“You do this all the time. But me?” She shook her head. “I’m not built for this.”

And wasn’t that the understatement of the year? Logan couldn’t stop his gaze from roaming over her, starting at her wide brown eyes and wandering down to her graceful hands, stopping to linger on everything in between. Olivia was a woman built for civilized pursuits, not the machinations of a ruthless drug cartel.

“No, you aren’t,” he agreed. Seeing her here in his office, looking lost, tugged at something deep inside his chest.

“Would you feel better if I went with you?”

She grabbed his hand, squeezing hard. “I would feel better if you were with me.” Her words made him want to puff out his chest, but he controlled the urge.

“So you’ll do it?” he asked, trying not to sound too eager.

“Yes, I’ll do it.”

“Excellent.” Logan couldn’t stop a grin. Finally, they had a solid chance to bring these guys down! It was the operation of a lifetime, and he would make sure they succeeded.

Or die trying.

* * *

We hope you enjoyed a first look at a brand-new, electrifying series, Doctors in Danger!

Enticed by the
Operative
Lara Lacombe

www.millsandboon.co.uk

LARA LACOMBE earned a PhD in microbiology and immunology and worked in several labs across the country before moving into the classroom. Her day job as a college science professor gives her time to pursue her other love—writing fast-paced romantic suspense with smart, nerdy heroines and dangerously attractive heroes. She loves to hear from readers! Find her on the web or contact her at laralacombewriter@gmail.com.

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For Mister, my favorite traveling companion.

Contents

Cover

Introduction

Title Page

About the Author

Dedication

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Extract

Copyright

Chapter 1

“Is it time for our next girls’ weekend yet?”

Olivia Sandoval couldn’t help but laugh at the plaintive note in her friend Avery’s voice. “That bad, huh?”

“I’m just ready for a break.”

Olivia moved the phone to her other ear and used her free hand to massage a kink in her neck. Avery and Mallory had been her best friends since they’d met in medical school ten years ago, and they’d all shared an apartment. They had managed to live together during their residencies, and then one by one, they had each moved away to take jobs—Avery Thatcher to Atlanta for her job at the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention, Mallory Watkins to Los Angeles to work with a cruise ship company, and Olivia to Washington, DC, where she practiced plastic surgery. They had wildly different careers, but they were still close and made it a point to get together twice a year to catch up. Olivia looked forward to their biannual trips all year, and she knew Avery and Mallory felt the same way.

“I hear you. I bet Mallory is, too.”

“Are you kidding me? She’s a doctor on a cruise ship, for crying out loud! Her whole life is a vacation.”

“Jealous, much?”

“Yes.” Avery didn’t bother to deny it, which made Olivia smile.

“You get to travel for your job,” she pointed out.

“Yeah, but not to any fun locations. I’m leaving tomorrow for a small town in Kansas. Apparently there’s some kind of respiratory thing going on there.”

“Kansas is nice,” Olivia pointed out. “Lots of friendly people.”

“But no ocean view,” Avery grumbled.

“Well, no. But there’s more to life than salt water.”

“Says the woman going to Colombia in a few weeks.”

“Hey, I’d love for you to join me. We could always use another pair of hands down there.”

“I wish I could go,” Avery said wistfully. “But I’m not a surgeon like you. I’ve spent too many years holed up in my office at the CDC—my clinical skills aren’t what they used to be. I wouldn’t be much help for you.”

“You’d be surprised,” Olivia replied. “If you remember how to do a physical, you’re halfway there. The need for basic medical care is so great, anything is better than nothing. Just think about it,” she added. “Colombia is beautiful, and it would be a great experience for you.”

Avery was silent for a moment. “I’ll sleep on it,” she said, a note of interest in her voice. “Maybe I could finagle the time off.”

A spark of excitement flared to life in Olivia’s stomach. Having one of her best friends come on her annual charity trip would be wonderful. It would be great to spend the time with Avery, and more important, having another clinician on site would really increase the number of patients they could treat during their stay. She opened her mouth to tell Avery as much when the intercom on her desk buzzed to life.

“Dr. Sandoval? Your next patient is here.”

“And that’s my cue,” Avery spoke into her ear. “I’ll call you later, okay?”

“Sounds good. Have a safe trip.”

Olivia hung up and pressed the button on her desk. “Thanks, Carrie. Please send him in.”

“Sure thing.”

She stood, running her hand down the front of her blouse to smooth out the wrinkles. As a plastic surgeon, appearances mattered. She had to project confidence and competence, especially for a first meeting. Patients needed to see her as a calm, composed figure who could help transform their physical imperfections into assets. One of the first things they did was judge her own appearance, so she was always careful to make sure her hair and makeup looked good before every meeting.

A soft knock announced her patient’s arrival. She opened the door with a smile, ushering the man in and taking his file from Carrie, the office assistant. “Thank you,” she said softly to the other woman.

Olivia glanced at the chart before turning her attention to the man who had entered her office. Carlos Martinez. Her gaze tracked over his face as she gestured for him to take a seat. He was a few inches shorter than her, but he carried himself well. His eyes were clear and dark, and silver strands threaded through his black hair, lending him an air of sophistication. His skin had lost some elasticity due to age, and there were fine wrinkles fanning from the corners of his eyes and mouth. Face-lift, she thought automatically. A little pulling, a little stretching, and he’d look ten years younger in no time. And maybe a nose job, she added, focusing on the slight angle to his nose that hinted of a long-ago break that hadn’t healed properly.

She glanced at his body, wondering if he wanted some kind of liposuction, as well. He looked trim, but she knew from experience that a well-tailored suit like the one he was sporting could hide a multitude of sins.

“Mr. Martinez, I’m Dr. Sandoval.” She smiled as she extended her hand. His grip was firm but not painful.

“Nice to meet you.” His words carried a soft, lilting accent that told her English was not his first language. It reminded her of her father’s speech, the rolled r’s that sounded almost like a purr, the way his words strung together in a smooth rhythm. She was half-tempted to respond in Spanish, but decided against it. Spanish was the language of her family, the language of home. English helped her remember this was a business meeting and she had to keep things professional.

Olivia rounded her desk and sat, opening his file to a blank page so she could take notes. She liked to spend the first meeting talking to her patients, getting to know them and listening to what they wanted to change about their bodies. It was important that she keep their expectations realistic, especially from the beginning. A lot of people walked into her office looking like an average Joe and wanted to walk out looking like a supermodel. And although Olivia was very good at her job, some things were just not possible.

Although she didn’t love performing cosmetic procedures, it paid her bills and allowed her the freedom to pursue her true passion—helping those who truly needed plastic surgery to live a normal life. The burn patients, the children with cleft palates, the women who had suffered severe facial damage at the hands of abusive partners. She was lucky to have found a practice that allowed her to take on a lot of pro-bono work, and even better, they didn’t bat an eye when she took a month off every year to do charity work in Colombia.

She was really looking forward to her upcoming trip, but right now she needed to focus on the patient in front of her.

“What brings you to my office, Mr. Martinez?”

“I have business proposition for you.”

She lifted a brow at his unexpected reply. “I’m sorry, I thought you were here as a patient.” Had Carrie gotten her appointments mixed up? The office manager usually ran a tight ship, but everyone made mistakes.

Mr. Martinez waved a hand, as if the misunderstanding were of no consequence. “I didn’t specify when I made the appointment. I simply needed to see you.”

“Oh?” This was highly unorthodox. Olivia usually didn’t meet with potential business partners on her own—that was something all the members of the practice did together, to ensure everyone had equal input on decisions that might affect them all. “Can we reschedule this meeting so the other doctors can hear your proposal? That’s generally how we do things here.”

“There is no need,” Mr. Martinez replied smoothly. “This proposal is for your ears only.”

That was unusual. Olivia had joined the office five years ago, but she was far from being the senior doctor on staff. What could this man possibly want with her?

“All right,” she said, deciding to hear him out. His eyes held a glint that told her he was determined to say his piece. Better to listen and usher him out the door as quickly as possible so she could get on with her day.

“I understand you travel to Colombia every year, and spend a month doing pro bono work there.”

“Yes.” She leaned forward, excitement making her fingertips tingle. Did he want to donate? The medical charity she partnered with was always in need of funds for supplies, and the more money they raised, the more patients they could treat in Colombia and elsewhere in the world. The need for their services seemed to grow every year, a fact that broke her heart. “Are you interested in making a contribution?” It was a bold question, but subtlety had never been Olivia’s strong suit, especially when children in need were concerned.

“In a manner of speaking.” He spread his hands out, palms up, as if to say I’m a reasonable man.

“I have a proposal that I think will benefit both of us,” he continued.

“And what does it involve?” Would he just get to the point?

“What I am suggesting is merely that you act as a courier for my employer.”

“A courier?” Olivia felt the fine hairs on the back of her neck rise, and she suppressed a shudder. The man in front of her looked polished, but his continued use of euphemisms was suspicious.

“My employer has a business arrangement with partners in Colombia, but what they lack is a reliable transporter. If you accept this offer, you will simply carry funds and once there, exchange them for product. Upon your return, you will deliver the product to me.”

Olivia leaned back, wanting to get as far away from this man as possible. He hadn’t said anything overtly incriminating, but she wasn’t stupid. Product was just a nice word for drugs. “No,” she said flatly, faking a confidence she didn’t feel. She couldn’t afford to show weakness—it was clear the man in her office had unsavory connections, and she didn’t want to be seen as a target. “I’m not interested.”

“I think you will find our offer is very generous,” Mr. Martinez replied, ignoring her words. “I know you have extensive debt, both from your medical training and your parents’ hospital bills. We can make that go away.”

Olivia felt a spike of pain at the mention of her parents. Two years ago, they had been driving home in the middle of a storm when her father had lost control of the car and slid off the road into a tree. Both her parents had been seriously hurt and had lingered in intensive care for weeks before finally succumbing to their injuries. Losing them had almost broken Olivia, but over time, her blinding grief had morphed into a determination to live a life that would make them proud. Her pro bono work in Colombia was one way she found comfort, going back to her father’s home country to help those who needed it most.

The fact that this man was asking her to corrupt the work of her heart triggered a black wave of anger in her chest. How dare he try to use the loss of her parents against her? Did he really think she was so desperate for money that she would resort to carrying drugs to pay her debts? She wanted to lash out, to scream at him to leave and then call the police to report him.

But she didn’t. Despite her swirling emotions and racing thoughts, she was very aware of the man in front of her. His gaze was locked on her, and though he appeared calm, there was a predatory gleam in his dark eyes. He looked like a snake, waiting and watching for the right time to strike. A trickle of fear skittered down her back, and she realized that she needed to tread very carefully. Something about his demeanor told her that this was not a man who accepted the word no.

“I appreciate your offer,” she said slowly, almost choking on the lie. Just get him out of here! her mind screamed. “But I don’t think I’m the right person for this job. My medical supplies are inspected both going to and coming from Colombia. I don’t see how I’d be able to bring your product back into the country without attracting the wrong kind of attention.” It was the truth, and hopefully he’d accept it.

Her heart sank when he waved away her excuse. “We have provisions in place to make sure that doesn’t happen. I assure you, this job is entirely safe. We chose you because you are the last person anyone would suspect. You have a history of travel to the region, and your reputation as a selfless healer puts you above reproach. We will ensure you receive appropriate compensation for your efforts.” Then he named a figure that sucked the breath out of her lungs. “We’ll pay you half up front, and half upon delivery of the product.”

She looked away and ran her hands down her thighs, stopping to grip her knees tightly. Did her fear show on her face? Could he tell how scared she was? She tried to keep her expression neutral, hoping she wasn’t giving anything away.

Her mind raced, scrambling for a response. Carlos was an unknown quantity, and she didn’t want to make him angry. But really, said a small, subversive voice in her head. What can he do to me? She’d already lost her parents, she had no siblings and her two best friends lived in different states. He could always hurt her, but somehow she doubted he would try that tactic. If he wanted her cooperation, she had to be healthy enough to travel. And it would take more than a few bruises to convince her to work for this man.

A strange calm settled over Olivia as she realized that she held all the power here, not the man in front of her. Yes, he worked for drug traffickers, and she watched enough news to know those were dangerous people. But he had come to her, which meant he needed her. And he had no leverage to force her to accept his offer.

She met his gaze. “No.”

He smiled, as if he’d expected this reaction. “Dr. Sandoval, I think you should reconsider.”

“No,” she repeated. “I will not be a part of your business.”

Carlos leaned back, his brows lifted in surprise. “That sounds very final.”

“It is.”

He shook his head. “In my experience, such answers never are.”

Olivia opened her mouth to reply, but he waved it off and stood. She rose as well, unwilling to let him tower over her. “It was a pleasure meeting you today. I will give you a little time to think about your answer.” He reached into his suit jacket, and Olivia froze, adrenaline making her heart kick hard against her breastbone. Oh, God, was he going to shoot her?

Carlos caught her expression and smirked. He withdrew his hand slowly and set a card on her desk. “My number,” he said. “I expect to hear from you soon.”

“You won’t.” The words sounded strangled, and she cleared her throat. “As I said, my answer is final.”

He smiled, but his eyes remained cold. “As you say.” He walked to the door and stopped, turning back. “I admire your spirit. It will serve you well.”

She held her breath until the door closed behind him, then she rocked forward until her palms landed flat against the solid weight of her desk. It’s okay, she told herself, repeating the words over and over again until she no longer felt like her heart was trying to beat out of her chest. He’s gone.

But for how long?

* * *

The rest of her day passed in a blur. Olivia tried to focus on her job, but the memory of Carlos Martinez was front and center in her mind, an unwelcome and disturbing distraction. Fortunately, she had no scheduled surgeries so her impaired attention was no danger to her patients.

She had to report him to the authorities. It was her only option. The thought of him targeting someone else, someone who might not be able to refuse his offer, weighed on her. Could she really live with herself, knowing he was free to continue hurting people?

But who should she call? Would the police help her? Or did she need to try the FBI? And how could she convince them she was telling the truth? After all, she hadn’t recorded their conversation. It was her word against his.

“It doesn’t matter,” she muttered to herself as she navigated the evening traffic. “I have to tell someone. What they do with the information is on them.” At least she’d be able to sleep at night, knowing she’d done all she could.

She’d tucked his business card and his medical file in her bag before leaving the office. When she got home, she pulled them both out and started up her computer, determined to find the number to the local police. She’d start there, and if the police didn’t take her seriously, she’d move on to the FBI or some other organization.

The doorbell rang just as she pulled up the web page for the Alexandria, Virginia, police department. Good—her dinner was here. She’d ordered takeout before leaving the office so she wouldn’t have to cobble together a sad meal of crackers and stale cheese. Grabbing her wallet, she headed for the door and glanced through the peephole. A young man stood on her stoop, holding a bag that contained her food.

Olivia opened her door with a smile and extended a hand to take the bag, holding out a few bills in payment. “Thanks,” she said, the word dying in her throat as a shadowy figure moved up the walk and into the glow cast by her porch light. She took a reflexive step back, but the delivery boy pulled on the bag, halting her progress.

Carlos Martinez stopped just behind the young man, a wry smile on his lips. “Dr. Sandoval, so good to see you again. We took the liberty of paying for your food so it wouldn’t grow cold. May we come in?”

She glanced around wildly, hoping to see lights on in the house next door. Her neighbor, Logan Murray, was a large, fit man, and if she could somehow scream loudly enough to get his attention, perhaps he could help her... But his windows were dark. She was on her own.

“No.” Her heart in her throat, Olivia dropped the bag and stepped inside. She grabbed the edge of the door and tried to slam it shut, but the young man stuck his foot in the jamb and forced his way into her house, Carlos close on his heels.

Olivia stumbled backward, trying to keep her gaze on the intruders while she got as far away as possible. A weapon, she needed a weapon—something, anything, she could use to defend herself. Her hands ran across the back of her sofa, the end table, the wall. Her fingers swept along the candles standing on the hall table, and she grabbed her mother’s silver candlestick, brandishing it like a bat. Why, oh why, had she left her cell phone next to the computer?

“Dr. Sandoval,” Carlos said, his tone disapproving. “Please. We are not here for violence. Can we not sit and have a civilized chat?”

Her throat too tight for words, Olivia shook her head.

He let out a deep sigh. “Well, then.” He made a sharp gesture with his hand, and the younger man reached behind his back and retrieved a gun that he pointed at Olivia with a confidence that made her stomach drop. Oh, God.

Carlos settled into her recliner and gestured for her to take a seat on the couch, facing him. Olivia half walked, half stumbled over, her legs gone numb with fear and her attention focused on the lethal-looking gun pointed at her head. She sank onto the sofa, gripping the candlestick so hard she thought it might snap in her hands.

“I thought we might revisit our conversation from this afternoon.”

Olivia cut her gaze to Carlos, then back to the man with the gun. “I have nothing to say to you while I’m being held at gunpoint.” Her voice wavered a bit, but she was proud of herself for getting the words out. Her fear of getting shot weighed heavy on her chest, making it so hard to breathe she felt like she was drowning. If he would just put the gun away, she might be able to actually think!

Carlos tilted his head, a slight smile playing at the corners of his mouth. He was enjoying her fear, damn him! Olivia straightened her spine and clamped her mouth shut, determined not to give him any more satisfaction. After a moment, he nodded at the younger man. She refused to turn her head to look at him, but she caught movement from the corner of her eye and breathed a silent sigh of relief as he returned his gun to its hiding place.

“Now, then,” Carlos said. “As I was saying. Have you had time to reconsider my earlier offer?”

“My answer hasn’t changed,” Olivia replied. The other man moved, and she fought the urge to flinch. But he simply walked around the couch and took the rocking chair in the corner of the room, his gaze watchful. At least he wasn’t threatening her again.

Carlos merely nodded. “I thought you might say that. So I brought along some additional material for you to examine.” He reached into his jacket pocket and withdrew an envelope, holding it out for her. She refused to take it from him, so he dropped it on the table between them and leaned back. “I think you will want to see what’s inside,” he said, with a nod at the envelope.

Keeping her eyes on the men in front of her, Olivia leaned forward and brushed the table with her fingertips, catching the edge of the paper. She reluctantly set the candlestick on the seat next to her, but really, what good was it against a gun?

The envelope wasn’t sealed, and she lifted the flap to find a stack of photographs. The bottom dropped out of her stomach when she saw Avery’s face, and she quickly flipped through several of the pictures. Avery at work. Avery at the gym. At the grocery store. At home. The last one had been taken through her bedroom window as her friend packed a suitcase on the bed.

I’m leaving tomorrow for a small town in Kansas...

Olivia moved to the next picture, her fingers so stiff she almost dropped the stack. Tears sprang to her eyes as she saw her other best friend, Mallory. She’d thought Mallory of all people would be safe, since she worked on a cruise ship and was always gone. But apparently Carlos had eyes and ears everywhere.

When she reached the end of the stack, she glanced up to find him watching her. “So you see,” he said, as if they’d been talking all along, “you may feel that because your parents are dead, you are safe. But I hope you realize that is not the case.”

Olivia swallowed hard. “You can’t be serious.” Would they really go after her best friends? That was the kind of thing that happened in movies, but not real life. Right?

“Dr. Sandoval, I assure you I am deadly serious. If you do not agree to cooperate, we will target your friends. If that doesn’t work, we will move on to their families, as well. Would you really risk the safety of innocents for the sake of your precious pride?”

Her heart sank as she realized the full gravity of his threat. She couldn’t bear to think of a world without Avery and Mallory in it. They’d been best friends since medical school, and Olivia thought of them as family. The only family she had left, in fact.

Helplessness crashed over her, bringing with it a wave of weakness that made her head feel too heavy for her neck. She stared down at her lap, lacking the strength to even meet Carlos’s eyes. What choice did she have now? If she refused, she had no doubt Carlos would follow through with his threats. He was never going to go away. He was never going to leave her alone. She’d been so arrogant earlier, assuming he’d just accept her refusal and slink away. But now she realized she was nothing more than a pawn to him, and he was going to play this game with or without her consent.

Anger flared to life deep inside her chest, sending tendrils of heat through her limbs. Sweat gathered at the back of her neck, and she reached up to lift her hair, exposing her skin to the cool air of the room. She eyed the candlestick next to her—could she club Carlos with it? The idea was distasteful and went against the vows she’d taken to do no harm, but in this case, she might be willing to make an exception.

Her eyes shifted to the young man in the chair. He was watching her with dark eyes, his gaze alert. No. If she made any kind of move toward Carlos, he’d shoot her before she could harm his boss. She was well and truly stuck.

“Fine.” She spat the word at him, her acceptance leaving a bitter taste in her mouth. “I’ll do it. But I want your guarantee that you won’t harm them.”

Carlos lifted one shoulder in an elegant shrug. “If you fulfill your responsibilities, I will forget all about them.”

It was as close to a promise as she was likely to get, and while she didn’t trust him, she had to believe he was telling the truth. Why target her friends unless absolutely necessary? It would draw too much attention, and Carlos seemed like the type who didn’t make a move unless it was going to benefit him.

He stood and smoothed a hand over his jacket. The young man rose as well and moved to stand beside his boss. Carlos smiled down at her. “I am so glad we were able to come to an agreement,” he said solicitously. “You are an intelligent woman, and I knew you would see reason.”

Olivia stood but didn’t reply. She had nothing to say to him and didn’t trust herself to speak. The last thing she needed was to antagonize him just as he was leaving. He might lash out at one of the innocent people in her life just to teach her a lesson in manners.

Her silence didn’t seem to bother him. He gestured to the young man, and together they moved to her door. Olivia stayed where she was, turning to watch them go.

He glanced back at her before walking out the door, his eyes going cold when he saw her expression. He looked at his partner and nodded once. Before Olivia realized what was happening, the younger man closed the distance between them and slapped her hard across the face.

Her head snapped back and tears flooded her eyes. She staggered, grabbing onto the back of the couch for support to keep from falling down.

“What was that for?” she said, pressing her hand against her throbbing cheek.

“Consider it a warning,” he replied. “You work for us now. We won’t tolerate insubordination.”

“I didn’t say anything,” she protested.

He smiled, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “You have a very expressive face, Dr. Sandoval. You must learn to control it. The next time, I will not be so kind.”

Chapter 2

Logan 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.”

Chapter 3

She was quiet on the drive in. Logan couldn’t tell if she was shutting down, or merely being considerate since he spent most of the time on the phone. He made a few calls to some key players, people who needed to know what was going on and would help decide what to do about it. He didn’t want to bring everyone in just yet—not until he knew exactly what they were dealing with. He didn’t want to have to tell Olivia this, but the threats from Carlos could be a false alarm, or it might be too late for her friends. Either way, he wasn’t going to pull the trigger on a massive operation without a little more confirmation.

He glanced over, hoping to get a read on her mood. But she was turned away from him, staring out the window at the passing buildings. It was just as well. He didn’t exactly have a script of comforting words to draw from, and he certainly didn’t want to make things worse for her by saying the wrong thing.

Part of him was glad she wasn’t looking at him. He’d had a hard enough time containing his reaction at the kitchen table. As soon as she’d told him her story, complete with mention of the mysterious Carlos Martinez, his skin had started to tingle as if he’d been dropped into a pool of champagne. Her description of the man had fit perfectly with the profile they had on one of the US operatives for Fantasmas del Mal. The administration had been working for ages trying to gather more intel on this guy and his associates. If they could stop the US cell of this organization, it would be a major blow to the Colombian crime lords. Furthermore, crippling the US arm of Fantasmas del Mal might just weaken them enough that their competition would finish off the cartel.

But first things first. They had to figure out a way to keep her alive while she did the group’s dirty work.

Once again, his protective instincts fired up at the thought of Olivia in danger. He wasn’t quite sure why she elicited such a strong reaction from him, but he wasn’t going to dismiss the feeling. It had been so long since he’d felt much of anything that he welcomed the emotion, even though he knew it would only make matters more complicated.

Some things were worth the trouble.

The way he saw it, the only way her friends stood a chance of getting out alive was if Olivia carried the cartel’s money and exchanged it for drugs. A simple plan, except for one obvious flaw: Olivia wasn’t trained to handle this kind of situation.

And the bad guys knew it.

Logan tightened his grip on the steering wheel as he thought about her, alone and helpless, sent to deliver a pile of money in exchange for a suitcase full of drugs. She would be like a lamb to slaughter. The suppliers would likely give her the drugs—fear of Fantasmas del Mal ran deep in Colombia. But that didn’t mean they wouldn’t hurt Olivia in the process. Everyone knew these exchanges were dangerous. And as long as Olivia didn’t die... No harm, no foul, at least as far as the cartel was concerned.

Besides, unless he missed his guess, Carlos Martinez or another mystery man would probably kill her once she got back and delivered their product. She was clearly reluctant to participate, and they didn’t need anyone with a conscience knowing too much about their business. Once Olivia had completed the job, she’d be considered a loose end, someone to dispose of quickly before she could do any damage.

He shook his head. No matter what she did, she was damned. He clenched his jaw, hating the thought of her being treated like a loose end. She was so much more than that...

Did she realize the magnitude of the danger she was in? He glanced at her out of the corner of his eye, but her posture hadn’t changed. From what he could tell, she was a smart woman. They didn’t exactly hand out medical school diplomas, and he imagined plastic surgery was a demanding specialty. But book smarts didn’t always translate into street smarts, and it was possible Olivia hadn’t thought that far ahead.

“There’s no happy ending here, is there?”

Or maybe she had.

He winced, but really, it was better this way. He’d much prefer her to be informed than to be ignorant of the risks and realities of her situation. And a big part of him was relieved that he didn’t have to be the one to crush her hopes. Call him old-fashioned, but he really hated to be the guy who made a woman cry.

“We don’t know all the facts yet,” he cautioned. “There’s a lot of information we still need before we act.”

Olivia turned to face him then, her wide mouth pressed into a thin line. “You and I both know that the only way I’ll ever see my friends again is if I do what they want. That’s assuming the cartel doesn’t kill them just to make a point.”

Logan didn’t reply. He couldn’t deny the truth of her words, but he didn’t want to confirm them, either.

“So the only way to get out of this is for me to work with the devil. Which will probably get me killed.”

“Not necessarily,” he interjected. For some reason, it was important to him that she not give up hope. The odds were not in their favor, but there was always a chance.

And he was going to do his best to make that chance a reality.

She smiled, but it didn’t reach her eyes. “I’m not stupid,” she said softly. “And while I don’t know much about this organization, I doubt they’re the type to let me walk away. I refused them once, and they made it clear that to do so again would be a bad idea.” She ran her fingertips along her cheek as she spoke, and for the first time he noticed a faint darkening there, like the beginnings of a bruise. Had they hit her? He nearly snorted in disgust. He wouldn’t put it past Carlos or his men. From what he knew of them, they weren’t above bullying a woman to get what they wanted.

Logan was quiet as he pulled into the parking lot. He found a spot close to the door and cut the engine, then turned to face Olivia. “Can I ask you a question?”

She shrugged. “Sure.”

“What’s the worst case you’ve ever had?”

Her brows drew together. “Worst in what way? Most difficult, or most frustrating?”

“I mean worst, as in you thought there was nothing you could do.”

Olivia’s eyes dropped to her lap, and he knew she was thinking. “There was a child in Colombia,” she said. “He was about six and had a cleft palate. The surgery itself wasn’t terribly complicated, as these things go, but once we got him onto the table everything went wrong. We lost power, his pulse dropped dangerously low, and the anesthesiologist had no way to truly measure his state of consciousness. I thought for sure we were going to lose him.”

“Did you?”

“No.” She shook her head, then lifted her eyes to meet his. “We didn’t. We pulled out all the stops, and by some miracle we were able to save him and complete the operation.”

“It wasn’t a miracle,” he replied. “It was your talent and the skills of those on your team.”

Olivia tilted her head. “I suppose that’s one way of looking at it.”

“I know this is a lot to ask. I know you don’t know me, and you don’t know the members of my team. But please try to trust me. Things look bleak now, but I will find a way to get you and your friends through this.”

“How can you be sure?” The words were barely more than a whisper, but he heard them loud and clear in the quiet car. “I want to believe you—I do. But I’m so afraid.”

“I know,” he said, just as softly. “But it’s my job to make sure the bad guys don’t win.” Especially where you’re concerned. For some reason, Olivia’s dilemma was more than just another case to him—protecting her was something he felt compelled to do. “Is this the part where you tell me you’re the best there is?” She gave him a shaky smile, trying to pass the question off as a joke. But he saw the curiosity in her eyes, the burning need to know if he really could deliver on his promises.

“Would you feel better if I did?” He could rattle off a list of his accomplishments in his sleep, but that’s not what she needed to hear. Besides, he knew better than anyone that words were meaningless. He had to show her by his actions that he was capable of keeping her safe.

“I honestly can’t say.”

Without thinking, Logan reached over and brushed a thick tendril of glossy brown hair behind her ear. “Tell you what. Let’s go inside and have a conversation with some of my friends. You can listen to what we come up with, and I’ll let you decide if I’m good at my job.”

She nodded, and they climbed out of the car. He walked around the hood and put his hand on the small of her back to guide her into the building. It fit perfectly, as if that spot on her body had been made for his touch.

Don’t even go there, he told himself. Olivia was a woman in trouble, and while his inner hero was thrilled to be the one to ride to her rescue, he had no business entertaining those kinds of thoughts. His personal feelings had no place in this situation, a fact he couldn’t afford to forget. Things were bad enough—one slipup on his part could cost several lives.

It was a sobering realization, and one that got his brain back on track.

Time to go to work.

* * *

Olivia was beginning to regret her decision to stay in Logan’s office.

It was a nice enough place, but being alone with her thoughts only gave her the opportunity to obsess about Avery and Mallory—where they were, if the cartel had kidnapped them yet. If they were all going to make it out alive.

Logan hadn’t been gone long. “You’re welcome to sit with us as we hash this out,” he’d said.

“No, thanks.” She didn’t need to be in the room while he and his friends talked candidly about her situation. She wanted them to feel free to come up with a plan, and if they were trying to be sensitive to her feelings, they might not discuss all their options.

“Want some coffee?”

She’d declined his offer. She was jittery enough already—if she added caffeine to the mix, she just might vibrate right out of her skin.

He’d given her a sympathetic look. “I’ll come back for you soon.”

She’d merely nodded, and he’d turned and left the room.

To pass the time, Olivia stood and walked over to the wall behind his desk. It was filled with pictures and plaques, physical evidence of his commendations and awards. She stepped closer, peering at a photo that showed a group of men sitting on a large pile of plastic-covered bundles. Drugs, she realized. It took a second to find him, but Logan was sitting on the right-hand side, grinning widely underneath his sunglasses. There were several other similar photos on the wall, making her wonder just how many successful operations he’d conducted. Her heart lightened a bit at the proof that Logan really was as good as she’d hoped. Maybe she and her friends would get through this after all.

Her gaze flickered over to a formal picture, one of Logan in a suit, standing next to a dignitary who looked vaguely familiar. He was quite handsome when he dressed the part, but her eyes kept going back to the more casual shots of Logan with his team. There was something about those images that drew her to him. Maybe it was his tanned skin, his tangled hair or even his knockout grin. Perhaps it was the combination of all three. But the longer she studied the pictures, the more she realized she liked looking at him like this because he appeared to be happy. The photos had captured a man who truly enjoyed his work, one who was totally comfortable in his own skin. It was a rare quality these days, especially in her field. She was so used to being around people who hated some aspect of their appearance that some of their negativity had rubbed off on her, making her forget that not everyone was unhappy. No wonder she had found Logan attractive from the beginning—he was the natural antidote to the melancholy of her daily job.

Not that it was all bad. Her trips to Colombia made the daily grind worth it. There was nothing like using her skills to change someone’s life for the better. These were not people who felt a little too fat or a little too wrinkled to be pretty. These were patients who couldn’t eat properly because of cleft palates, people who had massive scars, people who truly needed help. Fixing them gave her the only peace she’d felt since her parents had died, and she lived off the sense of contentment for the rest of the year.

Olivia rubbed her hands up and down her arms, suddenly feeling cold. Logan had a light jacket hanging off the back of his chair, and she reached for it, vowing to return it to its rightful place before he caught her wearing his clothes. She shrugged it on, rolling up the sleeves so her hands were free. It hung off her shoulders and halfway down her thighs, but she felt immediately warmer. Breathing in, she caught a hint of laundry detergent, male body wash and a faint, clean note that could only be his skin. It was a pleasant scent and she closed her eyes, taking a deeper breath. Being wrapped up in his jacket made her feel secure, and as she stood there snuggling into the fabric, her heart rate slowed and her muscles began to relax. For the first time since Carlos’s appearance in her office, she felt normal.

A soft knock at the door interrupted her sanctuary. She turned to find Logan standing in the doorway, his eyes dark and unreadable.

“We’re ready for you now.”

She swallowed, her heart in her throat. “Okay.” She took a step toward him, then realized she still wore his jacket. With a small sound of embarrassment, she moved to take it off.

Logan held out his hand, stalling her. “Leave it,” he said. He eyed her up and down, the corner of his mouth lifting in a half smile that was too sexy for her liking. “It looks good on you.”

Goose bumps broke out along her arms, making her glad the long sleeves covered her completely. Logan was here as a favor to her, and the last thing she wanted was to make things awkward between them.

“Did you come up with something?”

Logan’s eyes sparkled as he looked down at her. “We did, indeed. Come on—I’ll introduce you to the team.”

* * *

She would make a terrible poker player, Logan thought to himself. Olivia sat and listened patiently while the other men spoke, but her furrowed brows and turned-down lips made it very clear what she thought of their plan.

He was fairly proud of his team and the strategy they’d come up with, especially given the short time in which they’d had to work. It was a decent approach, but Olivia’s terrified expression made him start to second-guess their work.

Did we miss something? Should we try another angle? Possibly, but he and the rest of the team had hashed out several options before settling on this one. It was by no means perfect, but it was a damn good strategy to build upon.

Keith finished talking, and the men fell silent. All eyes were on Olivia as she considered their explanations. He could practically feel the tension ratchet up in the room as the guys waited for her to speak. Her face betrayed her thoughts, but they all wanted to hear if she would agree, despite her obvious reservations. Since she was an integral part of the operation, it was crucial she felt comfortable participating in the plan. If not, they would need to go back to the drawing board.

After a pregnant pause, Olivia exhaled in a gust of breath. Logan found himself holding his own breath in response, not wanting to miss her reply. He forced himself to breathe with a little mental kick. Why was he so nervous? This certainly wasn’t his first operation, and he usually didn’t get so wound up when proposing a plan of action. Why should this be any different?

Because it’s personal, he realized. He didn’t know Olivia well, that was true, but she was his neighbor. She belonged in the “home” category in his mind, and it bothered him that something from his career had bled over to stain that compartment of his world.

“I want to make sure I understand what you’re proposing,” Olivia said, jerking him out of his thoughts and back into the room. “You want me to do exactly what the bad guys have asked. The first step has me carrying a large amount of cash into Colombia. How exactly am I going to get that into the country without raising suspicions?”

“That’s our problem,” Keith assured her. “Don’t worry about it—we’ll make sure you don’t have any trouble on that end.”

“Okay.” She sounded anything but convinced, but she didn’t protest. “What about the exchange? Won’t they kill me and just take the money?”

Alan shook his head. “That’s highly unlikely. They know if they cross Fantasmas del Mal the cartel will pull no punches when it comes to retribution.”

“Oh, of course,” she replied, sarcasm leaking into her voice. “So I’ll just exchange the money for drugs, and then waltz back into the US, clearing Customs without a second glance?”

“Well...” Keith, Alan and Joseph shared a glance. “Basically, yeah,” Joseph finished. “I know it’s hard to believe, but we’ll smooth the way for you. We need you to come back here and give the goods to Carlos, so we can apprehend him.”

“Why can’t you grab him when he gives me the money? Why do I have to go through all of it if you’re just going to arrest him in the end?”

“Because,” Logan interjected, sensing she was at the end of her patience. “If we arrest him before you complete the job, they’ll kill your friends. Plus, waiting gives us even more time to gather information on him, and our partners in Colombia will continue to investigate his associates. By working together, we’ll be able to build a much stronger case, so when we do arrest him, we’ll have even more charges to bring against him and his collaborators.”

Olivia shot him a look that told him as clear as any words that she couldn’t care less about the legal ramifications of waiting to arrest Carlos. He expected her to fire back a retort, but she simply bit her bottom lip and remained silent.

The men glanced at each other again, their uncertainty plain. Olivia didn’t sound too happy at this point—did they need to come up with something else?

“Gentlemen, can you give us a moment please?” Olivia clearly wanted to say something, but Logan had the sense she didn’t want to talk in front of his team. Maybe if it was just the two of them, she’d open up a little more.

The guys rose as one from the table and filed out of the room, each one looking slightly relieved at being out of the line of fire. Logan had the distinct urge to laugh as these experienced men rushed to get away from one upset woman, leaving him behind to handle the situation. So much for loyalty!

After the door shut behind them, Logan studied Olivia, trying to gain insight into her frame of mind. “Want to tell me what’s bothering you?” he asked softly.

She huffed out a laugh. “Where should I begin?”

He ducked his head in acknowledgment. “Fair enough. What do you think of the plan?”

One slim shoulder jerked up, then disappeared into the folds of his jacket. Seeing her wear his clothing did something funny to his stomach, like he’d just chugged a two-liter bottle of soda before spinning in circles. Focus, he chided himself. Find out what’s bothering her.

“It seems fairly straightforward,” she replied, sounding a little hesitant.

“That’s usually the best way to do things. Less chance of mistakes.”

“For you, maybe. You do this all the time. But me?” She shook her head. “I’m not built for this.”

And wasn’t that the understatement of the year? Logan couldn’t stop his gaze from roaming over her, starting at her wide brown eyes and wandering down to her graceful hands, stopping to linger on everything in between. Olivia was a woman built for civilized pursuits, not the machinations of a ruthless drug cartel.

“No, you aren’t,” he agreed. Seeing her here in his office, drowning in his jacket and looking lost, tugged at something deep inside his chest. Could he really ask her to do this on her own? Sure, the DEA would be watching from afar—they couldn’t get too close because they didn’t want to betray their involvement and spook the bad guys. But was that enough?

No, he decided. It wasn’t. Olivia deserved more.

“Would you feel better if I went with you?”

Her head jerked up at that, her eyes brightening with hope. “Can you do that?”

He nodded, mentally preparing himself for the battle that was sure to come when he announced this change of plan to the rest of the guys. “If it would make you feel better.”

She grabbed his hand, squeezing hard. “You’d do that for me?”

“We take care of our own,” he replied, squeezing back. “And if you do this, you’re definitely on the team.”

She smiled at that, her eyes bright with unshed tears. “I never thought I’d be part of a posse before.”

“Please,” he scoffed. “We’re a little more organized than that.”

“That’s true,” she said. She studied him a moment, her expression growing serious. “Are you sure you can do this? It won’t mess up the surveillance the other guys were talking about?”

“It’ll be fine,” he assured her. “If anything, it will be good to have eyes and ears on you, so I can make sure nothing bad happens.” Besides, the surveillance team wouldn’t be able to respond quickly if necessary, whereas he’d be right there, ready to act if things got too hairy.

“I would feel better if you were with me,” she murmured, almost to herself. Her words made him want to throw his shoulders back and grin, but he controlled the urge.

“So you’ll do it?” he asked, trying not to sound too eager.

She nodded, meeting his gaze. “If you can really come with me, then yes, I’ll do it.”

“Excellent.” Logan couldn’t stop the smile spreading across his face. Finally, they had a solid chance to bring these guys down! It was the operation of a lifetime, and he would make sure they succeeded.

Or die trying.

Chapter 4

Olivia ran her hands down the front of her pants, wiping away the sweat that was making her skin feel clammy. This will be over in just a few minutes, she told herself. It didn’t help. She had been dreading this moment since Logan had asked her to call Carlos and set up another meeting at her office, and even the knowledge that Keith and Alan, two of Logan’s fellow DEA agents, were sitting in the waiting room did nothing to help calm her anxiety.

“Why can’t you be there, too?” she’d asked him. She’d heard the fear in her own voice, but if Logan had noticed, he hadn’t commented.

“I don’t want Carlos or any of his men to see me before I accompany you on the trip. We can’t risk raising their suspicions,” he’d explained patiently. “Besides, Keith and Alan are two of the finest men on my team. I trust them, and I know they’ll keep you safe. But it won’t come to that.”

He’d been so confident that Carlos wouldn’t try to hurt her at this meeting, a fact she’d appreciated at the time. But now that she was moments away from seeing the man again, her nerves were starting to get the better of her.

Would he be able to tell she’d gone to the authorities? He had said her thoughts showed on her face. What if Carlos took one look at her and knew the DEA was involved? Would he simply kill her now, or go after Avery and Mallory first? Olivia’s stomach dropped to the floor and her knees began to wobble. She sank onto her desk chair and sucked in a breath, trying to push back against a sudden surge of nausea.

“I can’t do this,” she whispered, her heart beating wildly against her breastbone. Her head felt curiously light, as if it was a balloon that could float away at any moment. It was an unsettling sensation, and Olivia gripped her desk hard, afraid that if she let go she would rise off the ground and be lost.

A shrill ring pierced the fog of her panic and made her jump. It took her a moment to place the sound, then she realized it was coming from the phone Logan had given her last night. A burner, he’d called it. Almost impossible to trace, and since the cartel didn’t know she had it, it was safe to use.

“Hello?” She could barely get the word out.

“Olivia.” Logan’s warm, deep voice flowed across the line. “How are you?”

She wanted to laugh at the ordinary question, but couldn’t manage it. That was probably for the best, the small, rational part of her brain realized. She was on the cusp of hysteria and if she started to laugh now, she might never stop.

Fortunately, Logan seemed to understand. “Listen to me,” he said, his tone soothing. “You’re going to be all right. I know you’re scared, but you can do this.”

“What if he figures it out?” she whispered loudly. It was silly, she knew, but she was afraid that if she gave voice to her suspicions, Carlos would indeed realize she had talked to someone. “What if he reads it on my face?”

Logan didn’t respond right away, and Olivia felt the blood drain from her head. He agrees, she thought numbly. He knows I’m going to give it away without saying a word.

“You do tend to let your thoughts show on your face,” he said finally. “But that’s not necessarily a bad thing here.”

“What?” she squeaked. “How do you figure that? He’ll kill my friends!”

“Let me finish,” Logan said patiently. “You’re scared, right? That’s normal. Let the fear show. It would be strange if you weren’t afraid. Besides, Carlos thinks he’s beaten you, that he controls you. If you act too confident, it will clue him in that something is off.”

“There is no chance of me acting too confident,” she assured him.

“What happened to your anger?” Logan challenged. “The woman I saw last night was afraid, yes, but underneath the fear she was spitting mad that she’d been manipulated. Where did that fighting spirit go?”

“I can’t risk my friends,” she said, but Logan cut her off.

“If you don’t find your anger, they’re as good as dead,” he said bluntly.

Olivia bit back a cry, but he didn’t stop to offer an apology. “If you let your fear control your actions, you will lose. If you spend this time worried, Carlos will know about our plan, and your face and demeanor will communicate that to him louder than any words. It’s a self-fulfilling prophecy.”

“What am I supposed to do?”

“Dig deep and find the strength I know you possess,” he replied. “You can do this, Olivia. You are a smart, savvy woman. And you are not alone. Don’t let this gangster get the better of you. You’re smarter than he is.”

Tears sprang to her eyes and she blinked hard to keep them from falling. Did Logan really see her that way? Or was he just giving her a pep talk so she didn’t blow the operation before they’d even gotten started? Either way, his confidence was seeping into her, shoring up the cracks in her defenses and making her feel like maybe she could get through this after all.

“I wish you were here with me,” she said, realizing too late how that sounded. She winced, hoping Logan wouldn’t think she was hitting on him.

“I do, too,” he said. “But this is the last time you’ll have to face Carlos. I’ll be by your side every moment we’re in Colombia. You’ll be sick of me by the time we’re done,” he said, laughing softly.

Not likely, she thought reflexively. Then she shook her head. That was just her insecurities talking, she decided. Logan was a strong and confident presence, and he made her feel safe. It was only natural she wanted him around while she dealt with the unknown quantity that was the cartel.

“We’ll see about that,” she replied, trying to sound natural.

Logan was quiet, as if digesting her words. “I’m going to hang up now,” he said, sounding a little rueful. “Remember, you can do this. And your backup is just down the hall. It’s going to be okay.”

Olivia closed her eyes and let his voice wash over her, diluting the worst of her fears. “Thank you,” she said simply.

“Don’t mention it. I’ll see you after.” It was a statement, but she grabbed on to it like a promise.

“I’m going to hold you to that.”

“I hope you do.”

Then he was gone, and she felt a wave of loneliness at the loss of his presence. Even though he hadn’t physically been near, just hearing his voice had been enough to quell her rioting emotions. She’d never been affected like that by anyone before, and the fact that Logan, a relative stranger, held such sway over her should have bothered her.

Instead, it was a comfort. And given all the uncertainty in her life right now, Olivia wasn’t inclined to question this gift.

She slipped the cell phone into her desk drawer just as her office line rang. She took one last deep breath to steady herself and answered.

“Dr. Sandoval? Your next patient is here.”

Logan’s face flashed in her mind, along with his encouraging words. You can do this. She was going to have to, because in addition to keeping her friends safe, Olivia didn’t want to let him down. This was his chance to take out a major player in the drug trade, and she wouldn’t let herself be the one to mess things up.

Feeling a little like her old self again, Olivia straightened her spine. “Send him in, please.”

* * *

“Look alive, guys. I’ve got eyes on him.”

Joseph’s voice buzzed in Logan’s ear, triggering a jolt of adrenaline that made Logan’s heart pick up speed.

“Pictures?” Logan asked. Even though Olivia’s description of Carlos was spot-on, it would be good to have photographic confirmation of his involvement.

“Got ’em,” Joseph replied. He was parked down the street with the best telephoto lens money could buy, snapping shots of anyone entering and leaving the building that housed Olivia’s office. “It’s our guy.

“He’s in the building,” Joseph continued. “Headed your way, Keith.”

There was a rumble of acknowledgment as Keith cleared his throat. He and Alan were sitting in the waiting room, posing as patients. Technically, their presence wasn’t required, but Logan felt better knowing two of his team members were only a few feet away from Olivia. Carlos was an unpredictable man, and Logan didn’t want Olivia to have to deal with him alone if there was any trouble.

Logan leaned forward and adjusted the blinds, carefully checking to make sure the sun didn’t reflect off his own set of lenses. He had a direct line of sight into Olivia’s office from his perch across the street. Normally he’d be the one inside, right in the thick of things while Keith took care of this end of the operation. But since Logan was going to pose as a potential investor on the trip, he didn’t want to show his face beforehand and risk Carlos recognizing him later. So today it was his job to collect more photographs and to record the conversation, using the department’s powerful audio surveillance equipment.

It would have been easier to fit Olivia with a wire. More enjoyable, too, his libido pointed out, as it was the perfect excuse to get his hands on her body. But it just wasn’t worth the risk. If Carlos discovered it, he’d kill her without a second thought.

And so Logan sat in his nest of wires and cables, trying to keep his frustration under control. This kind of watching and waiting was a crucial part of the job, but it had never been his favorite. He much preferred the fieldwork—the thrill of the chase and the adrenaline rush that flooded his system every time he confronted danger.

His team teased him about his need to constantly keep moving, but Logan had learned that if he didn’t stop, he didn’t have time or energy to think about her.

His ex-fiancée’s betrayal with his best friend had cut deep, and even though five years had passed, the pain was still with him. After kicking Emma out, Logan had thrown himself into the job, using the never-ending demands of his career as an excuse to neglect his personal life. Olivia was the first woman who’d caught his eye in what seemed like forever, and even now, he couldn’t put his finger on what exactly drew him to her.

A movement across the street caught his eye, interrupting his musings. He focused the camera on Olivia as she stood and smoothed the front of her blouse. He hadn’t told her he was watching from across the way—he didn’t want to make her feel self-conscious. She was nervous enough already.

“You can do this,” he muttered, knowing she couldn’t hear him but wanting to say the words nonetheless. She was holding up remarkably well under the circumstances, but he held his breath as her office door opened and Carlos stepped inside. If she could just get through these next few minutes...

“Dr. Sandoval, so good to see you again.”

Logan adjusted the volume of the microphone, tuning it slightly to improve the signal as he did so. Then he double-checked that it was recording. So far, so good.

He could tell by Olivia’s body language that she wasn’t happy. Still, she nodded in reply, the gesture only a little stiff. “Good afternoon.”

She sat behind her desk and Carlos unbuttoned his suit jacket before taking one of the chairs across from her. “I am so glad we could meet to discuss the details of our business together,” he said smoothly. “But first, if you will permit me?”

He reached into his jacket, and Logan’s gut twisted in warning. Was Carlos going for a weapon? Had he somehow guessed the DEA was watching?

Apparently, Olivia had the same fear. She leaned back in her chair and lifted her hands as if to defend herself. But she was a sitting duck behind her desk, totally at the mercy of the man in her office.

Logan’s heart shot into his throat and he opened his mouth to give Keith the signal to go. But just as the words formed on his tongue, Carlos withdrew his hand to reveal not a gun, but a small black object that he placed on the desk.

Olivia swallowed hard, regaining her composure quickly. “What is that?”

“A simple jamming device to ensure our conversation remains private. One can never be too careful,” Carlos said. Then he pressed a button on the device, and Logan’s audio feed went dead.

Damn!

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