Logan peeked out the Stranded Beach Suite window and onto the street below. Despite its nearing one o’clock in the morning, the Boulevard moved along at its normal fast clip, tourists and vacationers oblivious to the things happening around them.
He wasn’t one of them.
Quiet and contemplative, Rachel aimed her silent scrutiny at him the second they’d reached their hotel room. He did the same thing when plotting his next move. Right now, he’d pay big bucks to know what was happening inside Rachel’s head.
Satisfied they hadn’t been tailed to the hotel, Logan faced her. Six feet away and standing next to the banana-leaf-covered king bed, Rachel crossed her slender arms over her chest and studied him, her expression a blank slate—guarded—and he couldn’t blame her.
He hadn’t been back from his first deployment more than a week before learning that wearing your emotions on your sleeve made people damn uncomfortable. Those who didn’t run straight for the hills often wanted to fix you. And so he’d perfected that same technique. The blank mask, or better yet, the fake one, was always the easier option.
So far, his gran had been the only one to see the raunchy T-shirts and shit-eating grin for what they were—additional camouflage. But something about the way Rachel looked at him…Maybe she saw through it too, probably because she had her own.
He’d seen it on more than one occasion, in the checklists, worn and overused, that she hid in her pockets, and in the quick, frequent smiles that didn’t quite reach her eyes. And between errands and exercising and tutoring children at the youth center, he’d be hard-pressed to recollect a time when she’d sat for longer than a ten-minute stretch.
Having already made contact with Charlie, and with nothing to do but wait until they got news, Logan leaned his ass against the wall and struck a pose similar to Rachel’s.
“Want to take a dip while we wait?” Logan taunted, gesturing to the already-filled hot tub.
Tucked into the corner and encased in a faux rock facade, the Jacuzzi looked more like a pond than anything man-made. Lily pads floated on the bubbling surface. Electric bamboo torches had replaced modern lamps, casting a golden glow throughout their Stranded-themed room.
“I’ll take your silence as a no. Good. Then since we’re relatively safe here in our own little oasis, we can fill in the blanks. Let’s start with Carly’s messages.”
Rachel blinked, barely withholding her surprise. “That’s where you want me to start?”
“Don’t you worry your pretty little head, darlin’, we’ll backtrack to all the rest, but I need to wrap my head around what exactly we’re dealing with on the Carly front. In case you didn’t pick up on it, you pissed someone off.”
“Maybe I’m an intimidating person.”
Logan slowly eyed her slender frame. “Depends on what kind of intimidation we’re talking about. And before you fly off the handle, yes, I know you’re not helpless. Training with Charlie and Penny has definitely given you some nice moves, but you’re not an operative.”
“I’m not exactly a kindergarten teacher either. At least not anymore.”
Rachel lost the stiffness in her spine, her shoulders dropping as if weighted with the mass of the globe. Logan pushed off the wall and gently guided her to the edge of the bed. “Sit before you keel the hell over.”
Once she settled, he dragged the desk chair over and sat directly in front of her. “Now, let’s hear it. Start with Carly’s phone calls, and why she sent you to a freakin’ brothel.”
Rachel glanced at her hands, folded in her lap. “Carly called me a few times since Tuesday, but I never seemed to be able to catch it. I kept meaning to call her back, but it was a crazy week with preparing for Penny’s birthday party. Days went by without me realizing.”
“But she left messages?”
“And she sounded like her normal self and just said she was checking in and to call her back when I got the chance. Last night, she called again, but I was…” Rachel glanced down to her restless hands.
Logan slid his over her fingers, giving them a firm squeeze. “You didn’t answer that call either because you were with me.”
She gave him a faint nod.
He wanted to kick himself in the ass, or hell, between the legs.
He’d stayed after the party had broken up, offering his cleaning services. And as they’d put her apartment back to rights, they’d bantered back and forth. The more he teased, the pinker her cheeks had become, and he loved knowing he was one of the few people who could get a rise out of her. Eventually she’d dared him to put his lips where his flirts were, and so he’d kissed the ever-lovin’ hell out of her.
“Your phone rang,” Logan realized. “When we were…in the kitchen.”
And they’d ignored it in favor of stripping off their clothes.
He brushed his thumb over the back of her hand. “I’m so damn sorry, darlin’.”
Tears brimmed in Rachel’s eyes. “It wasn’t something either of us could’ve realized. She’d sounded fine in all of her other messages, gushing about her new boyfriend. Her last voicemail was a complete one-eighty. It wasn’t the calm, steady Carly. She was scared out of her mind, and really thought that whatever she’d hidden at that brothel was her only way out.”
“And you’re sure she wasn’t—”
“High?” Rachel finished bluntly. “No. She’s been doing so well, probably even better than me.”
“I know you don’t like to think about it, babe, but a lot can happen in a short period of time to—”
“Derail an addict?” Rachel pulled her hand from his, shooting him a hard glare. “Trust me, Logan, I’m aware. But thanks to Freedom and Diego Fuentes, I also know how a person behaves when they’re flying as high as a Chinese kite. That wasn’t Carly. It was fear—pure and simple.”
Logan hated the surge of pain in Rachel’s eyes as she realized what he was about to say. “I want to help Carly too, and I want to believe that wherever she is, she’s okay. But you also need to prepare yourself for the alternative. Healthy Carly wouldn’t be hanging out at sex dens filled with drugs, or put you at risk. And that’s what she did, darlin’. The second she asked you to collect this magical black bag, she put a target on your head—a big one. We may not know what’s in it, but her friends obviously do, and they’re willing to hire a professional to make sure you can’t do anything with it.”
“I know.” The first tear slipped down Rachel’s cheek, quickly followed by a second. This time, Logan couldn’t simply hold a hand. He sat next to her and pulled her into his arms. She went willingly, her tears soaking his shirt in seconds. “I know all of this, Logan. I do. But I have to believe she’s okay because if she’s not…it’s totally on me. I’m the reason she fell.”
“The hell you are.” Logan tugged her chin up, demanding her attention. “Does it suck that you didn’t intercept her phone call? Yes. But the blame isn’t on you.”
“So you’re saying it’s Carly’s fault?” Rachel’s eyes narrowed.
“No,” he said, treading carefully, knowing he’d stepped into an active minefield. Pre-Rachel, he’d would’ve crossed it without a care in the world, knowing that the end result justified the means. But now, holding her in his arms, her damaged heart might as well be his. “I’m saying it’s the fault of Fuentes and his entire damn drug emporium. It’s the fault of the drug pushers on every street corner, all over the globe. It’s the fault of assholes who make money off of people’s hard times. But it sure as fuck isn’t yours…or Carly’s. Neither of you asked for this to happen. It happened to you.”
“I may not have been the one to put the drug in my veins, but I became an addict all the same. Addiction doesn’t discriminate between voluntary and forced.”
“You’re right. It doesn’t. What matters is how you handle it, and you did so gracefully.”
“So gracefully that the school system turned down my job application,” Rachel said dryly. “Although I can’t really blame them. I don’t know how I would feel about a drug addict teaching my child.”
“So you keep at them. You show them everything you have to offer, and eventually they’ll realize that you have a hell of a lot to give those kids. But you don’t give up. That’s not you.”
And it wasn’t.
Since the day he’d first laid eyes on her eighteen months ago, he’d recognized her for what she was—a fighter. Her recovery had been a hard one, difficult to watch, much less experience firsthand. He’d visited her in the hospital, witnessed her struggle to remain upbeat, and so he’d irritated her.
He’d flirted unabashedly.
He’d carried on inane conversations, bringing up topics he knew would get her blood boiling.
And he’d done it to show her that she still had a hell of a lot of fight in her.
“If it looks like I handled everything so well, it’s because I had Penny’s support, and Charlie’s, and yours…and everyone else’s at Alpha.” Rachel wiped the dampness off her cheeks. “Carly didn’t have that backup. I was her backup. I should’ve made myself more available. I was her friend, and I let her down.”
Logan hated seeing her beat herself up. Palming her cheek, he ran his thumb over her jaw. “Sweetheart, you’re trying to heal too.”
“I’m fine.” Rachel’s brightening green eyes belied her words.
They both knew she hid more than she admitted aloud.
He gentled his voice. “There’s no reason to put on an act for me. It’s just the two of us here.”
“I’m not putting on an—”
“You’re trying to con a con man, darlin’.”
She pushed his hand away and got to her feet. “You know what? You’re right. I am putting up a front. I smile and laugh. Because if I don’t, people I care about worry while others look at me like I’m going to raid their medicine cabinets the second their backs are turned. But pretending is so…”
“Exhausting.”
Rachel’s gaze snapped to his. “Exactly.”
Logan didn’t talk about his time in the Marine Corps. To anyone. And for all the reasons Rachel pointed out. Truth made people twitch. But he couldn’t watch her pretend anymore. He couldn’t let her think she was alone.
“I get the need to pretend everything smells like sunshine and roses.” At her shocked expression, he added, “I laugh. I joke—sometimes in excess. I wear raunchy shirts that have my gran praying for my everlasting soul. Because if I don’t, what people see would scare the shit out of them. People get a little antsy around a grumpy guy who can shoot a fly off a horse’s ass at twenty-five hundred yards—go figure. Add in having the highest kill count for the shortest length of deployment and antsy turns to scared shitless.”
“You’re not joking now, and you weren’t last night—at least not when we were together,” Rachel pointed out, her voice soft.
“And look what happened. You ran for the hills.”
By laying his cards out there for her to read, he’d handed her an invitation to turn tail and run—again. Standing, he paced the length of the room, fully aware of her gaze locked on him.
Sliding his fingers through his hair, he released a heavy breath. “I could try and blame it on emotional exhaustion and always having to keep a game face on, but that’s not what it is when I’m around you, Rachel. I drop the act because I savor being with you, and being me. It feels right. Last night was no exception, or at least I thought so before I woke up and realized you were gone.”
“I left because—”
“Of Carly’s message. I know, but can you tell me without a doubt that you wouldn’t have tried ducking out regardless?” At her silence, he let out a humorless laugh. “Thought so. Damn, it was like reliving the past.”
Fuck.
Rachel, all too observant, cocked her head to the side. “Considering that was our first time together, I’m guessing you mean someone else?”
“My fiancée.”
Rachel’s mouth fell open before she could catch herself. “You were engaged?”
“Yep. And no, no one at Alpha knows.” Suddenly exhausted by the entire damn conversation, Logan rubbed his face and turned toward Rachel. There was no sense in keeping it bottled up anymore, and part of him didn’t want to. In order to give whatever they had together a chance, he needed it all out.
He leaned against the edge of the table, distancing himself so he could think. “After I came home from my first tour of duty, I proposed to my high school sweetheart. I was barely twenty, old enough to die for my country but not old enough to have a beer. As soon I passed my qualifiers, I went into sniper training, and then, before long, another tour. We kept pushing the wedding off. Now I realize it was a blessing in disguise. We had no business thinking about marriage.”
“Just because you were young?” Rachel’s voice held no judgment.
“No, because after every tour, I came home different. At first Ann tried ignoring it, but she eventually demanded reasons for my change.”
“People change over time, Logan. It’s the natural progression of things.”
“It is, but it was more than the passing of a few years. I was a Marine…a Marine sniper.” Logan clarified, “Every aspect of my deployment revolved around death. But I finally told her about the things I’d both seen and done. I purged it all. And when I woke up the next morning, it was to an empty apartment and her ring sitting on top of my rucksack.”
Logan braved a glance at Rachel, both shocked and awed at the tears in her eyes. “Why are you crying, darlin’?”
Her chin trembled. “Because you bared your soul to her and she let it lie there out in the open, unprotected. You deserve so much more than that.”
“I’m finally believing that…but it’s taken awhile.”
Realization dawned in her eyes. “The smiles. The jokes. The raunchy T-shirts…”
“All camouflage.”
Logan’s feet remained glued to the floor as Rachel slowly walked to him. With every step his throat dried more, so that by the time she stopped in front of him, his tongue stuck to the roof of his mouth.
As she looked at him through her silk lashes, a pool of emotions swam in her gorgeous green eyes, ratcheting up his heart rate until the sound of each pump thumped in his ears.
Rachel tentatively touched his arm, making him realize he’d bunched his hands into fists. “I didn’t run out on you because you made me nervous. At least not in the way you think.”
Logan’s hands itched to touch her, and he did. Looping an arm around her waist, he slowly guided her against him. His body tingled where they touched, the sensation intensifying when she slid a hand around the back of his neck and into his hair.
There it was again…that sense of rightness he’d never felt with anyone. “Maybe you should be running in the other direction. You would if you knew what was good for you.”
“I do know what’s good for me…and it just so happens that it’s a moody former Marine sniper who can pull off both a yellow pineapple shirt and one that claims him to be an Orgasm Donor.”
A small smile tilted Rachel’s lips. As he cupped her cheek, Logan caressed the curve of her mouth with his thumb. “You like my shirt, do you, darlin’?”
“You said you didn’t want to pretend with me, Logan, and I feel the same way about you. You do make me nervous. Without a doubt. But it has nothing to do with what you shared with me and everything to do with how alive and powerful you make me feel.”
“You don’t need me to make you feel powerful. You’re strong all on your own.”
Rachel smiled, her gaze flicking down to his mouth and back. “And that’s exactly what I mean.”
Lifting to her toes, she brushed her mouth against his. Swept away on first contact, Logan shifted his grip and invited her to deepen the kiss. And she did. She gave him so much more than he could ever hope to give her.
Logan had once vowed to never again leave himself vulnerable.
But with Rachel, he felt anything but.
He felt powerful.