Page 65 of Fast Kill

“That’s BS. You’re totally loveable, and they loved you as much as they were able to until the addiction finally took over.”

Yes. “Guess that’s why I’m so anal-retentive about everything now—I like to control my environment.”

“Well, you’re not anal-retentive abouteverything.”

She tipped her head to look up at him in surprise. “No?”

“You’re not like that in bed. Actually, I’d say you’re the opposite and kind of like giving up control to me.”

Her cheeks heated even as a thrill raced through her. She loved the way he took over in bed, it was the hottest thing she’d ever experienced. Yet another surprise discovery about herself. “With you, yeah.”

But no one else. Maybe that’s why it had never worked out with another guy. She hadn’t trusted him enough to let go, let alone confess her darkest secrets.

A wide, satisfied smile spread across his face. “So I’m special, huh?”

“Yeah, I guess you are,” she teased.

His eyes widened in mock outrage. “You guess? Youguess?” He rolled her back beneath him, pinning her with his weight, and gripped her head to hold her still while he buried his face in the curve of her neck.

She gasped at the sensation and giggled as he rubbed his beard over her sensitive skin. “That tickles!” It kind of burned a little, too.

“I know. Too bad you’re gonna have to endure more of it, huh?”

Squirming and wriggling, she laughed as he proceeded to give her a whisker rub all over her naked body. And soon the giggles and struggles turned to moans and arching into him.

Thankfully he got the message, quit teasing her, and put his mouth to much better use.

Chapter Eighteen

Damn, it was good to be back. Well, sort of back, but Logan would take reduced duty over nothing any day. His physiotherapist figured his knee was at around sixty percent and improving a little more each day. As long as he took it easy—including using his crutches when he was on his feet, something he didn’t intend to do unless absolutely necessary—and didn’t overdo it over the next few weeks, he should be fully operational in another month or so.

Besides, being here helped keep his mind off how badly he wished he was still back in that apartment with Taylor, curled up in the bed he’d crawled out of only a few hours ago.

Get it together, man.

Today’s light training was already taking its toll on him though. He bit back a wince as he shifted his weight and waited behind Zaid as the team stacked up in a line beside the newly installed door of the shoot house. They’d already blown two off their hinges practicing various breaches, rotating through positions to give everyone a turn. He was due up next.

None of them spoke as they waited in position for Hamilton to give the command to enter. Nobody knew what scenario Commander Taggart and his helpers had set up inside the plywood maze of rooms and hallways.

A hand squeezed Logan’s right shoulder, indicating that Kai and the five other guys behind him were ready to rock. Logan gripped Zaid’s shoulder, who in turn pumped Freeman’s.

Freeman didn’t move, didn’t give any indication that Zaid had alerted him, his entire focus aimed on the exterior doorway. “Execute,” Hamilton said quietly through their comms.

Zaid hauled back the battering ram and slammed it into the lock on the door, the clang of metal-on-metal loud in the quiet building. He had to ram it four times before the lock finally gave way, and he was able to haul it back.

Freeman immediately rushed through the doorway—the fatal funnel—with Zaid right on his heels. Logan swept in next, doing a buttonhook maneuver that placed him up against the near-side wall, and sent a flare of pain shooting through his knee. He winced, stumbled.

His jaw clamped tight.Goddamn it.

“Stop, stop. What the hell was that, guys? My ninety-two-year-old grandmother could have set up and shot the first two of you through the door with that kind of delay,” Commander Taggart called out from overhead where he was observing from the catwalk that ran the length of the shoot house. “Do it again. Night optics this time. Zaid, you’re still the breacher.”

Zaid let out a frustrated breath but didn’t say anything as he trudged back from the hallway and passed Logan on the way out the door. They were all perfectionists, and in this line of work mistakes could cost lives. No one said anything to Zaid; they were all their own worst critics.

Everyone lined up at the door and waited while he and Zaid put on a fresh door and the helpers inside moved into different positions. The moment the lights went out, Logan lowered his night vision goggles into place and switched them on. In the green glow of the display he watched as Freeman took point again. When Zaid was ready with the ram, Freeman gave the signal.

Zaid laid into the lock on the door with one ruthless blow and the lock cracked, along with some of the wood. He reared back and drove the sole of his boot into the weak spot, and the door flew open.

Freeman rushed in, Zaid right behind him, then Logan. “Clear,” Freeman said.

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