Chapter 3
His penance in the form of babysitting Simon Northwood now complete, Logan was more than ready to get stuck into his new assignment, whatever it might be. Twenty-four hours earlier, the doc had brightened the start of the new week by at long last signing off on his full return to normal duty. Not only that—with the greatest of pleasure, Logan had handed responsibility for the genius to the boss’ niece, along with the keys to the Bentley.
Today he’d arrived at work buoyed by anticipation of a task he could get his teeth into, and also use to prove his worth to the team. He took the stairs up to the third floor two at a time. Not even the dire prospect of waiting in the office occupied by the woman he thought of as his personal nemesis could put a dent in his good mood.
She was a chilly one, all right. Logan was willing to bet that Miss Winter’s knickers were as frosty as her name. She had a way of glaring at him that triggered an almost irresistible urge to put her over his knee and make that sweet arse of hers sing.
Now that was an interesting thought, and not unconnected with how he’d spent the previous evening at Aegis. The sub he’d played with had been a cute little thing—enthusiastic, responsive, a pleasure to torment with a little orgasm denial, and a nice armful during aftercare. And as keen to avoid any emotional complications as he was.
Without bothering to knock, he pushed open the door to Sir Guy’s outer office. The sight that met him was one he wouldn’t forget in a hurry. There in front of him, wrapped in a short, tight skirt, was the lush, rounded backside he’d just been contemplating.
That alone grabbed his attention by the balls, but when his gaze slithered to a halt at the captivating sight of those long, toned legs in sheer black nylons, his thoughts accelerated down the fast lane to grossly inappropriate territory. His visual tour continued, and by the time it concluded with feet shod in black patent shoes with spindly, three-inch heels, they’d taken the unmarked turning to NSFW.
The formidable Miss Winter must have lost something under her desk. If the lack of a visible panty line was any indication, it could be the knickers that were always in a twist when he was around.
“Need any help under there?”
He winced at the sharp smack of her head connecting with the underside of the desk. The muttered cursing was colourful, nautical, and inventive enough to make a sailor blush. So was the mesmeric wiggle of her hips as she backed out from her hiding place. Just what he didn’t need on top of the lingering satisfaction of an evening at Aegis. The sight of a woman on her knees before him still triggered impulses that made the fit of his tailored trousers somewhat more revealing than was appropriate for a work environment.
“I can manage just fine, thank you, Mr. Simmonds.”
With a grace and style that surprised him, Lucy stood and straightened her skirt, which ended about two inches above a pair of good-looking knees. Hypnotised by the meticulous care with which she eliminated every last crease and speck of lint, he allowed each elegant movement of her hands to soak into his consciousness. The way she smoothed the dark material over her thighs was compellingly symbolic of her painstaking attention to detail.
His attention to that particular detail earned him a familiar glare, although her tone, when she addressed him, was spine-snappingly polite, with only the tiniest dash of disapproval.
“You’re a little early—Sir Guy’s still on his daily conference call with Number Ten. Please, take a seat. Can I get you some coffee while you’re waiting?”
“Thanks—black, no sugar.”
He watched her cross the office to the fancy, single-cup gizmo sitting on a low cabinet in the corner. Her hips didn’t just save that sexy swing for when she was on her hands and knees. Logan shifted in his seat, and dragged his smartphone out of his jacket pocket—anything to steer his attention in a less lascivious direction. He glanced up when she placed a white mug on the low table beside him.
“Thanks.”
“You’re welcome.” She paused, as if considering her next move. “Sir Guy shouldn’t be long now.”
“That’s okay—I’m not going anywhere.” Not till the boss gave him his orders, anyway, and then it would be a case of the further away, the better.
The coffee wasn’t bad—hot, and almost strong enough to chew, the way Logan preferred it. While he waited, he checked his email, aware all the time of his surroundings, and the rapid tapping on the keyboard coming from just a few feet away.
The tapping halted a couple of times, interrupted by calls coming in on the landline on Lucy’s desk. Like many people, his nemesis had a “telephone voice”, which, he had to admit, was pleasant enough to the ear, if more than a little formal. Not that her normal voice was unpleasant, at least when she wasn’t tearing a strip off him for his latest administrative foul-up. Unless his ears deceived him, her accent held a touch of the north, just the faintest suggestion that her roots lay far from the capital.
Logan wondered if she sounded as prissy when she was getting sweaty and sexed-up. He didn’t know why, but the thought of turning her into a wildcat in the bedroom was… appealing.
He shoved the image aside. He’d been thinking about her in that kind of context way too often recently. Echoes of their initial introduction persisted in his memories of the smile with which she’d greeted him when they’d been introduced, and again he wondered where it had all gone wrong, why she’d suddenly developed that icy attitude towards him.
He glanced at his watch. According to the high-tech dive timepiece, his meeting with the old man was due to start in two minutes, thirty-five seconds. He put his phone on silent, and slipped it back into his pocket.
Miss Winter picked up her phone and pressed a button on the base unit. “Sir Guy? Mr. Simmonds is here for your 9 a.m. meeting… Yes, sir, right away.” She replaced the handset. “He’s ready for you now, Mr. Simmonds—you can go right in.”
“Thank you.”
Logan went to the door, knocked this time, and entered. Sir Guy looked up, and although the man’s expression revealed nothing of his thoughts, Logan picked up an air of tension about him.
“Good morning, Simmonds. Take a seat.”
“Good morning, sir.” Logan sat across the desk from his boss. He waited in silence until Sir Guy finished reading the single sheet of paper in front of him.
“I see the medical officer passed you fit for a full return to active duty.” Sir Guy set the report to one side.
“Yes, sir. It’ll be good to get back to a real job.”
Sir Guy raised an eyebrow. “If that’s an indication of what you think about your last assignment, you may not consider this a real job, either. Frankly, I’m not even sure I do, but I need someone to take a short trip and ask some questions. As you know, we’ve been co-opted into assisting with a major public order exercise, so everyone else is busy. Since you’ve just become available, that makes you the ideal candidate.”
The only candidate. Last man standing, drawer of the infamous short straw. “What do you need me to do, sir?”
“Have you ever heard of a Caribbean resort called Nenufar?”
Holy hell—who in the community hadn’t? The place was renowned for being kink-friendly, clothing-optional and private in the extreme. Its clientele was limited to adults in couples and ménages—no singles and no kids allowed.
“I have, sir. Isn’t it a little out of our jurisdiction?”
“At this stage, your remit—should you accept the assignment—is to do no more than ask a few discreet questions.”
“Should I accept the assignment?” Mental alarm bells rang. Orders by definition weren’t optional, and if Sir Guy was giving him the opportunity to turn this assignment down, it probably wasn’t a good sign.
“You’ve heard of the place, so I assume you’re familiar with its nature. Not everyone would be comfortable with that, so it’s only fair to give you the chance to decline.”
By the sound of it Logan wasn’t the only one familiar with its nature. Who’d have thought it? Leaving aside his personal interests, he was a big boy, and well prepared to handle whatever his CO threw at him. “I don’t have a problem with that, sir. What do you need?”
“The daughter of a senior government minister appears to have gone missing. Her last verified location was Nenufar, three weeks ago, along with her latest boyfriend, who’s also vanished. They were supposed to be there a week before returning home, but no one’s heard from either of them.”
Sir Guy’s mouth settled in a grim line. “He has no family, and frankly, I think hers is overreacting. She’s a grown woman; it’s probably nothing more sinister than a somewhat thoughtless, spur-of-the-moment decision to extend their break.
“However, given her father’s connections with national defence, I’m not prepared to take any chances. It’s just possible there’s a scenario where she could have been abducted by enemies of the state, with a view to using her as leverage against him. I need you to ask a few questions to confirm her current whereabouts and status without causing an international incident.”
“I take it her family have tried calling her?”
“Calls go straight to voicemail. Her father’s been in touch with the authorities, but isn’t happy with, quote, ‘Their pathetic excuse for an investigation’, unquote. I need you to go there undercover, and see what you can find. As I said, I suspect they’ve moved on to another destination without bothering to keep anyone informed, and they chose somewhere with little to no mobile coverage.”
A quiet knock on the door had Logan turning around, to see Miss Winter enter, bearing a tray with two cups of coffee.
“Thank you, Lucy.” Sir Guy greeted her with an avuncular smile. “Excellent timing. As I was about to say, Simmonds, the problem I have is that they don’t allow single guests, and I have no one suitable to accompany you. Ros is my only female officer, and as you know, she’s just started her latest assignment. I can’t take her off that one—not that I believe she’d be a good candidate anyway.”
“Excuse me for interrupting, sir, but if you need a woman… ah, I mean a female officer… I know I’m not an officer, but could I help at all?”
Logan looked from his boss to Lucy and back again, expecting Sir Guy to dismiss her. Instead, the other man gave her a contemplative look, almost as if he were actually considering taking her offer seriously, ridiculous though it was.
“Close the door, Lucy, and take a seat.” He gestured towards the chair beside Logan.
“With all due respect, sir—”
“Simmonds, I believe Miss Winter may be about to present us with a way out of our quandary. I think it’s only fair to explain to her what’s required. Once she knows what she could be getting into, she may wish to reconsider her generous offer.”
~~*~~
A short time later, Logan was as close to being a dead man walking as he was ever likely to get. Years of fleecing his buddies at poker enabled him to conceal his reactions in most situations, and that ability had proved to be a godsend during the briefing. He maintained that stoic demeanour as he watched Lucy leave, even though his blood was like ice in his veins, at the same time as his stomach threatened to expel his breakfast with extreme prejudice.
Sir Guy had ordered Lucy to go home, a decision with which Logan agreed. She needed time to think over what they’d discussed and do some relevant research before their follow-up meeting. Twenty-four hours was all Somerton had given her for that, but it was all they could afford. Their entire course of action depended on whether Lucy was prepared to stand by her suggestion—if she wasn’t, they needed time to come up with an alternative plan, and fast.
The briefing had brought back every last fucking detail of the darkest period of his life—confirmation once and for all that the past was never going release its death grip on him. His breath solidified in his chest, turning his lungs to solid concrete. He wanted to get the hell out of there and run, run forever, but Sir Guy hadn’t finished with him yet.
“Come with me. There’s something I need to discuss with you, and I’d rather not have this conversation in front of Lucy.”
“Sure.” Nausea still thrashing in his gut, Logan followed his CO to the two leather armchairs arranged by a low table.
His boss sat down and motioned towards the other chair. Logan sat back, propped his left ankle on his right knee, and did his best to appear relaxed.
“On the off-chance there’s more to this than meets the eye, your cover has to be better than airtight.”
Ah. That wouldn’t be a problem, but explaining why was an option Logan wasn’t keen to pursue. He hoped assurance rather than explanation would do the trick. “I know enough about the lifestyle to put on a convincing act, sir. You needn’t worry.”
“I don’t want to have to worry, Simmonds. Given the lifestyle to which the resort caters, faking it could be risky.”
“I know, sir.” Logan cleared his throat. Looked as if he had no choice but to come clean. “If I may speak in confidence?”
“Please do.”
“Playing a Dom won’t be a problem.” Logan paused. A new boulder suddenly lodged itself in his stomach. He was about to out himself to his new boss, a move that could kill his career with the squad stone dead before he’d even had a chance to prove himself properly.
What the hell. As career options went, working the doors at a nightclub might not hit the high notes, but it’d still pay the bills. He continued. “I’ve been involved in the kink scene since I was old enough to appreciate what it means. I have more than enough experience as a D—top to carry this off.”
Logan waited for a scandalised reaction, but all Sir Guy did was give a slow, thoughtful nod. “Thank you for telling me—you have my word it’ll go no further. And I’m sure your experience will be invaluable in training Lucy for the mission, should she decide to go ahead.”
“Sir, about Miss Winter. If I may be frank, I doubt she’s a submissive.”
To his further surprise, Sir Guy chuckled. “Agreed. Our Miss Winter can be a little… fiery.” He became serious once more. “She may also have saved our bacon with her offer. As I mentioned, Sir Malcolm Carstairs—Diana’s father—is pressing for an immediate start to the investigation.”
Yeah, that was Sir Malcolm all right. The man had never been reticent when it came to using his title and position to achieve his goals. “Doesn’t he realise we can’t go wheels-up without preparation?”
“I doubt it. I’ve been able to stall him, citing urgent operational requirements elsewhere, but only until the next flight out there. In practical terms, we’re talking about a window of six days at most.”
Six days? That was all he had, six bloody days to turn Lucy Winter into a convincing submissive? Sweet Jesus, the mission was well and truly fucked—and six months wouldn’t be enough to accomplish the bloody impossible.
“If Miss Winter agrees, then I’ll do my best.”
“That’s all any of us can do. We can but hope that Lucy won’t change her mind. If all goes according to plan, I want a daily progress report. And Simmonds?”
“Yes, sir?”
“At the risk of stating the obvious, if Lucy does accompany you to Nenufar, her safety is paramount.”
Logan understood where his boss was coming from. Didn’t mean he had to like the implied slur on his sense of responsibility, though. “You can rely on me, sir.”
With that, the meeting came to a close. As he left Sir Guy’s office, Logan started cataloguing what needed to be done. As the list formed at the front of his mind, the back of his mind came to one inescapable conclusion—without doubt, his life had gone to shit in seconds, a mammoth clusterfuck if ever there was one.
In need of peace and quiet to put together a plan, he headed back to his apartment, where the extent of his full-scale mental riot became apparent. To quell the chaos, he was going to need every bit of the ability to focus that had been drummed into him during his commando training.
He toed off his boots and dropped in a full-length sprawl on the black leather sofa. What he’d give for a good stiff drink. This whole situation was crazy as fuck. Problem number one—Lucy Winter didn’t have a submissive bone in her body. Two—just how amenable would she be to taking instruction from someone she regarded as public enemy number one? Three—she had zero experience of working undercover.
As for four… He’d worry about four if—no, when it happened. The coward in him, engulfed in guilt and self-loathing, was desperate to flee from his past, but if he didn’t face it, another life could be extinguished. That family had already suffered too much.
All because of him.
Shame weakened his defences and the images broke through, a sucker punch that caught him without warning. A maelstrom of memories eddied and swirled, bringing with it the gut-churning chill of death.
The growing sourness of nausea finally made good on its threat. Logan lurched for the bathroom and barely made it before he lost the entire contents of his stomach.
The retching continued long after there was nothing left to expel.
Logan dragged the back of his hand across his mouth, grimaced at the foul taste left behind. At the basin, he splashed water over his face, but kept his head bowed. If he looked in the mirror, he’d see not his eyes but hers, dead and sightless, staring up at him through water tainted red with her blood. He’d stuffed it all into a mental box, only to have it busted wide open by a freak set of circumstances.
Deal with it, Simmonds. You did it before, you can do it again.
Except… he hadn’t dealt with it then, and it wasn’t going to happen now either—he had other priorities. He needed to extract his head from his arse and get ahead of the game. That meant presenting a concrete plan of action to Sir Guy and getting his buy-in before Lucy arrived for their meeting the next morning. With the boss on board, if Lucy was still minded to go through with this, there was a better chance of her complying with whatever instructions Logan gave her.
As he emerged from the bathroom, his thoughts became less amorphous. There was only one way he could see this working. Much though he detested the idea, he’d have to bring her here, to his home, his safe place, and immerse her in an alternative lifestyle. It was the only workable solution if he had any hope of teaching her enough to withstand any scrutiny. A couple of hours here and there wouldn’t pass muster.
Logan pulled his laptop out of a drawer. By tomorrow, he’d have a plan to put before Sir Guy. With his CO’s agreement, he could then present it to Lucy as an acceptable approach to meet the requirements of the assignment.
He switched the laptop on, and began to type.