Undercover Wife

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 her head, defeat sagging her shoulders. “I hate guns,” she admitted. “I don’t want to know anything about them.”

Fury charged through him. He snagged her right hand, drawing the weapon up where she had no choice but to look at it. He was out of time. He had to know now if she could take the heat. It was the only way. He hated the idea of putting her through what was to come…except his options were sorely limited. He’d come to that conclusion last night and had made the necessary arrangements for their next adventure.

“This is a Beretta,” he explained. “Very popular. Light weight, efficient.” He tightened his fingers around hers. “This weapon could save your life.”

She shook her head again, tears brimming this time. Just what he needed. “I can’t do this. You’ve got the wrong girl for the job.”

He let go of her hand. “You have to do it. And you’re the only girl for the job.”

“You might as well take me back to Atlanta.” Her fearful gaze collided with his. “I could never shoot anyone.” She closed her eyes and drew in a ragged breath. “I just can’t do it, Logan. Face it. This isn’t going to work.”

Wrong answer. They’d come too far to back out now. He wouldn’t let her give up just yet. “When you have an extreme situation, Bailey, you have to take extreme measures. Remember that.”

Before she could fathom his intent, he’d pressed the barrel of his Glock against her forehead. Disbelief registered on her face. “What’re you doing?”

“The question is what’re you going to do, Bailey? You’ve got a gun pointed directly at your head. You have to do something.”

“This is crazy. You’ve—”

“Do something, Bailey! If you hesitate, you’re dead.”

“Wait!”

“I dragged you into this messy situation. I’ve been pushing you day and night. Fight back! Do something!”

“I…I can’t do what you need me to do.”

“Then you’ll die.” A definite click echoed around them as he cocked his weapon. “Do something, Bailey. Do it now!”

That deer-in-the-headlights look captured her expression as the color drained from her face. She lifted the Beretta, jabbed it toward him as if that alone were a monumental effort.

“It’s going to take more than that. Shoot,” he commanded, “or I will.”

She trembled. Once. Twice. Her spine stiffened. “You’re bluffing,” she challenged, a glimmer of courage peeking past the fear in her eyes.

“Do you really want to take that chance? What exactly do you know about me? Are you sure you can trust me? I could kill you and who would know?” He leaned forward, putting himself nose-to-nose with her. “Who would care?”

Fury tightened her lips.

About time.

He pressed the barrel a little harder against her. “Who’s going first, Baby, you or me?”

He saw the subtle change in her eyes a fraction of a second before the resounding snap of the Beretta’s empty chamber announced that she had, indeed, depressed the trigger.

A smile slid across his face as surprise, then confusion and fear claimed her features. And here he’d worried she didn’t have it in her. “Very good, Bailey.”

The spent weapon fell from her limp fingers. “You son of a bitch.” The luster of fear disappeared from her eyes and was quickly replaced by glittering anger. “You knew it was empty. You goaded me into—” She moved in the last remaining inches between them and glared up at him. “You knew it was empty and you put me through that!”

Right on both counts. He’d known she’d used her last round and he’d worn a vest. He never went on a firing range with a newbie without sporting Kevlar. He hadn’t lived this long by being stupid. “At least we know now that you can shoot a man if you have to.”

In a metamorphosis that surprised him, she reared back and shoved hard at his chest with both hands, unbalancing him momentarily. “You are a jerk, Logan! And I’ve had enough!” Her eyes flared with fury. “Cut the cloak-and-dagger crap and tell me what’s going on! Why am I here?”

This was much more like it. He’d been waiting for her to demand some answers, had about decided it wasn’t going to happen. Damned if the woman wasn’t full of surprises.

“All right.” He tucked his weapon back into the waistband of his jeans. “Pablo Esteban is the most powerful man alive in the cocaine trade. Everybody from the CIA to DEA wants him…has tried to nail him, but he’s too clever. He never makes a mistake. Never leaves Colombia. Never gets caught in a compromising position.”

Logan erased a new line of sweat from his brow with his forearm, then rested his hands on his hips. “About a year ago he branched out into the arms trade. Now he steals military weapons and sells them to the lowlife around the globe. We’re going to stop him, but first we have to find out who’s leaking him the info on where and when to find the weapons.”

Glistening with perspiration, Bailey’s skin took on a definite greenish quality as she absorbed all that he said. Though still clearly angry, she looked on the verge of tossing her lunch. “Oh, God.”

Obviously what he’d told her was far more than she’d bargained for.

“How can we stop him?” she asked wanly.

“We’ll get to that,” Logan assured her. That was enough information for her to assimilate at the moment. “For now, just be glad you can do what you have to if the need arises.” He chucked her on the shoulder. “Surely if you can shoot me, you can shoot the bad guys.”

The reality of what she’d done seemed to hit her full force all over again. Her stance wilted. Any lingering anger dissolved, leaving those big eyes suspiciously bright. “I didn’t mean to…I just…”

He picked up her weapon, popped in a fresh clip. “Defended yourself,” he finished for her. “That’s a start.”

“Oh my…” Her hand flew to her mouth. Fainting appeared a distinct possibility.