When she woke the next time, she was alone in the bed and bright sunlight poured through the open curtains. It looked high overhead, making it late in the morning, or even just past midday.
She scrambled into her robe, pinned the panic button inside the pocket and went out into the main room, braced for what she might find there.
Jacqui sat at the table eating a sandwich but otherwise the room was empty.
Sahara felt a strange twist of both disappointment and relief. She wanted to ask Jacqui where Logan was but was afraid the question would somehow reveal what had happened the night before.
Jacqui smiled her professional smile and reached for her notebook. “Good afternoon,” she said formally.
“It is the afternoon, then,” Sahara groaned. “I’ve slept…”
“Nearly eighteen hours. It’s not unusual when you’ve chased the sun and lost a day.”
To say nothing of staying up half the night making love. Sahara sat at the table. “I used to be much better at handling jet lag.”
Jacqui raised her eyebrows. “Oh yes,” she said finally. “When you were a child. I had forgotten.”
“Is it possible to get a breakfast meal at this time?” Sahara asked. “I really don’t want to wrestle with the kitchen over vegetarian food right now.”
“I’ll see what I can do,” Jacqui said, standing and moving to the phone on the sideboard.
As she was discussing menus and arranged a breakfast for Sahara, Sahara snatched a fast shower. She wrapped herself in one of the luxurious terry towelling robes supplied by the hotel, and went back out into the main room, just as Logan arrived. He had shaved. His jeans were worn and faded…perhaps even the same pair he had been wearing when she had first met him. He wore a black vee-neck sweater that clearly had nothing beneath it, for the vee showed an enticing glimpse of the soft flesh at the top of his chest. It reminded Sahara of last night. She recalled her lips sliding along that flesh and broke out in a shiver that left her with goose bumps.
Logan nodded at her. “Hello,” he said, his tone neutral. He wasn’t smiling.
Sahara bit her lip. She glanced at Jacqui, still on the phone. Was he being discreet because of her, or because that’s the way he wanted it to be between them?
She had to take her cues from Logan. They were moving in his world. The existence she had led in the apartment above her store seemed simple and shallow in comparison.
Logan sat at the table opposite her but didn’t try to look at her. He wasn’t looking away, either, which was a reassurance.
She threaded her fingers together but it reminded her of last night, so she spread her hands on the table to hide the tremor in them.
Jacqui hung up the phone and came back to the table to pick up the rest of her sandwich. “They’ll have something here in fifteen minutes,” she told Sahara. “It didn’t challenge them at all.”
“Good.” The word came out thick and she cleared her throat.
Jacqui opened her notebook again.
Logan leaned forward. “Would you give us the room for a minute, Jacqui?”
She instantly picked up her plate and the notebook. “Of course,” she said with a smile and left.
Which left Sahara facing Logan across the table.
He swivelled on his chair so he was facing her and placed his hands on the table like her. “While the world is awake, Sahara, I have to stay in my role as your protector. Do you understand?”
“And when the world sleeps?” she asked.
There was a glint of feral hunger in his eyes. “That’s another matter altogether,” he said, his voice even.
She could feel her body tightening in response to the look in his eyes but it was mixed with the disappointment she had been braced for. “I’m assuming that it also stays between us. Not for public consumption, right?”
“It has to be that way, Sahara. You have to trust me. This is the reason I tried to explain to you last night, the one you would not accept. If the wrong people were to learn of our…association, they might use it against me. Right now, the world thinks we hate each other.”
Association.
She sighed. “Okay,” she agreed flatly. “But aren’t you assuming a lot? Who said anything about any more nights?”
“Trying to get even again, Sahara?” he asked softly.
She felt her shoulders sink. “Yes,” she admitted. “You’re not giving me the answers I want.”
His hand lifted and covered hers for a moment. “It’s all the answers I can give you.”
She slid her hand out from under his. “I get it,” she said stiffly. She sat on her hands, keeping them off the table top. “Why are you doing this, Logan? I mean, not just this job—you’ve already explained why you’re doing this job in particular. But any of it. Any of these European operations you keep doing.”
“Why do you want to know?”
“Well, you keep asking me why. Fair’s fair. You can’t use my reason—you’ve already shown what a cynic you are. I won’t believe you if you try that one.”
His smile was quick but genuine.
“Or is that answer off-limits too?” she asked.
“For now, yes.”
For now. There was an implied promise there, one that had Sahara’s heart beating hard. She resented the tap at the door but Logan said “come in,” before she could protest.
Elias and Nelson entered and Logan instantly grew wary—Sahara could almost feel his caution. He just looked at them.
Nelson didn’t look very happy.
“We think it’s time for you to visit Angel,” Elias said.
“No.” Logan’s refusal was flat and beyond questioning. It was as if a shutter had dropped down behind his eyes. No one was getting past it.
“It would look unnatural if you didn’t.”
Logan sat back in his chair, his arms crossed. “I don’t give a fuck.”
Sahara blinked. She had never heard Logan use more than mild oaths before and it seemed shocking, now.
“This has to look real, Logan. Not calling on Angel would be out of pattern.”
Logan crossed his arms and just sat there. Fury was sweeping off him in almost tangible waves. “Are you making that an order?”
“Do I have to?”
“Yes.”
Elias sighed. “Then it’s an order.”
Logan got to his feet, moving slowly and Sahara wanted to sink back into her chair, away from him. She held her breath.
“Just how many people do you intend to screw over to get this done, Elias?” Logan’s tone was deceptively mild.
Elias shrugged. “You know what’s at stake. As many as I have to.”
Logan just looked at him.
Elias shifted awkwardly on his feet. “I’ll have the car at the portico at eight tomorrow morning.” He slipped out of the room, leaving Nelson standing in the middle of the clear area in front of the door.
“We think it’s a good idea?” Logan quoted Elias, fury curling through him as he glared at Nelson.
Nelson blushed. “It wasn’t like that, exactly. You know what it’s like with Elias. How he can batter you into agreeing—” Nelson stopped mid-sentence, perhaps seeing how little an effect his words were having. He lifted his hands helplessly. “I’m sorry.”
“Get out,” Logan said.
Nelson nodded and left. The room was very silent once he was gone. Logan remained still.
“Shall I leave you alone?” Sahara asked.
Logan shook his head, just a little. “You have to stay now.”
“Have to?”
“You’re about to find out why I’m doing this, after all.” His tone was infinitely bitter.
Nelson sat up next to the driver, which killed any conversation Sahara would have liked to have had with Logan. There was another black car behind them but that one wasn’t a long-nosed Rolls Royce with six feet between the front seat and the back.
It was the first time she had seen Logan since Elias had given his direct order, yesterday afternoon. He had left the suite shortly after Nelson and a few minutes later, Celia had slipped into the room, moved a chair from the table to a spot a few feet away from the door and sat with her feet flat on the floor and her arms on her knees. “Pretend I ain’t ’ere,” she’d told Sahara.
Jacqui had returned a few minutes later, along with Sahara’s “breakfast”. Jacquie took no notice of Celia other than to nod her head at the Englishwoman when she first entered the suite. It seemed Jacqui was used to security details.
As Sahara tried to force the food down, Jacqui reworked the next day’s schedule on paper, along with the seemingly critical changes to Sahara’s wardrobe that would be required.
Sahara waited for an opportune moment, then asked, “Who is Angel?”
“Did Logan not tell you?”
“No.”
Jacqui hesitated. “Then I don’t think it’s my place to share it with you. Logan must do so, when he chooses to.” She swivelled her notebook around so that Sahara could see it. “Sven had some suggestions for unexpected outings. What do you think of this combination? It’s going to be a lovely day tomorrow.”
Sahara allowed Jacqui to change the subject but had no enthusiasm for planning the next day, when it hovered like a black cloud, the unguessable made worse by Logan’s unexplained fury.
By ten that night, Sahara began to suspect that Logan would not return that evening. She addressed Celia directly for the first time. “I’m heading for bed.”
Celia stood up, with no stretching, or any sign that she had barely moved for hours. “You go in, then. I’ll take care of setting up the night coverage.”
Sahara sighed and went to bed. She had thought she would not be able to fall asleep quickly and lay in bed waiting to hear the sound of the outer door to the suite opening and closing, heralding Logan’s return.
She had woken to strong early morning sunshine and sat up, astonished. Her gaze was immediately drawn to the window, where one of the wing chairs and an ottoman had been drawn up. There was a tangled blanket and pillow on the chair and a used coffee cup on the window sill.
Logan had returned, after all.
But until Celia had escorted her to the foyer of the hotel and Logan had stepped to her side and escorted her out to the long-nosed Rolls, she had not seen him.
He sat in the corner, tense and silent and Sahara suspected he was bare inches away from the fury that had gripped him yesterday. She had no idea how to speak to him or how to break the silence and her helplessness was a painful novelty for her. She always knew how to open people up. It was something she had always been good at, even when she had been a child and bumming around with her father’s professional surfing friends.
But the silent, sealed man beside her offered no chinks for her to edge her way inside.
The car drove them out of London, into the west, moving smoothly and fast. After watching the road signs for a while, she drew a short list of possible destinations. As time wore on, she settled for the furthest possibility. “We’re heading for Bristol?” she asked Logan, not expecting an answer.
“Close by,” he confirmed shortly and fell back into silence. But as they got closer to their destination, he grew visibly nervous, cracking his knuckles, rubbing at his chin and the back of his neck. He kept pushing up the sleeves of his sweater too.
Sahara was suddenly glad she had dressed with care. With Jacqui’s help she had selected a pair of short trousers and a matching jacket of polished cotton in a color Jacqui called sky blue but that Sahara privately thought was the blue of Logan’s eyes. The trousers were stretch cotton and were formfitting. They had a huge oval-shaped buckle at the front that reached beyond the top of the pants and below the belt that looped through it. It drew the eye to her abdomen. There was an old-fashioned peasant blouse in the softest cheesecloth and it stopped a good deal short of her trousers. It also dropped off one shoulder and she had given up putting it back. Because of the open neck, she couldn’t wear a bra and she was very aware of her bare breasts beneath the fine fabric. Her espadrilles matched her shoulder bag, which matched her earrings.
The car slipped elegantly off the major motorway and into the country proper. The road wound around and around, running through villages. The driver turned off onto other roads several times, until she had no idea what direction they were going in.
“Aren’t we chasing our tail here?” she asked, looking out the window.
“We’re still travelling west,” Logan said, pointing at the sun outside the window.
“Show-off,” she accused him. “I hate people who know all the answers.”
“You just don’t like anyone smarter than yourself,” he said, with a bored expression.
She remembered then that she was supposed to be Micky. “No, I prefer them richer,” she drawled and moved over to the other side of the car to look out the window.
Finally, the car pulled into a driveway that was clearly a private one. It had stone walls curving into the handsome iron gates, which stood open. There was a plaque on the gate on Logan’s side of the car, so she missed reading it.
Ahead, down the very long drive, was a huge old building that looked Georgian or perhaps Regency. It was very symmetrical, with two tall narrow trees on either side of a grand front door and a huge oval expanse of gravel in front of the building and an ornate fountain in the middle of the gravel.
There were three people standing out in front of the building, watching them arrive. One of them was somewhat shorter than the other two.
The Rolls pulled up between the people and the fountain. The two taller people were a man and a woman in business attire. The man had a physical competency and a self-assured air that Sahara was beginning to learn belonged to those who used their bodies for their profession—soldiers and security people. He was most likely some sort of security. The woman was in her late fifties and had an elegance that reminded Sahara sharply of Jacqui. She had the same business-or-die air about her.
The third person was a slender girl, perhaps about eleven or twelve years of age, wearing a dark blue school uniform with a pleated skirt and a striped tie.
Logan uncoiled himself from the back seat and pushed the door open. “Hi, sweetheart,” he told the girl.
“Daddy? Daddy!” She threw her arms around his waist and burst into tears. “They didn’t tell me you were coming!” she wailed into Logan’s stomach. “They just sent me to Madam Gold’s office!”
Logan hugged her tightly and Sahara shrank back into her seat, hidden behind the one-way glass and held her hand to her mouth as her own eyes prickled hard with tears.
This was Angel, then. This was the reason for Logan’s fury, for his refusal to cooperate. Sahara quickly reran Logan’s confrontation with Elias and Nelson through her mind, reviewing it now she had the answer. This explained everything.
Logan glanced at the woman who had to be Madam Gold.
“We thought it would be a rather nice surprise for her,” the lady said in a very proper English accent. “It has been such a long time since you were able to visit her.”
Behind her, throughout the building, a bell rang and abruptly, there was a buzz of activity and voices. It was the last piece of the puzzle for Sahara. This was a boarding school.
Logan nodded to Madam Gold. “Thanks,” he said and his own voice was suspiciously thick. “We’re going to have a picnic on the beach. I’ll bring her back later tonight.”
“You mentioned that on the phone, Mr. Wilde. I hope you don’t mind but I made some provisions for your day.” She waved toward the building and another woman hurried over to the car carrying an old-fashioned reed basket that looked quite heavy.
“Is that one of Mrs. Maggot’s picnics?” the girl asked, wiping her eyes on the sleeve of her school shirt.
“I believe it is,” said Madam Gold.
“Oh, super. Brilliant! I adore her picnics.”
“I know,” Madam Gold returned with a complacent smile. She turned the smile on Logan. “There’s also some out-of-school clothes for Angelina, as well.”
Logan held out his hand to the woman. “As always, Josephine, you manage to keep me in awe. Thanks.”
“I’ll see you at supper, Angelina!” Madam Gold called as the girl climbed eagerly into the car.
Angelina paused when she saw Sahara sitting in the corner and gave her a very sharp look with eyes that were identical to Logan’s. Then she turned around and dropped down a small seat that folded out from the back of the driver’s seat and sat on it. She continued to stare at Sahara.
Angelina was a replica of her father but with crystal green eyes and thick eyelashes framing them. She was a beautiful girl, with clear skin and thick black hair that shone and even white teeth. She was slender and probably tall for her age.
Logan shut the door and while the driver pulled away, he planted the picnic basket on the floor between him and Angelina.
Angelina looked at Logan, then pointed over her shoulder at the driver and Nelson. “Are they…”
“Yes, you’re fine,” he told her.
She pointed at Sahara. “She is not my mother.”
Sahara jumped.
Logan, though, relaxed back into his seat with a smile. “Well done, Angel,” he said quietly.
Angelina continued to study Sahara and Sahara could feel her cheeks heating. “I’m normally a redhead,” she said, trying in some small way to apologize for the deception. After all, it was this girl’s mother she was aping.
“Strawberry blonde,” Logan amended. “Angel, this is Sahara. Sahara, Angelina.”
The girl leaned forward and very solemnly shook hands with Sahara, still watching her closely. “It’s really rather awesome,” she said. “You even have the same green eyes as Mum did.”
“Thank you, I think.” Sahara pushed her bangs out of her eyes.
“Do I have to pretend you’re my mother out there?” She waved her hand toward the world at large beyond the car.
“Well—” began Logan.
“You don’t have to. I won’t mind at all,” Sahara said softly.
“Great. Can I call you Sandy?”
Sahara blinked. “Er…I’m not sure…”
“Sandy…Sahara. Don’t tell me that hasn’t been your nickname like forever. It’s so bleedin’ obvious.”
“Angel,” Logan warned.
She waved a hand at him, almost dismissively. “My Dad keeps trying to turn me back into a little girl. The fact is I have a tested IQ of one hundred and forty-five and every science faculty in Europe has been sniffing around the school, offering me scholarships if only I agree to come work for them when I’ve done my As and got through college.” She leaned forward, with her hands wrapped around her crossed legs, looking very much like a miniature grown woman despite the school uniform. “That’s S.A.T.s, in United States speak.”
Sahara tried to suppress her smile and failed. “You can call me Sandy if I can call you Angel.”
“Sure, Angel is fine. They tried Lena for a while but it just doesn’t suit me. Neither does Angel if you’re using strict interpretation but if you think of the opposite when you’re using it, you’ve just about got me. Well, that’s what every teacher in the school will tell you. Not on my reports, of course but I’m sure once they’re in the teachers’ lounge and have a stiff snort of whisky under their belts, they’d agree my name more than fits. Are you in the same trade as my Dad?”
The question caught Sahara by surprise. Again. She glanced at Logan, who was watching her. “Enjoying yourself?” she asked.
“Of course he is,” Angel assured her. “He likes watching me confound adults and leave them stuttering. But you’re the first woman he’s led into the trap. Are you?”
“Am I what?” Sahara asked. She took a deep breath. There was no possible way anyone could keep up with Angel’s mind and mouth. She resigned herself to having to keep asking for clarification. There was no need to be embarrassed. Angel clearly left everyone tottering in her wake.
“Are you in the same trade as my dad?”
“Not even close. I own a surfing gear store on Ocean Beach.” She didn’t bother adding the city.
“Cool! Daddy, did you see? She didn’t tell me where it was. She knows I know. Isn’t that just fabulous?”
“Don’t underestimate Sahara, Angel,” Logan said complacently. “She may not have your IQ but she’ll leave your jaw hanging in other ways.”
Angel reached for his hand and squeezed it. “It’s so good to see you,” she said. “Is there anything you can tell me?”
“Very little that isn’t classified,” he said.
“And this thing, with Sandy here?”
“Also classified.”
“But it involves something Mum was doing when she died?”
“In a vague way,” Logan said.
She looked a little sad. “So I can’t be told anything about it?”
Sahara looked at Logan, knowing he was going to say no.
“Perhaps when it’s all over. You deserve that much, especially as I’ve foisted Sahara onto you without notice.”
Angel’s face lit up. “Great! I’m going to hold you to that.”
“If he reneges on you, Angel, you come and see me. I’ll give you the story,” Sahara said firmly.
Angel studied her frankly for a minute. “I like you,” she decided. “You know how to think for yourself.”
“My mother died when I was eight,” Sahara said. “I’ve kinda had to learn to.”
“I was ten when Mum died. Is your dad still alive?”
“No, he died when I was twelve.”
Angel considered this for a moment. “I can’t even image life without my dad, even though he’s not around much.” She glanced at Logan. “It’s not his fault,” she said quickly. Then she looked out the window. “We’re not at the beach yet? What, is the driver milking the job? Are you paying him by the hour?”
Sahara had already made the adjustment to Angel’s adult mind, so she saw it as clearly as a shout. The girl had abruptly changed the subject.
She glanced at Logan. He was watching her, not Angel. This was something he had wanted her to see.