A Real Cowboy Always Protects Page 2

  He'd left that all behind a long time ago for a career that let him make a difference.

  He had no interest in going back to his old life, to the past that had left him with more scars than he could heal.

  But whenever he saw Skylar, she reminded him of the good things about his past, about Rogue Valley, Wyoming, where he'd learned to ride horses, muck stalls, and appreciate freedom.

  He knew he couldn't allow things to become personal with Skylar, but tonight, he'd come close to crossing that line. She had that effect on him, like some magical fairy darting around him sprinkling glitter on his soul.

  His job required him to stay solo, to minimize all personal relationships, to keep people at a distance.

  But Skylar tempted him.

  Hell, she was more than a temptation. She was the sparkle that he used to bring himself back when the shit got too real for him.

  The universe always put her in his path when he needed her, and tonight was no exception.

  His workout hadn't cleared his mind.

  But seeing Skylar, which her hands on her hips, giving him shit? Talking about dating his cat? The darkness had left for that moment, and she'd given him the gift of her smile.

  Dating Skylar. The thought had sunk hard and fast into his gut as soon as she'd mentioned it, in her light-hearted, teasing way. It had felt right, the first thing that had felt that right in a long, long time.

  It would be so easy to let himself fall under her spell, to pretend he was someone other than he was. She made him want to be the guy who could do that, who could make that choice.

  He'd almost invited her up for coffee, but when he'd seen her smiling at him, those gorgeous blue eyes and glorious blond hair, he'd stopped himself. She was too nice, too genuine, too alive.

  He couldn’t risk Skylar by bringing her into his world, his secret world that not even his own brothers knew about.

  Because if he did, she might die.

  And there was no way in hell he was going to let anything happen to the one bright spot in his life.

  To keep her alive, Logan had to keep her at a distance, and that was that.

  No matter how much he wanted it to be otherwise.

  Chapter Two

  CHAPTER

  * * *

  Skylar's heart was pounding as she hurried back into her building, a coffee cup in each hand. Was she really going to knock on Logan's door?

  Maybe.

  Maybe not.

  She wanted to.

  But he was a stranger. A neighbor. Maybe he didn't feel any of that intensity that she felt when she was around him.

  Or maybe he did. He'd almost laughed at the idea of her dating his cat. That glint in his eyes had knocked all the resistance out of her.

  She was doing it. If mailroom encounters became totally awkward forever after, then fine. Life was too freaking short, as evidenced by the fact that her dad was buried and her mom was fading away.

  Not her. Not her.

  Skylar noticed suddenly that the elevator door was closing. She could see someone was already inside, so she picked up her pace. "Hold the elevator," she called out, but the doors continued to slide shut. "Hey!" She waved her arm between the doors, sloshing coffee as the doors slid back open.

  There were two men on the elevator. Men about Logan's age, but wearing all black, as if they were geared up for some night-climbing up the side of her building. They were lean. Fit. Capable.

  One of them glared at her, and she saw coffee was dripping off his tight, black jacket "Yikes. Sorry. I have some napkins. Let me get them for you."

  He held up his hand. "Don't worry about it."

  "No, seriously, I have napkins—"

  "Stop." His tight, clipped command shut her up immediately. His face was hard, his eyes a vibrant green. But what really caught her attention was the star-shaped scar on his right cheek. It was a least two inches in diameter, a strident marking on his skin. It was a scar that meant business.

  "Yeah, sure, okay." She retreated to the far side of the elevator, and started whistling under her breath, trying to diffuse the mounting tension.

  Neither man looked at her. Instead, they stood side by side, arms held loosely by their hips. They were both wearing black baseball hats, and their heads were angled down, so it was difficult to see their faces. She couldn't even see the scar on the one man's face from that angle.

  The hairs on the back of her neck began to prickle, and her heart began to pound. There was something not right about them. Dangerous.

  By the time the elevator reached her floor, she practically leapt out, desperate to get away from them.

  But they walked out after her.

  And they followed her as she hurried down the hall.

  She was almost running, but they were walking with easy, controlled strides, looking around as they walked.

  She'd never seen them before in the building. Did they live there?

  They followed her as she turned the corner to her hallway.

  She knew everyone on her hallway. They definitely didn't live there.

  Her heart was pounding as she walked faster. Any doubt about whether she was going to offer Logan coffee was gone now. There was no way she was going into her own condo, where the two men could slip in after her before she could close the door.

  Skylar hurried to Logan's door. She was just raising her hand to knock when the two men stopped behind her. She paused, looking over her shoulder. "Are you here to see Logan?"

  They both had their heads down, but the one with the scar on his face raised his head slightly to look at her. "You know him?"

  "I live across the hall." What the hell was going on? She was so unnerved she could barely think straight. She stepped back. "If you're here to see him, you go on. I can talk to him later."

  Did these men have something to do with Logan's work? Because if they did, suddenly, she wasn't so sure she wanted to hand coffee off to him and hunker down on his couch to share stories about being stuck in life.

  The man with the scar gestured toward Logan's door. "After you."

  "No, I think I'm good." She backed up to her door and leaned against it. Not unlocking it, but ready to retreat as soon as the coast was clear.

  The two men looked at each other, then the one with the scar suddenly pulled out a gun and aimed it at her. "Knock on his door."

  Holy shit. Skylar froze in sudden terror, unable to drag her gaze off the gun pointed at her face.

  "Knock on his door," the man repeated.

  Tears started to burn in her eyes. Knock on his door? The men would kill Logan. And her. She'd seen movies. This never ended well for the innocent bystander.

  "Now. If you warn him, you die." He raised his gun and pressed it against her forehead. She could feel the cold metal against her skin. Holy triple shit.

  "Well, who wants to die, right?" Her hands shaking, she edged toward Logan's door.

  The men moved up beside the door on either side of her, so that Logan wouldn't be able to see them. Scarface had his gun pointed at her head, and the other man was watching the door.

  Dear God. They were totally here to kill Logan. What the hell? The man had almost laughed at her cat joke. Treasures like that were few and far between. She wanted him alive.

  Scarface nodded at her and gestured to the door.

  Skylar's mouth was so dry she could barely swallow. She tucked one coffee against her chest, using her forearm to hold it, and then used her free hand to knock on the door. Her hand was shaking so badly she barely managed to get her knuckles to hit the pristine white wood. "Logan?" she called out in a slightly strangled voice as she straightened out the coffee cups. "It's Skylar. Charlie was out of the brownie you wanted, so I just have coffee you asked me to get."

  It wasn't the most brilliant code she'd ever come up with, but in the movies, it always worked to alert the person inside, mostly because the person inside was usually well-versed in spy happenings.

  She could only hope that i
f Logan had people standing at his door with guns, that he qualified as sufficiently well-versed to save her life and his.

  Logan didn't answer.

  What if he was in bed? Or the shower?

  The shower. He probably looked fantastic in the shower.

  If she were going to die, thinking of Logan in the shower was a great last thought.

  Scarface flicked the gun at her, indicating for her to knock again.

  She tucked the cup under her arm again, and knocked a second time. This time more loudly. "Logan," she yelled. "It's Skylar. Come get your damned coffee that you asked me to get, because I'm tired and I don't want be your servant anymore just because you're hot."

  She grinned at Scarface. "That should do it."

  Logan had just been reaching for the door to let Skyer in when she knocked a second time and yelled at him.

  He froze.

  He'd thought she was doing a cute flirt the first time she'd knocked, and he'd nearly pulled a quad rushing to get his sweats on over his still-wet-from-the-shower legs.

  But now, all his senses went on high alert. He didn't know Skylar that well, but he could hear the edge in her voice, and it made no sense for her to yell at him for making her his servant.

  "I'll be right there," he called out. "I just got out of the shower." He stole silently across the room and grabbed his gun from the holster he'd slung over his kitchen chair.

  "You and that freaking shower," she yelled. "You're always in there. It's like you're taunting me. You know how I love it when you're in the shower."

  Shit. There was definitely something wrong.

  He eased to the door and peered out to the peephole. He could see Skylar standing there holding two cups of coffee. She looked like she was alone, but as he watched, her gaze flicked to the right side of his door, and then to the left.

  He swore. There were people on either side of his door. People who were scaring her.

  Fuck. How the hell had anyone found him? Not that it mattered right now. First, he needed to get her out of there safely, and keep them both alive.

  He briefly contemplated shooting through the wall, but it was too damn risky. He could hit Skylar.

  "Don't worry," he called through the door, even as his mind spun, trying to figure out how to handle it. "I saved some hot water for you. I know you like to lie down and take your bubble baths. You have that coffee ready for me?"

  He watched her eyes widen, and then her gaze flicked to the right and left again. She nodded. "I have it ready."

  Logan swore. She was a fucking civilian. There was no way she was trained for this. He'd have to assume that she had no idea he'd just told her to throw her coffee at the people flanking his door and then drop to the floor. Swearing, he leaned back against the wall, quickly assessing his plan. How he was going to manage it. How he was going to keep them both alive.

  He'd have to take the chance that they wanted him dead more than they wanted her dead, so they'd shoot at him before taking her out.

  He had to get this right.

  That was Skylar out there. His fucking sunshine. Standing there about to be in the middle of a gun fight.

  Bubble baths? Why was Logan talking about bubble baths?

  Skylar's heart was pounding so fast she could barely think. Scarface still had his gun pointed at her head. She had no idea how people in movies were able to think clearly when they were in a hostage situation. It was completely debilitating so be so terrified.

  The other guy had his gun pointed at the door, exactly where Logan's head would be when he opened it. Unless Logan was crouching. Or lying down.

  She paused. He'd said lying down. Understanding flashed through her she heard Logan slide the deadbolt on the door. He wanted her on the ground. Hot damn! He'd understood her message and was giving her spy lingo back.

  She was so on this.

  "You have the coffee ready?" Logan asked through the door.

  The coffee. Right. The coffee. Skylar pushed her thumbs against the lids, lifting them up just enough so they were loose. "I have the coffee ready. I'm looking forward to lying down in that bubble bath, if you'll join me." Nice, right? She'd spy-lingo-ed him back that she was ready to throw burning hot coffee in their faces and then dive out of the way.

  "Of course I'll join you. I'd never miss it." He turned the doorknob. The instant she saw the door start to open, she flung the coffee at the two men and dropped to the floor.

  She covered her head, yelping as the sharp explosion of gunfire shattered the silence of the hallway. Screw spy lingo! This was actual gunfire! Her heart pounding with terror, Skylar scrambled across the hallway, trying to get to her door. She was just reachng for the knob, when the guy without the face scar fell against her door, a bullet hole in the middle of his forehead, blood already blossoming from his head.

  Holy crap. She yelped and scrambled backward, only to have an arm wrap around her waist. She screamed and tried to pry it off her, pounding on the rock-hard forearm.

  "It's me." Logan's voice was low in her ear. "Come on."

  Logan. She stopped fighting immediately as he dragged her back across the hall and into his condo. He slammed the door shut, threw the deadbolt, and then pointed down the hall. His face was focused, his body tense. And he had a gun in his hand. Who was he?

  "Get in the office, lock the door, and hide under the desk," he commanded. "Don't open for any reason until I tell you to."

  "Okay." Running and hiding sounded like a good plan to her. Skylar didn't waste a second. She sprinted for the door he'd indicated and pulled it open. There were no windows or doors, which meant no one could come flying through them shooting at her.

  It also meant that if Scarface came through the only door, then she had no way escape. If she went into the office, she would be trapped. Prey.

  "Nope." She didn't like being prey or defenseless. "Is there another way out? A back door?" She glanced over at Logan when he didn't respond.

  He was behind the island in his kitchen, his gun trained on his front door, as he pulled a phone out of his pocket and dialed. His muscles were taut, his stance ready.

  He looked fierce and focused. Relentless. Intent.

  He looked like a man who had done this a thousand times.

  She sucked in her breath, stunned by the sight of him. He was pure danger and adrenaline, a solid wall against any threat coming for them. How had he hid this level of violence from her? How had he been living across the hall from her for so long, and she'd never known what simmered inside him?

  Right now, she was glad to have it. But when there weren't men with guns outside the door? Logan Stockton was way outside her comfort zone. Nothing that she could live with. No more coffee dates. No more flirting in the mail room. No more fantasies about his biceps.

  He didn't take his gaze off the front door. "Go into the office, Skylar. Now." His voice was pure Western drawl, as if he was too jacked to hold onto the more refined tone he'd taught himself to use.

  "But—"

  "Now, Skylar. Or you won't be alive to have that bubble bath with me."

  Her cheeks heated up. "Heaven forbid I miss out on that." She ducked back into the office, shut the door, and locked it. The desk was a sterile, black modern monstrosity, but it came all the way to the ground, so she ran around it, crawled beneath it, and then pulled her knees up to her chest.

  And waited.

  Chapter Three

  CHAPTER

  * * *

  It felt like an eternity until Skylar finally heard a knock at the office door, making her jump and hit her head on the underside of the desk.

  She was cramped, shaking, exhausted, and terrified of moving. All her bravado was long gone, replaced with a terror that any second, the door would fly open and she'd be shot right through the desk.

  As fun as that sounded, it was definitely a downgrade from her original Saturday night plans of pulling an all-nighter working.

  Periodically, she'd heard voices outside the door, wh
ich had nearly undone her. She'd waited for the sound of a bullet hitting the door. She'd waited for death.

  Instead, she'd finally gotten a knock at the door. Who knew death was so polite?

  "Skylar. It's me." Logan's familiar voice brushed over her. "Let me in."

  Hah. She wasn't going to fall for that.

  She pressed her forehead to her knees and said nothing. How did she know it was safe? For all she knew, Scarface had his gun at Logan's head, the way he'd had it at hers.

  They should have made a code. More bubble bath. Something like that.

  But they had no code, so yeah, as far as the world was concerned, Skylar was going to pretend there was no one to kill in this windowless, sterile office.

  There was another tap on the door. "It's Logan," he said gently. "It's safe. Let me in."

  She shook her head and didn't move. No chance.

  "Skylar. Open the door."

  God, he was irritatingly persistent. "There's no one in here," she finally said. "Go away."

  "I'll withhold bubble baths for a year if you don't open the door."

  A tiny smile pulled at her mouth. Bubble baths. Was that their code? Was it their code that Scarface was there, or Logan's code that everything was safe? Dammit. The next time she ran for her life in the middle of a gunfight, she was going to have better plans. "You're evil to even suggest that."

  "I'm not evil." He sounded tired. "I need to see you. I need to make sure you're all right."

  It was the weariness in his voice that finally got her to move. He sounded human, not like some gun-toting human assault weapon. She crawled out from under the desk, her legs cramping in protest.

  She had to lean on the desk to get herself to her feet. Her legs felt weak and shaky, and her hands were still trembling. "Logan?"

  "Yeah?"

  "You're sure it's safe?"

  "I'm sure. It's over." His tone was even, not tense or on edge.

  She believed him that it was over. "Okay." She pried herself off the desk and walked across the office. The carpet was soft and thick under her feet, which she hadn't noticed during her frantic run before. She reached for the door to unlock it, and her hands started shaking again. She tucked them under her armpits. "I can't open it."