The guy with the gun spoke, his voice betraying his anxiety with its shakiness. “We told you to lie low and enjoy our gift to you, Anthony. It doesn’t appear you took our orders well.”

Rinaldi showed none of the earlier signs of intoxication, as if the gun had instantly sobered him up. Like a true sociopath, the sight of the gun didn’t seem to faze him, sneering at the men when others would have run. “That’s because I don’t take orders. I make them.”

The man shook his head. “You’re in no position to give us orders anymore.”

“The fuck you say,” Rinaldi said. “I don’t care who the hell you two think you are, telling me—”

The big guy stood as still as stone as his partner did all the talking. Not that he had to speak. His mere presence was intimidating enough.

The man with the gun took a step closer to Rinaldi. “We’re the ones who got your ass out of prison and helped you get away with murder.”

Rinaldi clapped his hands once and spread them apart. “Quid pro quo, my friends. I helped you and you helped me. But we’re done now.”

“That’s where you’re wrong,” the little guy said. “You don’t get to be done. Not until . . . ”

Rachel’s body buzzed as an all-too-familiar scent engulfed her and a hand clutched her shoulder. She didn’t even have to check to know Logan was standing right behind her, most likely foaming at the mouth because she hadn’t followed his instructions like an obedient submissive.

“What are you doing?” Logan asked. “I thought I told you to stay inside.”

She bit the inside of her cheek and silently counted back from ten to keep herself from going into a tirade. Then she glanced at him, hopefully conveying with her eyes what she’d like to vocalize. “Shh. Keep your voice down.”

Logan tugged on her arm, trying to drag her away. “You do not need to overhear a mobster’s conversation with his men,” he whispered, although a little too loudly for her taste. They didn’t need Rinaldi or the mysterious men to know they were hiding in the bushes behind the fence watching their little meeting. “That can only end in disaster.”

She elbowed him in the gut, enjoying his wince. Crouching lower, she wrapped her hands around the cool metal bars of the fence. “They’re not his men. Listen.”

The little guy rushed Rinaldi, backing him up against his Lexus, and stuck the gun into his ribs.

“Fine,” Rinaldi said, tripping over his feet before grabbing on to the side mirror for support. “Leopold arrives at Port Everglades at noon in two days.”

Rinaldi continued talking, his speech coming out so slurred, she couldn’t make out the words. If only she could record the conversation, she could decipher what he was saying later. She needed her damned phone.

She spun around and slapped her hands on Logan’s chest. “I need a cell, and I left mine at the coat check, so give me yours.”

He narrowed his eyes on her. “No, we’re going back inside Benediction to get your things and then you’re leaving.”

“I’m not going anywhere. There’s something weird going on with Rinaldi and those guys. Now give me your phone.” She slid her hands to his hips, her fingers edging into his pockets, coming across a large bulge at the top of his left one.

Logan grabbed her hands and twisted her arms behind her back. “Watch it.”

Not one to back down from a fight, she squirmed, struggling to get out of his hold without having to resort to kneeing him in the nuts and possibly alerting Rinaldi and those men to her presence.

His eyes flashing with warning, Logan backed her against the fence and pressed his hard body against hers, confirming the impressive bulge she’d felt in his jeans hadn’t been her imagination. She cursed her reaction, liquid heat spreading through her pussy and her nipples tightening as if begging for Logan’s touch. That’s what happened when she went without sex for three months. Her body didn’t care that she disliked the man holding her hostage or that she was in the middle of investigating a huge story. Her body wanted to finish off what they had started in the dungeon.

But her brain, not her body, was responsible for her success in the news industry. Nothing, nothing, kept her from her doing her job. Which was why it was strange that with Logan, her brain seemed to want to go on vacation and all reason fled out the window. That was the only explanation she had for rising on her toes, wrapping her leg around his ass, and tugging him closer so that she could grind her pulsing clit against said bulge.

Logan’s lips parted, his breath coming fast and hot, and his eyes, still warning her of danger, grew hooded with lust. She was two seconds from begging him to fuck her where they stood. But at the same time, she couldn’t allow herself to get distracted from her goal.

She needed that phone.

He released her hands and instead of taking the opportunity to push him away, she clutched the neck of his shirt, pulling him down to her. His long, tapered fingers delved into her hair, his palms cupping the base of her skull as his mouth dipping closer and closer. She coasted her hands down his arms, his muscles bunching and contracting under her touch, and rested them on his hips. As his lips lingered over hers, she slid her fingers into his pockets until she hit the jackpot, and then she wrapped them around the phone.

A sound like a firecracker going off in the street had them jumping apart as if someone had dumped a bucket of cold water on them. Phone forgotten, she whipped her head toward the noise just in time to see Rinaldi clutching his chest as another two explosions rang out and blood splattered from his head, landing on everything in its path. Rinaldi bounced off the hood of his car then slid onto the pebbles underneath his feet with a sickening thud.

“Oh, God,” Rachel said, feeling as though her heart was in her throat.

Logan covered her mouth with his hand and tugged her behind the bush. As if they’d heard her, the two men crept toward the fence with deadly precision, armed and ready to shoot. She held her breath and flattened herself against Logan, trying to disappear. There was no way she was going to die before becoming an Emmy-winning New York news anchor. She’d worked too hard to die now, this way. She should at least get to report Rinaldi’s murder on air before she literally bit the bullet.

An incessant buzzing of a phone broke the silence. The men stopped, the big one pulling his cell from his pocket then speaking into it. “It’s done. Yes, right away.” He slid the phone into his pocket and narrowed his gaze on the area behind the fence as if he could see them hiding behind the bush. He shook his head and turned to his partner. “It’s time to go. We need to get Leopold from Port Everglades at noon the day after tomorrow and then get to the target in Las Vegas by Friday.”

As soon as they drove away, leaving Rinaldi’s body behind, Rachel broke out of Logan’s arms and took a deep breath, blocking out the emotions threatening to bring her to her knees. Now that the imminent danger was over, it was time to get to work, fear be damned.

Calling to Logan over her shoulder, she began the short trek back to the club. “Let’s go. I’ve got a story to report.”

Chapter Five

IN THE TWO hours since she’d watched Rinaldi’s brain matter splatter onto the ground, Rachel had run the gamut of emotions, and right now, she was pissed. She should be on television reporting the crime instead of drinking tepid tea from a foam cup as she and Logan sat in the interview room at the local police station waiting for Officer Hanover to finish his questioning. He’d left the room about twenty minutes ago to take a phone call and hadn’t returned. Rachel hated to be left waiting. The police were reviewing Benediction’s video feeds to determine if the murder had been caught on tape.