Alpha One (Shadow Agents 1)

“Juliana!” Ben’s voice screeched. “Where are you? I searched for you after the explosion, but you’d vanished! Oh, God, at first—at first I thought you were in the car!”

She almost had been.

“Then a cop remembered seeing you jump into a truck.” His breath heaved over the line. “They’re saying it looks like a car bomb, it looks like—”

“I’m in a motel, Ben. I—”

Logan took the phone from her. Ended the call with a fast shove of his fingers. A muscle flexed in his jaw. “GPS tracking. Your phone just told him exactly where we are.”

His gaze swept over her. Crap, she was just wearing a towel, one that barely skimmed the tops of her thighs even while her breasts pushed against the loose fold she’d made to secure the terry cloth. He’d seen her in less plenty of times, but that had been a long time ago.

Juliana grabbed her dress and held it in front of her body. It was a much better shield than the thin towel. “No one is tracking me, okay, Rambo? That was just Ben. He was worried and wanted to make sure—”

“Guerrero has a man in your father’s office. Someone willing to trade you for a thick wad of cash.” His eyes blazed hotter, and they were focused right on—

“Eyes up,” she told him, aware of the hot burn in her cheeks.

Those eyes, when they met hers, flashed with a need she didn’t want to acknowledge right then.

“I know how this works,” he told her. “And I sure as hell know that we have to move now.”

GPS tracking. Yes, she knew that was possible, but...“Why? Why can’t they just let me go?” Her father was dead. Shouldn’t that be the end with Guerrero?

Logan didn’t speak.

“Turn around,” she snapped.

His brows rose but he slowly turned, giving her a view of his broad back. Juliana dropped the dress and towel and yanked on her underwear—a black bra and matching panties—as fast as she could. Her gaze darted to his back and—

Wait, had he been watching her in the mirror? She couldn’t tell for certain, but for a moment there, she’d sworn she saw his gaze cut to the mirror.

To her reflection.

“Done yet?” he asked, almost sounding bored. Almost.

Eyes narrowing, Juliana yanked on her dress. With trembling hands, she fumbled and pulled up the zipper. All while Logan stood right there. “Done,” she gritted out. Not even trying to play the gentleman now. “My father is dead. Why do they want to bury me, too?”

He turned to face her. His gaze swept over her. Made her chilled skin suddenly feel too hot. “Because you’re a witness they can’t afford.” He caught her elbow and led her back through the small hotel room. He paused at the door, glanced outside.

“A witness?” Yes, she’d seen the faces of a few men in Mexico, but...

“Did you know that no witness has ever been able to positively identify Diego Guerrero? The man’s a ghost. The U.S. and Mexican governments both know the hell he brings, but no one has been able to so much as touch him.”

She pulled on her pumps. Useless for running but she felt strangely vulnerable in bare feet. “Well, I didn’t see the guy, either. The big boss man never came in when I was being held.” He’d left the torture for his flunkies.

Logan shot her a fast, hard stare. “Yes, he did come in.”

She blinked.

“From what we can tell, he spent more time with you than he ever has with anyone else. You saw his face. You talked to him.”

Wrong. “No, I didn’t. I—”

“John Gonzales is one of the aliases that Guerrero uses.”

My name’s...John. John Gonzales. She remembered the voice from the darkness. Who are you?

“He didn’t need to torture information out of you, Juliana. All he had to do was ask for it in the dark.”