Читать книгу Enticed By The Operative - Lara Lacombe - Страница 9
ОглавлениеLogan Murray pulled into his driveway with a sigh, glad to finally be home. It had been a beast of a day, and he was looking forward to a cold beer and a little mindless TV to help him unwind. Most days, he enjoyed his job as a DEA officer. Taking out drug dealers and breaking up smuggling rings was incredibly satisfying, but not every day was an adventure. And after spending the last week buried in paperwork he was ready for something—anything—to break the monotonous routine.
He climbed out of the car and headed for his mailbox, glancing at the house next door as he walked. The windows gave off a warm glow, indicating Olivia Sandoval was home. One of these days, he thought wryly. She was an attractive woman, and he’d been meaning to connect with her for a while. But the timing was never right. He was off on assignment, or she was out of town. Or they were both too busy to run into each other. Still, part of him held on to the fantasy that they’d magically connect and just click, the way his friend and his soon-to-be-fiancée had while in line at the grocery store. If it could happen to Greg, it could happen to him. Right?
He peeked into his mailbox and tugged out the pile of papers shoved inside. Bill. Junk mail. Card from Mom. He really should call her—it had been too long since they’d talked. And what was this? More stuff for Olivia.
A groan escaped his throat. He needed to call the post office to complain—he’d lost count of the number of times the mail carrier had delivered Olivia’s mail to his box. He had a pile of her stuff on his kitchen counter, just waiting to be delivered. Casting another glance at her house, he decided it was time to hand over her correspondence.
Ducking into his house, he dropped his bag on the kitchen table and scooped up Olivia’s mail. Maybe he could talk her into having dinner with him while he was over there—it was a long shot on such short notice, but worth a try.
He rang her doorbell, then wiped damp palms on his pants. Why was he nervous? He faced down drug dealers and violent criminals every day in his job, so why did the thought of talking to a beautiful woman make his heart pound in his ears?
Probably because it’s been a while, he thought wryly. Five years, to be exact. Ever since he’d arrived home to find his fiancée, Emma, in bed with his best friend, Chris.
Make that his former best friend.
The old, familiar anger began to well up in his chest and he pushed it down, dismissing the pair of them from his thoughts. He’d dated a few women casually since Emma’s betrayal, but his heart hadn’t been in it. Still, maybe it was time to try again, to let down his guard and give love another chance. He knew Olivia was a doctor. Maybe he’d tell her his story and ask if she wanted to help heal his broken heart.
Real smooth, he thought, mentally rolling his eyes. Shaking his head at his foolishness, he waited for a moment. Had she heard the bell? Maybe she was busy—in the back of the house, or in the garage. Or the bathtub, he thought, the image popping into his head before he could stop himself. He strangled the fantasy before it could take flight, unwilling to think about her tawny skin, wet and glowing in candlelight, her heart-shaped face framed by damp ringlets of dark curls...
Looking for a distraction, he pressed the bell again. He’d give her a few more minutes, then come back another time. They were bound to run into each other eventually.
He had just about given up when he heard a soft sound coming from inside her house. Music? No, that wasn’t right. He stepped closer to the door, angling his head to hear better. It was the sound of a woman, that much was clear. But something seemed off. Even though the noise was faint and muffled, he could tell from the tone that it wasn’t laughter or arousal he heard. It was distress. Something was wrong.
“Olivia?” He raised his voice, hoping she could hear through the thick wood of the front door. “Olivia, it’s Logan. Are you okay?”
The noise stopped, so he spoke again. “I just came by to drop off some of your mail. I can leave it on the porch if you like.” He hated to go, knowing she was upset, but Olivia struck him as a private person and she probably wouldn’t want anyone to see her crying. Besides, what could he really do to help?
After a few seconds of silence, he knelt to place the mail on her welcome mat. Just as he set it down, the lock scraped and she opened the door.
If she was surprised to see him kneeling on her porch, she didn’t show it. She stared down at him, her eyes dull and red-rimmed, the tip of her nose pink. Logan gathered up the mail again and slowly rose to his feet, sensing that any sudden movements would spook her into retreat. “Hey, there,” he said softly. “Are you all right?”
Olivia merely shrugged one shoulder in an elegant gesture that managed to both answer his question and convey a sense of hopeless surrender.
“I have some of your mail.” He extended the bundle, but she merely stared at it for a few seconds, as if trying to recognize what he held and why he was trying to give it to her. Then she reached out to take it, her movements jerky and painful-looking.
“Thanks,” she said, her voice as subdued and lifeless as her eyes.
“No problem.” He cast about for something to say, but before he could come up with something comforting or helpful, Olivia shrank back into the house, her expression one of horror.
Logan whirled around to see a car driving past, its headlights sweeping up the yard as it turned. The illumination showed nothing amiss—no lurking stalkers hiding in the bushes, no threatening dogs slavering up her driveway, hungry for a bite of her flesh. Just a normal lawn on a normal street. Why then did she look like she’d seen a ghost?
He turned back to see her leaning against the wall, hanging on to the doorknob for support. Her knuckles showed white under the skin, betraying the strength of her grip. It was clear she was on the verge of falling, so Logan reached out to steady her. As soon as his hand made contact with her shoulder, Olivia jerked away, her dark brown eyes going wide and unfocused.
“No!” She took a step back, stumbled over a rug and went down hard on the tiled floor of her entryway.
Wincing, Logan moved forward and crouched down next to her. His arms ached to pull her up and support her, but given her violent reaction to his touch, he didn’t want to risk hurting her. “Olivia,” he said softly. “Please let me help you.”
She was curled in a ball, her arms wrapped tight about her middle. Had she hurt herself? Or was she simply trying to protect herself from him? His heart twisted at the thought that she was afraid of him—never in a million years would he want to give her that impression. Her actions reminded him of children who were left behind in the aftermath of some drug busts, those innocents who were so traumatized they turned inward to block out the world. “I’m going to put my hand on your shoulder and help you sit up,” he continued, keeping his tone even. “I’m not going to hurt you. I just want to get you off the floor.”
She didn’t speak, but he caught her quick nod. Good. She wasn’t going to panic. Moving slowly and deliberately, he did as he’d said, moving her into a sitting position. He let her adjust for a moment, watching her face for any signs of newly realized pain.
“Did you hurt yourself?”
She shook her head. “Just my pride,” she muttered, pushing her dark brown curls away from her face.
He offered her his hand, and she pulled against him as she rose to her feet. They stood together, their bodies only inches apart. He knew he should move back, give her some personal space. But she still seemed fragile, like a young sapling at the mercy of the wind. She looked like she could go down again at a moment’s notice, and given the fact she had yet to release his hand, she probably felt that way, too.
“I’m sorry,” she said, keeping her eyes on the floor. “I don’t know what came over me.”
“It’s okay,” he assured her. “I’m just glad you didn’t get hurt.” That much was true, but her reaction troubled him. Her response to his touch had been over-the-top, a fight-or-flight instinct most people only displayed in response to a mortal threat. The fact that her first impulse had been to run made him think she had been hurt in the past, maybe even abused. Was that the problem? Had she had a run-in with a bad former boyfriend tonight?
The thought made his muscles tense, and he glanced around, his training kicking in as he looked for any evidence of a physical encounter. Men who hurt women were lower than scum, and Logan would have no trouble stepping between Olivia and that kind of danger.
His eyes trailed across the entryway table that sat flush against the wall. There were some small tokens arranged on the table’s surface, but they looked out of place, as if they’d been knocked askew. Three narrow parallel lines made tracks in the thin layer of dust on the table, and he realized with a shock they were the impressions made by a hand skimming across the surface. Had Olivia run her hand along the table, searching for a weapon?
At the end of the table, a small square impression was left in the dust. Something had sat here, but what? A dark shape on the floor caught his eye, and he focused on it to discover it was a long, thin candle. It had rolled under the table, but he saw a waxy spot on the tile where it had first made impact. So the square impression must have been a candlestick. But where was it now?
Olivia cleared her throat, interrupting his musings. “Ah, thanks for bringing the mail over.” She picked up the scattered papers and stacked them on the hall table, then turned to face him. She had regained her composure and was quickly rebuilding her defenses. That was good, but it meant he was losing his chance to find out what kind of trouble she was in.
“Is that Chinese food I smell?” He took a step farther into her house, following his nose. “Man, I haven’t eaten all day. Do you mind if I crash your dinner?” It was a lame excuse, but it was the best he could do on short notice.
Olivia stiffened, but when she met his gaze he put on his best “who, me?” expression, hoping it would earn him a spot at her table. His stomach chose that moment to growl audibly, further advancing his case. He smiled sheepishly and was rewarded by a small smile from Olivia.
“Sure,” she said. “It’ll be nice to have some company.”
She led him through the living room and into the kitchen. He caught a glimpse of the candlestick lying on the sofa cushions. Interesting. Had Olivia sat there earlier, facing off against a threat? He inhaled deeply as he walked through the room and caught the faint hint of men’s cologne lingering in the air. So someone had been here, someone Olivia had felt the need to defend herself against, using only a candlestick for protection.
Logan waited until Olivia had retrieved plates and silverware and placed them on her kitchen table.
“Olivia, are you in trouble?”
She went pale and dropped the silverware in a noisy clatter against the plates. “No.”
“That’s not what it looks like to me.”
Her dark eyes flicked up to his face before she returned her attention to dishing up the food. “And I suppose you’re some kind of detective.” She pushed a plate in his direction and sat, and he did the same, taking the chair across from her.
“Something like that,” he replied easily.
“What do you do again? You’re in security, right?”
“I’m an agent with the Drug Enforcement Administration.”
Her hands clenched and she pushed back from the table, the chair 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 cheek. The pain from the slap had faded, but the memory of it made her shudder. “That’s a fair point,” he said softly. “Now that we know they’re being threatened, I can make sure they have protection.”
Some of the tension left her body at his assurance, but then a horrible thought entered her mind. “What if Carlos’s men see their guards? Won’t that tip him off that I spoke to you?” She started to pace, wrapping her arms around her waist as she walked. If the police suddenly showed up at Avery’s home or office, it would definitely be noticed. And she had no doubts that Carlos was ruthless enough to take out a couple of patrol officers if it meant killing her friends, too. That was just the kind of message he’d love to send, and something told her he wouldn’t hesitate to act.
Had she just signed a death warrant for her best friends?
A terrible squeezing band of pressure wrapped around her chest, and she struggled to breathe. I shouldn’t have said anything. Damn her emotions! They had made her weak, made her seek out the comfort of an understanding listener. She’d thought Logan could help her, but now she realized getting him involved had been a huge mistake, one that would cost her friends the ultimate price.
Black spots danced in her vision, and the roar of blood filled her ears. Something grabbed her shoulders, and then she was pushed down, her fall broken suddenly by a solid structure underneath her. A warm weight pressed against her back, guiding her head forward until she was nearly bent over.
After a moment she registered a low voice, close to her ear. “Take it easy. You’re okay. Just keep breathing for me.” It was Logan, his breath warm as it fanned across her cheek.
He sounded so calm, so soothing. She felt the pressure in her chest ease, and the whooshing sound in her ears receded as she focused on his voice.
“There you are,” he said, after a moment. “Glad to have you back.”
“You have to leave Avery and Mallory alone.” She gripped his arm and squeezed hard, trying to make him understand how important this was. As much as it pained her to think of her friends being under surveillance by the cartel, at least they were still alive. If the police suddenly showed up, it would do more harm than good.
“Whoa,” he said, placing his hand over hers. “Slow down. You’re jumping to conclusions here.”
“I can’t risk their safety. I’d never forgive myself if something happened to them.”
“It won’t,” he said, his tone brooking no argument. “This isn’t my first rodeo. I’m not going to have uniformed officers suddenly start following your friends around like lost puppies. The type of protection I’m talking about is more subtle than that. These guys hang back and watch. They focus more on the cartel’s men than your friends, making sure the bad guys don’t try anything.”
“So Carlos won’t know they’re around?”
Logan shook his head. “Think of them as guardian angels. They’re around, but invisible to most people.”
That sounded better. Olivia took a deep breath and felt her heartbeat slow as she considered his words. It would be nice to know someone was watching over them, someone who was trained to keep them safe. And if they could do it without tipping off Carlos and his men? All the better.
“Okay,” she said. “I’m sorry I doubted you.”
He smiled, his gaze warming as he looked at her. She felt drawn in by his eyes, their mossy green color reminding her of the jungles of Colombia. Was that why she had started talking to him? Because her subconscious had made a connection to her familial home?
For the first time, Olivia became aware of Logan as more than her nice neighbor. He was a handsome, strong man, and he seemed to be very interested in helping her deal with her problems. Her stomach did a funny little flip as the implications of that sank in. It had been a long time—too long, her libido chimed in—since she had noticed a man and been noticed in return. She’d been in a serious relationship once. But Scott had dumped her after the deaths of her parents, saying she’d changed too much. Maybe he’d had a point. At first, her grief over their loss had been so raw it kept her from doing much more than surviving. Scott had accused her of shutting down and had pushed her to move on. When she resisted, he’d left, saying he didn’t want to be tied down to someone who could give up so easily.
His departure had been another painful blow to her heart, and Olivia hadn’t dated since. She couldn’t bring herself to trust another man, but she was also a little afraid: if she didn’t open her heart to new people, she wouldn’t be hurt by their inevitable losses. Avery and Mallory had made it clear they thought she was making a mistake, but in truth, Olivia hadn’t met anyone who made her want to take that risk.
Logan spoke again, interrupting her thoughts and reminding her this was no time to get distracted. “There’s another possibility you should consider.”
“What’s that?”
“Your friends may not be under constant cartel surveillance at this time. Carlos may have had his men follow them to get the pictures he showed you, but that doesn’t mean they’re still being trailed.”
His words lit a candle of hope in the darkness of her thoughts. “Do you think so?”
Logan lifted one shoulder in a shrug. “Following people takes time and ties up resources. I’m not saying your friends are in the clear, but Carlos probably feels pretty confident that he can find them. Why waste time having men shadow their every move when he can just pick up the phone and get them back on the radar at a moment’s notice?”
A growing sense of excitement made Olivia’s skin tingle. Were Avery and Mallory safer than she thought right now? If that was the case, maybe she could somehow warn them, get them to run far away until the danger had passed.
Her thoughts must have shown on her face, because Logan held up a hand as if to slow her down. “I can’t be sure they aren’t being followed,” he began, but Olivia cut him off.
“What if I somehow got a message to them, let them know what was going on? They could hide until we figure out what to do about Carlos.”
Logan shook his head, his mouth flattening in sympathy. “Too risky. Carlos is going to be hyperaware of your actions until you’re in Colombia. I know you’re worried about your friends, but trust me, staying away is the best thing you can do for them right now.”
Olivia sank back into her chair, her enthusiasm waning. “How can I be sure he hasn’t killed them already?”
“Believe me, you’d know.” He sounded quite certain, but Olivia didn’t share his conviction.
“How do you figure that?”
Logan grimaced. “These are the kind of people who send graphic videos accompanied by body parts. If your friends were already dead, Carlos would make sure you were aware of that fact.”
Olivia felt the blood drain from her face. “Oh, God.”
“Try not to think about it.”
Oh, sure. Like her imagination was something she could just switch off on command. Maybe that was how Logan dealt with such matters, but Olivia’s mind didn’t work that way.
She glanced around the room, looking for something to distract her from thoughts of Avery and Mallory being tortured at the hands of vicious strangers. Logan seemed to sense her trouble, and he reached out to grab her hand with his own.
“I know it seems hopeless now, but we will find a way to make sure everyone comes through this safely. Especially you.” He punctuated his words with a gentle squeeze, and warmth traveled from her hand up her arm and into her chest. Although she didn’t know him very well, Logan’s presence was a comfort. It might have been the fact that he was so calm when her emotions were all over the place. Or it might have been the confidence he projected, as if he could take on the problems of the world and put them to rights. Or perhaps it was just the peace that came from being touched by another person seeking to offer reassurance, something she hadn’t felt since Scott’s departure. Either way, Olivia closed her eyes and allowed herself a moment to savor the contact.
When she opened her eyes, she saw that Logan was watching her. His expression was one of concern, and she had the fleeting sensation that he really and truly cared about her and her problems. But that was probably just wishful thinking on her part. After all, they barely knew each other, so why would he care about her on a personal level? He was likely interested in her story as it pertained to his job, but nothing more.
Disappointment felt like a stone in her stomach, but she ignored it. It was her own fault she had to turn to a neighbor she barely knew for help.
Pushing aside those thoughts, she refocused on Logan. “What happens now?” The words were unfamiliar in her mouth. As a doctor, she was used to having complete control over a situation. In her office, in the operating room—even in Colombia—she was in charge. People looked to her for guidance and direction, and she had no problem stepping up and taking the reins. But this was a situation she didn’t understand and didn’t know how to navigate. She felt like she’d been dropped in a foreign country, with no idea of the customs or how to speak the language.
He frowned slightly. “Two things. First, I need to call this in and inform the team what we’re dealing with here.”
“Wait a minute,” Olivia replied, disentangling her hand from his and holding it up. “I’m not willing to risk the safety of my friends like that.” Had she made a mistake after all?
Logan’s expression was a mix of pity and kindness. “We’ll do everything in our power to keep them safe,” he said. “But I have a responsibility to report this, and the only way we can find out what’s really going on is if we launch an official investigation.”
“Won’t that alert the bad guys that I talked to you?” Panic clawed up from her chest, threatening to strangle her. Things were moving too fast, spinning out of control. If Logan got more people involved, it increased the chances of Carlos finding out and killing her friends.
“We won’t do anything to tip our hand.”
“What’s the second thing?” At his puzzled look, she continued. “You said there were two things that need to happen next. What’s the second?”
He nodded. “We’re going to find a way to keep you alive while you carry this out.”
Olivia wanted to believe him, but she didn’t dare get her hopes up.
“Do you really think that’s possible?”
Logan apparently heard the resignation in her voice. He reached out and placed his hand under her chin, tipping her head up until she met his eyes.
“You’re going to get through this, Olivia. I will make sure of it.”
