Enemy Infiltration. Carol EricsonЧитать онлайн книгу.
“What’s the story with his wife and why is she resting?”
“Dale’s an alcoholic. They have…two adorable kids, but Dale spends most of her time hitting the bottle and partying with her friends.” She pinned her hands between her knees and tapped her boots together. “Honestly, I don’t think she cares what Bruce does. I’m pretty sure she has an affair or two under her belt.”
“So to speak.” Logan smirked. “Doesn’t sound like you have much leverage with the wife.”
“Yeah, except Bruce doesn’t want to give Dale any excuse for a divorce. They don’t have a prenup and Bruce stands to lose a lot—half of everything—in a divorce. That’s why he puts up with her behavior, too.”
“Sounds like a great marriage, a match made in hell, but I don’t give a damn about Bruce or Dale or their hellish marriage. I do give a damn about your safety and the way he treats you.”
She patted Logan’s thigh. “Thanks. He’s not going to try anything else. He just plays his little games with me and enjoys watching me squirm because he knows I have nowhere else to go.”
“I got a totally different vibe from you when I watched you outside of Congressman Cordova’s office. I didn’t see you as someone who’d take guff from anyone.” He turned on the step and took her by the shoulders. “You need to get out of here, Lana. Find another job, move. This is unhealthy.”
She flattened a hand against her stomach. She hated for anyone to see her as weak, especially a man like Logan Hess, who probably charged through life on his own terms. But she’d been weak plenty of times in her life, and she didn’t want Logan to know about those times, either.
Resting her head against the post, she asked, “Are you married, Logan? Do you have…children?”
His head jerked. “No.”
She ignored the little sigh of relief that sprang to her lips and continued, “Have you ever had anyone dependent on you?”
“My Delta Force team. We’re dependent on each other.”
“If you had to do something you didn’t like, had to just suck it up and get on with it to protect one of your team members, you’d do it, wouldn’t you?”
“I’d do anything for them.” His thumbs pressed against her collarbone through her jacket. “What are you getting at?”
“That’s me.” She waved an arm toward the ranch. “Here.”
His gaze shifted over her shoulder to take in the expanse of the ranch. “You’re protecting someone here?”
“I have responsibilities here. I’m sending money to my mom and my grandmother in Mexico. I can’t just quit work. I have horses here…relationships.” She tossed her head like one of those horses, flicking her hair over her shoulder. “I can handle Bruce McGowan. It’s the U.S. Government I’m worried about.”
“Okay. I’m sorry.” He dropped his hands from her shoulders. “It’s none of my business how you conduct yours. I hate guys like McGowan, who abuse their power.”
Logan’s green eyes burned with a passion that had to go deeper than what he’d just witnessed between her and Bruce. Any injustice seemed to instill in Logan a desire to correct it. That same feeling must be driving him to exonerate Major Denver.
“I appreciate your concern. Like I said, I can handle Bruce…and Smith & Wesson if it comes to that.”
The crease between his eyebrows vanished. “That’s good to hear not only because of Bruce’s attentions, but because you are kind of isolated out here.”
“There are some quarters for the ranch hands behind the stables. It’s not as isolated as you might think.”
“Do you mind if I take another look at that box?”
She pushed up from the porch and dusted off the seat of her jeans. “C’mon back in.”
Once inside the house, Logan crouched beside the box she’d sliced open with such anticipation. He studied the tape hanging from the flaps, and then shoved the box toward her. “Does that look retaped to you?”
Lana ran her fingertip along the tape and looked up. “It could’ve been. Do you think someone opened the box, searched it and taped it back up?”
“Could’ve happened. Someone did a slick job of it if that’s what occurred, but there’s some roughness that could be some cardboard ripped off the box.”
“It’s worse than if McGowan is holding on to a second box, isn’t it? The motivation is a hundred times more sinister.” She pinged the side of the box with her fingernail. “And if someone took Gil’s journal, I’ll never have any proof that his death was part of some organized attack.”
“Lana, are you sure your brother kept a journal?”
“I’m positive. He always did, and since he suspected something amiss on this assignment, he wouldn’t have quit at this precise moment.”
“Unless he sensed the danger of keeping a journal.”
“What if I never find it? What if it’s gone forever?” She fell to her knees next to the piles of Gil’s belongings and ran her hands over the items. “I won’t be able to help you with your investigation, either.”
“Don’t worry about that.” Logan rose to his feet. “I just wanted to touch base with you to find out why you were so adamant in the belief that there was something more to that attack. I didn’t expect you to have any proof…just a sister’s grief.”
A hot tear coursed down her cheek and she let it drop off her chin. That’s twice she’d allowed this man to see her cry—some kind of record.
In two steps, he was towering above her and gently urged her to her feet. She swayed as she rose beside him, and he enfolded her in his arms.
“I’m so sorry for your loss.” He whispered the words in her ear.
She nodded against his solid chest. “Thank you. I know as a serviceman, you understand maybe more than most do.”
Sniffling, she pulled away from his warm comfort, trying to avoid wiping her nose on his shirt. Trying not to be too dependent.
He stepped back, leaving a cold void between them. “I—I’d better get going. I’ll leave you my cell phone number in case anything else comes up, and you do the same.”
“How long will you be staying in Greenvale?” Now, suddenly having that journal in her hands meant more than uncovering the mysterious circumstances behind the marine guards’ deaths. It meant keeping in contact with Logan Hess. Once she had nothing to offer him, he’d take off in search of the next clue.
How quickly that feeling had come back—that she had to have something to offer to make someone stick around. She hadn’t learned anything.
“I’ll be here for a few days. I hope to talk to Congressman Cordova myself.”
She brushed a hand across her wet cheek. “Maybe I can reciprocate and buy you lunch while you’re still here.”
“I’d like that.” He jerked his thumb in the direction of the big house. “You’ll be okay here?”
“I live here. I’ll be fine.”
Five minutes later, she pressed the piece of paper with Logan’s cell phone number on it to her heart and watched him fold his large frame into the little rental car that looked too small for him.
She lifted her hand as he went around the line of trees and disappeared from view. Then she spun around and dived into Gil’s possessions, returning most of his things to the box.
After packing away Gil’s belongings, checking on the few horses left at the ranch and eating dinner, Lana made some tea and curled up with