An ex-military man relies on the skills he’s never forgotten…

When former special ops soldier Dave Logsdon nearly hits a beautiful motorcyclist in the thick Oregon fog, nicknamed the Devil’s Shroud, he never expects to be thrown back into a world of espionage, deceit and danger. But secret agent Nicole Steele is desperate for an out-of-the-way place to hide, and Dave’s run-down yacht is the perfect spot. The emotionally wounded warrior is powerless to deny her request…and his rising desire for her.

Nicole must decrypt the database she’s stolen before it’s too late. She soon learns the threat is bigger than she could ever imagine and U.S. national security is at stake. Will her unexpected bond with Dave survive once the enemy’s identity is finally uncovered?

“Why did you let me stay?”

Dave snorted. “If you recall, I didn’t want you to stay.” His brows pushed down over his forehead 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 and dragged it up over her head and tossed it into his face. 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. 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 animal attraction this man exuded….

Dear Reader,

I love coming back to Cape Churn and revisiting my characters from previous books. In Deadly Allure we get to see Nicole “Tazer” Steele’s story unfold. I looked around for a man for her in Cape Churn and almost didn’t find him. Then off-the-fishing-dock Dave Logsdon appeared from an earlier book, Deadly Engagement.

In my mind he reminded me of Captain Ron from an old movie I’d watched—a reprobate who could care less about what anyone else had to say. It was great getting into his head and learning what had caused him to leave the military and have such a jaundiced view of the world and people. Pairing him with the ultra-intense Nicole “Tazer” Steele, I knew sparks would fly.

In Deadly Allure, we have all the excitement and danger of the first three Devil’s Shroud books and more. We follow Dave and Tazer on a dangerous mission that leads all the way to treachery in the White House.

Here’s another tidbit for you. Nicole “Tazer” Steele can be found in other books I’ve written. Look for her in the following Mills & Boon Intrigue titles: Nick of Time, Alaskan Fantasy and Blown Away.

Enjoy the journey!

Elle James

Deadly Allure

Elle James

www.millsandboon.co.uk

ELLE JAMES

A Golden Heart Award winner for Best Paranormal Romance in 2004, Elle James started writing when her sister issued a Y2K challenge to write a romance novel. She has managed a full-time job and raised three wonderful children, and she and her husband even tried their hands at ranching exotic birds (ostriches, emus and rheas) in the Texas Hill Country. Ask her, and she’ll tell you what it’s like to go toe-to-toe with an angry 350-pound bird! After leaving her successful career in information technology management, Elle is now pursuing her writing full-time. Elle loves to hear from fans. You can contact her at ellejames@earthlink.net, or visit her website, at www.ellejames.com.

MILLS & BOON

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This book is dedicated to my editor, Dana Hamilton, who has been with me for most of this series, dotting my i’s, crossing my t’s, fixing my grammatical errors and encouraging me to be a better writer through her gentle editing and suggestions. She’s my cheerleader and coach, and a joy to work with. Thank you, Dana, for being there for me!

(Now could you please perform your magic on this dedication to make sure I didn’t make a grammatical faux pas?) Hugs!

Contents

Cover

Back Cover Text

Introduction

Dear Reader

Title Page

About the Author

Dedication

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Extract

Copyright

Chapter 1

Nicole Steele, “Tazer” to those who knew how lethal she could be, slipped through the loading docks entry of the corporate headquarters of Ryan Technologies. Dressed in the white coverall and cap of the Acme Cleaning Services’ staff, she blended in with others coming on to the night shift to clean the multistoried building.

Once inside, she claimed a cleaning cart and followed the other janitors to the service elevators. At 2200 hours she didn’t expect many of the executives to be in their offices, most having gone home or out for drinks by now.

The three other contracted cleaners who entered the elevator car with her talked about their kids, sports and the price of gasoline. Nicole kept her head down, aware of the camera located in the upper corner, above the control panel.

A rounded woman with brassy orange hair, her gray roots showing, smacked her gum. “New at Acme?”

“Yeah.” Nicole kept her answer short, abrupt, not inviting further conversation.

Undaunted, the woman prompted, “Got kids?”

“No.”

“Guess that’s why you can still find your hips.”

Nicole shrugged without responding.

“I used to have a figure. Four brats ago.” The woman snorted. “Now I figure life’s too short to pass up a piece of apple pie and ice cream.”

The others laughed and the car stopped on the seventh floor.

“Well, this is my floor. Have a good night.” The brassy-haired janitor left the elevator and Nicole breathed a sigh.

Another stop on the tenth floor and again on the twelfth left Nicole blissfully alone. She rode the elevator up to the twentieth floor, two floors short of her target, Brandon Ryan’s office. She’d take the stairs the rest of the way.

Having studied the building schematics and the security system camera points, she was prepared. As soon as she left the elevator, she rolled her cart to the door nearest the east stairwell, closest to the security camera for the floor. Digging her hand into her pocket, she unearthed the miniature can of black spray paint, ducked under the camera and sprayed the lens until it was completely covered in one short burst of paint, then checked her watch.

Ten after ten. She had exactly fifteen minutes to get into Ryan’s office, download the data and get out. Another five minutes to leave the building and this operation would be complete. Short, sweet, uneventful. That’s the way she liked it.

Nicole stepped into the stairwell, raised her hand to spray the camera in the corner and climbed the steps two at a time to the floor above. She blacked out the camera there and moved up to the next floor. Once on the top floor, she disabled the security camera and hurried to Brandon Ryan’s spacious office, paid for by taxpayer dollars meant to be used to supply guns to the military. It was the potential other deals he was making with the opposing forces in the Middle East that had landed her there.

As a member of the Stealth Operations Specialists, Nicole was part of a very small force of secret agents called on by the President of the United States to handle situations neither the FBI nor the CIA could handle. Sensitive cases that only a handful of people knew about.

Her boss, Royce Fontaine, had prepared her for this mission; given her the equipment and knowledge that would get her inside and to the computer Ryan used to store the top-secret data concerning his organization’s dealings.

Intel from SOS operatives in the Middle East had informed Royce the Taliban had new guns that looked suspiciously like those supplied to the U.S. military.

Nicole’s job was to ferret out the information necessary to determine whether the Taliban had stolen the weapons or if Brandon Ryan was supplying them to the opium-rich leaders of the terrorist organization.

She’d spent the past two weeks schmoozing with Ryan, playing the pampered debutante to get closer to the renowned womanizer so that she could get a tour of his office and see the security layout in person. She’d gotten that and more—a copy of his key card and a viable fingerprint she’d had imprinted on the thumb glove. Now she was putting her groundwork to use.

With security disabled, she moved quickly toward Brandon Ryan’s office where she paused to slip a rubber glove over her thumb, the glove imprinted with Ryan’s thumbprint. She ran the key card Geek had supplied her with and touched her gloved thumb on the scanner.

For a long moment she held her breath. Either the door would unlock or alarms would go off, alerting the security guards on duty to the presence of an intruder in the boss’s office.

A soft click sounded. Nicole twisted the door handle and the door opened into a lushly appointed outer office with a beautiful mahogany desk blocking entrance to Ryan’s inner office. His executive assistant, having long since gone home for the night, had been a pretty but determined young woman with a glare that could sear scars into a person’s skin. Nicole hadn’t given her more than a cursory glance down the straight length of her nose. Being a socialite had meant disregarding the peons surrounding Ryan.

Though she’d pretended to ignore the executive assistant, she’d been very aware of the woman and her position as the last line of defense against intruders into the great Brandon Ryan’s inner sanctum.

Once inside his office, she pulled the door shut, leaving it cracked open enough so she could hear movement in the outer office. Then she eased into the plush leather chair behind Ryan’s massive mahogany desk. As big as the expensive piece of furniture was, it didn’t begin to fill the roomy office with the floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the sparkling lights of the Los Angeles skyline. Armed with a flashlight, she pulled out the sliding keyboard tray, stuck a flash drive in the side of the sleek combined video display monitor and CPU and went to work decoding the encrypted password. Geek, back at SOS headquarters, had been adamant. “All you have to do is plug it in. It’ll crack the password within minutes.”

As soon as she plugged in the flash drive, the monitor blinked to life, lighting the room. She pressed the button on the side to turn off the display, returning the room to near darkness, her vision taking a moment to adjust.

Nicole worried she might not have minutes. If the regularly scheduled cleaning lady happened by the office, she’d either be caught red-handed or have to find a place to hide until she left.

While the password hacking module worked its magic, Nicole pulled the drawers open, searching for anything that looked like evidence Ryan was sleeping with the enemy. His desk was clean, the drawers only containing designer pens and extra golf balls.

She rose from the seat, the leather so soft it barely made a sound. A bar in one corner had a cabinet below it. She checked the contents, finding only additional bottles of the best booze money could buy. The man was cocky and insanely rich. Too bad he was a lying bastard who betrayed his country. If he was selling guns to the enemy, Ryan was personally responsible for the deaths of American soldiers. His own countrymen, fighting for his freedom. He was just the kind of high-powered sleazebag Nicole liked to bring down.

Just like Rodney, her former lover who’d pilfered her access card, broken into the FBI data center, stolen secrets he’d had no right to take and ruined her reputation with the Bureau. She’d been placed on administrative leave during the investigation, but had resigned before they could fire her.

Young and naive, she’d believed Rodney loved her, when all the time he’d been using her to get to FBI data that would potentially compromise hundreds of undercover agents.

The horror of what she’d done stuck with her and would never go away. Since then, she’d refused to believe any man, no matter how true he might appear. She even kept her teammates at arm’s length, preferring to distance herself than to trust her instincts, which had proved faulty in the worst possible way.

Nicole straightened and ran her hand over the beautiful crystal decanters containing alcohol Ryan had served her on her last visit. She’d pretended to drink, letting him run his hands over her silk dress. To a point. Then she’d laughed and stepped away, flirting with him enough to gain a moderate level of trust.

She snorted softly. Men could be so pathetically predictable.

A sound from the front office alerted her to someone else’s presence.

Nicole shot a glance at the video monitor, still dark, the soft whir of the building’s central air the only sound in an otherwise quiet office.

The outer office door closed with a sharp click.

Nicole dove for a closet, sliding in behind one of Ryan’s spare suits hanging beside a crisply starched white shirt.

Lights blinked on, filtering through the gap she’d left in the door to allow her to peer out. Her hand went to the lipstick tube of pepper spray she’d placed in her pocket before starting out on her mission.

The carpet muffled any footsteps as Nicole strained to hear or to see the progress of the person in Ryan’s office. Then she saw a man in a suit pass by. Crap. If he noticed the miniature flash drive poking out of the side of his monitor, he could disrupt the password hacking module and the download. That would make him aware that he might not be alone in the room.

Nicole held her breath, waiting for any indication of discovery.

The buzzing sound of a cell phone rang out in the silence.

“Ryan,” he answered. After a moment he said, “I know. I’m here to download the data now. Yes, I understand how important it is.”

While Ryan talked on the phone, Nicole eased the zipper down on her coveralls and slipped the garment over her shoulders, letting it drop around her ankles. She stepped out of it and smoothed her hands over the snug-fitting, black leather pants that molded to her body and the low-cut leather corset she’d worn beneath the coveralls. Pushing the hat from her head, she fluffed her hair and peered around the closet door at the man seated at his desk, his back to the monitor, and staring out the windows.

“Nobody will trace back to you. I guarantee it.” He paused again. “I know the consequences,” he said, his voice tight, strained.

Nicole eased out of the closet and crossed the floor. The man glanced up at that moment, catching her movement reflected off the darkened windows. Her gaze met Ryan’s and she gave him a sensual smile and a wink.

Ryan spun in his chair, his hand still holding the phone to his ear. “Look, I have to go.” He hit the end button and pushed to his feet. “What the hell are you doing in here? This room is off-limits.”

Nicole shrugged, her breasts pushed higher in the corset, the effect almost working on Ryan. For a moment his gaze shifted to the rounded swells, then his jaw tightened and he glared at her. “How the hell did you get in here?”

She crossed the room to him. “The door was unlocked.” Her brows rose, begging him to argue the point. “I’d hoped to find you here.” Her hand curled around the lipstick tube of pepper spray. All she had to do was to get close enough to spray him in the eyes. He’d be effectively incapacitated.

“You shouldn’t be here.” He reached for the phone on his desk at the same time she raised the pepper spray and shot him dead on in the face.

Ryan screamed and grabbed for his eyes. “You bitch!” He staggered backward, tripped over his chair and landed on his back.

Nicole pulled a zip tie out of her back pocket, planted a foot on his side, rolled him onto his belly, and yanked his wrist behind his back, pushing it up between his shoulder blades.

“You won’t get away with this. Argh! Why’d you have to use pepper spray? It’s burning my eyes.”

“Don’t worry. It won’t leave a scar on your lying, cheating face.” With her knee in his back, she dragged his other arm up and secured the wrists together behind his back. Then with smooth precision, she secured his ankles with another zip tie. A soft ping indicated the password hacker had done its duty and the download had begun.

“What are you doing?” he demanded. “You’re trespassing in my office. I could have you arrested and thrown in jail.”

“Yeah, if you could get up.” She sat behind his desk, switched on the monitor and checked the status of the downloading software. The status bar indicated already 40 percent complete. Just a little longer.

“You don’t know what you’re doing.”

“Oh, I think I do,” she said.

“The people I work for won’t let you get away with this.”

“They won’t have a choice, now, will they?”

“They’ll come after you. Kill you.” He struggled against the bindings. “Damn, this is burning my eyes!”

“It’ll only last a couple hours.”

“You can’t leave me like this.”

“Oh, I think I can.”

“You’ll never get out of the building.”

“Wanna bet?” The progress bar indicated 88 percent complete. Hurry, damn it.

“Any data on that computer is proprietary and fully encrypted. It’ll do you no good.”

“We’ll see.”

“Help!” Ryan yelled.

Great. With a calm she wasn’t exactly feeling, she pulled the tight roll of duct tape from her pocket, unrolled it and bent to slap it over Ryan’s mouth. “There, now. Let’s not disturb the cleaning staff. They have enough filth to clean.”

He grunted and jerked, trying to tear into her.

Nicole glanced at the monitor. The status bar filled and disappeared, displaying the message Download Complete.

Now the fun began. With Ryan trussed up like the pig he was, it wouldn’t be long before the security staff got smart.

Tucking the flash drive in the pocket of her black pants, she nudged Ryan with her toe. “I’ll be seeing you in court.”

The man grunted and rolled toward her in an attempt to stop her.

She grabbed the white coverall, slipped her legs inside, crammed her hair into a messy bun and shoved it into the cap. She grabbed a straight-back chair from the front office and dragged it into Ryan’s office. Leaning it against the back of the door, she then exited the outer door of Ryan’s office, the chair leaning against the back of the door dropping to the floor behind it. She tried to open the door, but the chair legs dug into the carpet on the other side, jamming it. It would take time to get to Brandon Ryan. The time she’d need to get out of the building.

As she stepped into the hallway, the elevator car dinged. Before the door could slide open, Nicole ran for the fire alarm and jerked the handle down, setting off a screeching alarm and blinking lights marking the exits.

Two security guards leaped out of the elevator car and pulled guns on her. “Halt!”

“Oh, thank God!” She dropped to her knees on the hallway floor. “Mr. Ryan is in his office. There’s something wrong with him. I didn’t know what to do. Please help him. Please. And hurry.”

The two guards ran past her and through the open outer office door. As soon as they were through, Nicole rose to her feet, pulled a pocketknife out of her pocket, closed the outer door and stabbed the keyboard. Wires shorted out and sparks flew.

Wasting no more time, she ran to the stairwell and down all twenty-two floors of the building to the ground level and exited into the service area.

The night shift evacuated the building, all talking at once about the fire alarm. Nicole blended in with the Acme Cleaning Services’ staff and left through the rear dock entrance. Once she cleared the building, she broke off from the rest, ducked behind a large trash container and waited until the others moved far enough away that they wouldn’t notice when she headed the opposite direction.

A block away, she’d stashed a motorcycle behind a stack of empty pallets. Stripping out of the coveralls, she tossed them to the side, climbed on the motorcycle and drove away.

Three fire engines and a ladder truck passed her on their way toward Ryan Technologies.

Nicole kept going all the way out of the city, past the high-rises and big business of L.A., the six-lane freeways less crowded now than during the daytime. Eventually she passed through the suburbs, continuing north to Santa Clarita where she would rendezvous with the SOS plane and settle back for the long flight to D.C.

As she neared the small airport, a police car pulled in behind her, lights flashing. A cold feeling washed over her. She hadn’t been speeding and she’d followed all the rules of the highway, determined to fly under the radar of local police. No one but the folks at SOS knew where she’d go after the heist at Ryan Technologies.

Slowing, she debated pulling over and going through the motions of a routine traffic stop, but instinct told her, as late as it was, and after breaking and entering a building in L.A., there was nothing routine about this stop.

As she neared the turn to the airport, she noted at least a half dozen police cars, lights strobing the night sky. Nicole revved the engine and peeled out, taking the motorcycle across a median, down into a ditch and onto another road that would lead her out of town. As soon as she lost the police car, she pulled around to the back of a deserted storage building, heart racing and dread filling her gut like poison.

She fished out her cell phone and dialed Royce Fontaine’s number. It rang five times before voice mail picked up.

Nicole frowned. Fontaine should have picked up on the first ring. Hell, he was expecting her report as soon as she reached the airport. He wouldn’t have deserted her when they stood a chance of nailing Ryan.

She dialed Geek, who should have been in the computer lab following her every move via the GPS. Again, no answer.

Sirens blared on the road behind her. Three police cars converged on her from two different directions. She gunned the engine, hopped over a sidewalk and sped down a quiet residential street to burst out on the main road. How had they found her so soon?

For a moment she thought she’d shaken them. Then at the end of the alley another police car appeared. It was as if they knew where she’d be before she got there, as if they were tracking her.

Nicole left the road, drove down a steep embankment and up to the other side, crossed a wide-open field and headed into a wooded area. She didn’t slow until she was completely surrounded by trees.

As close as the police had come, they had to be tracking her. Nicole stopped long enough to ditch her cell phone, the only tracking device she had on her. Somehow her position had been compromised. With Fontaine and Geek offline, the entire operation could have been compromised. Her best bet was to get as far away from L.A. and her cell phone as possible and lay low until things died down and she could contact her boss.

She knew of only one place far enough off the grid she could hide where she could keep in contact with other members of the close-knit SOS team.

Having ditched her cell phone, she drove out of Santa Clarita and headed north toward Oregon and Cape Churn. The legendary Devil’s Shroud that could hide the rocks jutting out of the ocean from view of passing ships would be a great place to disappear to until she could decrypt the data she’d stolen from Ryan Technologies. Now all she had to do was to survive the more than nine-hundred-mile trip and avoid all members of the law-enforcement community.

Chapter 2

Dave Logsdon slowed for a four-way stop. The fog had drifted in off the sea, blanketing the shoreline, homes and roads of Cape Churn, discouraging the residents from getting out. They called it the Devil’s Shroud. When it settled over the town, everyone hunkered down and waited until it cleared. Only the naive or desperate went out on nights such as this.

Unfortunately, Dave had been in Portland to purchase additional supplies for the old yacht he’d been refurbishing. He rarely took a day off from his fishing and dive boat business until the end of the summer season when business slacked off. Today had been the first day in a month he hadn’t had a booking. If he hadn’t had to wait in line for the guy behind the paint counter to get to him, he’d have been back at least an hour earlier, before the fog settled in over the coast. Instead he’d been stuck in Portland rush hour, behind thousands of other motorists trying to get home from their day jobs.

No sooner had he crossed the mountains, he’d run into the first signs of fog formed by warm air over the cool Pacific Ocean, the resulting formation of ground-hugging clouds pushed inland by a slight breeze.

About the time he pulled into the intersection, he received a text from Sal and Olie. The marina owners asked him to pick up a loaf of bread on his way through town.

He smiled and increased his speed, his thoughts on the only grocery in Cape Churn, hoping it was still open. He didn’t mind stopping for the Olanders. They were a nice, older husband and wife who’d taken him in as though he was the son they’d never had. He got a chuckle out of their nicknames. Olie, he understood, was short for Olaf. But how you got Sal out of Gladys was a mystery. But they loved each other and were very special to him.

Out of the corner of his eye, something moved in the mist. The next thing he knew a speeding motorcyclist burst through the fog, turned sharply in an attempt to avoid hitting him, slammed into the truck and lost control.

Dave hit his brakes.

The motorcycle slid in front of the truck and the rider tumbled into the ditch.

Dave shoved the shift into Park and left the truck in the middle of the intersection, hoping to keep other traffic from running over the cycle or the rider. He dropped down and ran to the ditch.

A black-clad body lay facedown, groaning in his helmet.

“Hey, buddy, are you all right?” Dave asked, kneeling and touching a hand to his shoulder.

In a flash of movement the biker rolled onto his back, grabbed Dave’s wrist, planted a foot in his chest and launched him into the air.

Performing a perfect head over heels, Dave landed flat on his back, the wind knocked from his lungs.

The helmeted rider stood over him, a lipstick tube held out in front of him.

“What the hell?” Dave tried to get up, but the cyclist planted a booted foot on top of his gut.

Anger surged and, with it, all the combat training he’d acquired while serving in the Army Special Forces.

His arm shot out, grabbed the ankle of his leather-clad attacker and yanked him off his feet.

He landed beside Dave on his back, the helmet bouncing off the dirt.

Dave rolled over and pinned the rider to the ground, arms trapped at his sides. “I should have left you in the ditch,” he grumbled.

“Then why didn’t you?”

The voice coming from behind the helmet’s face shield didn’t sound much like a man’s voice, though he was tall and slight. “Damn.”

With his knees clamping his assailant’s arms against his body, Dave unbuckled the helmet and shoved it up and off.

Long, straight, silky blond hair spilled out onto the ground and angry blue eyes flashed up at him, sparkling in the beam from his truck’s headlights. He’d been bested by a woman. His buddies back on active duty would have gotten a good laugh out of that.

Dave glared down at her, recognizing something familiar about her, something to do with her and two of her teammates nabbing a bad guy a couple months’ back right there in Cape Churn.

“Don’t I know you? Nicole Steele, right? Your friends call you Tazer.” If he remembered correctly, she had the body and face of a runway model.

“Give the guy a prize. And you’re the fish boy from the Cape Churn Marina. Sorry if I don’t recall your name.” She rocked beneath him, wrinkling her nose, looking not in the least sorry about forgetting his name. She arched her back, pressing her breasts against him. “Get off me.”

“I will.” He couldn’t help his body’s natural reaction to this beautiful woman’s breasts rubbing against his chest or the way her pelvis rose with each attempt to unseat him. “I’ll let you up as soon as you promise not to throw me again.”

She seemed to think about it, finally saying, “I promise. Now move.” Her words were strained, tight and insolent.

To Dave, her whole attitude proved to be more of a red cape flung in the face of a bull.

Her last visit to Cape Churn she had been aloof, distant to everyone and completely unruffled by the terrorist threatening the small town.

She’d also given him one brief glance and then treated him as if he were a pesky fly to be shooed away. Her whole attitude had rubbed him the wrong way. He’d blown it off, knowing she wouldn’t be around long. But here she was, back in his town. Lying beneath his body.

Interesting.

Now that he knew she wasn’t a threat, he wasn’t as eager to let her go. Especially since he wasn’t entirely sure she’d keep her promise. Dave smiled down into her angry face.

“I promised,” she reminded him. “You can move.”

He chuckled. “I don’t know. I’m thinking I need to check you over...for injuries, of course.”

“I can take care of myself,” she insisted.

He eased to the side, his hands sliding across her arms. “You could have a broken bone.”

She slapped his hand away. “I think I could tell if I had a broken bone. I’d feel the pain. And right now the only pain I’m feeling is the pain in my neck. And that’s you.” She shoved him back and tried to stand.

As soon as she did, her face blanched. She swayed and would have fallen had Dave not risen with her and grabbed her on her way down.

He scooped her up in his arms. “All kidding aside, you need to see a doctor.”

“No!” She fought, her feet kicking out. She almost kneed him in the face.

Dave grunted, struggling to keep his grip. “Really, you took a pretty significant spill. You might have a concussion.”

“No hospitals, no police... Can’t trust...” Her eyes rolled back and she passed out. From a wiggling, spitting she-cat to a deadweight, she lay in his arms, her body completely limp.

Great. Now what was he supposed to do with her?

He loaded her into the passenger seat of his truck and went to stash her motorcycle behind a bush on the side of the road until he could get back to pick it up. First, he had to get Nicole Steele some medical attention. He punched a number on his cell phone and waited.

“Emma?”

“Dave, is that you?” Emma’s voice sounded concerned. “Everything okay?”

“I don’t know. Where are you?”

“At the Seaside Café with friends. What do you need?”

“Meet me at my boat at the marina ASAP.”

“Dave, what’s going on?” she asked.

“Just meet me there and I’ll explain.” He clicked the phone off, shifted his truck into Drive and hurried to the marina, his safe haven. The one place he felt at home. Hopefully, once Emma got there, she’d talk sense into this woman and get her to see a doctor.

He glanced down at her still body, sprawled out across the bench seat of his old truck. For the first time since he’d known her, she appeared vulnerable, not the kick-ass female that looked like a model but could knock the stuffing out of any guy who thought she was a cream puff. Hadn’t she just kicked his butt?

Then why was every protective instinct in him coming to life? The woman obviously didn’t want his help, though she needed it, considering she was out cold. Wasn’t she?

Dave pressed two fingers to the base of her throat and held his breath, waiting for the thump of blood passing through her veins. He let out a long-held breath when he felt the steady thrum of life. So she wasn’t dead. The fact she was unconscious couldn’t be good.

Hopefully, Emma could get her to go to the emergency room. An ambulance could pick her up and she’d be off his hands and out of his truck. He didn’t particularly want to be saddled with her, but having hit her with his truck, he figured he at least owed her the courtesy of getting her medical attention, even if the accident had been her fault. She’d run the stop sign.

Dave knew Steele and her teammates were some kind of government special agents, he just wasn’t sure which branch—FBI, CIA or something else. She’d arrived a few months ago to help stop a terrorist plot going down in Cape Churn. She’d worked with two other men: Creed Thomas and Casanova Valdez.

Whoever they were, they were on their game, something Dave could appreciate. When he’d been a member of the U.S. Army Special Forces, he’d been equally dedicated to his country and his commanding officers. Until his unit had been fed faulty intel and bad orders.

It was while he’d served in Afghanistan he’d learned that getting too close to someone, male or female, left you vulnerable to the devastating pain of loss. He was better off keeping his distance.

When he pulled into the parking lot of the marina, three other vehicles were already there. A Jeep and two other SUVs.

Emma was the first to greet him, stepping up to his door as he climbed down from his truck. “Where’s the fire? Why the secretive call?”

He moved aside.

The overhead light shone down on Tazer’s light blond hair.

“Nicole.” Emma’s eyes rounded. “Is she...?”

“She’s alive, just passed out.”

Emma rounded to the other side of the truck and opened the door, climbing up on the running board. “What happened?”

He told her about almost running her over and that she’d taken a spill from her motorcycle.

Casanova Valdez stood behind Emma, holding Molly McGregor’s hand. “What the hell was she doing here anyway? I thought she was on assignment.”

“Nicole.” Emma tapped her arm gently. When she didn’t respond, she lightly slapped her face. “Nicole,” she said sharply.

“Let me.” Valdez switched places with Emma and said in a stern voice, “Tazer, quit foolin’ around. It’s time to go to work.”

Dave’s fists clenched and he stepped forward, ready to punch Valdez’s lights out for being so forceful when the woman wasn’t capable of holding her head up, much less going to work.

“Nova?” Nicole blinked her eyes open and stared up into her fellow agent’s face.

“Yeah, it’s me. You look like hell.” Valdez held out his hand and she grabbed it, letting him pull her into a sitting position.

“Way to make a girl self-conscious,” she grumbled.

He snorted, giving her a derisive grin. “Like you’ve ever been that.” His lips turned downward. “What the hell happened? I didn’t know you were scheduled to be here.”

She pressed a hand to the back of her neck. “I wasn’t.”

Creed Thomas stepped up behind Valdez. “Tazer, what’s going on?”

“I was hoping you could tell me.” Her voice was stronger, clipped and, if Dave wasn’t mistaken, strained. “I need your help,” she admitted. “Is there somewhere we can meet that’s not so out in the open?”

Valdez and Thomas converged and helped her down from the truck.

Emma glanced at Dave. “Can we meet on your dive boat?”

He shook his head. “Better take her to the Freedom’s Price,” he said, immediately regretting getting involved, but leading the way to the far end of the marina where the yacht was tied to the end of the dock. Everything about Nicole Steele spelled trouble, from her slim figure to the swell of her breasts and hips beneath the black leather.

When she set her feet on the ground, her knees buckled. Her teammates caught her before she hit the ground.

She laughed shakily. “I’ve been on that bike for two days just to get here.”

“Two days?” Thomas asked. “I thought you were back in D.C.?”

“No. I was on assignment in L.A.” She straightened, her brows forming a tight V over her nose. “Tell me, what’s going on at headquarters? Why aren’t Royce or Geek answering their phones? I couldn’t get them to answer calls or texts.”

“Nothing that I know of. I heard from Royce three days ago.” Thomas frowned. “Come to think of it, he was going to contact me today with my next assignment.” He glanced at his watch and cell phone. “I’ve gotten nothing.”

Valdez scrolled down through the contact list on his phone. “I just returned from a short assignment two days ago and had requested a week off. I didn’t expect to hear from anyone back at HQ.” He hit the send button on his phone and pressed it to his ear. After a moment his gaze met Tazer’s in the light from the post hanging over the dock. “Nothing.”

“Let me get in touch with Sam. I think he and his wife, Kat, were supposed to be in D.C. this week.” Thomas scrolled through his phone contacts, selected the one he wanted and pressed Send, then put the phone on speaker.

After a moment a gravelly voice answered. “Yeah.”

“Sam, it’s Creed.”

“Thank God. Kat and I contacted as many people on the team as I dared to let them know what went down, but couldn’t get them all. One minute it was business as usual, the next, FBI was raiding headquarters. Then all hell broke loose. They nabbed Royce and Geek and all of the SOS computers, and took them to an undisclosed location.”

“Damn,” Thomas said. “What’s going on?”

“We’re not sure. Look, I don’t want to stay on this phone long, in case someone’s somehow monitoring this call. I suggest you ditch all your SOS phones, now. Contact me on Kat’s personal phone, if you need us. Out here.”

Dave’s fists clenched. He wasn’t sure what Thomas and Valdez did, but his gut told him they were the good guys. He had yet another reason not to trust the government or those who considered themselves “in charge.”

Valdez swore softly. “We need to get back to D.C. to find out what happened.” He started for the parking lot.

“Wait.” Nicole stuck out an arm. “I have a bad feeling it has something to do with my last assignment.” She glanced toward Dave.

Dave shrugged. “Don’t worry about me. I have better things to do than listen to conspiracy theories.”

Emma backhanded him in the belly. “Don’t mind Dave, he can be grumpy in his best mood.” She winked at him and leaned into the conversation. “Want me to leave so you three can talk all the supersecret stuff you do so well?”

Nicole glanced from Thomas to Emma and back to Thomas.

“We can trust her,” Creed said.

“And Molly,” Valdez confirmed.

“I’m just a mere mortal small-town cop, maybe Kayla and I should bug out.” Gabe McGregor glanced at his watch. “Dakota should be ready to climb the walls babysitting Tonya.”

“He’s so good with her, I know I take advantage of him,” Kayla said softly, pushing a strand of her curls behind her ear. “We can leave.”

“No.” Nicole put out her hand and touched Kayla’s arm as she and Gabe turned to leave. “Now that you know I’m here, you need to know what I’m up against.” She glanced at Dave. “You, too.”

Dave snorted. “No, thanks. I have to secure the boat for the night.”

“Yeah, right,” Emma said. “Stay and hear what Tazer has to say.”

“Could we take it inside?” Nicole asked, glancing over her shoulder again as if she expected the boogeyman to pop out of the shadows.

Not really wanting to be dragged into the drama of special agents, Dave motioned toward the dilapidated yacht. “Take her inside. There should be enough room for all of us below.”

They followed him aboard his yacht fixer-upper and descended the steps into the living area, crowding around the tiny dining table. Dave had been in the process of repairing the teak wood paneling. Some of the doors were missing and the cushions had seen better days.

“If someone’s following you, perhaps we should take you directly to the police,” Kayla said as they settled on the worn cushions.

“No.” Nicole held up her hand. “I don’t know who to trust. I barely got away from L.A. and though I might have lost my tail, something tells me they’ll find me soon enough.”

“Tazer, slow down. Who’s following you? And why?” Valdez reached out and gripped her hands. “Good God, woman, you’re shaking.”

Dave stared at the beautiful blonde. “You’ve been on the road for more than two days straight? On that motorcycle?”

She nodded, the shadows beneath her eyes appearing even darker in the cabin’s limited lighting.

“Have you eaten?” he asked.

She shook her head. “I had a couple candy bars from rest-area vending machines. I didn’t want to stop long enough for anyone to catch up to me.”

Dave reached into the fridge and pulled out sandwich meat and cheese slices. In less than a minute he’d slapped them on bread and handed it to her. “Eat this.”

Nicole took it, glancing up at him with a tired smile. “Thanks.”

“Start from the beginning,” Creed Thomas said. “Don’t leave anything out.”

* * *

Dave hated to admit it, but he was glad they hadn’t excluded him from Tazer’s story. He hadn’t heard a story that good since the last action movie he’d seen at the theater in Portland.

He glanced at the model-thin woman with the glorious mane of blond hair and shook his head. He found it hard to believe she was some undercover secret agent. Not when she looked weak enough to be broken in two with his bare hands. After she’d thrown him, however, he’d known how deceiving her looks could be.

When she finished her story, he was even more amazed. “So what you’re telling us is that you have some data someone’s willing to move heaven and earth to retrieve?”

“Looks that way.” She shoved a hand through her hair, her face pale with exhaustion.

“I’d call that breaking and entering, which constitutes a felony.” Dave shook his head. “Which means I’m harboring a felon. Nice.”

Nicole stared at him with narrowed eyes. “We do what has to be done to protect our country from criminals.”

“By becoming criminals yourselves?” Dave snorted. “I’m sure cults and fundamental extremists believe the same. What makes you any different?”

She gave him a cold, hard stare. “We aren’t out for ourselves.”

“Dave, we’re the good guys, even if we’re breaking and entering. The guy she went after could be selling weapons to our military and our enemies. Guns for the people killing our troops.” Thomas tapped his fingers on the table. “And it sounds like he’s in bed with someone in D.C., especially considering they’ve taken hostage Royce, Geek and our entire operating system, probably holding them until Tazer gives back what she’s taken.”

Nicole swore softly. “We can’t let them get away with it.”

Valdez’s leg bounced with nervous energy. “Sam said it was the FBI and CIA that stormed headquarters.”

Thomas picked up from there. “Which means someone with clout in the government has a stake in that data and probably doesn’t want it exposed.”

“So we can’t just turn it over,” Nicole concluded.

“We have to decrypt the data.” Thomas glanced across at Valdez then back at Steele. “I’m not an IT guy.”

Valdez held up his hands in surrender. “I know my way around hardware, but Geek’s the one I go to for software. The guy’s a wizard at hacking passwords, data encryption and decryption.”

Nicole sighed. “That leaves it to me. I had some training in military intel, but it’s been a while. So many things have changed, gotten more complicated and semifoolproof.”

“If you can break the code, it might reveal who in the government is determined to see the data deep-sixed.”

Nicole pinched the bridge of her nose. “It’ll take time.”

“You’ll need a place to hide out,” Valdez said.

Her hand dropped to her lap and she gave a wan smile. “That’s why I’m here. Cape Churn is like falling off the map.”

Kayla McGregor laughed softly. “Then why do we manage to attract serial killers, terrorists and relatives of drug lords?”

“I don’t know. It seems like such a nice little town,” Emma added.

Valdez squeezed Nicole’s hand reassuringly. “The main thing is to lie low while you’re working the data.”

“First things first.” Nicole ran a hand through her hair. “I could use a shower and a bed. If I could, I’d sleep until the problem went away.”

“Sorry, we need you on it.” Thomas glanced across at Valdez then back at the woman they called Tazer. “We’ll run interference the best we can, but you’ll have to break the code so that we can take the information to the right people and possibly get Royce and Geek out of hot water.”

Thomas nodded toward Molly. “You can stay in a room at the B and B.”

Molly’s lips twisted. “Except I have a group coming in for a wedding. It’ll be anything but private and there will be too many people around. Not to mention all the rooms will be full.”

“You could stay at our little bungalow, but the renovations on the spare bedroom aren’t complete and you’d have to sleep on the couch.”

“All my bedrooms are full at the lighthouse cottage,” Kayla offered. “It would be a couch there, too, and it’s exposed to the windows.”

“I’d sleep anywhere with a pillow.” Nicole leaned against the wall.

Emma grinned. “I know the perfect place. It’s quiet, secluded and no one would think to look for you there.”

With frown, Dave braced himself, intuition telling him he wasn’t going to like what Emma had to say next. “Where did you have in mind?”

“The answer to the perfect place to hide.” She turned to face him. “Why doesn’t she stay here? What do you say, Dave?”

All gazes turned toward Dave. “Why can’t she stay at one of the hotels in town?”

Valdez shook his head. “Too public.”

“She could rent a vacation cottage,” he offered.

“They’re all full,” Molly said. “The wedding guests took over a lot of them and most of the hotel rooms.”

Dave crossed his arms. “She’s not staying here.”

“But it makes sense. If she needs to get out of town, why not go by boat?” Emma continued to grin, making Dave’s teeth grind.

“No.” He shook his head. “Besides, haven’t you heard of sitting ducks? A boat is easy to spot in the water.”

Nicole glanced around, her brows rising. “I seriously doubt this old boat’s engines even work.”

Dave glared at Tazer. “The engines work great. I refurbished them first, now I’m working on the cosmetics.”

Valdez chuckled. “Sorry, Dave, but it is a good solution. If the people who are looking for her get close, you can head out to sea at night.”

“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.”

Olie nodded, still holding the door open for him to proceed into the marina’s store and bait shop. “Sal, you got any of that coffee left?”

“Fresh pot.” The little woman with the care-worn face and hair dyed a rich brown to cover all of the gray ran a washrag over the counter. “Good morning, Dave. No charters today?”

“Not until later.” He helped himself to a cup of coffee and sat on the stool on the other side of the counter from Sal to sip the steaming brew. As the hot coffee traveled down his throat, the warm rich aroma swirling around him, Dave could almost pretend all was right in his world.

“I made some fresh biscuits for breakfast. Care for some?”

Sal always made more than she and Olie could eat, and, as with every morning, Dave accepted her hospitality. “You know I love your biscuits. Please.”

She lifted a basket covered in a bright red-checkered cloth from behind the counter. When he reached for a biscuit, she pushed the basket toward him. “Oh, please. Take all of them. Your guest might like some.”

Dave stared across at Sal. “Thank you.”

“Oh, give up, Sal. You know you’re dying to ask who she is.”

Sal’s face reddened. “I wasn’t going to ask, but since Olie opened his big mouth... Who is she? Someone we know?”

“No. She’s an old friend I knew from back in my service days. She was here a couple months’ back.” Dave took one of the biscuits and jammed it in his mouth, hoping the inquisition stopped there.

Sal stared at him a moment, giving him a chance to elaborate.

Making a big show of chewing, he didn’t.

After a moment she nodded. “Well, I’m glad to see you interested. I was beginning to think you had sworn off women.”

Having just taken a sip of the hot coffee, Dave practically spewed. “Wait a minute. Who said I was interested?”

Sal smiled like the proverbial cat that had swallowed the canary. “Honey, when a man carries a woman into his yacht and she doesn’t leave all night...” Her face reddened again. “Just because Olie and I are old, doesn’t mean we’re naive. Please.”

Olie slapped him on the back. “Me and Sal figured it was about time you got back in the dating scene.”

Dave stood, a little angry and a lot disconcerted to be having this conversation with the two people he’d come to care for like surrogate parents. “Anything else you two deciding on my behalf? It might help me to be forewarned.”

Olie scratched his chin. “Well, Sal thinks I need to talk to you about protection—”

Heat radiated up his neck. “I’m out of here.” Grabbing the basket of biscuits and his cup of coffee, Dave headed for the door. “Next thing I know you’ll be telling me all about the birds and the bees.”

“Oh, no, honey.” Sal rested her hands on her hips. “We figure you know all about that. But sometimes a man needs reminding about other things.”

“I’m not hearing this. Please stop talking.” He ran for the door, sloshing hot coffee on his hand.

“Have a nice day with your lady friend,” Sal called.

The echo of Olie’s chuckles followed Dave out the door.

What had gotten into those two meddling, well-meaning old people? He was happy as a confirmed bachelor.

His footsteps slowed as he approached the battered yacht that had seen better days a couple of decades before.

What did he care what his home looked like? The engine had never run smoother and he was working on the exterior as he got time. Now that the summer season was waning, he’d have more time to work on his special project. As soon as his guest moved out.

Biscuits, coffee and the boot. She couldn’t stay. He liked his peace and quiet and certainly didn’t want to get caught up in a felony looking for some people to arrest.

He still couldn’t get over the fact Gabe hadn’t arrested her, knowing she’d broken into a business and stolen confidential information.

Still shaking his head, he stepped onto the boat and descended the steps into the living area.

The couch was empty. Had she gone? His pulse quickened as he glanced around the cabin. Then he heard the water running in the bathroom and he let go of the breath he’d been holding, annoyed that he’d been strangely disappointed thinking she’d gone without saying goodbye.

As he set about the task of plugging in the coffeepot and measuring out coffee, the door to the bathroom opened.

Still wearing the shirt she’d borrowed, she now had on the black leather pants and boots and she’d pulled her hair back into a neat ponytail. Somehow, in the makeshift outfit with no makeup on her face and nothing fancy about her hairstyle, the woman still managed to look gorgeous.

He dragged his gaze away. “Coffee will be ready in a minute.”

“Don’t make any for me.”

Good, more for him, since he hadn’t slept worth a damn and Tazer would soon be leaving. Dave poured water into the device and set it on brew.

“I don’t drink coffee, but I’d love a Coke if you have one.”

“There’s one in the refrigerator, help yourself.” And, it was a can and could be taken with her. “Is there somewhere I can drop you off today?”

“I could use some clothes and a few personal items and a good computer.”

“I’m sure your friends will help you out.”

“I can’t be seen in the daylight with them. Someone could be watching them.”

He crossed his arms. “Do I look like a chauffeur?”

“No, of course not. But I can’t be seen too much in public.” Nicole smiled, her face lighting the room, her lips twisting into a wry grin as she handed him a list of items and five one-hundred-dollar bills. “I need you to pick up these items for me.”

Dave stared for a moment, clamping his jaw tight to keep his mouth from dropping. “Do you always carry that kind of money around?”

She smiled. “A girl has to have her mad money.”

“I thought mad money was limited to cab fare home.”

“Not when you’re in my business.”

“No, thanks. I’m not your gofer.” He tried to hand her the list and the money, but she backed away.

“I’m not any happier than you are, but it seems my options are limited. I’m staying here.” She glanced around the tight confines of the cabin, refusing to look him in the eye. “Surely you have a computer I can use until Thomas or Valdez can get me a faster one.”

“Why would I need a computer? I captain a charter boat.”

Her face fell and she redirected her attention to him. “You don’t have a computer?”

He fought to keep from yelling. How had he gotten roped into harboring a fugitive? He crossed to a cabinet, removed a fairly new laptop and handed it to her. “I should have run you over.”

“Actually you did.”

“You were only supposed to stay one night.”

Nicole sighed. “Didn’t you say my motorcycle was damaged?”

“I tried to start it, but it wouldn’t turn over. I think some of the wiring got messed up when you decided to run that stop sign.”

“When you hit me.”

Dave shook his head. “I’m not feeling sorry for you, if that’s your plan. Women don’t get far trying to manipulate me.”

“No? I had you pegged for a pushover.” She plopped onto the couch cushion and gave him a challenging look. “You know, the sooner I get a computer and decrypt the data, the sooner I’m out of your hair. You can either work with me or you’re stuck with me.” She shrugged. “It’s up to you. Oh, and could you leave your cell phone? I need to make some calls.”

* * *

Fifteen minutes later Dave stumbled through the door of Brigit’s Ladies Apparel store on Main Street in Cape Churn, clutching Tazer’s list in his fist. “Damned woman. I’m a confirmed bachelor, not a glorified babysitter.”

“Hi, Dave,” Brigit Summers called out from behind the counter. “What can I help you with?” She walked around and met him halfway across the small store.

He wanted to tell her he needed help getting a squatter out of his yacht. Instead he handed her the list. “I need these items in the sizes and colors listed.”

Brigit scanned the list, her brows rising. “That’s quite a list.” She relieved him of it and moved around the store, gathering panties, bras, shirts and trousers. “She must be someone special.”

“It’s for my mother,” he lied, frowning hard enough to scare an enemy fighter.

Not Brigit. She laughed. “Right. You don’t have a mother.”

“And how would you know that?”

She rolled her eyes. “Sal and Olie have been trying to set me up with you since you arrived in Cape Churn. I know your height, weight, that you like coffee and biscuits for breakfast and your favorite food is seafood chowder. Your parents live in Arizona, but you never visit. You were in the Special Forces and you got out of the army after eight years.” She stared across at him. “Did I leave anything out?”

“Just the reason why you didn’t go out with me.”

She snorted. “You never asked.” With a pointed look at the clothes in her arms, she sighed. “I suppose I should have known you had someone special already. Nice, eligible men are very hard to find.”

He wanted to tell her the clothes weren’t for his lover, damn it. “I’m eligible. The nice part could be debatable.”

Her face brightened. “Are you asking me out?”

He frowned and backed toward the door. “Look, if you could bag those things, I’ll be back in fifteen minutes to square up.”

Her face fell and she gave him a sad smile. “See? Hard to find.” She pasted a smile on her face. “At least I’ll make my sales quota for the day. I’ll have these things ready.”

Dave ducked out of the store, feeling as though he’d escaped a spider’s web. What was wrong with women? All he wanted was to be left alone.

When he got back to the boat, he’d hand over the clothing and show Tazer the door. The yacht, no matter how ratty, was his home, not hers.

* * *

Nicole spent the better part of an hour cyber-poking at the flash drive, hoping the encryption on the data was a simple fix. After trying everything she’d learned from Zip, her super-geek informant she’d met while undercover with the FBI, she knew she had to do more.

Fortunately, Dave wasn’t such a Neanderthal that he didn’t have internet service. In fact, he had a pretty good setup for the captain of a fishing charter business. Beneath the scruffy unshaved face, shaggy hair and sloppy clothes, she suspected there was more to Dave Logsdon than he let on.

Too bad she didn’t have time to figure him out. Then again, he’d probably end up being just as untrustworthy as most males she’d encountered, and not worth the effort to learn more about.

The image of Dave’s face when he’d been deep in the nightmare and choking the breath out of her flashed through Nicole’s memory. He must have seen some pretty serious stuff to be that traumatized.

Her hand rose to her throat. She’d remember to stand way back if she had to wake him from one of those night terrors again. Not that she would be venturing into his bedroom. If he had a bad dream, he’d have to tough it out.

As quickly as his enraged countenance came to mind, it faded and left her with the image of him lying on the bed naked. The man had muscles. Yes, sir. Not a spare ounce of flesh on that fisherman.

Nicole’s body heated; a strange ache building low in her belly. Since Rodney’s betrayal and her subsequent leaving the FBI, she hadn’t let a man past her bedroom door.

After what she’d witnessed in Dave’s nautical bedroom, she might have to reconsider. If only for some recreational sex. As much as she’d like to deny her baser instincts, she had physical needs.

Needs be damned, she’d need more firepower to crack the encryption on the data she’d downloaded. Normally she’d go to Geek for this kind of stuff. Thank goodness she knew a hacker outside of SOS. He went by Zip. If she could contact him, perhaps he’d pass her some code that she could use to hack into the files.

She’d have to wait for Dave’s return with her clothing and the disposable cell phone she’d asked him to pick up while in Cape Churn. It was too risky to use Dave’s phone to call a known criminal. Not only did it expose Dave, it might expose Zip.

Cooped up in the boat, she didn’t dare get out until Dave brought her clothes. She couldn’t risk being seen in the black leather pants and jacket. What she’d really like was a chance to go for a run. She could probably scrounge some oversize sweats and she could wear the shirt she’d borrowed from Dave, but without tennis shoes, a run was a no-go. Too conspicuous in black boots and sweats.

At a standstill on cracking through the data on the flash drive, she rose from the couch cushions and wandered around the living area, inspecting drawers and cabinets. For a man who needed a haircut and a shave, the items in his drawers were neat, orderly and folded or rolled in the fashion of a footlocker kept up by a top-notch soldier. This soldier hadn’t forgotten his training.

In one cabinet, a faded, crumpled picture hung on the inside of the door. In the photograph two men in desert camouflage uniforms, Kevlar vests and helmets, carrying Colt M-4 carbines stood grinning at the camera. At first, Nicole didn’t recognize either one until she looked closer. The taller one was Dave. Not the surly, scroungy man who wanted to kick her off his boat. This was a happier man with a clean-shaved face and unguarded eyes.

What had happened to make him so mad at the world?

The date on the photo was two years ago.

Footsteps on the deck above made Nicole jump. Unable to see who was coming, she ducked around the corner into Dave’s sleeping quarters. If anyone but the boat’s owner was there to pay a visit, she’d be ready.

Bags dropped down the steps, landing with a paper-crunching whomp on the floor. “Your clothes are here,” Dave called out. “I got a charter gig in thirty minutes. See ya later.”

“Wait.” Nicole darted out of the bedroom and nearly tripped over the bags getting to the steps. “When will you be back?”

He smirked from the halfway up the stairs. “Miss me already?”

She tried to play off her boredom. “No, I just like to know who and what to expect. Helps me to know if it’s a good guy or a bad guy.”

Dave snorted. “Honey, I’m bad to the bone. What’s the difference?”

She didn’t respond, maintaining eye contact until he gave in.

“I’ll be back around dark.”

“Thanks.”

“You got everything you need for now?”

She nodded. “Now that I have clothes, I can get around. I won’t need you to run my errands.”

“If you need a vehicle, the keys to my truck are—”

“Hanging inside the cabinet by the fridge. I know.”

“Snooping around?”

“I was bored.”

“You don’t have to stay here, you know,” he said, his brows raised. “You have clothes.”

“That reminds me. Did you get the hair dye?” she asked.

His lips pressed together for a moment, his gaze sweeping over her head. “No.”

“Why not?”

“I gotta go.” He started up the stairs, refusing to answer.

“Well, I appreciate what you did get. I can pick up the dye at the store later.”

He paused, almost out of the cabin, and then turned back. “Don’t.”

She glanced up from the packages. “Don’t what?”

“Don’t dye your hair.”

Nicole studied the frown on his face. “Why not?”

“I like your hair the way it is.” Then he left.

Shaking her head, Nicole went to work sorting through the clothes he’d purchased, imagining how uncomfortable he must have been asking for a ladies bra and panties. She could have gone without the bra, but she’d wanted him to be a little uncomfortable. As opposed as he’d been to her staying on his boat, he deserved a little embarrassment.

She glanced out the window on the port side facing the dock. Dave strode away in his boat shoes, worn jeans and T-shirt, a fishing cap pulled down over his shaggy hair. He carried himself like a soldier, with all the pride and dignity drilled into him. And beneath the sloppy outfit was the body of a warrior.

Nicole had seen it. And damn if she didn’t want to see it again.

As she tore through the bags, arranging the items, she set herself straight.

Messing with Dave Logsdon would be a big mistake.

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