Deadly Allure

“She’s not staying,” Dave insisted.

“I can’t sleep on Kayla’s couch. I won’t put the baby and your son at risk.” Nicole laid her head on the table. “Frankly, I’m ready to climb into a cardboard box and sleep on the street.”

The room went silent as she laid still. Her eyes were closed, the dark circles more pronounced in the soft glow of light from overhead.

A knot of guilt churned in Dave’s gut until finally he said, “Fine. She can stay here.” He didn’t know what came over him to open his big fat mouth and offer her a place to stay. But now that it was out there, he couldn’t take it back. And as much as he valued his privacy, he didn’t want to take it back.

The woman could barely stand on her own two feet. If she didn’t get some rest, she’d fall flat on her face. That and the fact he’d nearly killed her.

“One night. She can stay one night. Tomorrow you have to come up with another plan.”

Emma’s brows crooked upward. “That’s really noble of you, Dave. You sure it won’t put you out too much? I mean, this being the lap of luxury and all.” She winked.

“Don’t push it, Emma.” Dave glared at his friend. “This place looks like hell on the outside for the sole purpose of keeping people from dropping by.”

“Oh, honey.” Emma laughed. “It’s working.”

“Which is perfect.” Valdez clapped his hands together. “If possible, it’s the ugliest boat at the marina.”

“I wouldn’t say ugly,” Dave defended. It was his home, after all. “It’s my boat and I like it the way it is.”

Emma’s lips twitched. “Trust me, Dave, it’s ugly.”

He shrugged and glanced at Tazer. “Suit yourself.”

Nicole’s head came up. “Does it have electricity?”

He nodded. “And running water.”

“Hot?” she asked hopefully.

Again he nodded.

“Sounds like heaven.” She sucked in a deep breath. “I’ll stay. Tomorrow I’ll retrieve my motorcycle. I need to be able to bug out if I’m discovered.”

Now that he was committed to putting her up for the night, Dave said, “I’ll take care of it for you.”

“Where’s the shower?” Nicole yawned, covering her mouth.

“The head’s through that door.” Dave motioned toward a narrow wood-paneled door.

Emma clucked her tongue. “You could be a little more hospitable. You shouldn’t be such a loner. No man’s an island.”

“I like being a loner. I’m a freakin’ island and love it that way.”

“Everyone needs a friend.” Emma patted his arm. “And right now, Tazer needs you to be her friend.”

“I’ve committed to one night. That’s it.”

Nicole fought a smile. “Have pity on poor Dave. The man’s being railroaded.”

Dave’s eyes narrowed. The woman looked as if she was actually enjoying watching him squirm. Damned woman.

Valdez handed Steele his cell phone. “Tazer, take my cell phone.”

Nicole held up her hands. “No way. And I suggest you all ditch your SOS cells, like Sam said. If someone has our database, we’re all at risk.”

Valdez nodded. “I knew that.” He dropped his phone on the floor of the boat and stepped on it.

Thomas followed suit.

“In the meantime, you know where to find me,” Nicole said.

Valdez laughed. “I think we can find you. We just have to look for the ugliest boat on the dock.”

The two agents laughed and joked as they exited Dave’s yacht, reminding him of how close he and his squad had been, making light of difficult situations and being there for each other when the going got tough. His chest tightened as he recalled Mike’s ultimate sacrifice. He’d have given everything for his brothers in arms, and ultimately he had.

Molly, Kayla and Gabe followed Valdez. Emma was last to climb out of the boat, leaving Dave stuck with his guest.

Nicole pushed to her feet, swayed and steadied. Then she headed for the shower.

He grabbed a towel from the storage cabinet and handed it to her as she ducked around him. For a moment she paused and looked over her shoulder. “Dave?”

“Yeah.”

She stood tall, her blue eyes almost gray in the shadows. “Thanks for pulling me out of the ditch.”

For a moment he didn’t react, then his gut clenched, remembering. “Don’t mention it.”

Dave climbed the stairs out of Freedom’s Price and strode across the dock to the parking lot, determined to put some distance between him and the woman occupying his yacht. Now would be as good a time as any to retrieve her motorcycle and hide it, under the cover of darkness and the Devil’s Shroud.

Later he’d come up with a cover story for the woman living with him on his boat.

Great, he’d just broken the three rules he’d imposed on himself since leaving the Special Forces.

Don’t get involved. Don’t get involved. Don’t get involved.

He was now up to his neck in involvement.

Chapter 3

Nicole climbed into the tiny shower, trying not to imagine the bulky, well-muscled man who’d carried her to his truck when she’d been out cold as she fit herself into the confined space. It was hard enough for her to turn and rinse, how did a guy that big manage?

Her body heated at the thought of Dave standing naked in the shower. She dropped the soap and bent to retrieve the bar, thinking how it was too bad the unit was too small for two.

As soon as the idea entered her mind, Nicole jerked upright, banging her head on the shower nozzle. “Damn!” Already dizzy from lack of sleep, she didn’t need to knock herself unconscious again. Dave would have to fish her off the shower floor, naked and wet.

Molten hot blood thrummed through her veins at the thought of Dave’s rough hands on her naked thighs, possibly skimming the sides of her breasts. She was weak from pushing too long, too far and on too little food. That had to be the reason for the ache building deep in her core.

Dave Logsdon was nothing to her. So what that he’d pulled her out of a ditch? His truck had put her there.

You ran the stop sign.

Arguing with herself only made her angrier and she was entirely too exhausted to care. Her whole world had been ripped apart. She hadn’t felt this off balance since she’d been shamed out of the FBI. Now the only person she truly trusted, Royce Fontaine, had been apprehended and was being held by some government entity.

What the hell was in that data she’d stolen from Ryan Technologies?

The water turned cold, forcing her out of her musings and the shower. The old yacht probably only had a five-gallon water heater. She finished rinsing the soap out of her hair and turned off the water. The towel Dave had given her was thick and fluffy and completely covered her. She stepped out onto a bath mat and dried off, her gaze shooting to the door, half expecting it to open while she stood naked, half disappointed when it didn’t.

Her leather pants and jacket lay on the floor, too dirty from road grime for her to want to put them back on. She ducked her head out the bathroom door, her hair dripping on the wooden floor. “Logsdon?” she called out.

No answer.

She ventured out farther, poking around the other doors leading off the small cabin. Dave was gone.

Well, at least she had privacy. She rummaged through a drawer and found a T-shirt that smelled a lot like Dave. He must leave clothing onboard for when he took the yacht out to sea.

When Nicole put it on, the shirt covered her from shoulders to midthigh.

Perfect for a nightshirt.

A yawn struck her. Too tired to think past at least four hours’ sleep, she went in search of a mattress and pillow, finding them in the forward berth. A queen-size bed covered in a clean, white, down comforter took up the entire space.

Nicole crawled across the top and dropped face-first onto a pillow. Less than a minute later she was sound asleep.

Minutes, or maybe hours later, a noise disturbed her, dragging her out of a nightmare about running through a large building with no doors to escape.

Nicole rolled over and tried to drop off the side of the bed, but there were no sides to roll off of. She scooted to the end of the bed instead and slid down, crouching low in the oversize T-shirt, blinking the sleep from her eyes and the fog from her brain. She was so tired she found it hard to keep her eyes open.

Another sound forced her eyelids upward.

When a large figure appeared in the doorway to the forward berth, a rush of adrenaline hit Nicole’s body and she launched herself at the intruder, knocking him backward and flat on his back.

He landed with a grunt, taking her down with him.

Too late. Nicole realized the man she now lay on top of was the same one who’d rescued her and given her a place to sleep.

Dave grasped her arms in his big hands and demanded, “What the hell?”

“I thought you were an intruder.” When she tried to move, his grip kept her in place, long enough to recognize the hard ridge of his denim fly pressing into her belly. Wearing nothing but a soft, old T-shirt, there wasn’t much between them, leaving her vulnerable to him and her own traitorous desires.

Tazer had learned long ago, when in doubt, go on the offensive.

“What are you doing here?” she demanded with as much control as she could muster, considering she was naked under the shirt.

“I live here.” He sat up, pushing her to the side.

“Live here?” She glanced around the cramped interior of the boat. “All the time? Or just when this old tub is out to sea?”

“All the time.” Dave rose, leaving her on the floor to get up by herself. Anger burned off him like steam.

Nicole couldn’t fathom why he’d be so mad and ready to pick a fight. She scrambled to her feet, still tired but not one to back down from an argument. “Then why did you let me stay?”

He snorted. “If you recall, I didn’t want you to stay.”

She stood, straightened the shirt hem to cover her bare bottom, feeling more exposed than if she’d been completely naked. “I understand. The couch at Creed and Emma’s will have to do.”

When Nicole made to pass Dave, she had to squeeze between his solid body and the wall. He didn’t make it easy. No, he didn’t allow her to pass at all.

His brows pushed down low as he stared at her chest. “Is that my T-shirt you’re wearing?” he asked, his voice low, gravelly.

Nicole tipped her head back. “I found it in a drawer.”

“Give it back.”

“Fine.” She reached for the hem, dragged it up over her head and tossed the shirt into his face. “It was too long anyway.” She moved past him, naked, her head held high.

His eyes widened, the dark brown turning almost black. He reached out and grasped her arms. “Put the damn shirt on,” he said through gritted teeth.

Nicole attempted to pull her arm free, her jaw tight, her body cool in the night air. “I’ll wear what I rode in with.” She was beginning to regret her rash decision to strip in front of the man. He held her steady, refusing to release his grip. The heat his body gave off did nothing to smooth the chill bumps rising on her skin, which had nothing to do with the cold and everything to do with the animalistic attraction this man exuded.

“Don’t you have anything else?” He practically bit the words out.

“In case you didn’t hear the part of the story that specifically stated I drove straight here with nothing but the clothes on my back, let me remind you.” She threw back her shoulders. “I don’t have a change of clothes.”

His nostrils flaring, Dave shoved his T-shirt at her. “Put the damned thing on,” he growled, turning his back to give her privacy.

Nicole hesitated, ready to throw the shirt back in his face. But knowing battles with this man would be better fought fully clothed not buck naked, she pulled the shirt over her head and gathered all her righteous anger.

When Dave turned back, she stared straight into his eyes, daring him to say one derogatory thing about her body. When he didn’t, her chin lifted. “Now, if you’ll excuse me...” With a flip of her damp hair, she headed for the stairs leading out of the boat, snatching her clothes off the hook on the bathroom door as she went.

“How do you plan to get to Emma’s?” Dave asked. “Your motorcycle won’t start. I tried it. Until I have time to check all the wiring and the battery cables in the daylight, you’re without transportation.”

With her hand on the rail, she paused. “I’ll walk.”

“It’s over three miles...uphill, most of the way.”

She shrugged, though the effort seemed huge at that point. Three miles seemed like forever after straddling a motorcycle for so long. “It’ll be a good stretch of the legs.” The legs that were shaking at the thought of climbing out of the cabin, much less climbing a hill up to Emma’s.

A loud sigh behind her made her stop with only one foot on the bottom step. “I said you could stay the night. But you’ll sleep on the couch. The bed is mine.” He grabbed a pillow and tossed it her way.

She caught it but wasn’t in time to catch the blanket he threw right behind it. It landed over her head, blocking her view of the smirking man.

Humph!

Not stupid enough to set out in the fog on foot in the dead of night, Nicole lay on the worn cushions of the built-in couch that doubled as seats for the dining area. Tucking the blanket around her bare legs, she rested her head on the pillow and closed her eyes.

Sounds of Dave rustling around in the forward cabin kept her from falling right to sleep. Having him so close disturbed her in a way she hadn’t been in a long time. Why, when she was so tired, was she so drawn to this infuriating man? He was nothing like the kind of man she usually found interesting. Pigheaded, grumpy and unshaven... What did he have going for him?

Broad shoulders, rich brown hair and eyes so dark a woman could fall into them. With his muscles and trim figure, he could have been so much more than the captain of a dive boat. So why was her body humming at his every movement? And why was she wondering if he slept in the nude?

“I’m not changing the way I live just because you’re here.”

“So?” She lifted her head, staring into the darkness of the forward cabin.

“It’s just a fair warning,” he said. “I sleep in the nude.”

Nicole’s mouth fell open, and then she snapped it shut. Not only was he infuriating, he was a freakin’ mind reader.

She’d hoped to sleep, but his final comment left her wide awake and angry. At him, absolutely. But more at herself for imagining him in his bed, sprawled out, naked and gorgeous.

Damn him.

Her body thrummed with white-hot desire that refused to fade.

Not until the clock over the galley stove blinked past two o’clock did she finally calm down and drift into sleep.

Less than an hour later thrashing sounds brought her wide awake. She lay still, listening, wondering what had been loud enough to drag her out of the sleep of the dead, her nerves on edge in case the men who’d been chasing her had found her.

A moan from the other room made her swing her legs off the side of the couch and sit up.

“No!” Dave’s shout sent her to her feet. She grabbed the small fire extinguisher from the clamp on the wall and edged toward the forward cabin. Who could have snuck past her?

Another moan and more thrashing, the thud of something hitting the wall made her jump and move faster until she stood at the end of the bed, extinguisher raised, ready to clobber whoever was hurting Dave.

Only he was alone, asleep and having one heck of a nightmare.

Setting the extinguisher aside, Nicole hesitated. Should she wake him or let him keep dreaming?

The moan turned to a soft keening sound like that of a wounded animal or a heartbroken person. Nicole climbed up over the end of the bed and spoke softly. “Hey, Logsdon.”

His body went still.

Convinced she’d shaken him out of his bad dream, she eased backward toward the foot of the bed, realizing he’d been truthful about sleeping in the nude. He lay there, bathed in the soft green glow of an alarm clock, his body sculpted as beautifully as a Greek statue. Before she could think through her actions, she reached out to touch the rippled, hard plane of his abdomen.

His belly sank in as his hand reached out, grabbed her wrist and yanked her onto her back. Then his body covered hers as he straddled her, his hands circling her neck.

“Why did you do it?” he growled.

She clawed at his fingers, gasping for breath.

“Why did you kill him?”

She wanted to scream at him, tell him she wasn’t who he was dreaming about, but no air could make it past her vocal cords. She pounded his shoulder with the heel of her palm and tore at the fingers wrapped around her throat. The fog of unconsciousness crept in around her vision.

In a final effort she rolled to the side, forcing him to hit his head against a low-hanging storage cabinet.

When he did, his grip loosened and Nicole was able to breathe long enough to say, “Wake up, Dave!”

His fingers tightened around her neck again and squeezed, his weight effectively pinning her beneath him.

Please, she begged with her eyes.

Dave shook his head, his eyes widening as he stared down at his hands around her neck.

Nicole could tell when he finally woke up. His glazed eyes cleared and he jerked his hands back. “What have I done?” he asked.

“Almost choked the living daylights out of me.” Nicole coughed, her voice rough, gravelly. “Remind me to never wake you up from a bad dream again.”

His brows pulled down low over his eyes. “What are you doing in my bed?”

“You were having a nightmare. I would have let you continue, but you were keeping me awake.” She rubbed her neck. “Next time, I’ll bury my ears in my pillow. At least I’d live to see another day.”

He raised his hands as if they were foreign to him and then closed his eyes, his face etched in pain.

Nicole’s heart slowed, absorbing some of the horrible emotion he must have been feeling. “What was it about?”

“What?” He looked up, his gaze far away.

“Your dream?”

He shook his head. “Nothing.” He lay back, pulling the sheet up over his lower half, covering the evidence of his arousal. “Get out.”

“On my way.” She scooted to the end of the bed and was about to get up when she paused. “Were you ever in the military, Dave?”

“Yeah,” he said, his voice harsh. In a softer tone he added, “A million years ago.”

“Ever consider that you might have PTSD?”

“So?”

“They have therapy available for soldiers with PTSD.”

“Do they have therapy for those who died to save the rest of their unit?” He snorted. “Show me the therapy that’ll bring them back.” Raising his head, he glared at her. “I said get out.”

Nicole raised her brows. “Touchy, aren’t we?”

She slid off the bed and padded barefoot back to the couch, where she lay, her thoughts revolving, not around her own predicament but around what Dave had said.

He must have seen his buddy killed in battle, trying to save his life. How did someone get over something like that?

She raised her fingers to the tender skin around her neck. Obviously, Dave hadn’t.

Not that it mattered to Nicole, but perhaps there was more to the slovenly dive boat captain than she’d first surmised.

“Dave?”

“What?” he said, his tone flat, hard and uninviting.

“Who was he?”

“Who was who?”

“The guy who took the bullet for you?”

For a long moment he didn’t respond.

Nicole assumed he wouldn’t and settled in, curious, but understanding the subject was a difficult one for the man.

“Bradley. Tom Bradley. And it was a grenade.”

“May he rest in peace,” she said softly. She sent a silent prayer to the heavens that Tom Bradley truly did rest in peace, and by doing so would give Dave Logsdon permission to also live in peace, free of his demons.

With Dave in the room nearby, his strength and loyalty to a fallen comrade radiating through his dreams, Nicole rolled onto her side, closed her eyes and slept the sleep of a dead woman. Tomorrow was certain to bring plenty of challenges and, if her pursuers caught up to her, maybe even the opportunity for someone to pray for her eternal rest.

Chapter 4

Dave laid awake the rest of the night, thoughts roiling around his mind like a propeller spinning out of control. As the sun rose over Cape Churn, he climbed out of his bed, slipped into a pair of jeans, a T-shirt and boat shoes. He did no more than run his hand through his hair, splash water on his face and pass on shaving.

Who did he have to impress? Not his uninvited guest. That was certain. When he passed through the main cabin, he moved quietly, not ready to face the woman, not without a gallon of coffee in his system.

She lay stretched out on the couch cushions, her long blond hair splayed across her cheek. Dressed in his oversize T-shirt, sleeping peacefully, she appeared to be more innocent than the kick-ass woman who’d fought him in her black leather the night before. Who was she? Other than a member of the supersecret organization Creed Thomas and Casanova Valdez belonged to, Dave didn’t have a clue. They’d called it the SOS. He wondered what SOS stood for.

Dave reached out and brushed the strand of hair off her cheek, tucking it behind her ear, her skin warm to his touch.

She stirred, blinked open her eyes, realized it was him and closed them again without uttering a word. Bunching the pillow beneath her, she slept on. Two days on a motorcycle, after a stressful operation, and being followed had to have taken its toll. A long, slender, naked leg slipped from beneath the blanket, bumping up his heartbeat.

Dave struggled with himself to keep from reaching out to adjust the blanket over her, instead admiring the leg, the shape, definition and smooth silkiness of her skin.

When he realized how long he’d stood there, studying her, he turned abruptly and climbed the steps up onto the deck.

“Good morning, Dave.” Olie Olander waved at him from farther along the dock where he handed a Styrofoam ice chest to a couple of men in a fishing boat. After they thanked him and settled the chest into the boat, they started the engine and took off.

Dave came to a stop beside Olie. “Morning.”

Olie studied him. “Good or bad?”

“Just morning.” Since coming to Cape Churn, Dave hadn’t let himself get excited about much. Whenever something good happened, something bad came along to counteract it. By keeping an even keel, he avoided rollercoaster emotions. Neither too happy nor too sad. He refused to let himself dwell for long in either emotion. Deep down, he carried the memory of his friend, Tom. That was enough to remind him that the world was full of terrible tragedies.

“Sal’s got a fresh pot of coffee in the marina.”

“That’s where I’m headed.”

Olie joined him, walking alongside across the wooden planks of the dock. “Have some friends over last night?”

Dave shrugged. “A couple.” Sal and Olie lived in the apartment above the marina’s bait shop. They saw just about everything. If it happened at the waterfront, they knew about it.

Not sure of how much he could share about who’d been to his boat the night before, Dave opted for as little as possible. He’d trust Sal and Olie with his life. They treated him like the son they’d never been fortunate enough to have. And he loved them. If any of what Tazer had told him was true, just by being on the same dock as her could put them in danger. The less they knew, the less they would inadvertently spill to passing strangers.

Olie opened the door to the bait shop. “Does one of them belong to that motorcycle you stored in the shed?”

Dave paused on the threshold. He couldn’t get much past the Olanders. “Belongs to a...friend.”

“The one you carried onto the Freedom’s Price?” Sal asked softly.

He couldn’t get much by these two older people. “She had too much to drink.”