he prodded as he eased into a jog.
“You lie. You cheat. You steal.” She fell into stride next to him. “You do whatever necessary to get the job done. You’re former military. Got busted for drugs and went AWOL before you were court-martialed. You’ve killed five men, two for looking at me the wrong way.”
So far so good. Just the one slip. He was impressed. She was doing much better today than yesterday. “What was our last job?”
“We smuggled some weapons from Canada to a militia group in Montana.” She shot him a sideways glance. “Almost got caught, too, because you pissed off one of the guys with the buyer.”
“Very good.” Logan picked up the pace, she did the same. “And the one before that.”
“Drug smuggling. The Mexican authorities are still looking for us.”
“Then maybe we’d better get back to camp before they catch us out here in the open,” he said nonchalantly.
Her eyes went wide for the space of one beat, then she shot him a drop-dead look before breaking into a full-fledged sprint. About time she got her second wind, Logan mused as he surged forward, easily catching up with her.
Yep, she was determined. That much was certain. She could hold her own physically. It was the fright factor that had him worried. There was only one way to measure her ability to cope with that part. He forced away a prick of regret. He had no choice. Erin Bailey’s life, as well as his own, depended upon her reactions.
He had to know what they would be.
And time was running out.
“GOOD GOD, BAILEY, you’re dead already. In a real time situation, a miss gives your target an opportunity to return fire.”
Erin tossed her weapon onto the sand and stomped toward Logan. “That’s it.” She glared at him. Her pulse reacted instantly. God, she hated that. All week she’d been fighting this insane little physical attraction to the big jerk. “I’m calling it a day.” It was almost dark after all and she was beat. They’d been at this since before dawn. She couldn’t think, much less get a bead on a target.
“And nothing you can say will change my mind.”
She stopped right in front of him and dared him to argue.
She should have known better.
Those dark eyes fairly glittered with annoyance. “Pick up your weapon, Bailey.”
It wasn’t as much his ruthless tone as it was the expression on that handsome face: He was madder than hell. The reality gave Erin pause, but she didn’t budge.
“Now,” he added in a lethal growl.
Her jaw clenched, Erin spun away from him. “Jerk,” she muttered as she strode back to the abandoned weapon. A few other choice expletives flashed through her mind as she retrieved the black 9 mm weapon. What the hell had she been thinking agreeing to this crazy scheme? Clearly Jeff’s betrayal and her subsequent time in prison had affected her more profoundly than she’d realized. She whipped back toward her overbearing mentor prepared to demand what he wanted her to do now and found herself face to chest with him.
“Take aim at that target like you want to hit it,” he ordered curtly.
She wanted to hit something all right, but it wasn’t the human silhouette hanging on the other side of the makeshift firing range. Still, she did as she was told since she couldn’t be completely sure of what he’d do if she didn’t. She braced her left hand beneath her right wrist and closed one eye to peer down the barrel.
“Feet shoulder width apart.”
The sharply snapped command came at the same instant that a strong arm wrapped around her waist and hauled her against a hard male physique. Her breath caught. With her body held firmly against him, Logan kicked her feet apart.
“Now, fire,” he ordered.
She obeyed. Her arm flew up with the recoil. The shot went to the right of the target.
Logan swore under his breath. One powerful arm still pinning her waist, he reached out with the other and held her arm steady. “Take your time, Bailey,” he said, his mouth close to her ear. Too close. She could feel his warm breath on the sensitive skin there. “Focus. Hitting that target could mean the difference between life and death. You do want to live, don’t you, Baby?”
“Yes,” she hissed.
She hated it when he called her that, but, at the moment, very distracting sensations were bombarding her, eliminating any possibility of a clever rebuttal. The feel of him, hard, undeniably male, pressed against her buttocks, along the backs of her thighs. His arm around her, fingers splayed just beneath her breast. Oh, and the heady scent—male sweat mixed with his own unique musky smell… Seven long months of abstinence were finally taking their toll.
“Focus,” he murmured thickly.
Erin frowned. Was it her imagination, or was he holding her even more tightly now? Before she could sort through the new awareness generated by his unexpected reaction, he ordered, “Fire!”
She obeyed.
And missed yet again.
He muttered a stinging curse.
“You have to focus, Bailey!” He released her and stormed a few feet away as if needing the distance. He glared first at her, then at the unmarred silhouette.
She struggled to steady herself after the abrupt absence of his body against hers. A whole new barrage of sensations flooded her now. Need, sharp and demanding. And desire, dammit. Desire and disappointment. Disappointment at no longer having him near…for failing to please him.
God, she had lost whatever mind she had left.
He turned toward her then, the savage look on his face sending her stumbling back a couple of steps. “Forty-eight hours, Bailey.” He moved closer. “Two days. That’s all we have left. You’ve got to try harder.”
She shook her head in protest of his accusation. “I’m doing the best I can.”
“You have to do better.” He stopped directly in front of her and stared down at her with a fierceness that undid the last of her bravado. “Tell me about the weapon you seem to be having so much trouble using.”
She hesitated.
Logan cursed himself for the fool he was.
How could Lucas think for one minute that he could do this? There was no way she would be ready. Physical endurance wasn’t nearly enough.
“The weapon, Baby,” he snapped. “Tell me about the weapon you’re holding.”
“Don’t call me that,” she shouted back, sounding tired and disgusted.
He inclined his head and glared at her. “Get used to it. Now tell me about the weapon.”
Distress instantly replaced any anger she’d shown. Bailey stared at the gun in her hand as if it could somehow answer for her. “It’s a 9 mm…ah…” She shook her head and lifted her gaze back to his. “I can’t remember what kind.”
Those huge violet eyes shimmered with uncertainty and no small amount of fear. He swore again, silently this time. He had to find a way to tap into her anger. When she was angry she tried harder, fought back.
“Then tell me about mine.” He held the weapon up where she could see it. “I gave you a block of instruction on both a few hours ago.”
She chewed her lower lip, giving away her every emotion. Jess would never have done that.
“Forty cal Glock,” he barked impatiently as he showed her both sides of the weapon. “Weapon of choice these days by most federal agencies. Similar in weight and size to the 9 mm, but with more deadly force. Combat Tupperware.”
She shook