Witness Protection (Defenders of Love Book 1) (10 page)

"I got a call from him last night letting him know that one of Salvatore's creeps was onto me. I called to let him know he was right, that Sal's hired gun found me, but that I was safe with you."

"Did you use your own cell phone?"

"Mine didn't fare the wreck so well. I borrowed yours when you were in the bathroom."

"Hmmm....mine is supposed to be untraceable. I disabled the GPS. Did you tell him where we are?"

"How could I? I don't have the faintest idea where your cabin is. Other than the middle of nowhere, that is. How about you? Didn't you make a call last night too?"

The sun was coming up over the horizon.

Angelina shifted in the seat so she could watch Logan as he drove. Just like the night before, he handled the Jeep like he was born in the seat of a race car.

"Just my lieutenant."

"Does he know where the cabin is?"

"No. Besides, how would that have anything to do with your hit man? The L.T. doesn't even know who you are."

They were silent for a long time before Angelina spoke again. "Well, someone told him something. Unless he is the luckiest hit man in the mob."

"The most important thing now is to find somewhere to take you that is safe and under the radar."

"Why don't you just take me back to witness protection? Let them worry about me. There is no reason for you to have to be involved in this."

"Don't you think I am already involved?" Logan snapped. His knuckles were white against the black leather steering wheel, his faced flushed with aggravation or concentration. Angelina couldn't tell which but it didn't matter. His tone angered her.

"Well, no one said you had to stop and pull me from that ravine. I was doing just fine climbing out of it myself." Folding her arms defensively across her middle, Angelina turned her head to look out the window. She wouldn't let Logan see the tears threatening her determination to stay strong and get out of this situation alive.

The silence hung thick and heavy inside the small cab of the Jeep. The longer Logan stayed quiet, the madder Angelina got.

"Pull this thing over and let me out! You are hereby relieved of any involvement or responsibility for my well-being." She yanked at the door handle but Logan was quicker than she was grabbing her wrist and pulling it back away from the door. His grip was slightly tighter than it needed to be.

"Are you flippin' crazy, lady? Do you have any idea how fast this thing is moving?"

"I don't care! I want out! I'm a trained police officer, just like you are. I can take care of myself!"

"I don't doubt that, but how far do you think you will make it without shoes or clothes that actually fit?"

Angelina looked down at herself. She
had
forgotten that she was essentially barefoot and the land they were passing was made up of dense forest and wetlands. She wouldn't make it a hundred feet before the wool socks would be wet and disgusting. How would she keep warm with wet feet? She didn't like it but she needed Logan to get her to someplace safe. She needed him for a lot more, a little voice reminded her. Quickly squashing the little voice and the warm feeling that filled her as images of the night before filled her mind, Angelina relaxed against the seat reluctantly.

"Fine," she grumbled. "Where exactly are we headed?"

"As soon as I am sure your special friend isn't following us, I have the perfect place in mind. My Aunt Clara owns a little place in the mountains. I'm sure she won't mind if we stay with her for a day or two while we figure this mess out. My aunt gets very unhappy if I go too long without visiting. I'm way overdue and I am sure the two of you will get along great."

"Hmmm...is this another safe house?"

"In a sense, yes, I guess it is."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

Logan didn't answer right away. Angelina had already started to regret the acid lacing her words when he finally spoke again.

"My aunt is what some might call a 'prepper.' She has a multitude of fears about the collapse of civilization, the fall of the government, and the crash of the power grid. She has set herself up with a survival compound where she plans to live out the rest of her days should the world suddenly go to hell in a hand basket."

Angelina wasn't exactly sure how to respond to that. She was aware of the sort of underground movement called "prepping." Every so often she would catch a program on television about all the conspiracy theorists and wonder who really did that stuff. Apparently, Logan's Aunt Clara did.

Luckily for her it seemed she was in need of people like the James family in her life. "This place, it's off the grid?"

"So off the grid, Aunt Clara has her own windmill."

"And you are sure it's safe? I mean, even your safe house wasn't very safe."

"If that gunman finds us then he either has super powers or someone has a GPS tracker on you. In which case it won't matter if we hide you on the moon, they will find you."

"All right then, Aunt Clara's it is."

Chapter Ten

Logan glanced over at Angelina. Sound asleep, snoring ever so quietly as her head lolled to one side. She looked adorable, dressed in his oversized clothing and covered in dirt smudges. No woman had ever affected him the way Angelina had in such a short time. As he drove like a mad man to his aunt's hideaway in the mountains, his mind kept returning to the feel of her lips against his. Every curve of her body seemed made just for his, and if they ever got another moment alone, he intended to test that theory.

What was wrong with him? The woman was in a heap of trouble and all he could think about was kissing her? Well, that wasn't entirely true. He was also thinking about exploring her soft curves—every single inch of them.

Get it together man! You need to focus on what's happening to Angelina—not what you want to do to her.

Aunt Clara used to say there was a time and a place for everything. This was definitely not the time or the place to be giving into lustful desires—desire he had resisted quite successfully for many years.

Except he had never really felt anything quite like what he felt for the mysterious woman sleeping on

the passenger seat. She had told him the story of the Ricci family only because she had to. Were there other things—deeper, darker secrets surrounding Lucy Taylor, A.K.A. Angelina Ferrara?

Angelina was in the crosshairs of a ruthless, mob assassin. What worried him more though was
how
the ruthless mob assassin had even known she was alive, let alone found her location. According to what she had shared, only one person knew where to find her, and Logan was fairly certain that witness protection agent was keeping tabs on her and selling her out. He had no proof, just a feeling deep in his gut, but he'd learned to trust those feelings over the years. He had been on his own for a long time with no one but himself to watch his back. Paying attention to those little bits of intuition had saved his hide on more than one occasion.

They had gone over twenty miles without another car in sight. Aunt Clara's mountain bunker was only about another thirty minutes away. If he could just get Angelina there, he could secure her and then find a way to stop the crazed maniac that wanted her dead.

Pulling out his cell phone, he was about to switch it on and call the L.T. when he thought better of it. What if that witsec dude had somehow managed to trace them with it? He couldn't risk anyone finding them again. Aunt Clara probably had some burn phones—prepaid cellular devices with no tracking capability—at the bunker. He'd wait until he was there and then check in with his boss. Maybe the L.T. could do a background check on the fed, see if he was on the up and up, or if Angelina's good ol' boy agent was on the take.

A short time later, Logan whipped the wheel to

the left so quickly the Jeep practically went up on two

wheels. He let out a quiet chuckle as he glanced over at Angelina. She didn't even crack open an eye. He righted the vehicle and began the steep climb up the mountain to his aunt's compound, slamming against roots and potholes as he drove way too fast through the trees and brush. Still the woman in his passenger seat never even stirred.

She had to be exhausted. Three attempts on her life in less than twenty-four hours...that was enough to wear anyone out. Not to mention the middle of the night...encounter...they had shared. Logan felt his jeans tighten a little as he remembered the feel of her soft, warm body against his hard, angular one.

He shook his head to clear away the images of what he would like to do with that soft, warm body as soon as they got to Aunt Clara's house. Angelina was in no condition physically after her tumble down the ravine, or emotionally after someone tried to kill her, to be the next in his list of one-night stands.

Somewhere in the back of his mind a little voice taunted him with suggestions of finally settling down, falling in love, and maybe, just maybe, having a family.

A family of his own? He was losing his mind.

The idea was as foreign to him as Thai food.

Women weren't the problem. He liked women; he was a man after all, and men had needs. When the need arose, he satisfied it. Only he never cared enough to satisfy those needs with the same soft body twice. Angelina, on the other hand, had him wanting to satisfy himself over and over again with her.

The need to be with her scared him a little. He wasn't accustomed to feeling that way. He prided himself on keeping his distance. Single status had

helped him further his career, made Christmas shopping easy, and kept his heart from ever feeling the pain of loss ever again.

The day his bastard father took his mother's life, Logan vowed he would never, ever again feel that kind of loss. It was best for everyone if he kept his distance from the women of the world. He couldn't live with himself if he turned out to be like his old man. His father was a murderer. What if he turned out to be a murderer too?

He slapped a palm against the steering wheel. There was
no way
he was like his old man! Maybe that was why he'd become a cop. The job was a good way to funnel all that anger and predisposition to killing into something legal and just.

Angelina had been a cop in her former life. What had made her want to protect and serve? He smiled picturing her petite frame and fiery personality in full uniform pointing a gun at a dope dealer twice her size and three times as mean. There was no doubt in his mind that Angelina would've been a wildcat on the streets. He bet she would have a perp in cuffs in a matter of seconds, probably without even messing up her hair.

There was no doubt in his mind she was perfectly capable on the streets. So, if she was so capable, why did he feel such an inherent need to protect her? Now that was definitely the question of the hour.

The Jeep bottomed out hard against a dip in the dirt road. Angelina sat up straight, eyes dazed and confused as she looked around at the tall trees surrounding them.

"Where are we?" she asked, voice laced with

sleep.

"About three minutes from my Aunt Clara's place."

Angelina glanced at her watch. "We have been in the car over an hour. You should have woken me up. Why'd you let me sleep so long?"

Logan shrugged. "You were tired." He grinned sheepishly as he manipulated the vehicle over a large root that stretched across the barely there path. "Besides, I
was
partly responsible for keeping you awake in the middle of the night."

A deep crimson blush colored Lucy's cheeks. Her embarrassment made her even more adorable. The urge to pull over and do things that would color her skin an even deeper shade of red welled up in a river of desire from deep within his abdomen. Logan gripped the steering wheel tightly forcing his mind to focus on other things; things that had nothing to do with Angelina's warm body pressed against his.

The tires spun as the Jeep tumbled down a small embankment before it began the final ascent to Aunt Clara's compound. Logan felt Angelina's eyes on him, but he didn't take his own eyes off the dirt road. She didn't speak again, so neither did he.

As they rounded a bend, Angelina let out a little gasp. Logan smiled, remembering the first time that he saw Aunt Clara's prepper compound. It was a very impressive sight even to someone like him who owned a safe house with an escape hatch. And that was just the parts that could be seen.

The cabin actually opened up into a fortress built into the hillside. The actual space was at least four times larger than it appeared from the outside. Built like a bunker with eight inches of concrete making up the

walls and floors, a security system that would put the pentagon to shame, and a plethora of features designed to protect the inhabitants from any end of the world scenario one could devise, the visible part of the structure resembled a small mountain cabin meant for family getaways and weekend hunting trips.

What made it different from the standard hunting cabin was the eighteen foot windmill, cistern, and water storage tank.

"This place belongs to your aunt?" Angelina said in disbelief.

"Sure does. After my uncle died, she inherited a tidy sum of family money that she held onto. Once the three of us boys were out of school and out on our own, she moved to this mountain. You are now looking at a large chunk of that inheritance."

Angelina opened the door of the Jeep and gingerly stepped down from the cab. Logan made a note to find her some shoes as soon as they were settled. Aunt Clara had to have something she could use.

Suddenly the door to the cabin flew open. A little woman with a very big rifle jumped through the door yelling at the top of her lungs. "Get down on the ground! I ain't afraid to use this thing! Get down!"

The woman waved the gun wildly in the air. Angelina dropped to her knees even as Logan took a step forward, laughing.

"Aunt Clara! It's me, Logan!"

The little woman stopped yelling the instant she heard Logan's voice. With a hand held above her eyes to block out what little sun made its way through the trees, she called out, "Logan? What are you doing here?"

"Where are your glasses, Aunt Clara?" He was still laughing as he crossed the clearing between them and grabbed his slight-figured aunt up in a bear hug.

"Well, you know I got no patience for those things, boy. They just keep sliding down off my nose."

Logan laughed again. His aunt was his favorite person in the world. After the death of his mother, she was the only adult left in his life he felt that he could trust. He still felt that way.

"If you had them on you might not have come so close to shooting us!" He gestured to Angelina who was pulling herself up off the ground, disdain clouding her features. Logan frowned. The last twenty-four hours had been more of a trial for her than any one human being should have to go through. It was time to get her settled and figure out a way to get her out of this mess without endangering her life any further.

Walking back to where Angelina leaned against the Jeep watching them warily, Logan took her hand and gently led her to the cabin steps where his aunt stood squinting at them.

"Angelina Ferrara, meet my aunt, Clara James"

"Nice to meet you, Ms. James." Angelina reached out to shake the older woman's hand, but Clara grabbed her up in the same sort of bear hug he'd greeted his aunt with. Logan watched with amusement.

"Oh, posh! Call me Clara, will you! No formalities around this here place." She gestured toward the cabin behind her. "Come, let's get you inside, dear. Whatever happened to your shoes?" Clara gave her the once over from head to toe. "Hmmm...I may not have my glasses on, Logan, but isn't that the shirt I gave you for your birthday? I definitely think we all need to sit down with some hot breakfast and have a long talk."

Aunt Clara had always been insightful. Of course, him showing up with a woman she knew nothing of wearing his clothes and shoeless probably would have set off warning bells in anyone's head, no matter how clear their vision.

"Breakfast sounds great, Aunt Clara." A loud rumble sounded from Angelina's stomach making Logan laugh. She flushed in embarrassment and stared at the ground. "I think Angelina might be a bit on the hungry side as well."

They all laughed and Angelina seemed to relax considerably. Clara linked their arms and led her into the house. "Come along, dear, let me show you where you can get cleaned up. I bet I have something that might fit you a little better than my nephew's oversized lumberjack clothes."

Angelina glanced back at Logan, questions in her eyes. He nodded at her. "Go ahead, it's okay. I'm going to head to my room and clean up too. I'll see you at breakfast. She's perfectly safe, I promise."

Clara laughed as she led Angelina down a hall in the opposite direction from where Logan went. "Perfectly safe! That nephew of mine is such a joker!"

"You love me, Aunt Clara! You know you do!"

The echo of his aunt's laughter filtered back to him, and he couldn't help but grin as he made his way to the room Clara had designated as his for when the world ended one day.

The large windowless room was warm and welcoming despite the lack of natural light. Reminiscent of a horse ranch, the décor was southwestern in style. With warm rusts, browns, and reds dyed into the

fabrics covering the small sofa, chair and ottoman that coordinated with the bright colored bedding, Logan felt

instantly more at home there than anywhere else in the

world. Somehow his aunt had channeled his inner cowboy with the oversized wood furniture, antler wall hangings, and various taxidermy projects she collected from thrift stores over the years. An antique saddle even hung on one wall. What he would ever do with such a thing if the apocalypse occurred, he wasn't sure, but Aunt Clara swore it would come in handy one day.

Knowing Aunt Clara would take good care of his guest, Logan stole a few minutes for a hot shower. The bathroom was as perfect as the rest of the room. The understated luxury of the natural stone was just his style. Aunt Clara knew him well. If the world as he knew it ever did end, it would be no hardship to spend the after days in this suite his aunt had designed just for him.