Logan sat in Tawney’s office trying to look innocent. She’d asked him to pay a visit and now that he was there, she folded her hands on top of her desk, reminding him of his seventh grade history teacher. “I’m working on a plan to improve the initiation process.” She slid a piece of paper toward him. “These are instructions for filling out a questionnaire on the server. Would you mind participating?”

“Sure.”

“And how have you settled in? Do you think you’ll like working with ICE?”

Jeez, she’s speaking like I’m a CPA in an accounting firm, not a spy risking my neck every time I set foot outside. But Logan couldn’t think of a decent reason not to humor her. “Things are finer than frog’s hair, ma’am.”

“I take it that’s a good thing?”

“As long as I don’t have to spend too much time underground, I’m happy. It doesn’t take much.”

“You don’t like our facility?”

“I didn’t say that. It’s just I prefer open spaces, the sky, a good wind in my face…that kind of thing.”

“I suppose it differs quite a bit from the military.”

“Some,” he agreed. “But how…?” He stopped himself from asking. Damn, Olivia had messed with his mind last night.

“How?” Tawney pressed.

Logan batted his hand through the air. “It’s nothing.”

“No, what you have to say is important. We are striving to make ICE a place where our assets want to stay.”

Breathing out, he looked to the ceiling. How could he word it so he didn’t admit guilt? “In the Navy there are regulations about everything, like harassment and fraternization. Claims are dealt with strictly. There can be investigations. There’s JAG…ah…what happens here?”

Her expression filled with concern. “Is there something untoward going on between you and Commander Hamilton?”

“No, ma’am.”

“In that case, if there are issues, they should be brought to my attention straight away. Then Anders Lindgren and I will decide upon a course of action.”

Logan chewed the inside of his cheek. “Have there ever been married spies—or spies who are couples?”

She narrowed her gaze—she suspected something for sure. He should have kept his fat mouth shut.

“Of course, Commander, we frown on fraternization, but this isn’t the Navy,” she said, looking clinical. “At times, married couples make excellent teams in the field. Though we didn’t have a married couple to put in Lyon, I hope you were able to make the situation work with Olivia.”

“It has worked well for the most part. Not that it hasn’t been a challenge. Were you aware NATO gave us an apartment with one bedroom?”

Tawney’s eyes filled with alarm. “I was not.” Her voice sounded pretty darned alarmed, too. If Logan didn’t clear things up fast, she’d totally misunderstand.

He downplayed her misgivings with a shrug. “I took the couch.”

“That must have been uncomfortable for a man of your height.”

“I’ll say.”

“Yes, well, you should have said something as soon as you arrived.”

“I don’t make a habit of complaining, ma’am.” Besides, she’d called him into her office and then started asking questions, otherwise he mightn’t have ever mentioned it. He tapped the paper. “I’ll fill this out before I go back to Lyon.”

“Thank you.”

“But while I’m here, I have one more question.”

“Yes?”

“Who recommended me for this job?”

“Hmm.” Her gaze trailed sideways. “Anders goes through a rigorous screening process with Garth and me before a candidate is considered.” She picked up a pen and rolled it between her fingers. “But I think what tipped the scales in your favor was Commander Hamilton. She gave Garth a short list and your name was at the top.”

***

Logan didn’t know why Olivia had lied to him when they’d first met at ICE. Rather than being embarrassed that she’d recommended him, he figured her reason was probably because of what she’d shared last night. The woman’s driving motivation for revenge, including her guilt for her parents’ deaths, had obviously guided her every decision, or close enough. Her excess baggage had probably kept her from falling in love, too. Regardless of her intent, she hadn’t wanted him to know she liked him. But he didn’t dwell on the conundrum for too long. Given the same circumstances, he probably would have played it cool as well. Besides, after the disaster in the Gulf, they hadn’t exactly parted on friendly terms.

Logan wasn’t alone again with Olivia until they boarded the private jet to take them back to Lyon. He turned on her overhead light and lightly took her chin between his fingers and examined the damages.

“Is there any bruising?” she asked.

“No.”

“Why are you looking at me like that? Is something swollen? Did Dr. R use too much collagen?” She leaned back, making her chin slip from his grasp.

He shook his head. “You look too perfect.”

She blinked with a scoff. “I do not.”

Wearing her hair down, golden wisps framed her face. Forget teenager, she could have passed for an angel, and simply looking at her made Logan’s heart squeeze. There wasn’t a single crinkle at the corners of her eyes, her skin completely flawless. Even her eyebrows looked perfectly symmetrical. “I thought you were going to wear your hair in a ponytail,” he said, making sure she didn’t assume he was thinking about last night, or the 35,000 feet club. Jeez, she might even be sore from the bit of surgery she’d just had down below.

“I will. When the time comes.” She gave him a shove. “Stop looking at me like I’m some sort of monstrosity.”

“Sorry. You look stunning.”

“Right-o? I say it doesn’t count now you’ve ogled me to death.”

He batted his hand through the air. She’d pass for seventeen. She would have even without the extra collagen. The woman was hot and most seventeen year olds would promise their first born for a body as lithe and sexy as Olivia’s. Nope, no one needed to tell her she was beautiful. She was one of those women who knew she looked like dynamite. Regardless of her past, she’d probably opened a lot of doors by being stunning.

“Are you sore?” he asked.

She gingerly tapped the back of her head. “A little. What’s bothering me most is the chip just under the hairline.”

In the sit room they’d decided to insert a microchip homing device at the back of Olivia’s head just under the skin. When and if ISIS took her to their harem, there was no chance they’d allow her to carry any personal effects. The chip might end up being the only way to track her.

“The incision is a tad uncomfortable,” she said.

“At least we’ll know where you are.” Logan dropped back to his seat. “How long do you have to wait before you can…” He looked at her lap.

“Have sex?”

“Yeah.”

“The stitches will fade on their own. Dr. R said I should wait a couple of weeks to have sex, but it’s going to hurt just like the first time.”

“Jesus.” He clenched his fists. The whole virgin sacrifice thing was wrong on so many levels. “Hey, and no one said anything to me about waiting two weeks to approach Hakim.”

“We’re not waiting.”

Pursing his lips, he pushed his seat back and closed his eyes. But he was too tense. For the most part, he’d been able to detach from the rage roiling in his gut until they boarded the plane for Lyon. Now things were getting too real. Thinking about Olivia being a renewed virgin and having anyone other than him put his hands on her was eating him alive.

But he needed to get a grip. He should be thinking about how he was going to approach Hakim to volunteer to become the next kidnapper. If he seemed too anxious, the jihadi thug would see straight through him. But the slower he moved, the more likely another teen would be duped into friending some stalker on Facebook.

The thing that bothered Logan most?

Olivia’s involvement. If she was afraid, she hadn’t let on. She should be afraid. She should be terrified.

The mere thought of her going in so deep was disturbing. Yes, she could fight better than any woman he knew, but no one could stand up to a bullet or hundreds of more painful and torturous ways to die. And that wasn’t what had him on edge the most. The idea that some radical terrorist’s reward would be taking her virtue—rewarded for some heinous act like the car bombing that had killed her parents. The whole setup was too goddamned twisted.

If anyone laid a finger on Olivia, he’d blow them to hell.

Groaning, Logan ran a hand down his face. There wasn’t a thing to do in the Gulfstream except sleep, read and watch a movie, and not a one of those activities would help to allay the pent-up frustration roiling beneath his skin. He slammed his fist into the back of the seat in front of him.

“You all right there, cowboy?”

He stood and started pacing. “I’d be a hell of a lot better off if I were riding behind a herd of cattle. I’d take being a cowboy over this frustration any day.”

Olivia put her feet up. “No, you wouldn’t.”

He dropped and started doing pushups in the aisle.

She leaned over and watched. “You said it yourself. You’re a predator, just like me. You’re not going to rest until the girls are found, until those hostages are back with their families.”

“If they’re still alive.”

“You can’t think like that. You have to save the world, and if that means one kidnapped child at a time, that’s what you have to do.”

“Don’t you think I know?”

“The job comes before everything.”

Clenching his teeth, he pumped his arms faster. Damn it, the job didn’t come before her.

***

Olivia hardly believed the plane stayed aloft given the weight of the tension in the air. And it only grew worse when they landed in Lyon. She’d changed into the niqab on the flight, then followed Logan to pick up a hire car. He brooded and didn’t say a word as he drove back to the flat.

She never should have slept with him. Guys were too damned emotional, especially a nice guy like Logan. Olivia knew why he was angry and it had nothing to do with the tiny bit of collagen Dr. R had injected. It wasn’t that her hymen had been reinstated either.

He liked her too damned much.

She knew better than to get too close. The difference between them? Olivia knew how to block her emotions so it didn’t hurt too badly to jump off the deep end into another op. Logan had known the score all along. It wasn’t as though they were engaged to be married, so he could bloody well stop pouting.

As soon as he opened the door to the flat, Olivia’s hackles stood on end. Something was different. The smell was even different. She flipped on the light. “What the hell is that?”

“A new couch.” Logan pulled up the seat pad and grinned. “It’s a hide-a-bed. Tawney doesn’t dawdle around.”

“You met with Tawney?” A burning sensation spread through Olivia’s chest. The Director of Administration might be attractive, but she was at least ten years older than Logan.

He shrugged. “Actually, she asked to see me—wanted me to fill out a questionnaire about my initiation into ICE.”

Olivia tapped her foot. “And so she had a couch delivered?”

“Well, yeah. It’s taken an hour of yoga every morning just to straighten out the kinks.”

She chewed her bottom lip. “You should have told me you were uncomfortable.”

He gave her one of those looks that said he knew she was well aware that he’d been bloody miserable. But rather than whinge about it, he sat just as his phone rang—he had the Mission Impossible theme as his ringtone. Yeah, he was a cowboy through to the bone.

Logan looked at the caller ID. “It’s Hakim.”

“Right on cue.”

He answered, setting the phone to speaker. “Hello, my friend. Are your people satisfied with the delivery?”

Olivia slid onto the couch beside him.

“My people are content.”

“Do you have instructions for the next shipment?”

“Not so fast, my friend.”

“Is there a problem?”

“Remember what I said about proving your loyalty?”

“I do.”

“Meet me under the Pont de l’Université at nine tomorrow morning.”

“I’ll be there.” Logan punched the end-call button and shifted his gaze to Olivia. He didn’t smile, those teal-blue eyes drilling into her like judge and jury. “Ready for phase two?”