A Real Cowboy Always Protects by Stephanie Rowe

Chapter Six

Logan leaned on his forearms,watching Skylar sleep on the plane.

He'd always thought she looked innocent, too innocent for his life, both past and present. But in sleep? She transcended innocence. The only word he could think of to describe her was angelic.

His angel.

Her lips were slightly parted, and her chest moved slightly with each breath. Her backpack was clutched on her lap, and the desperation with which she held onto it in her sleep told him exactly how strung out she was.

How scared.

Guilt sank deep in his gut for dragging her into this.

Her eyes flickered open, and she saw him watching her. He waited for the smile she always gave him, but this time, it didn't come. A different emotion flickered through her eyes. Fear? Shit. "Skylar—"

Before he could finish, her eyes closed again as she wedged herself deeper in her seat, hugging her backpack to her chest as if the bag could protect her from the world. From him.

Shit.

He'd been born into a monster's den, but he'd joined the agency to protect. To do good. To take what he'd been born into and use it for good.

It hadn't worked out exactly the way he'd wanted it, but he had made a difference. He'd done things that the world would never know about, things that had saved lives. Things that would have haunted him, if he weren't doing them for the right reasons.

He was relentless and tireless in his work, never slowing down long enough to think about anything. Except when he was around Skylar, because when he was with her, his mind felt quiet.

When he was around Skylar, he wasn't afraid of the things in his head, because she cleared all the shit out. But now…the woman who had been his sunshine now looked at him like he was the monster he'd tried to escape.

He'd broken into her life and poured violence into it.

He had to fix it. He had to fix what he'd done. He had to clear the path for her.

And he had to do it by plunking them both into the middle of the world that had shaped who he was, the past he'd fought so hard to escape, the life that had made violence a part of his very soul.

He swore and leaned back in his seat, running his hands over his head.

His past was coming back for him. He'd decided not to call ahead to warn his family he was coming. His phone was supposed to be secure, but someone had found out where he lived, and that information had been leaked somewhere.

From inside the CIA?

He wasn't taking a chance.

Not with Skylar's life.

Hell.

He was going home. For more than a day. For more than a couple days.

Something he'd never planned to do again.

He had truly believed that there was nothing that could ever get him to go home again.

Logan looked over at Skylar, and knew he'd been wrong.

Skylar finally opened her eyes, abandoning her attempts to sleep. The private plane had lush leather seats, and plenty of space to stretch out in luxury, so she'd been optimistic about her chances to regroup.

She'd been determined to nap, because she was exhausted, drained, and strung out, but sleep had been impossible. Images of guns and assassins had kept flashing through her mind. Plus, she'd been too aware of Logan watching her, all hunched over with a haunted, intense expression on his face.

She studied him. "Why do you keep staring at me?"

His dark brown eyes had no smile in them. "We need to talk."

So much for her hope that he was going to tell her that everything was a dream, and they were actually flying to Hawaii for a romantic vacation of love, lust, and pineapples. She sighed and wrapped her arms more tightly around her backpack. "Is this where you teach me how to shoot a gun and kill a man with my bare hands?"

Again, not even the faintest hint of a smile, which was too bad. A smile from him would definitely help the tension suffocating her. "No," he said. "It wouldn't help you against him. He's an expert in death."

That wasn't as reassuring as one might think. "So, my only chance to stay alive is you?"

"I'm very good."

His matter-of-fact tone was somewhat reassuring, so she considered relaxing slightly. "So, what then?"

"Saturday is the Fourth of July."

"So?"

"So, the holiday is a big deal in Rogue Valley."

Skylar wiggled herself to a more upright position. "At risk of sounding repetitive, so? What does this have to do with Eugene?"

He frowned. "Eugene?"

"The assassin who wants to kill me."

"His name isn't Eugene. It's—"

"Shh!" She held up her hand to silence him. "You appear to be well-versed in having bullets flying past your head, but I'm still a little freaked out and on the edge of a complete panic attack. Eugene is the name for a math nerd who wouldn't even be strong enough to pick up a gun. Calling the guy hunting us Eugene makes him seem less scary, which makes it easier for me to breathe. I like breathing, so can we go with Eugene?

Regret flickered across his face. "It's important to be constantly on the alert."

"But not freaking out, right?"

He pressed his lips together, and then finally nodded. "Freaking out isn't a great plan."

"There you go. Eugene it is, then." She supposed it was all well and good that Logan was being stoic and focused, given that she needed him at the top of his CIA operative game, but it was making her feel increasingly isolated.

She needed a little bit of the Logan she'd gotten to know in the mailroom and the elevator. The one she could draw a smile out of. The one who had pulled her into his arms and held her when she was so scared in his office.

But that wasn't the Logan she was getting right now. This Logan was hardcore special agent, and she didn't really love it. Necessary, maybe. But warm, fuzzy, and comforting? Not so much.

He leaned forward, resting his forearms on his thighs, his hands clasped loosely between his knees. "There will be a Fourth of July parade in Rogue Valley. A town festival. Family stuff. A lot of people and activities. It'll be impossible to stay off the radar completely. It's a small town, and people know me."

She tensed. "So, I'm going to be exposed, Eugene will find me, and then I'm going to take my last breath and die there? I always dreamed I'd die in Vermont, honestly."

His jaw tightened, and his fists clenched. "You're not going to die in Wyoming. I won't let that happen. I promise."

"Well, that's good to know." It really was. Especially since he'd said it like he'd throw his own body in Eugene's path to protect her. He was committed to keeping her alive, and that was great. She took a deep breath, trying to get to a topic that wasn't freaking her out. "Well, if you're not planning to ask me if I've updated my will recently, why are you telling me about Rogue Valley's Fourth of July festivities?"

"We're going to need a cover."

"A cover?" She brightened. "Like a fake identity? I'll be a famous rapper. I could pull that off." She set her backpack on the empty seat next to her and began working a really excellent rap beat, moving her shoulders in a pretty fantastic rhythm. "My name's Skylar and I'm not gonna die there. Cause I got a guy who won't let me die."

The corner of Logan's mouth quirked. "That's pretty impressive for a five-foot-two blond architect from Vermont."

"Right? Never underestimate me. I'm very versatile."

"I wouldn't dare," he agreed quickly, still looking like he was trying not to laugh. "But that wasn't quite what I was thinking."

"I'm crushed." She sighed and flopped back in her seat dramatically. "A famous rapper has been on my bucket list for decades. I suppose you have a cover already planned?"

He nodded. "I need a reason for showing up in Rogue Valley with you. I never go home. I don't have friends. I'm not social. Nothing about this trip will make sense to my family, or anyone in town. People will talk and start asking questions. I can't afford to have anyone dig too deep."

She narrowed her eyes. "What would make sense, then?"

He put his hand into his pocket. "There's only one thing that would bring me back home for an extended trip with a woman."

Her heart started to pound at the grim expression on his face. What on earth could make him look so cranky? "I refuse to pretend I'm your personal hairstylist. I can barely blow dry my own hair. No one would believe it. I still think the rapper is the best idea. No one would think twice about a famous rapper that they've never heard of showing up in Rogue Valley for the Fourth of July."

He laughed softly, then pulled his hand out of his pocket. "Not my hairstylist or a rapper." He opened his palm to reveal a white-gold, diamond solitaire ring. "My fiancée."