A sudden knocking on the window ripped her from her thoughts and sent her pulse skittering. She snapped her head to the right and sighed in relief at the sight of Logan holding a key in his hand. After she caught her breath, she got out of the car.
“We’re in room seven,” Logan said, dropping the key into her waiting palm. “I’m going to go get some supplies.”
As he headed off to the store across the street, she found their room and got her first look at where they’d be spending the night. It was small, but then again, how much space did they need? It had everything she required—a shower and a television. She tried to ignore the single bed in the middle of the room and the fact that once again, she and Logan would have to share it. This time, though, he’d just have to accept she wasn’t going to sleep more than a couple of hours because there was no way she’d allow a repeat of last night.
Besides, he’d left his rope and the bandanas at Joe’s, so there’d be no tying her to the bedposts tonight. Not that this bed even had posts or a headboard to tie them to.
Settling on the bed, she switched on the television and flipped the channels to her favorite cable news station.
It didn’t take more than a minute before her and Logan’s photographs flashed across the screen. At least they’d used her publicity shot. Logan’s photo was of him in his army uniform, his youthful face free of hair and the lines of hard experience that roughened his appearance now. His eyes were different then too. Less guarded. Less . . . haunted. Since she’d known him for only a year, she had no foundation for what he was like before he’d joined the army, but she’d interviewed several men and women who had served, and they had all acknowledged a loss of innocence that had nothing to do with age.
The news anchor reported an exclusive from someone “close” to Rachel, who alleged Rachel was having an affair with both Rinaldi and Logan. The anchor and two other guests debated the validity of the story, one of the guests proposing Logan may have killed Rinaldi in a jealous rage.
Rachel chuckled, wondering who claimed to have inside knowledge into Rachel’s love life. The jealous-lover theory made for a great news clip, but as soon as the FBI dug into her history, it would deflate like a soufflé taken out of the oven too early. She wouldn’t have slept with Rinaldi even if he’d promised her an exclusive that would’ve won her a Pulitzer. The man had tortured and murdered numerous women then buried them in the woods behind his cabin.
Even she had some standards.
A firm knock shook the door. She slid off the bed and checked the peephole before opening it. Carrying two brown bags, Logan strode into the room and dropped them on the floor beside the air-conditioning unit.
Logan kicked off his shoes and picked up one of the bags, bringing it with him to sit next to her on the bed. He motioned to the television. “Anything good on?”
She laughed. “Us. Did you know we’ve managed to rob three different gas stations from New York to Texas? And that I was having an affair with both you and Rinaldi, so you killed him in a jealous rage? I can’t believe they’re reporting this crap.”
“Don’t you normally report crap as well?” he asked, holding out a turkey sandwich for her.
She tried not to be offended by his question. “No, unlike anchors, I’m responsible for my own stories and not a mouthpiece for the network. As an investigative reporter, I sift through the mountains of crap to uncover the truth.”
She unwrapped her sandwich, cringing. Ugh, mayo. She despised the condiment, but right now if she had been a vegetarian, she’d kill her own cow if she needed to in order to eat. She wolfed down a couple of bites before noticing Logan staring at her intensely. “What?”
Exhaling loudly, he ran his hand over his scalp. “I’m sorry. You know, about this morning when I unjustly accused you of making a phone call and compromising us. I know you would never use our predicament to advance your career.”
She shrugged. The fact was she would do almost anything to advance her career, but she prided herself on following a strict moral code. She’d never endanger someone else for a story. “It’s okay. You don’t know me well enough to trust me. I understand.”
“You’re wrong. I do know you. You’re a woman who will risk her own safety to protect a dog.” He turned down the television. Then he put his hands on her hips and lifted her onto his lap, so that she straddled him. Sliding the ends of her hair through his fingers, he stared at her intently. “Back at the port, you had a chance to escape when Evans had his gun on me, but instead, you stayed. Why?”
She lowered her gaze. “We’re in this together. You would have done the same for me.”
“Look at me.” He tipped up her chin, so that she had no choice but to look into his warm eyes. “I’ve never been more scared in my life as when I thought Evans was going to shoot you.”
“Me? He had a gun on you a minute later. You put yourself in front of me, protecting me from Evans.”
He caressed her cheek with the tips of his fingers. “I wasn’t worried about myself. I wanted you safe. That’s all that mattered to me. Do you understand what I’m saying?” He wrapped his hand around her nape and drew her face closer. “You matter to me.” He blew out a breath. “Since leaving the army, it has all been about control for me. I’m not impulsive and I don’t act based on emotion. At least I didn’t.” He swallowed hard. “When I’m with you, all rationality flies out the window. I may have control over you in the bedroom, but you have to know you have more power over me than anyone else in my life. Do you get me, Tiger?”
Hummingbirds fluttered their wings in her belly. It sounded as if he was saying he was falling for her.
“What about Kate?” she blurted out.
Frowning, he cocked his head. “What does Kate have to do with you and me?”
“You know . . . ” She waited for him to figure it out, but he stayed quiet, his brow raised in question. “You’re in love with her.”
He reared back. “I’m not in love with Kate. I’ll admit I had a crush on her before she shot me down, but since that time I’ve only considered her a friend and law partner. If anything, I look at her as more like a sister, which is why we make sure not to play at Benediction on the same night.” Cupping her cheek, he stared into her eyes. “I misjudged you, and for that I’m truly sorry. Because now that I’ve gotten to know you, I realize how much time and energy I’ve wasted fighting my attraction to you this past year. The woman I’ve come to care about is selfless, compassionate, and sexy as hell. I apologize for having accused you of having less than noble reasons for doing your job. You’ve trusted me these past couple of days, and I want you to know I trust you too. I know we agreed to an expiration date, but I’d really like to see how far we can take this.”
Hope bloomed in her chest. He wasn’t in love with Kate. But how would Logan feel about her when she told him she was going to do a story about what it was like when they were on the run? Would he understand or would he try to stop her?
She leaned in and kissed him softly on the cheek. “Me too.” She quirked up her lips. “This may surprise you, but you’re not the only one with control issues.”
He grinned. “You don’t say?”
She took a breath, preparing herself to tell him something no one knew about her. It had taken her several years after leaving home before she was no longer embarrassed by her upbringing, but by then, Rachel Kaczynski had faded into a distant memory and it had seemed easier to keep her that way. Unlike Rachel Kaczynski, Rachel Dawson didn’t take shit from anyone. No one could ever confuse her with the girl who’d grown up believing women were subservient to men.
“Remember I mentioned I had been raised in a religious household?” she asked, linking her fingers together on her lap. “What I didn’t tell you was that my father was our church’s leader. Our preacher.” She huffed out a laugh at the shock on Logan’s face. Sometimes, she couldn’t believe it herself. “Calling it a church gives it much more credibility than it deserves. In a lot of ways, it was more like a cult. Even though I grew up in suburbia, surrounded by people of all faiths and cultures, I may as well have lived in the middle of nowhere like your uncle Joe. We were kept isolated from the rest of society, deprived of televisions, Internet, radios. We were only allowed to associate with other members of our church. Our school was at the church and taught by church congregants. Boys were encouraged to go to college and have careers while girls were expected to marry young and have lots of babies. I was taught that my opinions didn’t matter. That I was less than boys simply because I had a vagina. That as a female, it was my job to serve my father and then my husband.”