As much as Logan hated to admit it, Bocelli was right. “I’ll do my best.”

“You damn well better succeed. Treat her as if she’s disposable. Be dismissive, detached. You have to leave her vulnerable so the kidnappers think she’s an easy mark.”

Logan didn’t like it one damn bit . . . but that was reality. “I’ll manage.”

The Fed turned to Tara. “You have to seem adoring with a hint of rebellion. As we’ve done more research, we’ve learned that the two victims so far, besides Darcy, both had Doms but neither had been in a long-term relationship. By all accounts, none had family who would miss them. Only one was employed outside her home, and she’d been gone for days before anyone reported her missing. You’ll need to be self-employed for your cover. Any ideas?”

“I spent some time as a freelance copyeditor in college. I can speak intelligently about it if the subject comes up.”

“Perfect. Realistically, you would have had deadlines, but cleared them before coming to Fantasy Key.”

“Yes.”

Tara’s boss paced more, his whole Brooks Brothers vibe just adding to the image of a stressed-out Fed. He turned to Logan. “You’re absolutely sure you want to go, despite this threat?”

He planned to fight for Tara, and she wanted him by her side. “Yes.”

Bocelli glanced Tara’s way. “If his mother’s killer follows and somehow finds his way onto the resort, you understand this makes you his target, in addition to being set up to be abducted by these slavers?”

“I do. I’m willing to assume the risk. Logan will be the best Dom for me on this case.”

“And you know that if the killer can’t sneak into Fantasy Key, he probably isn’t going to call it a day and leave you alone once you’ve returned home?” her boss asked.

“It should be a nonissue once we’ve finished this mission. Mr. Edgington and I . . . We’ll be going our separate ways.”

What the fuck? Logan turned to stare at her as if she’d lost her ever-loving mind, because clearly she had. Tara would spend the rest of her life without him over his dead body. But he’d correct her gross misconception later; now wasn’t the time.

“You’re willing to assume the extra risk?”

“Sir, with all due respect, it’s not as if we have better options. Robert is gone, Darcy’s abduction has proven that it’s not good to go undercover alone, and Logan is well trained to handle all phases of this mission. Can we end this conversation now so that we can prepare for our departure Wednesday? I’m sure Logan has a lot of training he’d like to cram in before then.”

Bocelli raised a brow. “Fine. You’re both in. If you’ve duly noted all the risks, I have nothing left to say on that score. Now to the evening’s biggest problem.”

“Darcy?” That note of alarm crept back in Tara’s voice.

“Yes. One of your fellow analysts found this online advertisement about noon today. We were running a new program that checks the web for certain key words and images that tap into our open cases. We found this.” Bocelli turned to Thorpe.

The club’s owner grabbed his laptop from the corner of the desk and pressed a few buttons before turning the screen toward him and Tara. Logan watched with horror as a bound woman wearing too much makeup around her glassy eyes—and nothing else—was fondled by four hooded, leather-clad men.

“Darcy . . .” Tara’s broken whisper rang with fear and pain. “Oh my God.”

Logan hurt for her. How terrible it must be to see a loved one at the mercy of strangers willing to degrade her for a sick thrill—and profit.

Then it got worse as the ad’s words began to scroll across the screen.

Tara gasped, slapping a hand over her mouth as she read.

Another rung of horror gripped Logan. “They’re going to force her to star in a snuff film?”

“A gang rape snuff film, yes.”

Her face turned ashen. “They’re going to strangle her while they . . .”

“Yeah,” Bocelli confirmed grimly. “Friday night. It’s a payper-view event, then they’ll distribute through all their usual illegal channels. I don’t think they’ll kill her on U.S. soil since it would likely be too easy to trace their location via IP addresses and whatnot, so we have to find her before they smuggle her out of the country. So you’re leaving tomorrow morning.”

Beside Logan, Tara stiffened but nodded. “I’ll be ready.”

“We’ll be ready,” he corrected.

“Excellent. I’ll provide you some last-minute instruction. Your flight leaves just after nine in the morning. I want to see you back here by six.”

“Done,” Logan assured as he stood, then held out his hand for Tara.

She glanced up at him, and though she did her best to hide it, he read the trepidation in her body language, the bleak line of her lips. Now that she was committed, the reality of this mission was setting in. It would only be natural for her to be afraid, especially since she had both white slavers and a killer after her. Still, she refused to back down. His brave little Cherry just kept on impressing the hell out of him.

Finally, she placed her hand in his, but the second she had her feet underneath her, she let go.

Frowning, Logan watched her approach Bocelli. “I won’t let you down.”

“Be smart. Stay safe.”

She nodded, and as Thorpe approached her, she turned to him warily. Logan was taken aback when the notoriously chilly club owner pressed a kiss to her forehead. “Listen to your Dom and submit with honesty.”

As Tara stepped back, she frowned. Logan wondered if she could even follow Thorpe’s advice. Yesterday, she’d been engaged to another man. Since then, she’d fallen back into her first lover’s bed, submitted to him again and again, and was about to place her safety in his hands as she put herself in the path of really dangerous men. She was confused and, no doubt, afraid.

Above all, she was burying her feelings, protecting herself after the hurt he’d dealt her years ago.

The case was going to take time to unravel. He might have to act distant in public, but by damned, when they were alone, Logan was going to make her face exactly what was in her heart.

THE second they cleared Thorpe’s office, Logan draped his arm around her and led her to his dungeon.

Tara shivered in the shadowy chill of the room as Logan raced around, collecting various items and yanking on his T-shirt. She made her way to the armoire, withdrew her bag, and turned to leave.

“I didn’t give you permission to go,” he pointed out sharply, suddenly by her side.

She glanced at her cell phone. “It’s after midnight, and I’ve been here since six this morning. I’m tired, hungry, I want a shower, and I have a lot of thinking to do. We have to be here early tomorrow, and I haven’t yet packed. You can resume your Dom thing tomorrow. Good night.”

He extracted her duffle from her hands, disapproval all over his face. “Here’s how it’s going to go, Cherry: Your boss basically gave you to me until the end of this mission. We’re not slipping in and out of roles when it’s convenient for you. I’m the Dom, you’re the sub, period. First, you wear what I say.”

Logan studied her with a critical eye. “Give me your undergarments and suit coat.”

“What the hell? I can’t walk out of here without a bra. Everyone will know I’m not wearing one. It’s not like I won’t jiggle under silk.”

He raised a brow. “You’ll be walking past everyone else who belongs to a fetish club to exit tonight. Every Dom in the place will see if you are wearing a bra and they’ll know something is wrong. For all we know, someone out there could be involved in this shit. We’ve managed to keep this training secret to all but a select few, but that might change if you can’t be bothered to follow simple instructions. No fucking way are we dropping the pretense because you don’t want to jiggle. Are we clear?”

Damn it, she hated that he was right. “Fine, but why can’t I have my panties? No one will know if I have them on but me.”

“I’ll know. You’re riding with me when we leave. If I want to touch you, I want full access. You’ll give it to me, and that’s the end of the discussion. You’re going to get used to it or they’ll figure us out all too quickly at Fantasy Key.”

“Do you always have to push me, every moment of every day? When we’re undercover, do whatever the hell you want. But this, tonight, you’re just pressing your agenda and probably getting some real thrill out of bending me to your will.”

He stalked closer, wrapped his hand around her hip. “I’m always going to get a thrill out of bending you to my will. I’m just wired that way, baby. But I’m also going to make damn sure that you’re ready for whatever command I throw your way once we reach that fucking resort. If you want to argue about it some more, then expect another spanking the second we hit my door.”

“Your door?”

“Yeah.” Logan cocked his head to the side. “You don’t actually think that, after someone watched you submit to me tonight then left me a note threatening to kill you, that I’m going to leave you in that motel alone.”

“I work for the FBI. I’m not helpless.”

“I totally agree, but that changes nothing. You’re not staying at that dingy little motel, even if I tag along. My condo is far more secure. No one will get to you tonight.”

“Except you.”

“Especially me. If you think I’m not going to spend these last few hours holding you and telling you how special you are to me before I have to pretend otherwise, you’re lying to yourself.”

“We’ve already . . . I mean, we’ve had sex twice today.”

Logan merely smiled. “Third time’s the charm.”

Even as her mouth pursed mutinously, she blushed. “I admit that it’s not terribly safe at the motel. But maybe I should stay the night at my stepfather’s place and meet you in the morning. I need some space, Logan. I just don’t think it’s a good idea to be around you tonight.”

Logan sent her an uncompromising stare. “You know that staying with me is the safest option. I don’t like you being obstinate, especially when it potentially compromises your safety.”

“I’m thinking about more than my physical safety, Logan. Seriously, I need peace and some time to come to terms with everything that’s happening.”

“Sorry. You get me instead. Take off the garments I’ve instructed. We’ll stop by the motel, check you out, pick up your things, and go to my place.”

Tara wanted to taunt him that he couldn’t make her, but she had no doubt that he’d only pick her up and carry her out, regardless of how she felt.

“God, you can be such a bastard.”

“Yep.” He didn’t even try to refute her. “But I’m the bastard determined to keep you alive and prove that I love you. Let’s go.”

All but snarling, she yanked off her suit coat and panties, then struggled out of her bra without taking off her shirt. She tossed everything at Logan—then gasped. Even the slightest movement of her silk blouse against her nipples sent a shiver through her. Quickly, the little buds hardened, stood up.

Logan noticed immediately and ran a thumb over one. “So fucking pretty. I can’t wait to strip this off and get deep inside you again.”

“Don’t say things like that,” she protested, but it sounded weak, even to her own ears.

Tara wanted him again, the force of her desire like a tornado swirling uncontrollably inside her. And it wasn’t just the way he touched her; it was him. He alone commanded her body.

That was a hard realization, along with her growing awareness that her feelings weren’t simply those of a girl pining for the first boy she’d ever loved, but a woman desperately infatuated with a man destined to get over her eventually and move on with his life.

If she called him on it, he’d only deny it. Logan could be a pit bull like that. He certainly had been in high school, and she hadn’t been able to keep him. Extenuating circumstances aside, she doubted she’d be able to hold him now. Hell, she hadn’t even been able to make Brad happy. How would she ever please a man like Logan for long? It was just the case throwing them together. He’d figure that out soon.

She swallowed down the crushing sadness, focusing on anger. It, at least, was safe.

“Just shut up and let’s go.” She stepped into her skirt and shoes, ridiculously aware of her nudity beneath her clothes, and headed for the door.

With every step, she bounced and jiggled. The silk lining of her skirt brushed the sensitive cheeks of her ass. Even her thighs took notice of the sudden stimulation. And those nipples that Logan had stroked hard again? They reveled in every sensual slide of the fabric, engorging even more. Tara gritted her teeth, wondering if she’d make it out to the parking lot without shoving his pants down and demanding sex. That would serve him right. She frowned. Or was that his plan?