His eyes squeezed shut. Juliana was safe now, but how long would that safety last?
I’ll get you, Guerrero had said. This nightmare wasn’t going to end quietly. The press would find out about what he’d done. Everything he’d built—gone.
I’ll kill her.
Juliana was his regret. He’d pulled her into this war, and she didn’t even realize it.
Now she’d die, too.
No one ever really escaped Diego. No matter what promises Logan Quinn had made. You didn’t get to cheat the devil and walk away.
The receiver began to hum. Fumbling, Aaron shoved the phone aside. Stared down the dark barrel of the gun.
He wouldn’t lose everything, wouldn’t be made a mockery on every late-night television show. And even when the public turned on him, Aaron knew he’d still be hunted by Guerrero.
There wasn’t a choice. No way out. When Guerrero caught him, El Diablo would torture him. He’d make Aaron suffer for hours, days.
No, no, that wasn’t the way that Aaron wanted to go out.
“I’m sorry, Juliana...”
* * *
JULIANA HELD HER BREATH as the small plane touched down, bounced and touched down again on a landing strip that she couldn’t even see. Her hands were clenched tight in her lap, and she didn’t make a sound. Fear churned in her, but she held on to her control with all her strength. The men and the woman with her weren’t scared, or if they were, she sure couldn’t tell.
The woman was flying them. Sydney—that was her name. Juliana had heard Logan call her Sydney once. The group hadn’t exactly been chatty, but that was probably due to the whole life-and-death situation they had going on.
The plane bumped once more and then, thankfully, settled down. She felt the plane’s speed begin to slow as it taxied down what she sincerely doubted was a real runway. They’d taken off from some dirt road in Mexico, so she figured they were probably landing in the middle of nowhere.
“And we’re back in America,” Logan murmured from beside her with a flash that could have been a brief grin.
She pushed her fingers against her jean-clad thighs. The better to wipe the sweat off her hands. “Does this mean I’m safe again?” she asked. He’d been her shadow nearly every moment. Close but not touching. And that was fine, right? She didn’t want him touching her.
“This means...” He leaned forward and unhooked the seat belt that had kept her steady during the bumps and dives of the flight. “It means that it’s time for you to get your life back.” His face came close to hers. The face that she’d never forgotten. His black hair had once curled lightly but now was cut brutally short.
The old adage was annoyingly true—a girl really did never forget her first lover.
Over the years, Logan had grown harder. A thin scar under his chin looked as if it could have been a knife wound. And his eyes now creased with fine lines. No one else had eyes that shade of bright blue.
Only Logan.
Right then, his lips were only inches away. Had she really kissed him hours before? At the time, it had seemed like a good plan. Some hot, fast action to chase away the chill that had sunk into her bones.
John is dead. She’d left him behind, and he’d died.
She’d almost died, too, and she’d been so scared. Had it been so wrong to want to feel alive? For just a few moments?
Then Logan had pulled away from her.
Again.
Apparently, it had been wrong. Same story, same verse. Logan Quinn wasn’t interested.
And she wanted to forget. She wanted passion, not just him.
Not. Just. Him.
They climbed out of the plane. The guy called Gunner went first, sweeping out with his weapon up. Logan stayed by her side. A giant bodyguard who took every step with her.