LOGAN (The Innerworld Affairs Series, Book 5) Page 9

  Lee stood poised to continue the fight until she was certain he had given up. Leaning over his barely conscious, pain-contorted body, she said, "Thank you so much for obliging me, asshole. Let's do this again sometime." An angry flame still glowed in her eyes as she turned toward the major and defended her actions. "These two guys physically intercepted Airman Samples and me coming back from the lavatory. When we told them we weren't interested in spending our free time with them, they got nasty. We only defended ourselves from assault." Her narrow-eyed gaze scanned the circle around her. "And we'll do it again if we have to."

  Logan cut the tense silence from the back of the crowd. "Show's over, everybody. Back to your tents. Except Gianni, Higgs and Yan." After a moment's hesitation, all but a handful of people drifted off. Robin remained despite his order.

  Geoffrey grimaced at the two men on the ground then asked Tarla, "Would you mind seeing to them?"

  "Wilkes's jaw cracked," Lee stated without remorse. "I felt it go. Other than that, they'll recover... physically."

  A few seconds later, Tarla confirmed Lee's prognosis. "We should put Wilkes in the tack room and let our caretakers check on him."

  "Good idea," Logan said. "That'll keep him out of trouble for a few hours. Who knows, maybe he'll remember something I couldn't."

  Geoffrey explained the procedure to Higgs, Gianni and Wilkes, and the two MP's helped the patient to his feet. As they headed toward the barn, Lee and Alicia assisted Wilkes's cohort back to his tent.

  "This problem isn't going to go away," Logan said to Geoffrey. "We may have to assign guards for the women."

  "I beg your pardon?" Tarla demanded. "In case you missed it, Lee and Alicia did just fine without a man to protect them."

  Logan looked down his nose at her. "That was one on one. What do you think will happen when Wilkes comes out of that tack room in one piece again? He's going to want blood. And he probably won't care if it's his attacker's. Any female will probably satisfy him. Only next time he'll make sure he's got better back up." To Geoffrey he said, "I'll move my tent next to the women's and tomorrow we'll split them up on two teams. You and Gianni take half, and I'll take Higgs and the other half."

  Tarla had the strongest urge to object just for the sake of opposing him but her common sense kept her quiet. She didn't resent the protective measures as much as the fact that he had given orders for them. As hard as it was for her to accept, the one person in this entire group most capable of leadership and commanding obedience seemed to be the last one she wanted to take orders from.

  "Like I said before," Robin murmured, guessing at Tarla's thoughts. "He's a strange one."

  "Don't tell me you're interested in him too?" Tarla smiled to hide the queasy sensation that touched her stomach as she thought of Robin going after Logan.

  "Hell no!" Robin said with a laugh. "Even if he wasn't a murderer, he's the kind that never lets a woman push him around and I'm the kind that prefers the top." She wiggled her eyebrows at Tarla and made her laugh.

  "Wait a sec," Tarla said. "Do you have doubts as to whether Logan's guilty?"

  Robin shrugged. "I probably wouldn't if I'd never seen him close up. But if he was such a bad guy, wouldn't he have backed Wilkes instead of trying to keep the peace with Geoffrey? Don't get me wrong, there is something kinda scary dangerous about him but I feel like I can trust him not to hurt us. Okay, let's talk about Geoffrey."

  "Seriously?" Tarla said with feigned shock. "You still find him attractive after an entire day? This sounds serious."

  Robin made a face at her. "Very funny. I've met the man of my dreams and you develop a sense of humor." She looked out into the dark for a glimpse of him then sighed. "The truth is, he hasn't even noticed I'm alive."

  "I doubt that! If anything, you might be too alive for him."

  Robin's eyes opened wide. "Quiet, reserved little me? Hmmm. You could have a point there. I suppose I could tone down my aggressiveness just a bit. At least until I can get past his defenses."

  Tarla knew better than to try to talk Robin out of something she'd decided to do but she secretly hoped Geoffrey didn't give in to Robin too easily. She might benefit from running up against a man who didn't instantly fall at her feet. Maybe she could even learn to appreciate him for something other than good looks and an English accent.

  They returned to their tent but it took Tarla a while to fall back to sleep. During her time in the military, she'd discovered the darkest traits of men. Of course, she knew the textbook definitions of assault and rape but had never needed to put those words into a real-life context. It was very hard to comprehend, but she had no doubt that Wilkes would have raped Lee without a second thought, if she had been less skilled.

  As a resident of Innerworld, she'd been accustomed to an orgasm being a simple physical release that could be shared with a friend or purchased at the Indulgence Center. Romance and love were not required for pleasure and coupling of any sort was only done with mutual consent.

  Tarla had always enjoyed her fair share of pleasure, even on Outerworld. Although Terrans often made sex more complicated than necessary, she still had no trouble finding willing partners to play with when the urge struck her. Occasionally she'd found a man she wanted to spend more than a few hours with. But since her move to Outerworld, she'd never spent more than a month with any of them. When it was over, however good it had felt, it was completely over.

  Even with Logan, the only one she'd even considered breaking her one-month rule for, there was no looking back.

  So why did she care if Robin was interested in Logan?

  Because he's dangerous and she feared for her friend's well-being.

  She toyed with that explanation a moment and gave it some credence, but she knew it wasn't the whole answer. What she had felt earlier was closer to jealousy than fear.

  Did that mean she still had an interest in Logan herself?

  Absolutely not. If anything, she'd experienced a momentary pang of jealousy at the thought that Robin—with her sensual beauty, lush figure and quick wit—could get through Logan's shell and find the heart she'd been unable to locate with her vast experience at softening up tough guys.

  Yes, that's all it was. A tiny pin prick in her professional pride.

  Then why was she suddenly remembering what it felt like to be kissed by him?

  There was nothing wrong with being a little curious about a man like Logan and the sort of woman he'd prefer. He had the kind of body any healthy woman might want to get to know better. It was a simple matter of feminine curiosity... and not having coupled with any man in over a year. She certainly didn't desire Logan McKay. She couldn't.

  And if her body didn't agree... well, she simply wouldn't permit such disobedience.

  * * *

  Parisia maintained a show of calm control throughout Iris of Mergany's report. No other Imperial Prefect of Heart had ever been faced with so much turmoil at one time. The past twenty-four hours had been terribly upsetting for her, but her normally sedate Domestic Affairs Advisor was practically undone.

  Parisia had not thought attending the monitors during the night would be necessary. A clear tactical error on her part. The barbaric Earth men apparently required continuous observation. She now realized that the men in chains may not have been slaves after all. They might have been bound because they were even more dangerous than usual. And she had been responsible for releasing them among the tranquilized innocents of the Earth commune. Another tactical error.

  Should she take some decisive action immediately to correct her mistakes or wait the full three days for the antidote to take effect then re-evaluate?

  "Despite the distance and lack of sound," Iris continued, "the visual scanner of the sky monitor provides evidence that two of the women were forced to defend themselves against the men and did so quite efficiently."

  "Do you think we should bring the women here?" Parisia asked.

  "Oh my, no," Iris instantly replied. "They would never fit in."<
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  "Then you believe they should be left to fend for themselves against all those men?"

  Iris hesitated a moment before giving her advice. "I don't believe we have a choice. We must be content in knowing that in a few days they will be as safe as we are among our own males."

  Parisia sighed. "I suppose you're right but I don't feel good about it. After all, they are females and we must never forget our foremothers' oath to protect every member of our gender from male abuse."

  "But that oath wasn't meant to include barbarian races," Iris protested.

  "Are you sure they're as barbaric as the men? Or have they just learned how to deal with violence in the only way available to them? If you'll recall, our ancestors had to keep their men bound or imprisoned for centuries before the antidote was perfected. Throughout universal history, females have done what they have to do to survive in worlds dominated by males."

  Frowning, Iris conceded a bit. "As always, you have managed to make me doubt my own convictions. Yet, I still believe you should leave those women be for now."

  Parisia nodded. "And I agree... for now. But we will discuss this matter again before I speak to Parliament the day after tomorrow. Was there anything else?"

  Iris's frown deepened. "It's about Nadia. An observation tech, Simone, informed me that Nadia is showing an unusual amount of interest in the new crossovers. She actually left her residence last evening and went to the sanatorium to get a look at the man with the headache. My guess is, the tech is playing both sides of the political field but she denied any knowledge of how Nadia learned about the patient. You might consider having Simone relocated to a less sensitive post."

  Parisia shook her head. "No. Leave her where she is. As long as she believes we don't suspect her of duplicity, she might be of use to us at some later date."

  That made Iris smile. "Very good. You never know when we might want to pass a little misinformation on to Nadia."

  * * *

  "McKay?" Tarla called from inside the tack room. "Could you come here, please?"

  His team had begun examining the barn, inch by inch, right after breakfast. In the two hours since, no one had been able to pry even a sliver of wood off the walls with any tool they tried. Nor had they discovered how the outside door had been sealed then automatically opened.

  Logan stood in the doorway holding a cup of water. "Yes, Captain?"

  She immediately noticed his relaxed posture then she saw his expression. He was almost smiling. "Are you all right?"

  He drained his cup. "Never felt better. Just a little thirstier than usual but that happens to me after a migraine. What can I do for you, Captain?"

  He had just said more words to her at one time than he had all together during the last weeks of his stay at the hospital unit and it flustered her. "I... I, uh... please call me Tarla. Everyone else seems to have dropped formality."

  "Fine. Did you need something... Tarla?"

  His unusual congeniality was playing havoc with her composure. "Yes. I..." She had to pull her gaze away from his before she could remember what had been on her mind when she called for him. "We have to be missing something in here. I thought if you acted out what you did when you came in with the migraine, you might recall something else."

  He shrugged. "It's worth a try." Imitating his previous actions as closely as possible, he stepped inside the tack room, pulled the door shut and threw the bolt. "It's only a guess, but it's probable that locking the door works like an alarm to let them know someone needs medical attention, in which case, you might get to experience the miracle firsthand."

  "No. Duncan said they never take anyone unless they're alone, so that's out. But it also suggests they might be able to see into this room to know whether it's only one person." She scanned the solid walls and ceiling for the hundredth time. "I just don't see how though. Okay, so you bolted the door. Then what?"

  "I turned around and said, 'I have a migraine, a very bad headache.' They must be able to hear what is said in here as well. Anyway, I stood here for several minutes but nothing happened, so I sat down." He lowered himself onto the straw, set down his cup and leaned against the bolted door. His gaze returned to her face and stayed there.

  Tarla had seen plenty of male patients look at her that way before—as if she were some sort of angel. She knew enough not to take it seriously. But Logan shouldn't be looking at her that way. Not now. "Are you sure you're feeling all right?"

  He laughed. "Of course. Why?"

  "You... you don't seem... normal." It was the best explanation she could come up with. "Never mind. What happened after you sat down?"

  "Some more time passed. The next thing I knew I was flat on my back, waking up like I'd had twelve hours of good sleep."

  Tarla shook her head. "If nothing else, at least Wilkes's recollection is the same as yours."

  Remaining on the floor, Logan closed his eyes. His brow furrowed as he struggled to remember when and how he was rendered unconscious. Suddenly his eyes opened and he stared at the ceiling.

  "What is it?" Tarla asked, following his gaze to a wooden beam in the ceiling.

  "I was gassed," Logan declared, rising to his feet, with his eyes still focused overhead. "I don't know why I forgot it but it just came back to me. I heard a hissing sound right before I blacked out. It seemed to have come from up there." He pulled her over to where he was standing. "Look up. See that dark knothole in the wood?"

  She could see the impression he referred to but failed to see his point. She watched him pick up a long piece of straw and point it toward the knothole, but he was about two feet short. "Here," he said handing her the straw. "You try it."

  She couldn't understand how he thought she could reach it if he hadn't, until he bent down, circled her thighs with his arms, and lifted her into the air. "McKay!" she scolded, quickly grasping his shoulders for balance.

  "Now try it," he said with a grin.

  She felt the strength of his arms beneath her bottom and knew he wouldn't drop her, but she felt his warm breath against her stomach and tightened her grip on his shoulders nonetheless.

  "I won't drop you," he assured her in a husky voice. "See how deep you can make it go."

  Her cheeks flushed hot and she felt his low chuckle all along her body.

  "The straw, Tarla."

  Despite his words, his eyes told her she hadn't misunderstood what he was really thinking about. Since a response would probably only further her embarrassment, she proceeded with his experiment. Without meeting any obstruction, she was able to feed the straw completely into the hole. "It appears to be a tube," she told him as she extracted the straw and dropped it on the floor. "Your assumption about being gassed is probably correct."

  Rather than acknowledge her comment, he let her body slide a few inches lower and his mouth brushed back and forth over her taut nipple.

  "McKay." She meant to sound offended but his name came out in a whisper that revealed too much of what he was making her feel. His mouth treated her other breast to the same light caress and she forced out the words her mind demanded she say. "Put me down, McKay." But her back arched into him instead of away.

  He let her slide a few more inches down his body so that their eyes were now level. "Call me Logan."

  She could feel his heart pounding hard against her own and told herself to run. His hold on her was supportive, but not so restraining that she couldn't escape... if she wanted to.

  Her hesitation made him clarify his terms. "I'll put you down after you call me Logan. Say it the way you used to when I was your patient and you wanted me to believe you cared."

  The intense longing in his voice accompanied by the need so visible in his eyes stripped her of what little sense she had left. "Logan."

  His lips came to hers then left again with a tenderness that made her heart ache. Her fingers combed the lock of hair off his forehead, as she repeated, "Logan."

  Once more his mouth met hers, softly, as though he feared her rejection. When
she didn't retreat, he murmured something unintelligible and pressed a bit harder. She felt the muscles in his arms tremble slightly, so she wrapped her legs around his waist to keep from slipping away. Intent upon the depth of emotion he was pouring into the simple, closed-mouth kiss, she barely noticed when he descended to his knees with her on his lap.

  His lips grazed her cheek and tickled her ear. When he spoke, she felt his words more than she heard them.

  "You can't know how many times I've fantasized about holding you like this." He continued planting butterfly kisses down her neck, up her throat and moved to her face. "I'd see your caring eyes and hear your sexy voice, and you never, ever left me to go take care of someone else."

  His claims made no sense and yet pure honesty laced each kiss. The hand easing up and down her back, his fingers threading through her hair, every touch gave proof that having her in his arms filled him with innocent wonder. Though she knew she shouldn't believe him, her intuition insisted she should. "You fantasized about me? Like this?" She felt the vibration of his muffled laughter.

  "Like this." He lowered her onto her back and stretched out beside her. "And this." His fingers explored her face as his dark eyes made seductive promises. "In my fantasies, you open your mouth for me. You stroke my tongue with yours and let me taste you for as long as I want."

  She pulled his head down to hers and whispered against his lips, "Like this?" His groan of pleasure assured her that she was living up to his fantasy. For her, however, he surpassed any fantasy she had ever had of what the perfect kiss would be like. Time passed without either caring, while the kiss went on and on.

  Finally Logan raised his head and said, "Like that."

  He had her trembling with a need for more than deep kisses and, with a brazen smile, she asked, "And nothing more?"