in with the promise of Brazilian identities and a free trip into the US. These were men working for a level one target named Sha Amud . Our objective was to eventually capture Sha . Then shit went really wrong. A team of Special Forces guys descended on the compound and were either killed, taken hostage, or sent on the run with Conyers's men hunting them down. That was when I realized I wasn’t working for who I thought I was. I always knew Conyers was in the game for himself, but I didn’t know then what kind of monster he is. I just thought he cared more for his advancement in the CIA."
"CIA," Mara blurted. "You were CIA?" She slapped herself in the forehead and groaned. " Nooo ," droned from her lips. "This just became so much worse."
"So, after Brazil I tracked Conyers, collecting all the intel I could—until last Sunday. You don't need to know everything. It's probably best if you don’t. Bottom line, Conyers completely fucked my career, and I wanted to return the favor. Now, here we are."
"So, wouldn’t it have been enough to have left Brazil and reported on your handler to the CIA director?"
"Sure. If I was after turning him over to the United States government and wanting to get my own ass tossed in prison for the rest of my life, not to mention I have no idea who is to be trusted anymore."
Mara turned to him, wide-eyed. "Why would they send you to prison?"
"Because I helped someone who was aiding some pretty big fish."
"So who are you turning Conyers over to now?"
"I had a growing list, starting with Satan, but the more I learned, the deeper it got. I had no idea Conyers was playing such a big role and what he was doing was so dangerous. He is working with some big names like Joseph Sierkoff , the Russian Prime Minister, too. There are also some terrorists you wouldn’t know of. Whatever it is he is planning, it's bad. I won't know what that is unless I can get this injected chip out of my side and unscramble what was on the original microchip."
Mara paused a long moment. "And they want me why?"
"Because the day Conyers found out I was on to him, I stole the microchip he wants back so badly. He knew he could use you to get it. He also doesn’t know if I have told anyone as of yet or who I've told if I have. He wanted to use you, and still could, to stop me before I can get the information into the right hands. Whatever is on that chip is nothing good."
Mara shivered at his words. "Good Lord, Logan. I would like to kill you myself right now. Why couldn’t you have made life simple for yourself? Stayed a Green Beret, never gone Delta or CIA. " She cast her stare over the desert.
Did that mean she still mattered in some way to him? Enough that this Conyers could use her against him? A hot tingle raced over her skin.
"Because for once in my life I'd found something I was good at. I was wanted."
A tight knot began to thicken in the back of Mara's throat. "You had a home before that, and you were very much wanted there." She crossed her arms, holding herself, holding the pain at bay.
It had taken a long time to get over what Logan had done. She looked at him from the corner of her eye. Seeing him—all hard muscle and cold anger, blond hair raked back from his face, a beard just a few shades darker and just a little longer than a shadow covering his jaw, a M-9 strapped to his thigh—she wasn’t entirely sure she had ever been over him.
Chapter Eight
0700 hours, Tuesday
Nouakchott, Mauritania
Logan checked the little room in the roughly fashioned inn as he and Mara walked inside. It had been thirteen long hours on the road from Zouérat to Nouakchott, and he needed a damn rest.
Mara stopped by his side and turned her head upward over her shoulder with a gusty sigh. "I'm pooped. I'm going to take a shower," she said, starting for the bathroom left of the bed.
"Good luck with that." Logan's gaze fell to her shapely ass as she turned inside the bathroom door. "While you're doing whatever