Blue Blooded (23 page)

When Jane left, Rachel grabbed Logan by his arm and turned him toward her. “What are you doing?”

He took both her hands in his. “What does it look like I'm doing?” His lips tugged up into a grin. “I'm marrying you.”

Marrying? Was he serious? She had never imagined herself getting married in Las Vegas. Hell, she'd never imagined getting married period. She wasn't one of those women who secretly hoarded bridal magazines.

She folded her arms across her chest. “I don't want to get married.”

Logan laughed. “Relax, Rachel, it's just pretend.” He picked up the pen and started filling out the application. “We won't file the license. But we need a way to get closer to the elevator.”

Jane came barreling through the door and must have seen the apprehension on Rachel's face. “Oh, honey, don't be nervous. You make a beautiful bride.”

Logan handed Rachel the pen, and she completed her section of the license.

She couldn't believe they were doing this. In a few minutes, they'd actually be married. Would it really be so bad? Yes, she'd never seen marriage as an option for herself, but then again, she'd never imagined trusting a man as she trusted Logan.

Never imagined she'd love the way rope felt on her naked skin.

Never imagined she'd make love to two men at once.

Never imagined herself falling in love.

But Logan had changed the impossible into the possible.

She signed her name beside Logan's, a bevy of butterflies taking flight in her belly.

Jane took the marriage license and thrust a bouquet of daisies into Rachel's hands. “If you'll follow me, everything is ready for your special day.” She spun on her heels and led them through the doors of the chapel.

The chapel was much larger than she expected, with several rows of seats parted by a long aisle with a white runner that would take them to the front of the chapel. A man stood at the end of the runner, underneath a canopy adorned with grape vines. Pachelbel's Canon in D played over a speaker in the ceiling. Not having anyone to give her away, she and Logan strolled down the aisle together, stopping in front of the man who'd be marrying them.

The scent of alcohol permeated from him as he opened his binder. “Dearly beloved, we are gathered here today to join Logan Bartholomew Bradford and Rachel May Dawson in matrimony. Do you have the rings?”

Logan glanced at her. “Oh, we didn't—”

Jane smiled and presented a ring-sized box to Logan. “Right here.”

Logan flipped it open and took out a simple gold wedding band.

The officiant nodded to Logan. “Put the ring on Rachel's finger and repeat after me. I give you this ring as an eternal symbol of my love and commitment.”

Logan turned to face her, his expression as serious as she'd ever seen it. “I give you this ring as an eternal symbol of my love and commitment.” He slipped the ring on her finger.

Jane handed a box to Rachel, and the officiant motioned to her with a wave of his hand. “Now you.”

Her hands shaking, she opened the box, the gravity of the commitment hitting her. She took out the ring and grabbed Logan's hand. In that moment, everything felt right. “I give you this ring as an eternal symbol of my love and commitment.”

“Would you like to say your own vows to one another or would you like to use ours?” the officiant asked.

Logan looked at her. “If you don't mind, we'd like to skip them.”

The officiant chuckled. “Of course. Then by the power vested in me by the state of Nevada, I now pronounce you married. You may kiss the bride.”

Logan gathered her into his arms and kissed her chastely. “I'll take the license,” he said to the officiant after the man signed it.

Jane snatched it from the officiant. “Oh no, we file that for all our couples.”

She glanced at Logan. If their marriage license was filed, did he really want to stay married? Did she? She'd always maintained she'd never marry. Never allow herself to be tied down. Yet in the past week, she'd done both. Literally. And she wasn't panicking. If she had to be married, there's no one she'd rather spend the rest of her life with than Logan. Would it be so bad if they tried to make it work?

Logan didn't look worried. If they decided not to stay married, maybe he could hack into the county's records and delete it.

“Do I have time for a break?” the officiant asked Jane. “I'm a bit parched, if you know what I mean.”

Jane frowned. “I know exactly what you mean. Go, things are quiet right now with the senator's speech next door.”

The officiant congratulated them before exiting the chapel for what Rachel guessed would be his liquid lunch. Now how could they get rid of Jane?

After shooting Logan a warning to get ready, Rachel fluttered her eyelids and let her body grow lax, crumbling to the floor.

Logan kneeled beside her, smoothing her hair off her face. “Rachel?”

Jane stood over her. “Is she all right?”

Rachel opened her eyes and faked grogginess. “I haven't eaten since this morning. I don't suppose I could trouble you for something to eat.”

Jane's lips smashed together. Did she suspect she was lying?

The woman gave her a tight smile. “I'll tell you what. I'll just call the kitchen and see if they can deliver a burger for you.”

Rachel sat up. “That would be great. I'll just stay here and wait.” As soon as Jane left, she hopped to her feet. They rushed down a hall, passing the restrooms, until they finally made it to the elevator. She pressed the button to go down, cursing under her breath. What if they were too late to stop the release of the virus?

The elevator doors slid apart. She darted inside just as a hotel security guard arrived. He pointed his gun at Logan's chest. “Freeze.”

Logan's held his hands in the air. “Go,” he mouthed to her.

The doors shut and the elevator descended.

Even though they had just gotten married, she remained right where she'd always been.

Alone.

H
ER HEART BANGING
against her breastbone, Rachel stepped off the elevator. She looked to see if anyone was waiting for her in the hallway before speaking into the mike hidden on the inside of her shirt. “Guys, can you hear me?”

“Yeah, Rach. What the hell happened?” Oz asked in her earpiece.

“Security caught Logan before he could get on the elevator.” She laughed nervously. “It's all up to me. And I have no idea where I'm going here.” Not to mention, security knew she was down here. She had only seconds to get to the mechanical room.

“Okay,” said Hunter smoothly. “I'm going to walk you through it. Sawyer's on his way to the hotel. You're actually close to where you need to be. The fifth door on your right is the mechanical room.”

She shot down the hallway, counting doors along her way until she came to the fifth. She turned the knob and slipped inside, closing the door before anyone could see her. The dim room looked endless. “I'm in. What am I looking for?”

“You're looking for a tall piece of sheet metal. It's down about one hundred feet on your left,” Hunter instructed.

The room was filled with different shapes and sizes of pipes, some in orange and some in white. She had no idea what the pipes were for.

She spotted the sheet metal in front of her. “I see it.”

“Okay, good. Look around it for the tank. It might already be attached to the unit,” Rowan said.

She circled the air supply unit, easily finding the tank. “It's here. And it's not attached. It's just leaning against the metal.” Where were Fink and Evans? Was this a trap? Or what if she was too late and they'd already released it?

She bent down and grabbed it, surprised at how light it was.

“FBI,” shouted a voice from behind her. “Put down the tank and lift up your hands where we can see them.”

She spun around. Both agents aimed their guns at her.

Instantly, she knew she wasn't going to get out of this alive. But the reporter in her couldn't die without knowing the truth. “Just tell me why. Why are you going to release a virus that will kill thousands, if not millions of people?”

Her throat thickened with regret. It wasn't fair that she'd finally made the decision to live her life to the fullest and now she was going to die. She had so much to live for, and the thought of leaving Logan tore her heart into pieces. Would he mourn her? Would he know that she'd loved him?

Fink's hand trembled, a perfectly round burn on the middle of it. “A sacrifice for the greater good.”

It didn't make sense. What did he mean by a sacrifice? “Why the senator? Why infect him?”

Fink opened his mouth to answer, but Evans interrupted before he could speak. “Why do anything? Money. Power. No one is going to stop us, especially not you or the currently detained Mr. Bradford.”

Evans knew Logan was being held by hotel security and that he had her trapped. Her only chance was to keep him talking. “And Rinaldi? He changed his mind, didn't he? He wanted to stop you from releasing the virus.”

Evans narrowed his gaze. “It didn't matter what he wanted. The minute he was released from prison, he was a dead man. You and your boyfriend made it too easy to pin the murder on you.”

“Too bad we made it so hard to kill us, huh?”

Evans sneered, his eyes as black as midnight. “Originally, I was going to make your death quick and painless, but since you've given me so much trouble, I've changed my mind.” He lowered his gun slightly. “I've decided to shoot your kneecaps first, so you can't escape. Maybe then I'll shoot you in the stomach so you'll slowly bleed out. And then of course, you'll become infected with the virus. By the time anyone figures out where the virus originated and finds you, you'll be long dead.”

Fink's face turned white, and he brought his gun down to his side. “Evans, maybe we shouldn't do this.”

“You know,” Evan's said, “you're right.” He spun toward Fink and shot him in the throat.

Blood sprayed, droplets hitting Rachel's cheeks. Surprise was etched on Fink's face as he covered his neck with his hand. Frozen in terror, she could do nothing but watch when Evans shot Fink again, this time in the head. Brain matter and blood splattered onto the air vents behind him as he slumped to the floor, the gun still in his hand.

The back of his skull had been completely blown off, and his eyes stared up at her as if pleading her to save him. Her stomach churned at the smell of blood, urine, and excrement. She fought the urge to wipe the blood off her face, keeping her hands up in the air. He may have been dirty, but he didn't deserve to die in such a horrific manner.

It was too late to save him.

But she'd be damned if it was too late for her.

Evans turned back to her, an evil smile on his face. “Now when they find your body with the canister it will look like you not only released the virus, but killed the FBI agent who tried to stop you.” He kicked Fink in his stomach. “The stupid little man will die a hero, like he always wanted. But the real hero is the manufacturer of the vaccine that's going to save the lives of people all over the world. For a price, of course.”

There was a vaccine? What did that have to do with Rinaldi? There had to be another player.

“That's who hired you? You're working for a pharmaceutical company?” she asked, catching a movement in the corner of her eye.

He tsked. “You're not as smart as you thought you were, Ms. Dawson.”

When in Vegas . . . bluff. “Nope. I'm even smarter. Shoot him, Logan,” she said, throwing a glance at her right.

Evans twisted to his left to see whom she was talking to. She whipped her gun out of her holster, aimed, and fired.

She didn't know where the bullet went. Prepared to shoot again, she pressed her finger on the trigger just as Evans rotated back to her.

A gunshot reverberated in the room. She reared back, expecting to have been shot. But there was no pain. No blood. She hadn't been shot. It had been her gun that had fired. Evans's mouth opened and blood poured out. She didn't wait for him to recover. She pointed and fired again, this time hitting him square in the chest. He fell over, his gun clattering to the floor.

Trembling, she lowered her arm.

It was over.

“FBI!” shouted a voice behind her. “Drop your weapon and put your hands on your head.”

Her hands shook as though she had no control over them, and the gun clattered to the floor. She placed her hands on her head and turned to face the three agents pointing their weapons at her. A moment later, she was in handcuffs and being read her Miranda warnings.

Didn't they understand she had shot Evans in self-defense?

What if Sawyer's equipment didn't record Evans's confession?

Would anyone believe her?

S
ITTING ON A
steel bench in a Las Vegas FBI holding cell, with dry blood caked on her skin and in her hair, Rachel had never wanted a shower more in her life. Since arriving at the Las Vegas FBI office, time had ticked by slower than a bunch of ducks crossing a busy street during rush hour. With nothing to do and no one to talk to, she replayed the day's gruesome scenes over and over in her mind. She couldn't shut them off, the images, sounds, and smells slamming into her again and again. Blood spilled violently and smelled rancid, and with it still on her body, she couldn't escape it. Curled in on herself, she shivered, her teeth chattering and her hands trembling.

Collecting evidence of Evans's and Fink's deaths, an FBI agent had clipped Rachel's fingernails, scraped her skin, photographed her, and fingerprinted her. Then they'd taken her bloody clothes, giving her scrubs to wear.

Immediately following her arrest, she'd exercised her Sixth Amendment right to counsel and had placed a call to Kate. She hadn't been surprised when Kate had told her she'd already heard from Logan and was searching for a couple of attorneys in Las Vegas to temporarily represent them. With her best friend on the phone, Rachel had to fight the urge to tell her everything that had happened between her and Logan this past week. But with no privacy and only a few minutes to speak on the phone, she had kept her mouth shut. Besides, she'd barely had the time to process it all herself.

She had killed a man.

It didn't matter that he had deserved it and that she had done it in self-defense. His blood would stain her hands for the rest of her life. But she wouldn't regret it. If she hadn't shot him, he wouldn't have just killed her. He would've released the virus and killed countless more. When they had arrested her, she had made it clear the gas canister contained a deadly virus, so that they wouldn't accidentally release it. Of course, they probably thought she and Logan were responsible for bringing the virus into the hotel.

The FBI was keeping her in a separate holding cell from Logan, so she hadn't seen him since the wedding chapel. She needed to feel his arms around her. Needed to know he was safe.

She tapped her nails on the bench. When would her attorney arrive? It was the middle of the night. Hours had passed and she'd yet to speak to anyone. Hadn't Sawyer given the FBI the recording of Evans's confession? Surely that should be enough to exonerate her and Logan of the crimes.

Squeaking footsteps sounded louder and louder, and then a female agent appeared at her cell. “Ms. Dawson, if you'll come with me. I'm going to take you to one of our interrogation rooms.”

Her attorney must have finally arrived. Ready to explain her side of what happened, she followed the agent to a conference room and stepped inside. The agent didn't stay, closing the door behind her. Logan sat at the table, hunched over, exhaustion evident on his face.

“Logan,” she said breathlessly, relieved to see him.

His head snapped up and their gazes locked. He shot to his feet as she flew across the room and into his open arms. Wrapping his arms around her, he hauled her to him. She closed her eyes and soaked him in, drawing upon his body's heat and inhaling his scent deep into her lungs. Laying her head on his chest, she listened to the steady beat of his heart. The chaos in her mind quieted and the trembling ceased.

Logan stroked her hair, a shudder racking his body. “Are you okay? I was so worried. They wouldn't tell me what had happened to you.” He cupped her chin and tilted her face up to look at him. His eyes narrowed as he stepped back from her in a panic. “You're covered in blood.”

“The blood isn't mine,” she said, pulling him back to her and reassuring him with a gentle caress down his arm. “Evans killed Fink. And I—”

“Don't finish that sentence,” he said, covering her lips with two of his fingers. “Don't say anything that they can use against you.”

Right. Just because the FBI agents weren't in the room didn't mean they weren't recording them, just hoping they'd confess to the crime. Nodding that she understood, she kissed his fingertips.

He cradled her face in his hands, his eyelids growing hooded. “I was so worried about you. At the elevator, I hated sending you on your own like that. I couldn't take it again.”

It wasn't the first time she'd thrown herself into the path of danger, and it wouldn't be the last. A touch of doubt niggled at her. How would he react when she was following a dangerous lead for a story? She pushed down her uncertainty, concentrating on the present. After all, when he was unable to do it himself, he'd urged her to continue their plan to stop Leopold's release. She placed her hands over his heart. “You and I both know I had to do it. There wasn't any other choice.”

A muscle jumped in his jaw. “I know. But I couldn't handle it if anything happened to you.” He rested his forehead against hers. “I lo—”

At the sound of the door swinging open, she turned. The agent who had processed her upon her arrival walked in along with the female agent who had brought her to this room, followed by a man she'd know anywhere.

“Senator Hutton,” she said, holding the edge of the conference table in shock.

Only a couple of inches taller than her, with thinning white hair and a wrinkled face that gave away his advanced age, he still managed to hold an air of regality about him. He offered his hand. “Mr. Bradford. Ms. Dawson. I wanted to come and personally thank you for your heroic actions today.”

Thank them? She glanced at Logan, who looked as surprised as she was to see him. After Logan shook the senator's hand, she did the same, noticing his manicured nails and learning he had a strong grip for an older person. “You believe us?”

Senator Hutton held her hand in his and covered it with his other, patting it in reassurance. “I do. The FBI received an audio recording from your friend Eddie Ackerman.”

Confused, she looked at Logan for clarification.

“Oz,” he mouthed.

She'd forgotten that wasn't his real name. Now that she knew him, she couldn't picture him as anything but Oz.

The senator continued. “They've listened to it and substantiated that it was indeed Agent Evans on the tape admitting to Rinaldi's murder and their attempt to release the Leopold virus. They've also verified the bullets that shot Fink came from Evans's gun.”

The female agent took a step forward. “We're sorry for any inconvenience this situation may have caused you. You are free to go with the FBI's thanks and appreciation.”

Logan stormed toward the agents, stopping right in front of them. “That's it? Two of your agents not only tried to pin a murder on us, but attempted to kill us.” He turned and motioned at her. “Rachel saved the lives of thousands of people because of her heroic actions today. And all we get is an apology for the inconvenience and a thank-you from a couple of agents low on the totem pole?”

She joined Logan at his side, hooking her arm around his waist in an effort to calm him. “They want to bury the story, don't they?” she asked the agents.

“Is that true, Agent Gossner?” Senator Hutton said in an admonishing tone.

Giving away her nervousness, the female agent wiped her hands on her skirt. “The FBI feels it would be best if the American people weren't alerted to the nature of today's events.”

“What's your opinion, Senator?” Rachel asked, angling her body toward him. “Do you believe the American people should be kept in the dark?”

The senator strode to stand next to her, his gaze on the agents and his eyes narrowed into slits. “Bioterrorism is the number-one threat to this country, and that's not going to change simply by pretending it doesn't exist. I understand your agency's inclination to sweep the embarrassment over your rogue agents under the rug, but I'm afraid I can't allow that to happen.”

He'd delivered his statement in the same controlled yet forceful manner as he had delivered his speech during the filibuster of Senator Byron's bill. The man didn't have to shout to demonstrate his anger with the agency. His clipped tone and the fire in his eyes were enough.

Agent Gossner took a step forward. “Senator Hutton, with all due respect—”

The senator pointed at the door. “You tell your boss they'll be hearing from me. Now get out of here.”

The two agents quickly exited, no doubt relieved to remove themselves from the room. Rachel couldn't blame them. She'd hate to be on the other side of the senator's wrath.

Once the door closed, Senator Hutton's demeanor softened. “Ms. Dawson, Mr. Bradford, you saved my life. If there's anything I can ever do for you, please don't hesitate to contact me.”

Logan nodded curtly. “Thank you, sir, that's—”

“I would love to do an exclusive interview with you about your thoughts on the afternoon's events,” Rachel said.

The senator blinked rapidly. “Of course. Unfortunately, I'm due to return to Washington, DC, tomorrow night.”

Excited by her idea, she pressed on. “I could get a crew by this afternoon. We could even do the interview in the comfort of your hotel room.”

This interview would not only bolster her career, but would help to inform the American people about the crimes that had occurred at the hands of Evans and Fink. She needed to get the truth out there so that people wouldn't continue to believe she and Logan had committed murder.

What better way than to interview the senator whose life she had saved? A senator who had gained recent notoriety for his filibustering.

The senator frowned, clearly unconvinced. She could tell he was about to turn her down.

She couldn't let the opportunity slip away. “The longer we wait to tell the story, Senator, the lesser the impact it will have on the American people. While I don't want to incite panic, I do believe our nation has the right to know that a biological terrorist attack was thwarted today. This story is just what you need to sway public opinion and get the votes you needed in the Senate to prevent the Homeland Security spending cuts.”

“Yes, it is.” A light shone in the senator's eyes as he mulled it over. He bobbed his head. “Very well, I think I could alter my schedule for the evening. I'm staying at a donor's home in Lake Las Vegas.” He took out his wallet and produced a business card then handed it to her. “Call that number on the bottom and you'll reach my assistant. She'll coordinate it with you.”

After the senator left, Rachel grabbed Logan's hand, adrenaline pumping through her veins. “Let's get out of here. I need to make dozens of phone calls for tonight.”

He backed her into the door and nuzzled her neck. “Make your calls, but then plan on spending a couple hours in bed with me.”

Heat spread throughout her lower belly. “So our original bargain has changed?” She raked her nails over her scalp. “Because I seem to recall we agreed I'd only submit to you until we cleared our names.”

“Yeah, things changed and you know it,” he said huskily. “This isn't about sex, although I plan on fucking you well and often. This is about me wanting to hold my wife in my arms at night and wake up with her beside me every morning.”

She inhaled sharply. “You want to stay married? What if the chapel doesn't file our marriage license?”

He intertwined his fingers with hers. “I spoke my vows to you and you to me. Granted, they were on the short side,” he said, laughing. “But I take them seriously. I don't care whether they file the license, because in my mind, in my heart, you already belong to me. If it's not legal, we'll make it legal.” His eyes twinkled. “That is, if you want to be married to me.”

She waited for the panic to set in, but all she felt was a sense of peace. The idea of falling in love had always frightened her. Until Danielle and Cole, she hadn't ever really spent time with a married couple other than those from her old church. Cole was a Dominant, the owner of a sex club, and yet Rachel never saw him try to control Danielle. Cole treated her like a queen and hung on every word she spoke as if it was Shakespeare. And from what Rachel understood, they were in a twenty-four/seven Master-slave relationship.

But unlike Danielle, Rachel wasn't certain she was submissive. Sure, she enjoyed Logan's domination of her in the bedroom, but that was all fun and games. She didn't need it like her friends.

Her inner voice called her a liar. If she didn't need the domination, why hadn't she ever had an orgasm during sex before? She hadn't even liked sex until Logan and his ropes. If she was honest with herself, it was his dominance that had attracted her in the first place. It was also the reason she had fought so hard not to fall for him. No one had ever challenged her the way Logan did. She couldn't manipulate him as she did the other men she'd been with in the past.

But he didn't try to control her.

He treated her as his equal.

“What do you think about my interviewing the senator?” she asked in lieu of answering his question.

He raised a brow. “I think the interview will get you all the accolades you deserve. It was a brilliant move convincing the senator to use it to promote his cause.” He cupped her cheek. “I'm proud of you.”

That was all she needed to hear.

She stroked her fingers up and down his chest. “I never wanted to get married. To me, marriage meant giving up your hopes and dreams and losing your identity.” She fisted his shirt. “I can't allow marriage to change who I am. If my job entails putting myself in danger in order to get a story, I'm going to do it. Although, I promise you I'll use every available safeguard to limit the risk. Will you be able to accept that?”

He paused, his lips pressed together in a thin line, then blew out a breath. “Honestly? I'd like to say yes, but after worrying about you today, I don't know if I could go through that all the time. And it's not because I don't support your career. It's because I want you safe. I'd feel the same if you were a cop or fighting fires. I admire your strength and your tenacity, but I'm not sure how I'm going to react if I know you're in danger.”