Smash and Grab: Action-Packed Thrilling Romantic Suspense (Callahan Security Series Book 2) Read online

If Trenthom saw her, it would be game over for sure. He knew both she and Markus worked for Armand Fontaine. She would be questioned. If he found out she had been arguing with Markus, she might have to spend the night at the station. She wanted no part of that. Very few people knew that Armand Fontaine was also her father, and she’d prefer to keep it that way.

  Logan eyed her. “What are you thinking?”

  She turned her head toward him. It was hard to see his features in the small bit of ambient light, but she the intensity of his gaze warmed her.

  She licked her lips. “The boardwalk is just over there, so I think we should make a break for it and hustle toward the hotels that are down the beach.” She started forward, but he grabbed her arm and hauled her back.

  “Let’s take a moment to think about it.” He held her arm as he scanned the area, the contact making the butterflies in her stomach take flight. She tried to pull away gently, but he held fast. Her heart started to beat a bit faster.

  “If we walk across the parking lot to the boardwalk entrance, we’re bound to be seen,” he murmured, more to himself than to her.

  The scent of Logan carried on the breeze, surrounding Lacy. He smelled distinctly male, mixed with citrus and a hint of salt air. The heady aroma was clouding her thinking and making her conjure up all kinds of inappropriate thoughts. She swallowed hard. “Well, do you have a better plan?” she asked as she tugged her arm again, anxious to be free of his touch. This man was friggin’ kryptonite, and she was losing the ability to concentrate.

  “As a matter of fact, I do.” He let go of her arm and wrapped his arm around her shoulders, pulling her close. Startled, she gasped and glared up at him.

  “Just follow my lead.” He walked them out from behind the building and turned toward the yacht.

  “What are you doing?” she asked in a fierce whisper. Was he crazy? She heard someone yell, but Logan didn’t pause. He lowered his head closer to hers. “Keep walking.”

  The yell came a second time. Logan whipped her around, placing himself between her and the police by the yacht. He bent down and swiftly captured her mouth with his. She opened her mouth in surprise, and he deepened the kiss. She put her hands on his chest, ostensibly to push him away, but they had a life of their own. They fisted his shirt and pulled him closer. She was so wrapped up in him, she barely noticed someone was still yelling at them.

  He suddenly broke away from her and turned his head. She was trying to get her bearings. Was he talking to someone? The world snapped into focus. There was a uniformed officer standing just to her right.

  “Sorry, officer,” Logan said. “We didn’t hear you.” His aw-shucks smile was almost convincing enough to fool her. “What’s going on over there? Did someone get hurt?”

  Her heart was pounding so hard she was sure he could feel it. That kiss had been so amazing and crazy and ohmygod good. Her body was still crushed against his, and the closeness was killing her concentration.

  The officer hesitated and then took in her cocktail dress and his suit. “You need to come with me.”

  “We’d be happy to come, officer. We were just walking over to the party when we saw all the commotion. We took a bit longer getting ready than we’d planned.” He winked at the cop.

  Heat crawled up Lacy’s neck. Was he for real? Did he just wink? Mortified didn’t begin to cover her consternation.

  “You haven’t been to the party?” the cop asked.

  “No, we were on our way. What happened? Are the Dobsons alright?”

  The officer gave Logan the once over. “Do you know the Dobsons?”

  “Yes. I went to law school with their son, Peter.” He turned to Lacy. “Maybe I should go and see if Peter needs help.”

  Just then a second police officer arrived.

  “What’s going on?” the new cop asked.

  “These two say they were just going to the party,” the first officer said.

  “Yes, officer,” Logan agreed. “We were late getting here. I understand there’s been a problem. As I was telling this officer, Peter Dobson and I went to law school together. I thought I might go over and offer my services.”

  “Ah…” The second cop hesitated. “I don’t think that will be necessary, sir. It’s better if you leave. I’m sure the Dobsons will be in touch if they require your assistance.”

  “If you’re sure,” Logan said. “I’d feel badly leaving Peter in the lurch. Maybe I—”

  “No, sir. I’m afraid I’m going to have to ask you to leave.” The officer pointed to the boardwalk behind them.

  Logan turned himself and Lacy slowly as he said, “OK. We’ll go.”

  “Thank you, sir. Have a good evening.”

  Lacy let out the breath she’d been holding. That had been close. Too close.

  Chapter Two

  “Where are you staying?” Logan asked. They had walked down the boardwalk without speaking and, as if by silent agreement, were now waiting for a taxi outside the nearest hotel.

  “Ocean Beach Resort. You?”

  “Same.” Of course, because I’m following you. If he could kill his brother Gage right now, he would. His brothers, Gage and Mitch, were the ex-Spec Ops guys. He was a lawyer and a damn good one. When they’d agreed to take over their father’s security company, Callahan Security, he never counted on being in the field. Skulking around warehouses in the dark and trying to get one over on the police was not his thing.

  Well, the police thing had been kind of fun. He hadn’t pulled a stunt like that since his teen years, but following Lacy around and spying on her was outside his comfort zone. Hell, everything about Lacy Carmichael was outside his comfort zone. He could still feel her lips on his, her body pressed against him. Not good. Better if that didn’t happen again.

  He’d promised Gage and Mitch he would follow up on this lead. Lacy was hiding something, and he had to find out if it had anything to do with Jameson Drake and the prototype he and his brothers had been hired to protect. Still, he hated lying to Lacy about why he was there. He hated lying period.

  The fact that she’d been hiding from the law and arguing with the dead guy made him nervous. When he’d agreed to this, he’d thought the chances of Lacy Carmichael being involved in corporate espionage were slim to none. He should have known better. His days as a JAG lawyer had taught him that everybody was capable of committing a crime given the right circumstances. He wondered what those circumstances were for Lacy.

  Mentally sighing, he said, “We can share a cab back to the hotel, and you can fill me in on your connection to the dead guy. Including why you were fighting with him.”

  Lacy’s back went ramrod straight. He’d hit a nerve there, no question.

  “Look, I appreciate your help with the police back there, but I did have the situation under control. And I don’t think it’s any of your business, so I won’t be explaining anything to you.”

  As they approached the front of the line, the attendant asked where they were going. As Logan was giving him the address, Lacy hurried forward and climbed into the next cab, closing the door quickly. Apparently, she didn’t want to share a cab. Well, too bad. Logan hustled to the opposite side of the cab, opened the door, and slid in next to her before the cab could leave. Lacy gave the driver the name of the resort and then leaned back in the seat and closed her eyes.

  The driver started on his way. Logan was having a hard time relaxing. Lacy’s scent, ocean breeze mixed with some sort of flower, haunted him. It floated around him, bringing back memories of their kiss. He was getting hard just thinking about it. Gage had been right about one thing; he needed to get laid.

  “So, are you through pouting yet?” he asked quietly. He needed to distract himself somehow. Maybe he could get the information he needed and then leave Lacy alone. There was a bar somewhere calling his name, and he’d like to spend some time there in peace.

  “I am not pouting,” she retorted.

  “Would you prefer it if I called it a ‘hissy fit’?” He
did his best to suppress a smile. He was baiting her on purpose. He could see she was getting frustrated with him. It was fun to annoy her. She was cute when she was ticked off. Sexy was more the word for her tonight. The dress was killer and clung to every curve. Her chestnut hair had shone in the lights on the yacht and he’d delighted in the super-soft texture when he had been holding her close. He cleared his throat. “I think we should discuss this further back at the hotel.”

  “I don’t wish to discuss it,” she said through her teeth. “It’s none of your concern. I have everything under control.”

  “Then how come you were hiding from the cops? Makes you look guilty.”

  “I don’t look guilty!” she retorted indignantly.

  He continued to goad her. “You had an argument with the dead guy seconds before someone shot him and sent him over the side of the ship.”

  “I. DID. NOT. Shoot Markus Spires!” she screeched.

  He was so caught up in pissing off Lacy, he was totally unprepared when she was suddenly pitched face down into his lap. She yelped in surprise as he wrapped his arms around her and held her tight. The tires of the taxi screamed in protest to the sudden turn and braking. The vehicle came to an abrupt halt.

  “Hey—” She didn’t get to finish the sentence before gunfire broke out and glass flew all around them. The sound was deafening.

  Logan pushed her down on his legs and covered her as best he could with the top half of his body. “Stay down,” he commanded.

  Suddenly, it was silent, eerily so. Logan lifted his head a bit. The front windshield no longer existed, and the driver was slumped over the wheel, blood soaking his shirt. Lacy was reaching out an arm toward the driver when the passenger door was wrenched open.

  Logan instinctively tightened his grip on her when two men pointed assault rifles at them. The men were both dressed in black fatigues, and dark bandanas concealed the bottom half of their faces. The first guy, a bald man, gestured with his rifle for them to get out of the taxi. Logan raised his hands in a gesture of peace, nodded, and gave Lacy a look that he hoped clearly conveyed an order. Move.

  As Lacy started sitting back up, her fingers knocked against something sharp. She glanced down to see a small, sharp piece of plastic. Part of the cab must have been destroyed in all the shooting. She closed her hand around it and slowly sat upright and moved out of the vehicle.

  Once standing, she turned to face the men, willing herself to memorize what she could see of their faces so she’d be able to describe them if the opportunity arose. It was hard with the lower halves of their faces covered, which was undoubtedly the point of the disguise. Her father had spent years preparing her for this sort of thing, and now that her shock had eased, fear started to make way for anger. Taking a deep breath, she tried to calm herself and focus.

  “Move,” the bald man said, gesturing with his gun for her to step aside. The other guy was pointing his gun at her. He had long black curly hair and cold eyes. At least they seemed that way to her.

  When Lacy took a step toward the trunk of the taxi, Logan emerged beside her.

  They edged closer together, but neither of them said a word. He was so still. She knew without looking at him that he was watching every detail just like she was. Looking for weaknesses that could be exploited. He had been in the Navy, even if it was the JAG Corps, so she assumed he wouldn’t be totally useless in a fight.

  A third man came around the side of the cab. He was taller and slimmer than the first two and dressed in a light-colored suit with an open-collared white shirt. He nodded to the other men, and they stepped back. So, this was the man in charge. He didn’t bother to cover his face. Not a good sign.

  He had pale skin, cold black eyes, and an ugly scar bisected his right cheek. Fresh panic threatened to close up her throat.

  “Good evening, Ms. Carmichael,” Scar said as if they’d crossed paths while out for an evening stroll. “I am sorry for the”—he paused and waved his hands at the scene—“dramatics.” He shrugged. “It couldn’t be helped. This was the most expedient way for me to get what I wanted.”

  “Which is what?” Logan’s voice rumbled out of his chest. Scar turned his head and focused his cold gaze on Logan. He ran his eyes quickly up and down, assessing what he saw, and then dismissed him.

  He turned back to Lacy. “Why, Ms. Carmichael, of course. We have a date with history, you and I.” He smiled, which was more a baring of teeth.

  Lacy found her voice. “I’m afraid I don’t understand.” She had a sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach. She was pretty sure she did understand, but she was really hoping to be wrong. “Why do you want me?”

  “Oh, I think you know exactly why I want you.” The smile, such as it was, disappeared as Scar turned back to Logan. “The question is, what do I do with you?”

  He gave Logan another once over, and this time his eyes lingered on his suit. “You are a business man. Does he work with you?” he asked, turning back toward Lacy. “I wasn’t informed about him, so I tend to think not.”

  “Yes—”

  “No—”

  Logan and Lacy spoke simultaneously. Scar laughed. “Shall I give you a minute to get your stories straight?”

  Lacy tried to clear her throat, but it was Sahara dry. “He does not work with me. We’re friends.” She took a deep breath and continued, “And since I am the one you seem to want, you can let him go.” She held her breath. If she said the wrong thing, it was conceivable that Scar would kill Logan.

  “I don’t think I can let him go.” Scar shook his head. “He’s seen too much. He’ll tell your father things before I am ready for him to find out. No. Letting him go is out of the question.” He gestured to the bald gunman to come closer.

  “Wait.” Glancing around, she saw dilapidated, abandoned buildings with boarded up windows. There was a stripped car on the side of the road that had been burnt at some point in the past.

  “We’re not in the best area, and there aren’t any sirens after all that gunfire, so I’m guessing you made some sort of deal to keep the cops away.” She gestured to Logan. “It’s a long walk back to the center of town, through some not-so-great neighborhoods. We’ll be far away before he can alert anyone, if he makes it back at all. The crime rate is pretty high these days on New Providence Island. And he doesn’t even know my father.” She knew she was babbling, but she was getting desperate. If they killed Logan in front of her…well, she didn’t know what she’d do.

  “What is your name?” Scar took a step toward Logan, careful to make sure he wasn’t blocking his gunman’s shot. Logan said nothing. Without issuing a warning, Scar punched him in the stomach, making him double over. Logan grunted, but then straightened up again. “Frisk them,” Scar commanded. Lacy still had the sharp piece of plastic in her hand. She quickly brought her hand behind her back and dropped the plastic piece. It hit the ground next to her shoe. She immediately nudged it back under the cab with her foot. The gunman came toward her and then gave her a brisk but rough search. She couldn’t hide much in an evening gown, and her purse with her cell and wallet was in the cab. He stepped away again.

  She used the opportunity to pretend her heel gave out, causing her to stumble. She turned sideways and squatted down. She rubbed her ankle with one hand. With the other, she reached under the cab for the plastic piece. Once she found it, she stood up again. She said a small prayer of thanks that no one noticed.

  The gunman took more time with Logan, taking his cell, but coming up empty on the wallet.

  She caught Logan’s eye and raised an eyebrow in a silent question. He shrugged slightly.

  Scar demanded. “Where’s your wallet?”

  Logan said nothing. He hit Logan a second time, and once again Logan doubled over before standing back up.

  “You take a punch well, my friend, but let us see how you take a bullet.” Scar nodded to his gunman.

  “No!” Lacy stepped in front of Logan. He grabbed her and tried to move her aside, but she
fought back. What the hell was she doing? her brain screamed at her. But she knew if Logan was shot, she wouldn’t be able to forgive herself. “No,” she said in a calmer voice. “There’s no need to kill him. I will come with you peacefully if you let him go.” Logan’s hands tightened on her arms.

  “You’ll come with me regardless. I don’t care if it’s peaceful or not. As you said, no one cares, so scream all you want.” Scar’s eyes narrowed. “But”—he turned to Logan—“the lady seems to care for you, so perhaps you will come in handy.”

  Scar turned to his men and said something in a language she didn’t understand. There was a flurry of activity, and then more men materialized out of the darkness. They started searching the cab. One of the men grabbed Logan’s wallet from the floor where it must have fallen during the commotion. He handed it to Scar. That answered what had happened to Logan’s wallet. She had been hoping he had hidden it somehow.

  “Well,” Scar said, “Mr. Callahan, looks like you are coming with us. But let’s make sure you don’t get any ideas…”

  The bald guy grabbed Lacy’s arms, his hands digging in so hard it hurt, and then flung her at a new guy that came around the side of the cab. He grabbed Lacy and marched her over to a large square delivery truck. It most likely had been white at one point, but it was hard to tell from all the dents in the side.

  There was another man waiting next to the truck. The two men each took an arm and hoisted Lacy up and pushed her into the back of the truck. She landed hard on her knees and fell forward onto her hands. She slowly turned so she was sitting on her butt. Blood was oozing out of the cuts on her knees, and her palms were scraped. One of the men followed her into the truck and bound her hands together in front of her.

  The whack of a fist hitting skin made her feel ill. The corresponding grunts made her shiver. The two men stood at the end of the truck. One faced outward and one watched her, each holding an AK-47. She desperately wanted to help Logan, but there was nothing she could do.

  She waited in the box truck for an eternity, feeling more and more ill with every passing second. She’d managed to hide the wedge of plastic in her bra, but she couldn’t get to it with the armed man staring at her and with her hands shackled the way they were.