southeast corporations in order to drum up business for the small but rising cyber security company where she worked,” Casey explained. “She was sentenced to five years. She’s only served four months of her term and, from recent accounts, isn’t faring so well with prison life.”
A look passed between Lucas and Casey. Logan would just bet that the Bailey woman’s run of bad luck in her new prison life had more to do with Mission Recovery than fate. Mission Recovery liked to stack their deck.
Whatever the case, Logan picked up the folder and stared more closely at Erin Bailey. According to the accompanying physical description, she was approximately the same height and weight as Jess. Five-two, one hundred five pounds. He frowned. “Does she have any family? A boyfriend, maybe, who might create a problem?”
Lucas shook his head. “Not a soul. She was apparently engaged to her boss when she got busted. He swore under oath that he knew nothing of her criminal activities. I don’t think he misses her, considering the brunette hanging on his arm these days.”
Something about that little story didn’t sit right with Logan, but the woman’s personal problems weren’t his concern. “What makes you think she’ll go for it?” He leveled his gaze on Casey’s. “We all know just how much risk is involved.”
“Erin Bailey wants her life back.” Casey reached across his desk and took the folder from Logan. He fanned through the pages until he found the one he wanted. He glanced over it, then closed the folder and dropped it back onto the polished surface of his mahogany desk. “And I’d be willing to wager she wouldn’t turn down the opportunity for a little revenge. We already know that her boyfriend set her up. But, just in case she’s not interested, we’ve set a little incentive in motion. It’s all in the file.” Casey smiled, a gesture that made him seem almost human. “I’ve made arrangements for you to offer her a deal.”
Logan tensed inwardly. He wondered if the Bailey woman would be foolish enough to make a deal with the devil himself. But Logan wasn’t going to waste any time or energy trying to figure out who represented the biggest threat to Erin Bailey, Esteban or Mission Recovery.
“And if she accepts our offer?” Logan suggested.
The smile dissolved into the usual grim line that Logan associated with the unit’s new director. “Then you have one week to turn Erin Bailey into Jessica Taylor.”

ERIN WAS DREAMING. She was standing in the middle of a beautiful green meadow. Bluebonnets and daisies were sprinkled amid the sea of lush green. A wide-open blue sky spilled from the heavens as far as the eye could see, with only a puff of white here and there to disrupt the absolute infinity of pure blue color.
In the dream, Erin closed her eyes and spun around slowly. The tall grass tickled her ankles. It felt soft beneath her bare feet. The sweet smell was all around her. The scent of wildflowers…of rich, green grass…the smell of freedom—
“On your feet.”
Erin jolted awake, squinted through the darkness and tried to make out the silhouette hovering over her cot. Fear surged through her when a strong hand closed over her shoulder and shook her. Oh, God, what if Guard Roland had decided to make good on his threat? Or was it that inmate who seemed to have it in for her? Panic tightened around Erin’s chest. She wanted to scream, but the sound simply knotted in her throat.
“What—what’re you doing?” she managed to mumble around the lump of fear. It was well past midnight. The cellblock was deathly quiet.
“I said, on your feet,” the gruff voice repeated in a harsh whisper.
The voice was different. This wasn’t the guard who had threatened her. Relief washed over Erin as she scrambled from beneath the threadbare covers. Feeling her way, she pushed her feet into her shoes, stood and quickly righted her rumpled clothes.
The guard tugged first one hand then the other in front of her and handcuffed her wrists together. “Keep your mouth shut. I don’t want you waking up the whole damned block.”
He shined his flashlight in her face. Erin squeezed her eyes shut against the blinding light and nodded her understanding. The light vanished with a definite click. Where was he taking her at this time of night? What did he want? She frowned. Why had he handcuffed her? Before she could consider the questions further, the guard pushed her through the door, then closed and locked it behind him.
The rasp of leather soles on the concrete was the only sound as they passed cell after cell. The occasional cough or snore from a sleeping inmate splintered the dark silence from time to time, but no one roused enough to wonder or witness what was happening to Inmate 541-22.
Erin wanted desperately to ask where they were going, but fear kept her silent. Too many times she had seen inmates pay the price for disobedience. The guard had told her to keep her mouth shut, and she would. But, God help her, fear thudded in her heart, leaped in her pulse. How could she trust anyone in this place? The near darkness of the long corridor only served to sharpen her awareness of being locked up. How would she ever survive another four years and eight months here? Even the confined, sweaty odor of the place made her sick to her stomach.
At the final checkpoint, another guard opened the door leading from the cellblock. A dim circle of light from the desk lamp lit the female guard’s unsmiling features. The door slammed shut behind Erin and “her escort,” leaving her both relieved and anxious. Inside that cell she felt relatively safe from the evil that existed all around her, but at the same time she felt this pathetic world closing in on her in that six-by-nine cinder-block room.
Before they reached the main visitors area, the guard hesitated in front of one of the doors leading to an interview room. The same room where Erin had met with her lawyer on the two occasions he’d seen fit to show interest in her case.
“I’ll be waiting right here to take you back to your cell.” His words more warning than statement of fact, he opened the door and waited for her to enter the room.
“I don’t understand.” Erin felt the sudden, unbidden urge to run. “Why am I here?”
“Go on.” The guard gestured to the door. “You have a visitor.” This time his tone was clearly impatient, annoyed.
A visitor? For her? Had Jeff, the bastard, come to apologize? To tell her that this whole thing had been a huge misunderstanding? That she was free to go now? Erin almost laughed at that. He had used her. She gritted her teeth at the pain still simmering beneath the barely controlled surface she maintained. He had ruined her life, her career. Everything. She would never work in a position that required a security clearance again. And he had come out of the whole mess smelling like a rose. She had taken the fall for him. All his promises had been nothing more than lies.
Now she was paying the price for her naïveté.
Erin squared her shoulders and took a deep breath. Whoever was here to see her in the middle of the night, it wouldn’t be Jeff. It wouldn’t be her lawyer either. He had told her she was doomed from the beginning. Of course, Jeff had been the one who hired him. She had been such a fool.
The door closed with a loud clang behind her. Erin jerked at the sound of it locking. God, how she hated being locked up. As if on cue, the walls began to close in on her. How would she ever endure the remainder of her sentence? Her breath came in quick, shallow puffs. Fate and Jeff had left her without any choice. She was a prisoner and no one was going to rescue her as she’d foolishly prayed during her first month in this horrible place.
Calm down, she ordered herself. Focus on anything else. This room. She’d been here before. But this time it was only dimly lit. Since it was the middle of the night, no light shone in through the window on the far wall. A singular bulb spilled its sparse light over the empty table in the center of the room. The two mismatched chairs were vacant.
“Have a seat.”
Startled, Erin turned toward the sound of the voice. She didn’t recognize the tall, dark-haired man who stepped into the pool of light near the table. He’d been waiting there and she hadn’t even noticed. And she would definitely have remembered meeting a man as handsome as this one. Five o’clock shadow darkened his chin and chiseled jaw. The white cotton shirt he wore was a bit wrinkled. His jeans were slightly faded, worn enough to be comfortable. He looked rumpled, as if he had traveled a very long way or had just awakened and pulled on the same clothes he’d worn the day before.
Since he made no effort to introduce himself Erin didn’t ask. She crossed the room and settled into the chair on her side of the table that stood between them. She was a prisoner, without any rights to speak of. When she was told to jump, she did so. Erin had no intention of doing anything that might keep her in this place one minute longer than necessary.
The man sat down and began flipping through the file on the table before him. “My name is John Logan, Ms. Bailey, I’ve come here to offer you a proposition.” His gaze settled on hers then, watching, analyzing.
His eyes were disturbing, too seeing, and so brown they were almost black. Erin tamped down the anticipation that welled inside her. She would not get her hopes up that this man could somehow rescue her from the living hell her bad choices had plunged her into.
“It’s the middle of the night,” she countered. “Isn’t this an awfully odd hour to discuss business, Mr. Logan?”
Erin had learned the hard way that business conducted after hours was usually a little shady. Besides, she didn’t know this man. What kind of proposition could he possibly want to offer her? Could he be from the district attorney’s office? Maybe they had decided that pursuing Jeff was worthwhile after all. But her visitor’s manner of dress and the fact that it was definitely past business hours seemed to negate that possibility.
He closed the file and leaned back in his chair to assess her. Erin held his gaze. She would not give him the satisfaction of looking away. She was in prison, for God’s sake, what else could he do to her? Then she remembered the threats lurking within these very walls and she shuddered. There were too many despicable and degrading possibilities to consider.
“You’ve only completed four months of your sentence.” He scrubbed a hand over his jaw as if he were tired, and had no patience for any of this. “Five years is a very long time, Ms. Bailey.”
Erin twisted her right wrist inside the confining handcuffs. She still couldn’t understand why the guard handcuffed her for this meeting. She wasn’t a violent inmate. And she could definitely count. “I’m very much aware of the time I’m facing, Mr. Logan.”
He leaned forward, pressing her with that unsettling gaze. “Then I wouldn’t be complaining about what time of day or night my one hope for freedom came.”
Freedom? Who was this man? What was he talking about? “Who sent you here?” she demanded, afraid to believe his words and equally scared not to. The false hope his insinuations engendered in her was too cruel for words.
“I can’t tell you that.” He folded his arms on the table, covering the file that likely contained information about her. “And even if I told you, you wouldn’t know any more than you do now.”
“I don’t understand.” For the first time since stepping into the room, fear for her safety rocketed through Erin. Was the guard still outside as he had said he would be? “I think I should go back to my cell now.”
She started to stand, but his next words stopped her.
“I can make all this go away.”
That was impossible. “How can you do that?” she demanded, knowing full well it couldn’t be true. She lifted her chin and glared at him, daring him to prove his statement.
“The people I work for are very powerful. If you cooperate with us, they will clear your record. You’ll be free to resume your life in any way you see fit.”
That sounded too good to be true. There had to be a catch. “And what do I have to do in exchange?” She surveyed the angular features of his handsome face, lines and angles, shadow and light. His expression gave nothing away, nor did those dark, dark eyes. How could she trust him? No matter how good-looking he was, or how important he appeared to be. She didn’t know him. He was a stranger. A stranger with enough power to waltz into a federal prison in the middle of the night and have the guards at his beck and call. That realization sent a chill straight to her bones.
He studied her for a while before he responded to her question. “We need you for a mission that involves national security. You will assume someone else’s identity, and you’ll be working very closely with me. Without you, the mission will have to be aborted.”
National security? Someone else’s identity? “Whose identity?” She had to be dreaming. This couldn’t be real. Stuff like this only happened in the movies.
“You’ll be briefed on everything you need to know before the mission begins.” He lifted a briefcase from the floor and placed it on the table. Once he’d opened it, he placed the file inside, then closed the case and stood. He leveled his gaze back on hers. “Any questions?”
“Wait.” She resisted the urge to reach out to him, touch him…just to see if he was real. This was all far too unbelievable. Surely he couldn’t expect her to make a decision based on so little information. She had to know more. “I can’t make a decision without more details than what you’ve given me. And I’ll need time to think it over.”
Impatience pounded in the muscle jerking in his tightly clenched jaw. “We don’t have time. If you choose to cooperate, you will do exactly what I tell you, when I tell you. There will be no discussion.” He lifted the briefcase from the table. “Now, are you in or out?”
Erin shook her head. This was crazy. “What kind of mission? Where?”
“I can’t answer either of those questions. You will be given that information on a need to know basis, and right now you know all you need to. What’s your decision?”
A mixture of irritation and fear fueled Erin. “You can’t expect me to just say yes. There are things I have to know and consider.”
“Like what?” He cocked his handsome head and glared at her. “Like whether or not you’ll survive if Inmate Evans decides she wants to do to you what she did to that judge in Savannah?” He lifted a speculative eyebrow. “Or maybe you want to contemplate Guard Roland’s next move as the months and years of your sentence crawl by.”
How could he know those things? No one knew. She hadn’t told anyone. “Who are you?”
“I’m your fairy godfather, Erin Bailey. I can make your greatest wish come true. I can clear your name, and I can make your old friend Jeff pay for his evil deeds.” Logan stared directly into her eyes for two beats before he turned and strode away. He didn’t stop until he reached the door. He glanced back at her, his expression challenging, openly condescending. “Are you in or out?”
Erin swallowed the fear climbing into her throat. What if he was right? What if this was her one chance for freedom? I can make all this go away. The mere thought of Jeff getting his due made her giddy.
“There’s one thing I have to know,” she insisted, delaying her answer though anticipation bubbled inside her at that last thought.
Irritation rolled off the handsome stranger in waves, but he waited for her question just the same.
“This mission you want me to help with, is it dangerous?”
Something changed in his eyes. All signs of cockiness and condescension drained from his expression. Erin’s heart hammered violently in the silent seconds that elapsed before he answered.
“Very.”
The solitary word echoed around her, filling her with renewed desperation. His gaze never leaving hers, he pounded once on the door. It opened instantly. He walked out, leaving the door wide open. Allowing her to make her own decision.
In or out.

Chapter Two
Two little words. I’m in.
Logan had stared at her for what felt like an eternity, something vaguely like regret in those dark eyes, before he turned to the guard and informed him that he’d be taking Erin with him. The guard had immediately removed her handcuffs as if the warden himself had given the order. Heart still pounding, palms still sweating, and a full twenty minutes later she settled into the back seat of a large black SUV parked outside the main prison entrance. Every second of those twenty minutes had ticked by one by one in Erin’s frantic mind. It didn’t seem possible that it was really happening, but it was. She was free to go with this stranger who’d shown up in the middle of the night.
Logan closed her door then slid into the passenger seat next to the SUV’s waiting driver.
“Airport?” the guy behind the wheel asked.
“Yeah.”
The driver glanced at her in the rearview mirror, his gaze brief yet assessing. She shivered beneath that swift scrutiny, but quickly forced the uneasiness away. She had to be strong. This was too important to allow fear to get in her way. She was out! Giddiness made her tremble. A few more feet and she would be clear of the last remaining barriers of incarceration.
The vehicle eased into forward motion, gaining speed as it rolled down the long drive. Erin held her breath as the massive prison gates opened and they passed through unimpeded. Relief so profound surged through her that she felt light-headed with the drugging effect of it.
Ten or so seconds later reality broadsided her. What had she agreed to do? Fear slithered up her spine, freezing the sweet sense of relief in her veins, as she considered that she was being driven into the darkness, toward the unknown, by two complete strangers. Twisting around in her seat, she stared at the gray prison walls and the security fence as they left both behind. A tiny seed of hope sprouted deep inside her at the realization that she was really leaving that awful place. This was not a dream, waking or sleeping. Whatever she’d signed on to do, it had started. She was out!
When the bright security lights were a dim glow in the distance she turned back to face front again. To face the consequences of the decision she’d made.
Gone was the prison garb she’d despised so. In its place she wore the jeans, T-shirt and sneakers she’d arrived in four months ago. The rest of her personal effects, ID, jewelry, pictures, etcetera, remained in a large padded envelope now in Logan’s possession. He’d told her she wouldn’t need them right now. A new thought occurred to her then. She chewed her lower lip as her anxiety spiked again. Had she traded one kind of prison for another? Where were they going? What would happen after they arrived?
“Why are we going to the airport?” Her voice sounded small in the oppressive silence. Surely they didn’t expect to keep the intended destination a secret from her at this point.
“We have a plane to catch,” Logan said without looking back at her. “That’s all you need to know right now.”
She opened her mouth to argue, but snapped it shut again. There was no point demanding answers when she knew he wouldn’t give them. The last thing she wanted to do was antagonize the man since her fate lay squarely in his hands. The prison had signed over responsibility of her to him. She was in his charge, at his mercy.
Just like with Jeff.
She shuddered inwardly at the flash of memories that accompanied that last thought. No. That wasn’t completely true. This man was nothing like her former fiancé. The information Logan had given her so far—paltry as it was—did appear to be the truth. He worked for the government, she was as certain as she could be of that. She’d seen his credentials and the jurisdiction paperwork when he’d signed for her release. No one at the prison—not even her, not really—had questioned anything. The idea of gaining her freedom once more had been far too tempting for her to think rationally.
But now those more rational thoughts wouldn’t abate. He’d said he needed her for a mission that involved national security. She would assume someone else’s identity. The mission was very dangerous. But what kind of expertise or experience could she offer this man or her country?
A new kind of stress churned inside her, turning her insides to ice, threatening to shatter her. She fought it. Hugged her arms around her middle and forced herself to remain calm, at least on the surface. She would have the answers she needed when the right time came. He’d assured her of that. There was no need for her to come unglued just yet.
She squared her shoulders and lifted her chin. Whatever it took to get her life back she would do it. She wasn’t the trusting little naïve fool she’d been two years ago. She’d learned the hard way not to trust anyone, most especially a man who put his work before all else. Her gaze went automatically to the back of John Logan’s dark head. A man like him, she knew instinctively. Well, she didn’t have to trust him in that way. And she definitely had no plans to get to know him intimately. This was a business deal. All she had to do was follow his instructions and she’d have her life back. She wanted that more than she wanted to take her next breath.
Whatever happened tomorrow, one thing was irrefutable—right now, this minute, she was free again.
That would have to be enough.
She’d gotten through the last four months one day at a time, she’d get through this the same way.
To her surprise, they didn’t go to Hartfield, Atlanta’s International Airport, as Erin had assumed they would. Instead the driver parked near a hangar at Atlanta’s favored alternate, PDK Airport. The plane, small jet actually, the kind corporate executives used, gleamed in the runway lights. She followed Logan and the driver in that direction. As far as she could see only one man waited nearby.
“We’re fueled and ready for flight,” the new man said to Logan. Almost as tall as Logan, he was older, but looked every bit as physically fit.
The pilot, Erin decided. Despite his rugged profile, he looked friendly enough. In her opinion, none of these guys really looked like secret agents. Well, except for Logan. He did have that aura of danger…a kind of sexy mystique. Then again, all she had to go by was what she’d seen in the movies. Probably not good examples, she decided.
Exhaustion and anxiety clawing at her frazzled nerves, she exhaled a loud, heavy breath. She hadn’t meant to, it just came out, igniting instead of releasing a tide of new anxiety. Logan and the driver from the SUV turned simultaneously and stared at her. Erin swallowed, trying her level best not to let those piercing stares undo her already flimsy bravado.
After a moment that lasted far too long, Logan turned his attention back to the pilot. “We’ll be ready in five.”
The man, pilot, whatever, nodded and headed toward the plane. The SUV driver, who was slighter and somewhat shorter in build than the other two, followed. She decided that he was of Latin descent, though his English was perfect and was spoken with no accent at all.
Erin felt Logan’s intense gaze on her long before she worked up the nerve to make eye contact. Unable to pretend not to notice any longer, she stiffened her spine and met that assessing gaze head-on. Whatever he expected of her she could do it, she told herself again. She had to do it.
“Last chance, Bailey. What’s it going to be? You still in?”
How could he think she’d back out now? She’d come this far. She sure as heck wasn’t returning to that prison. “Of course I’m still in,” she said sharply, though her voice sounded a little shaky and a lot hollow to her own ears.
That dark, dark gaze bored deeply into hers. For just a second Erin was sure she saw concern, or something on that order, then he banished it.
“All right. But don’t say I didn’t offer you an out.”
Before Erin could string together an appropriate retort, he turned and strode to the waiting jet. She blinked, suddenly uncertain of herself all over again. He’d given her one last chance to change her mind. She hadn’t taken it. Was that a mistake? If she boarded that plane would she ever see Atlanta again? Was her passion for freedom going to be a death wish in the end?
There was no one she could turn to. No one who even cared, or who would miss her when she was gone. Her parents had died years ago. She had no siblings. And Jeff, well, he’d been a total jerk. He sure wouldn’t miss her. The fact that she didn’t have any friends to call upon was no one’s fault but her own. She’d always been too busy with work. Work, work, work. That’s all she’d done since graduating college three years ago. Now look at her. Following a complete stranger to God knows where to do only the Devil knew what.
Erin Bailey, this is your life.
And it sucked.
Logan paused a few feet away from the open boarding door. “It’s the point of no return, Bailey. If you’re still a go, don’t look back because nothing about your life will ever be the same again.”
She couldn’t have replied even if she’d thought of something exceedingly witty to say. Her throat had closed with fear and a few other emotions she’d just as soon not analyze at the moment. In spite of it all, or maybe because of it, her feet moved her forward, toward the unknown. Toward this man who offered her everything and yet nothing at all.
He didn’t have to worry, she wouldn’t look back.

LESS THAN thirty minutes after liftoff from Atlanta’s PDK Airport, Erin Bailey was sleeping like a baby. That shouldn’t bother Logan, but it did. He’d seen the fear in her eyes the moment he offered her the deal. She’d hesitated, but the desire to have her freedom back was too great. She’d caved as readily as a sand-castle in the evening tide. Even the fact that he refused to answer her most elementary questions hadn’t dissuaded her for more than a fleeting moment.
He’d given her one last chance to change her mind before they boarded the aircraft and she’d refused. What happened from this point forward was no longer his responsibility.
Yeah, right.
Like he could change how he felt about the players or this mission. It was dangerous, even for a seasoned undercover field operative. For Erin Bailey it was a suicide mission. On some level she recognized that cold hard fact. He’d seen the truth in her eyes back there on that landing strip. But she’d reined in her fear and climbed aboard anyway.
She was made out of stronger stuff than he’d first given her credit. He’d ordered her to get some sleep as soon as they hit cruising altitude. She’d obeyed, probably more from exhaustion than motivation to please him.
The next six days would provide the rest of the story. There wasn’t time to teach her everything she needed to know. All Logan could hope for was to prevent a catastrophe by pushing her beyond all limits to see if she’d break. If she couldn’t tolerate the pressure, she would get them both killed and blow any future prospects of getting close to Esteban. Testing her mental and physical strength was Logan’s primary objective. He had to know just how much she could handle. Once she’d proven her ability to keep it together then he would give her an abbreviated course in illegal drugs and military weapons. It wasn’t necessary that she know as much as Jess had, but it was crucial that she appear knowledgeable.
One wrong word, one wrong move in Esteban’s or any of his people’s presence and she was dead.
Logan closed his eyes and leaned back in his seat. God, he didn’t want to do this, but there was simply no other way. Jess would do the same if she were still alive. It didn’t seem right that she was gone. They’d worked together for three years. She was the best partner he’d ever had. He opened his eyes and turned his head toward his new, temporary partner whose looks and advanced computer skills had gotten her into this predicament.
Erin Bailey was pretty and soft in a more feminine way than Jess had been. But Bailey would never be able to match Jess’s extraordinary skill as an operative—not in a week, not in three years, nor in a thousand. Bailey knew nothing of this life except the nonsense she’d likely seen in movies or read about in books. The life of an international spy was not nearly so glamorous and was far more dangerous than the entertainment industry portrayed it. If Bailey thought she was merely going to play a role in the latest James Bond film, she had a rude awakening coming.
She had no idea just how much danger she was in already and the mission hadn’t even begun.

DAWN WAS STREAKING its way across the horizon as Erin half stumbled off the plane. Her legs felt weak and rubbery. It was hard to believe she’d slept the entire flight. She scrubbed the last vestiges of sleep from her eyes and tried to focus on her new, unfamiliar surroundings. Distant mountains were surrounded by desertlike terrain that sprawled for as far as the eye could see in the purple hues of dawn. The air smelled different. Fresher, yet thinner somehow.
“Where…” she cleared her throat “…where are we?”
Logan, sans briefcase, slowed his pace only long enough to toss a glance over his shoulder. “Mexico. A few kilometers from San Cristobal.”
Frowning her confusion, Erin followed him to the waiting Jeep. Mexico? What was in Mexico? she wondered. The mission, obviously, judging by his brisk determination to get the show on the road. She glanced around once more. The area was desolate. No houses, not even a gas station. She tried to calculate how long they’d been in the air, but couldn’t since she wasn’t sure what time they’d left the prison. Four or five hours, she supposed.
Logan had awakened her a few minutes before the pilot had started the descent. He’d suggested she have some coffee and use the facilities since they were in for a long ride when they hit the ground. Erin had obediently complied. The coffee had been to die for. If Logan had made it, he was a true master. Sweet rolls had also been available, but Erin had opted not to start the day off with a sugar rush. Then again, she eyed the alien surroundings once more, maybe she should have. She climbed into the back seat of the Jeep and suddenly felt utterly empty. But she was pretty sure the emptiness had more to do with anxiety than hunger.
She was in deep trouble here. Was her freedom really worth coming to a foreign country to help in an unknown capacity on a very dangerous secret mission? She remembered quite clearly, he’d said very dangerous. What if these guys weren’t even government agents? What if the credentials were fakes? Fear mushroomed inside her, making her chest tight. Why hadn’t she thought of that before?
Well, it was a little late to be considering turning back now. Logan had said that once she boarded that plane there was no going back. Though she’d known him less than twenty-four hours, she had the distinct impression he didn’t say anything he didn’t mean.
Her heart thudded harder, sending a new rush of adrenaline through her. Running wasn’t an option. She surveyed the desolate area once more. They’d catch her easily and even if by some stroke of luck they didn’t, she’d never survive long enough to find her way to civilization. Camping skills had never been her strong suit. Her sense of direction was nonexistent and she didn’t have a clue how to locate water in the desert or how to ignite a fire by rubbing sticks together. She was a city girl through and through.
The man who’d driven the SUV swung behind the wheel of the Jeep. “Here we go, then,” he offered in a tone far too chipper for the occasion. Erin saw no levity whatsoever in the situation. She was likely going to die very soon and there was nothing she could do about it since she was still a prisoner with no rights—and these two men were her new guards.
Logan slid a pair of expensive-looking sunglasses into place and said something to the driver that she couldn’t quite hear over the noisy engine. The driver nodded and pressed a little harder on the accelerator. Clutching the seat to keep from bouncing out of the vehicle, Erin studied John Logan for the first time. She’d been too shocked when they initially met at the prison to give him more than a cursory once-over, then it had been dark in the SUV on the way to the airport. Promptly falling asleep in flight had been nice, but had left her no time to consider the man who now basically owned her soul.
He was handsome. She’d noticed that before. Morning stubble further darkened his chiseled jaw, adding to his aura of danger. His skin was deeply tanned. She wondered if he spent most of his time in this type of climate. With his shirt sleeves rolled up she could see well-muscled forearms indicating strength. He was tall. She’d guess in the neighborhood of six-one or -two. Lean frame. He didn’t say a lot, at least not to her. But when he did speak his voice was deep, resonate. Commanding, yet not harsh.
His hair was cut in one of those short styles where it swept up and back nicely without any help from designer mousse or styling gel. He had good hair. Silky, but full-bodied. She inclined her head for a better view of his broad shoulders. Wide and strong. Dependable yet—
He looked directly at her as if she’d spoken her thoughts aloud. Startled, she sucked in a harsh breath. He couldn’t have heard her, but he removed his shades and glanced down at her chest as if he had. His gaze lingered there, making her pulse react, before moving slowly back up to her face.
“Is there something on your mind, Bailey?”
She shook her head, then shouted over the wind and engine noise, “I’m fine.”
He stared at her for two beats longer before turning away. Erin closed her eyes then and released the breath she’d been holding. She would be stronger than this. No way could she let his every word and every look rattle her. She had to be ready for whatever this mission required of her. This was her only chance to get her life back. No matter how dangerous, she had to make it.
Going back to that prison was not an option.

“WHAT IS THIS PLACE?” Erin asked, her voice sounding oddly loud after the two-hour trip with nothing but the grind and growl of the Jeep’s engine.
The driver had parked the Jeep outside what looked like an ancient city, then disappeared inside its walls. Erin lifted an eyebrow in skepticism as she scanned the crumbling buildings once more. Ruins would be a more apt description than city. Her history and geography were a little rusty, but she recognized the architecture was far from contemporary in any sense of the word.
“Let’s go, Bailey.”
Startled, she looked around to find Logan waiting outside the Jeep for her. He offered his hand. Still stunned or maybe numb, she accepted, allowing him to help her down from the vehicle. His hand felt warm around hers. Warm and steady. Something she needed desperately at the moment.
“What is this place?” she asked again, her curiosity definitely piqued.
“For the next six days it’s home,” he told her without actually telling her anything at all.
When he would have started forward, she snagged him by the arm. His skin felt hot beneath her fingers. She quickly jerked her hand back and flexed her tingling fingers, struggling to remember what she’d intended to say.
“What now?” he groused, frowning down at her from behind those infernal glasses.
She dragged her gaze back to the village before them. That was it. The place looked like an ancient village fallen upon hard times, deserted by its people. “How did you find this place?” She looked back up at him for the good it did with those dark lenses shielding his eyes. “Is this where the mission takes place?” She shook her head then. “None of this makes any sense. I don’t understand.” She gestured vaguely to the village. “What does this have to do with national security?”
He removed the glasses, tucked them into his shirt pocket and leveled that dark as midnight gaze on her. “This is our temporary training post.” He nodded in the direction of the throng of mud huts and rustic stucco buildings. “The governor of Chiapas lent it to us because he owed my deputy director a favor. We have everything we need here. Now come on.” He urged her forward. “I’ll give you the grand tour. Then we’ll eat.” He glanced down at her, his eyebrow arched in clear skepticism this time. “You’re going to need your strength. Lesson one starts this afternoon.”
Erin followed Logan into what looked like a deserted building. A command post had been set up in the dilapidated chapel in the center of the village. Satellite communications—as well as older, less technically advanced radio-transmission systems—were in place. Two computers were up and running, linked to the Net. A massive generator provided the needed power.
There was what Logan called a mess hall and a physical training room. The bathing facilities weren’t glamorous, but they had hot running water, soap and shampoo. What more could a girl on a dangerous mission ask for? Might as well look on the bright side, she told herself, rallying her make-the-best-of-it spirit.
Six of the smaller buildings had been prepared for lodging, Logan explained as they approached the first one of the group. “This one,” he told her, “is yours.” Then he pointed to the hut directly in front of hers. “I’ll be there.”
She poked her head inside the room he’d indicated as hers and was pleasantly surprised by the small but comfortable-looking cot. “It’s better than I expected,” she admitted as she turned back to him. “I was certain there’d be a sleeping bag on the ground in there.” She tried for a smile, but didn’t quite make it. She was just too tired and this was all far too overwhelming to work up enough enthusiasm no matter how hard she wanted to.
But it’s real, she kept telling herself. And she was free. That’s all that mattered, right?
Erin glanced around at the dozen or so armed men moving about. Well, maybe free wasn’t precisely the right word.
“After I’ve evaluated your strengths and weaknesses, we’ll move on to the finer details you’ll need for this mission.”
Here she was, way down in Mexico, right next to Guatemala if memory served her correctly, and she hadn’t a clue why she was here. “Can you tell me more about the mission?” A girl could ask, she mused.
“This way, Bailey,” he offered in reply, smoothly changing the course of the conversation, as well as her little sight-seeing tour.
The next building they entered was one of the largest and very dimly lit. An oily smell she couldn’t readily identify hit her nostrils with the first breath she took. She squinted to better make out the boxes stacked around the room. Crates, she realized, wooden crates. Logan paused at the first one of three she counted. She peered inside. Instinctively she drew back at what she saw.
Guns. Lots of guns.
“M9 Personal Defense Weapon,” Logan announced as he displayed one of the mean-looking guns from the crate. “Weapon of choice in personal defense.”
“M4 Carbine,” he went on, putting the first one aside and reaching for another, seemingly oblivious to her appalled expression. “Lightweight, magazine fed, selective rate, shoulder fired weapon. Even in tight quarters, a target can be engaged at extended range with accurate, lethal fire. Every terrorist’s wet dream.”
“Wait!” Erin backed away another step, her heart beginning to hammer. “I don’t understand. Why are you telling me about these weapons?”
Tears welled unbidden. This was insane and what was worse she was going to cry. She hated crying. It made her feel weak. “I don’t know anything about guns or terrorists or even personal defense.” She lengthened the distance between them by another step, blinking furiously to hold back the infuriating tears. “Just tell me the truth, Logan. What am I doing here?” She flung her arm toward the weapons he appeared to gloat over. “What is all this?”
His glare was as lethal as the weapon he held in those strong, too capable hands. “This,” he ground out, “is just a taste of what you need to know.” He put down the weapon and started in her direction. She wanted to run, but froze instead. Those dark, dark eyes held her in a kind of trance. “You have six days, Bailey. Six days to learn what I have to teach you. And this is only scratching the surface. Then we go in, ready or not.”
She trembled. “What if…what if I can’t do it?” She couldn’t. She was suddenly as sure of it as she’d ever been of anything in her whole life. This was impossible. She couldn’t do this. Not for freedom, not for vengeance, not for anything.
Logan stopped mere inches from her, staring down at her with a face wiped clean of emotion. Her pulse thundered with the fear exploding inside her.
“Then you have six days to live,” he said quietly, so damned quietly she wanted to scream. “Because on the seventh, we’ll both be dead.”

Chapter Three
She’d slowed down considerably. Logan resisted the urge to slow his own pace. She had to keep up or at least attempt to. Even if he had the luxury of time, which he didn’t, there was no place in any of this for misguided sympathies or regrets. She’d signed on to do this despite the numerous opportunities he’d given her to change her mind, opportunities he’d had no authority to give. But he’d needed to be sure.
For five days now he had pushed Erin Bailey hard. She’d held up far better than he’d expected, but it was catching up to her now. Again he forced away the need to look over his shoulder and check on her. Five days and he still hadn’t concluded his evaluation, was far from certain about anything. Sure, she managed to scrape by physically. She’d obviously been a runner before checking into Atlanta’s premiere federal resort. But holding up physically wouldn’t be enough. She had to be able to take the mental pressure.
He clenched his jaw and commanded his body to move forward, his long legs eating up the ground beneath him as his second wind kicked in, sending endorphins rushing through his veins. The hot desert sand sucked at his running shoes while the scorching morning sun milked the sweat from him, but he ignored both. He banished images of Erin Bailey’s struggle to keep up. She spent entirely too much unnecessary time in his head lately. He didn’t want to think about her as a person…only her ability to perform as his partner and the mission.
The mission…nothing else mattered.
“I can’t go any farther.”
Logan wanted desperately to disregard the feeble cry that came from some ten meters behind him. He wanted this mission over, wanted to pretend that certain death wasn’t lurking a mere forty-eight hours away. He slowed to a stop, braced his hands on his hips and took a moment to catch his breath, to compose himself really, before double-timing it back to where Bailey had stalled. She was bent over at the waist, her palms resting on her knees for support. He didn’t have to look to know that her arms and legs would be quivering with weakness. He’d pushed her harder today than the last two put together.
“Suck it up, partner, it’s five miles back to camp.” He swiped away the sweat rolling down his forehead. “We don’t have all day.”
She dropped to her knees in the sand, then stared up at him, squinting against the sun at his back. “I said—” she gasped for breath between each word “—I have to rest.”
He shifted just enough to allow the sun to beat down more fully on her. Her right hand automatically went up to shield her face. “While you’re resting,” he suggested, obviously going soft since he didn’t have it in him to drag her to her feet, “tell me about yourself.”
A few seconds passed before she responded. In that time Logan noted far more than he wanted to. Her blond hair, though pulled back in a ponytail, was mussed and slipping loose now. Long, silky wisps clung to the damp skin of her neck. Her face was flushed with exhaustion. Heavy-duty sunscreen was all that kept her delicate complexion from burning beneath the sun’s savagery. The rapid rise and fall of her chest stole his attention momentarily and before he could stop it. Her sweat-soaked T-shirt clung to her, outlining her breasts and disrupting his own heart rate.
“My name is Sara Wilks.” She scrubbed both hands over her face, then dropped them to her knees and pushed to her feet. She took a moment to regain her equilibrium and Logan resisted the urge to reach out and steady her.
She frowned petulantly. “But you call me Baby.”
She didn’t like his pet name for her, but it was the easiest way to go considering he didn’t have time for her to get used to Sara. He’d called Jess “Baby” often enough in front of the right people for it to work. Both he and Jess had taken variations on their own names for their cover. As far as Esteban was concerned, he was Logan Wilks and Jess was his wife Sara.
“I’m twenty-five,” she continued, then sucked in a desperate breath. “And I’m from Atl—”
He bit back the curse that sprang to the tip of his tongue. “You’re from where?” he demanded sharply.
“Austin,” she spat, shading her eyes once more so that she could glare at him. “Austin, Texas. I like guns…any kind. And if you mess with me, I’ll kill you.”
She said the last with a little more conviction than usual. Logan had the distinct impression that she meant it. “How long have we been together?” He started to walk, turning back to see that she followed.
“Three years.” She smiled saccharinely before starting forward. “My momma warned me about guys like you, but I didn’t listen. I just wanted out of Texas.”
Logan grinned. That was new. He liked it. “What about guys like me?” he prodded as he eased into a jog.
“You lie. You cheat. You steal.” She fell into stride next to him. “You do whatever necessary to get the job done. You’re former military. Got busted for drugs and went AWOL before you were court-martialed. You’ve killed five men, two for looking at me the wrong way.”
So far so good. Just the one slip. He was impressed. She was doing much better today than yesterday. “What was our last job?”
“We smuggled some weapons from Canada to a militia group in Montana.” She shot him a sideways glance. “Almost got caught, too, because you pissed off one of the guys with the buyer.”
“Very good.” Logan picked up the pace, she did the same. “And the one before that.”
“Drug smuggling. The Mexican authorities are still looking for us.”
“Then maybe we’d better get back to camp before they catch us out here in the open,” he said nonchalantly.
Her eyes went wide for the space of one beat, then she shot him a drop-dead look before breaking into a full-fledged sprint. About time she got her second wind, Logan mused as he surged forward, easily catching up with her.
Yep, she was determined. That much was certain. She could hold her own physically. It was the fright factor that had him worried. There was only one way to measure her ability to cope with that part. He forced away a prick of regret. He had no choice. Erin Bailey’s life, as well as his own, depended upon her reactions.
He had to know what they would be.
And time was running out.

“GOOD GOD, BAILEY, you’re dead already. In a real time situation, a miss gives your target an opportunity to return fire.”
Erin tossed her weapon onto the sand and stomped toward Logan. “That’s it.” She glared at him. Her pulse reacted instantly. God, she hated that. All week she’d been fighting this insane little physical attraction to the big jerk. “I’m calling it a day.” It was almost dark after all and she was beat. They’d been at this since before dawn. She couldn’t think, much less get a bead on a target.
“And nothing you can say will change my mind.”
She stopped right in front of him and dared him to argue.
She should have known better.
Those dark eyes fairly glittered with annoyance. “Pick up your weapon, Bailey.”
It wasn’t as much his ruthless tone as it was the expression on that handsome face: He was madder than hell. The reality gave Erin pause, but she didn’t budge.
“Now,” he added in a lethal growl.
Her jaw clenched, Erin spun away from him. “Jerk,” she muttered as she strode back to the abandoned weapon. A few other choice expletives flashed through her mind as she retrieved the black 9 mm weapon. What the hell had she been thinking agreeing to this crazy scheme? Clearly Jeff’s betrayal and her subsequent time in prison had affected her more profoundly than she’d realized. She whipped back toward her overbearing mentor prepared to demand what he wanted her to do now and found herself face to chest with him.
“Take aim at that target like you want to hit it,” he ordered curtly.
She wanted to hit something all right, but it wasn’t the human silhouette hanging on the other side of the makeshift firing range. Still, she did as she was told since she couldn’t be completely sure of what he’d do if she didn’t. She braced her left hand beneath her right wrist and closed one eye to peer down the barrel.
“Feet shoulder width apart.”
The sharply snapped command came at the same instant that a strong arm wrapped around her waist and hauled her against a hard male physique. Her breath caught. With her body held firmly against him, Logan kicked her feet apart.
“Now, fire,” he ordered.
She obeyed. Her arm flew up with the recoil. The shot went to the right of the target.
Logan swore under his breath. One powerful arm still pinning her waist, he reached out with the other and held her arm steady. “Take your time, Bailey,” he said, his mouth close to her ear. Too close. She could feel his warm breath on the sensitive skin there. “Focus. Hitting that target could mean the difference between life and death. You do want to live, don’t you, Baby?”
“Yes,” she hissed.
She hated it when he called her that, but, at the moment, very distracting sensations were bombarding her, eliminating any possibility of a clever rebuttal. The feel of him, hard, undeniably male, pressed against her buttocks, along the backs of her thighs. His arm around her, fingers splayed just beneath her breast. Oh, and the heady scent—male sweat mixed with his own unique musky smell… Seven long months of abstinence were finally taking their toll.
“Focus,” he murmured thickly.
Erin frowned. Was it her imagination, or was he holding her even more tightly now? Before she could sort through the new awareness generated by his unexpected reaction, he ordered, “Fire!”
She obeyed.
And missed yet again.
He muttered a stinging curse.
“You have to focus, Bailey!” He released her and stormed a few feet away as if needing the distance. He glared first at her, then at the unmarred silhouette.
She struggled to steady herself after the abrupt absence of his body against hers. A whole new barrage of sensations flooded her now. Need, sharp and demanding. And desire, dammit. Desire and disappointment. Disappointment at no longer having him near…for failing to please him.
God, she had lost whatever mind she had left.
He turned toward her then, the savage look on his face sending her stumbling back a couple of steps. “Forty-eight hours, Bailey.” He moved closer. “Two days. That’s all we have left. You’ve got to try harder.”
She shook her head in protest of his accusation. “I’m doing the best I can.”
“You have to do better.” He stopped directly in front of her and stared down at her with a fierceness that undid the last of her bravado. “Tell me about the weapon you seem to be having so much trouble using.”
She hesitated.
Logan cursed himself for the fool he was.
How could Lucas think for one minute that he could do this? There was no way she would be ready. Physical endurance wasn’t nearly enough.
“The weapon, Baby,” he snapped. “Tell me about the weapon you’re holding.”
“Don’t call me that,” she shouted back, sounding tired and disgusted.
He inclined his head and glared at her. “Get used to it. Now tell me about the weapon.”
Distress instantly replaced any anger she’d shown. Bailey stared at the gun in her hand as if it could somehow answer for her. “It’s a 9 mm…ah…” She shook her head and lifted her gaze back to his. “I can’t remember what kind.”
Those huge violet eyes shimmered with uncertainty and no small amount of fear. He swore again, silently this time. He had to find a way to tap into her anger. When she was angry she tried harder, fought back.
“Then tell me about mine.” He held the weapon up where she could see it. “I gave you a block of instruction on both a few hours ago.”
She chewed her lower lip, giving away her every emotion. Jess would never have done that.
“Forty cal Glock,” he barked impatiently as he showed her both sides of the weapon. “Weapon of choice these days by most federal agencies. Similar in weight and size to the 9 mm, but with more deadly force. Combat Tupperware.”
She shook her head, defeat sagging her shoulders. “I hate guns,” she admitted. “I don’t want to know anything about them.”
Fury charged through him. He snagged her right hand, drawing the weapon up where she had no choice but to look at it. He was out of time. He had to know now if she could take the heat. It was the only way. He hated the idea of putting her through what was to come…except his options were sorely limited. He’d come to that conclusion last night and had made the necessary arrangements for their next adventure.
“This is a Beretta,” he explained. “Very popular. Light weight, efficient.” He tightened his fingers around hers. “This weapon could save your life.”
She shook her head again, tears brimming this time. Just what he needed. “I can’t do this. You’ve got the wrong girl for the job.”
He let go of her hand. “You have to do it. And you’re the only girl for the job.”
“You might as well take me back to Atlanta.” Her fearful gaze collided with his. “I could never shoot anyone.” She closed her eyes and drew in a ragged breath. “I just can’t do it, Logan. Face it. This isn’t going to work.”
Wrong answer. They’d come too far to back out now. He wouldn’t let her give up just yet. “When you have an extreme situation, Bailey, you have to take extreme measures. Remember that.”
Before she could fathom his intent, he’d pressed the barrel of his Glock against her forehead. Disbelief registered on her face. “What’re you doing?”
“The question is what’re you going to do, Bailey? You’ve got a gun pointed directly at your head. You have to do something.”
“This is crazy. You’ve—”
“Do something, Bailey! If you hesitate, you’re dead.”
“Wait!”
“I dragged you into this messy situation. I’ve been pushing you day and night. Fight back! Do something!”
“I…I can’t do what you need me to do.”
“Then you’ll die.” A definite click echoed around them as he cocked his weapon. “Do something, Bailey. Do it now!”
That deer-in-the-headlights look captured her expression as the color drained from her face. She lifted the Beretta, jabbed it toward him as if that alone were a monumental effort.
“It’s going to take more than that. Shoot,” he commanded, “or I will.”
She trembled. Once. Twice. Her spine stiffened. “You’re bluffing,” she challenged, a glimmer of courage peeking past the fear in her eyes.
“Do you really want to take that chance? What exactly do you know about me? Are you sure you can trust me? I could kill you and who would know?” He leaned forward, putting himself nose-to-nose with her. “Who would care?”
Fury tightened her lips.
About time.
He pressed the barrel a little harder against her. “Who’s going first, Baby, you or me?”
He saw the subtle change in her eyes a fraction of a second before the resounding snap of the Beretta’s empty chamber announced that she had, indeed, depressed the trigger.
A smile slid across his face as surprise, then confusion and fear claimed her features. And here he’d worried she didn’t have it in her. “Very good, Bailey.”
The spent weapon fell from her limp fingers. “You son of a bitch.” The luster of fear disappeared from her eyes and was quickly replaced by glittering anger. “You knew it was empty. You goaded me into—” She moved in the last remaining inches between them and glared up at him. “You knew it was empty and you put me through that!”
Right on both counts. He’d known she’d used her last round and he’d worn a vest. He never went on a firing range with a newbie without sporting Kevlar. He hadn’t lived this long by being stupid. “At least we know now that you can shoot a man if you have to.”
In a metamorphosis that surprised him, she reared back and shoved hard at his chest with both hands, unbalancing him momentarily. “You are a jerk, Logan! And I’ve had enough!” Her eyes flared with fury. “Cut the cloak-and-dagger crap and tell me what’s going on! Why am I here?”
This was much more like it. He’d been waiting for her to demand some answers, had about decided it wasn’t going to happen. Damned if the woman wasn’t full of surprises.
“All right.” He tucked his weapon back into the waistband of his jeans. “Pablo Esteban is the most powerful man alive in the cocaine trade. Everybody from the CIA to DEA wants him…has tried to nail him, but he’s too clever. He never makes a mistake. Never leaves Colombia. Never gets caught in a compromising position.”
Logan erased a new line of sweat from his brow with his forearm, then rested his hands on his hips. “About a year ago he branched out into the arms trade. Now he steals military weapons and sells them to the lowlife around the globe. We’re going to stop him, but first we have to find out who’s leaking him the info on where and when to find the weapons.”
Glistening with perspiration, Bailey’s skin took on a definite greenish quality as she absorbed all that he said. Though still clearly angry, she looked on the verge of tossing her lunch. “Oh, God.”
Obviously what he’d told her was far more than she’d bargained for.
“How can we stop him?” she asked wanly.
“We’ll get to that,” Logan assured her. That was enough information for her to assimilate at the moment. “For now, just be glad you can do what you have to if the need arises.” He chucked her on the shoulder. “Surely if you can shoot me, you can shoot the bad guys.”
The reality of what she’d done seemed to hit her full force all over again. Her stance wilted. Any lingering anger dissolved, leaving those big eyes suspiciously bright. “I didn’t mean to…I just…”
He picked up her weapon, popped in a fresh clip. “Defended yourself,” he finished for her. “That’s a start.”
“Oh my…” Her hand flew to her mouth. Fainting appeared a distinct possibility.
“Sit. Put your head between your knees,” he ordered.
The sound of engines roaring in the distance drew Logan’s attention to the west. Phase two was about to begin. If she passed out now that would screw up everything.
“Who’s that?”
His gaze locked with hers. “Run!”
She stiffened, instantly alert. “What is it?”
He refused to acknowledge the renewed fear in her eyes. “Looks like the governor double-crossed me.”
She frowned, confusion overriding her fear for the moment. “What?”
He thrust the Beretta at her. “Remember, we’re wanted drug smugglers in this country. Run, dammit!”
As if in slow motion, Erin turned in the direction of the approaching sound. Three Jeeps were speeding toward them. The men inside the vehicles all wore khaki uniforms. It took another couple of seconds for her mind to wrap around the realization that it was the authorities.
Logan tugged her forward.
How far away was the camp? Two miles? They’d never make it. The Jeep they’d arrived in was more than a hundred yards away. They wouldn’t even make it that far.
A cloud of dust swept over them. Engines roaring, the vehicles surrounded them. Erin’s heart pounded harder. Logan suddenly skidded to a stop and pulled her behind him. Her mind raced with the possibilities, all too horrible to say out loud.
This couldn’t be happening.
Blackness threatened her for the second time today. She sucked in a ragged breath and fought to stay vertical and alert. Voices echoed. Logan moved in a circle, keeping her behind him as he faced the threat.
When the dust settled, more than a dozen weapons were trained on them. Erin clutched Logan’s shirt. What could they do? Nothing. They couldn’t possibly fight this many men.
“Remember everything I taught you, Bailey,” Logan muttered over his shoulder.
“Caiga sus armas!”
Erin jerked at the harsh order for them to drop their weapons.
It was over.
They were dead and it wasn’t even the seventh day.

SHE WAS STILL ALIVE.
That in itself felt like a miracle.
Erin paced the primitive cell. It was larger than the one she’d called home back in Atlanta, but lacked the modern conveniences. She glanced at what passed for a toilet and sink and grimaced. Well, at least she was alive.
She stalled in the middle of her dingy surroundings and prayed the same was true of Logan. The police had separated them as soon as they arrived at the prison camp. She’d been practically strip-searched. Thank God she’d been allowed to keep on her underwear. She closed her eyes and fought the urge to cry. Unlike in the United States, there had been no female chaperone during the proceedings. Once the guard had given her a thorough once-over, he’d told her to get dressed.
The interrogation had begun then. They’d questioned her for over two hours. Erin hugged her arms around herself and tried to ease the weak but steady trembling rampant in her. She’d managed to stick to her story. She was Sara Wilks from Austin. They’d shown her a wanted poster with a picture of Logan and his former partner. The mirror image of herself, only with black hair, had stared back at Erin. The likeness was eerie. The man who appeared to be in charge had questioned her unmercifully. Called her a liar on more than one occasion and suggested that perhaps she needed additional motivation to tell the truth. She’d known what he meant. She fully expected to be dragged from the cell any time now and tortured until she said what they wanted to hear.
Erin threaded her fingers through her hair and released a heavy breath. Maybe she should just tell them the truth about who she was and where she’d actually come from. But Logan had warned her to remember everything he’d taught her. There had to be some reason he didn’t want these people to know the truth. She paced the length of the cell again. Would they kill them if they knew the truth or would it simply blow their cover for the mission?
She frowned, confusion and renewed fear drilling into her brain. Logan was too smart to let anything like this happen, wasn’t he? A man with enough clout to come into a federal prison in the middle of the night and leave with a prisoner surely knew his business.
But here they were just the same. In a Mexican prison that verified everything she’d ever heard about the less than savory institutions.
She remembered enough Spanish from high school to understand that they were in deep trouble. Obviously believing that she didn’t comprehend a word they said, the men had spoken freely. She shuddered when she recalled the remarks one had made about what he would like to do to her.
Footsteps coming from somewhere beyond her line of vision jerked her attention to the bars at the front of the cell. Her chest tightened with renewed dread. Logan, flanked by two guards, stopped at the door. Her heart did a funny little leap at the sight of him. She resisted the urge to shake her head. It just wouldn’t do to analyze that bit of irony. She was stuck in this place because of Logan and yet she couldn’t stop such a silly reaction to him. Thankfully, he looked no worse for the wear. She’d imagined all sorts of terrible things the guards might have done to him. She shuddered when she considered some of the ones she’d feared would be done to her before this was over.
Prayer appeared to be their only recourse now. If their circumstances grew any more dire, that might not even help.
“Abra la célula y déjenos.”
The order to unlock her cell and leave them came from Logan. Stunned, Erin watched in disbelief as the two guards obeyed without hesitation.
Silence thickened for a full minute before she could bring herself to do anything other than stare at Logan. The woman in her reveled in every handsome detail of his face and his tall, lean frame. And at the same time, her more rational side demanded that she fear this man she scarcely knew and who had complete power over her universe. The most ludicrous part was that somehow, some part of her trusted him though she knew she shouldn’t.
“I don’t understand,” she finally managed to articulate. None of this made sense. Had Logan somehow talked his way out of this predicament? Were they free to go now? Was the mission blown?
“You did good, Bailey,” he said, a wide grin spreading across his beard-shadowed face. “I didn’t think you had it in you, but you did.”
The epiphany dawned three seconds later. “This was a setup.” The anger she’d felt when he forced her to fire that weapon at him when she hadn’t wanted to slammed into her twofold.
“A test,” he countered. “We had to be sure you could take the mental pressure.” He leaned against the open door. “This was the only way to gauge it.”
“I thought they were going to kill me.” She advanced on him. He’d let her think the worst. Let her waste her time and energy worrying about him…praying for him. “I worried that you were being tortured or worse.” She poked him in the chest with her forefinger. “And all the while you were probably sitting at some desk with your feet up and laughing your ass off at how gullible I am.”
He folded his arms over his chest, for protection maybe because she definitely had murder on her mind. “Actually I’ve been observing your reaction to interrogation.” He cocked an eyebrow. “I am impressed, Bailey. You stuck with the story until the bitter end.”
Erin could barely hear him over the roar of fury in her ears. She struggled to keep her cool, but it was becoming increasingly difficult with him looking so damned smug about the whole thing.
“I’m surprised you didn’t go for three or four hours!” she fairly shouted, her cool disappearing completely in spite of her best efforts. “How can you be sure two hours of interrogation was enough? Maybe my humiliation wasn’t quite complete.”
His gaze turned dead serious. “Because any more than that would have been a waste. Esteban doesn’t waste time. He would either have believed you by then or he would have killed you.”
She held that too serious gaze for a couple of anxious seconds more before another blast of fury shored up her waning anger. “No more surprises, Logan.” She planted her hands on her hips and glared at him. His only reaction was another of those infuriating grins. “I mean it. If I’m in this thing, I’m in all the way. You keep me up to speed on what’s going on or I’m out. Do you hear me? No…more…surprises.”
“Loud and clear, Bailey.” He straightened and stared down at her. “There’s just one more thing we have to get out of the way first.”
She braced herself for yet another tactical maneuver. The sudden realization that he’d seen her in her underwear during the body search seared through her brain. “I’d better get advance warning from now on before you say or do anything,” she cautioned. No way was she playing this game one minute longer.
“Agreed.”
Uh-oh. That was entirely too easy.
“Today’s our third anniversary, Baby.”
She hated that he called her that. But that’s what Logan Wilks, aka John Logan, had deemed the best solution for ensuring she didn’t forget who she was. It was part of the cover. But she didn’t have to like it.
“So,” she shot back. “What’s that got to do with here and now? And I don’t want you calling me Baby unless it’s necessary.”

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