“In the hospital,” the nurse said. “Here, let’s get you up so you can have some juice.” She fiddled with the bed controller, then the motor hummed and the top of the bed lifted. “You were pretty dehydrated, and you took a nasty fall.”

Sitting upright didn’t help the way Olivia looked. If anything, the fluorescent lights above highlighted the bruises and swelling around her eyes. Her hair fell to her shoulders, but Landon still couldn’t tell the color. It was so dirty, it could be blonde, light brown, or even dark. The nurse handed Olivia the juice, and Landon cringed when her bruised arm lifted from the bed and her weak fingers wrapped around the box. But the sound she made when she sucked on the straw—a moan of pure pleasure—shot a burst of wicked heat all through his body.

He turned quickly away from the bed and scrubbed a hand over his face. Holy shit. Okay, he was clearly losing it. Lack of sleep was obviously getting to him. Forget the fact she wasn’t even his type and that he didn’t go for skinny, matronly schoolteachers. The chick looked like she’d been used for a punching bag, and her face was so fucked up, he couldn’t even tell if she was pretty. But aside from all that, he never got involved with his principals. Never. Even the totally built, superrich, hot ones.

Zoning back into his role, he locked up whatever silly emotions were playing with his head and turned back to face the bed. The nurse finished checking Olivia’s vitals, then said, “I’m going to have the doctor come in and check on you in a minute. Just keep drinking that juice, and I’ll be right back.”

“Okay.”

The nurse left the room, leaving the door open, but she pulled the curtain closed. Olivia sucked on the juice box until it made a slurping sound, then lowered it to her lap. A moment of uncomfortable silence passed before she said, “That bandage on the side of your head. I, um, didn’t do that, did I?”

He brushed a finger over the butterfly bandage against his temple and chuckled. “You’ve got some muscles.”

She cringed. “I’m sorry. I thought you were . . . one of them.”

“It’s okay. It’s not the first time my face has taken a beating. I’ll heal.”

Her gaze lingered on the jagged scar across his left cheek, and he knew she was wondering where he’d gotten it, but she didn’t ask. Instead, she looked around the room again. “How did we get here? The last thing I remember was those men shooting at you in that yard.”

She sounded halfway sane, and Landon figured that was a plus, considering everything she’d been through. Though he wished for her sake she couldn’t remember any of it. “I took care of them.”

Surprised green eyes darted to his. Eyes that sucker punched him again, right in the chest. “All of them?”

Be cool. She’s just a girl. Nothing special. “It’s what I do.”

“Oh.” Her gaze roamed over his body, and tiny pinpricks of heat erupted wherever she looked. Heat he couldn’t seem to douse even though he knew he should. “Are you, like, special forces or something?”

“Something like that.” He wasn’t about to tell this innocent little thing what he’d done for a living with the DIA. And he had to get her eyes off his body and refocused on his face because otherwise . . . yeah, otherwise he wasn’t sure what he’d do next. “Olivia, do you remember the men who were holding you? Can you tell me anything about them?”

She closed her eyes and dropped her head back against the pillow. A sick look passed over her features. “I don’t want to talk about them.”

“I know.” The urge to torture those men he’d killed whipped back through him like a hurricane. “But anything you can remember might help.”

She didn’t answer. Just sat there with her eyes closed. And something in his chest turned over as he watched her. He didn’t know what she was remembering. Had no clue what she was feeling. But he knew it was bad. And the need to protect her, to wrap her in his arms and tell her everything would be okay, consumed him from the top down.

Which was ludicrous. He couldn’t convince himself of that on a good day, and he’d tried thousands of times. Why the hell did he think he could help someone else?

Suddenly, her eyes popped open, and she lifted her head from the pillow, looking his way, those green eyes, which moments ago had been flat and empty, now vibrant and alive. “There was a man. He was the one who grabbed me at my house.”

Finally. Something. “Do you remember what he looked like?”

She shook her head. “He was dark. And tall. That’s all I got. But he was nice to me. He kept telling me it would all be over soon. Somewhere along the way things changed, though, and he wasn’t the one in charge. I didn’t see him again, but I heard him. Yesterday. I think he was in the room next to me, before they moved me to that last house. He talked to me through the wall. I’m sure it was him.”

The guy who’d kidnapped her had been overpowered and then locked up himself? “Did you ever hear anyone call him Smith?”

Her brow lowered, and then she shook her head. “No. But—” She lifted her torso from the bed, sitting all the way up on her own. The sheet and thin blanket fell against her waist, revealing the drab gray hospital gown and her bony arms. “Wait. He said his name was Tyrone.”

Bingo. Excitement spread through Landon’s veins. “What else?”

“He”—she looked down at her thin legs under the blanket—“he told me that he’d grabbed me to get to Eve.” Her worried gaze shot to Landon’s face. “My sister’s okay, isn’t she? Please tell me they don’t have Eve.”

“Relax.” The panic in her voice set his protective instincts into high gear. He sat on the bottom of her bed and rested his hand on her calf. Heat seeped through the thin cotton, but he told himself this was okay. He needed to calm her down. He wasn’t touching her for himself. “She’s fine. Worried about you. We’ll call her in a minute. I wanted to wait until you were awake. Tell me what else Tyrone said.”

Olivia relaxed just a touch and looked down at his hand. His fingers felt huge resting against her frail leg, but he forced himself not to pull away.

“He . . . he said she was the target. That they’d grabbed me to draw her out. That she knows too much.” She frowned. “But that doesn’t make sense. Eve works for a politician. I mean . . . what could she know?”

Eve had obviously kept her family in the dark just like she’d done to Archer. But now wasn’t the time to worry about spilling secrets. “Olivia, look at me.”

When those pretty, gemlike eyes met his, his pulse sped up, but he ignored it. She’d been through so much, he doubted much more could shock her, but even if this did, he had to ask. “Your sister works for the CIA. There was a bombing in Seattle a few days ago. Eve was supposed to meet a man named Tyrone Smith and obtain a file from him. Something went wrong, and a car bomb went off not far from their meeting place. The authorities think Eve was involved in the bombing, but we know it’s all linked to your kidnapping. I need to know if Tyrone said anything else. Anything at all that might help your sister.”

Olivia’s brow dropped low as she processed his words, and then her eyes grew wide. Wide and—oh fuck—absolutely mesmerizing. “Western Avenue.”

“What?”

“We have to get to Seattle.” She threw back the covers. “There’s an athletic club on Western Avenue.”

“Wait.” His brow lowered as she tossed her legs over the side of the bed. “What? Hold on. Now you want to work out?”

She pushed to her bare feet. Wobbled. The hospital gown fell to her knees, but she was so small, it all but swallowed her whole.

“Olivia.” He was in front of her before he even realized it, wrapping his arm around her waist and giving her his body to use as a crutch. “Dammit, don’t fall.”

Her hands landed against his chest, and warmth bloomed beneath her palms. Against his belly he felt her tiny breasts and—oh shit—hard nipples.

Cold. She’s fucking cold in that open gown, not turned on. Get a grip, Miller.

He stilled and tried to get his head back in the game. Clearing his throat, he managed, “You need to sit back down. You’re in no shape to go anywhere. I’ll take you to Seattle when you’re better.”

“No.” She lifted her chin and looked up at him. “I have to go now. Don’t you understand? We have to get it before anyone else.”

“Get what?”

An exasperated look crossed her face. “The item in the locker at the athletic club. He said it was the only thing that would help Eve.”

Landon stilled. And even though his pulse was still roaring in his ears being this close to her, his brain was slowly coming back on line. “What’s the locker number? I’ll go.”

“No. She’s my sister. I’m going.”

And right then he saw a glimpse of something he hadn’t seen before. Strength. Rock-solid strength. The kind that proved she was a survivor and not a victim. She wasn’t thanking him for saving her life. She wasn’t whining and crying about what had happened. She was trying to walk out of a hospital she desperately needed to be in, more concerned about her sister’s well-being than her own.

Those gemlike eyes turned hard and resolute. And he pictured her in front of her class, when she had a rowdy student, laying down the law, not taking shit from anyone. A lot like him when he was in black ops mode. “Either take me to Seattle, Miller, or I’ll find a way there myself.”

Landon stared down into her strong, beautiful eyes. And his heart picked up speed. Because right then he knew Olivia Wolfe was not like any other principal he’d ever gone after.

And that meant he was in deep shit.


Eve’s stomach was a knot of nerves as she made her way up the curved staircase toward the second floor.