Read the book: «Deadly Temptation»

A tumultuous reunion.

Logan took three steps towards her. He stared at her, and she found it difficult to breathe. It seemed forever before he spoke. And when he did, his voice was harsh and matched the haunted look in his eyes.

“What are you doing?”

“What do you mean?”

“All of a sudden I’ve got Redstone Security on my tail. They said you put them up to it. Why?”

“I’m trying to help,” she said.

He gave a low, humourless chuckle. “Don’t,” he said. “Don’t waste your time.”

Liana studied him. Had he given up? Or was he just in shock over what had happened to him and hadn’t yet begun to fight back? She had to believe the latter; the Logan Beck who’d saved her life would never give up so easily.

“It’s my time to waste,” she said firmly.

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Justine Davis lives on Puget Sound in Washington State. Her interests outside writing are sailing, doing needlework, horseback riding and driving her restored 1967 Corvette roadster – top down, of course.

Justine says that years ago, during her career in law enforcement, a young man she worked with encouraged her to try for a promotion to a position that was at the time occupied only by men. “I succeeded, became wrapped up in my new job, and that man moved away, never, I thought, to be heard from again. Ten years later he appeared out of the woods of Washington State, saying he’d never forgotten me and would I please marry him. With that history, how could I write anything but romance?”

Dear Reader,

As a writer, I spend a lot of time pondering human nature. As a writer of romance, I spend a lot more pondering the nature of heroes. The quiet kind who never gets the hero fanfare but never stops trying, even in the face of impossible, crushing odds. There’s the hero who takes a stand for what’s right in the face of fierce opposition, and the people who become situational heroes, ordinary people who respond heroically in a crisis.

Then there’s the hero I can never wrap my mind completely around, the one who regularly risks his life for strangers he will never see again. The one who believes in something bigger than himself and is willing to die for it. Perhaps it’s because I’m in such awe of that mind-set that I find it so fascinating. It is that awe and a simple question that inspired Deadly Temptation; what if someone had the chance to actually repay one of those heroes?

I hope you’ll enjoy Logan and Liana’s story; I have a feeling I’ll be revisiting this ground often.

Happy reading!

Justine Davis

Deadly Temptation

JUSTINE DAVIS

www.millsandboon.co.uk

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Chapter 1

Liana Kiley stared at the photograph in the newspaper on her desk. Read the caption again, then the headline, just to be sure. In some part of her mind she knew that when the initial shock wore off she’d be swamped by a mass of emotions and memories, but for now the buffer was there.

“Good mornin’.”

The drawled greeting from her office doorway—a doorway still half-blocked with two as yet untouched moving boxes—made her jump, and she smothered a gasp.

“Thought I’d see how you’re settling in.”

She stared at the tall, rangy man leaning against the doorjamb. So it was true. The great, the brilliant, the incredible Joshua Redstone really did make a tour of his own Southern California headquarters every morning when he was in the building. They’d told her—warned her?—but she hadn’t quite believed it until now, with her new boss standing there in front of her. He’d actually stopped to see her, the newest, lowliest face on the huge Redstone totem pole.

“I—” She swallowed, tried again. It wasn’t every day you talked to one of the richest, most successful entrepreneurs in the world. “I’m getting there, Mr. Redstone.”

He gave her a lazy smile that eased her nerves. “To anyone who works in this building I’m not Mr. Redstone. I’m Josh.”

“Josh,” she said, although even at his request it felt presumptuous.

“Need anything?”

They’d told her about that, too, that if you indeed did need something, job-related or not, these morning tours were the time to ask.

I should ask him to save Logan, she thought, flicking a glance at the newspaper she’d dropped on the desk.

“Problem?”

Her gaze shot back to her boss’s face. He was as quick as she’d thought he must be. This might be her first day on the job, but even she could see that something…alert had come into those cool-gray eyes.

She’d never been, as some were, fooled by the lazy drawl into thinking he was slow or stupid; she’d researched him and the empire he’d built too well before she’d applied for the rare opening. No fool could ever have accomplished what he had—taken a single design for a small jet and built it into one of the biggest privately held multinational operations in the world.

When she didn’t immediately answer his question, he straightened from the doorjamb and came toward her.

“What is it?”

“I…just some disturbing news,” she said, gesturing at the paper.

Josh Redstone grimaced. “That’s the template these days. Even if it’s good news, make it sound disturbing.” He glanced at the page she’d been looking at. His expression changed again. “But that really is disturbing.”

“He didn’t do it!”

The words burst from her, and she wanted to grab them back the instant they were spoken. This was not how she wanted her first day on her precious new job to go.

“I’m sorry,” she said hastily. “I—”

She stopped as he waved a hand at her, clearly requesting silence, and continued to read the headline story. After a moment he looked up at her.

“You know him?”

She nodded, keeping her mouth shut, afraid of what else might come pouring out.

“Boyfriend?”

“No,” she said, startled. “Actually I haven’t seen him in a few years.”

Josh looked thoughtful, and Liana had the sudden feeling that this, of all she’d seen from him this morning, was the expression to be wary of if you were on the other side of a bargaining table from this man.

“But you don’t believe he did what they’re saying? That he’s a crooked cop?”

“I know he isn’t,” she said fervently. “He would no more take money from drug dealers than he would…” Her words trailed off as she was unable to think of an analogy bizarre enough.

“Sometimes,” Josh said slowly, “people hide facets of themselves.”

“Yes,” she said, conscious of the fact that she was debating with her new boss before she’d even sat down once in her new office chair. “But when you’re in a…life-threatening, life-changing situation, facades tend to fall away.”

She held her breath, waiting, wondering if it was going to turn out to be a good thing that she hadn’t completely unpacked yet, because that would make it easier to repack and get out of here after he fired her for insubordination.

“He’s the one?”

She blinked in puzzlement at the quiet question. Then she realized she was the one being stupid; did she really think Joshua Redstone hired just anybody off the street without researching them even more thoroughly than she had researched his company? He’d probably turned his much-vaunted security team loose on her history; she’d read how their checks were on par with any government agency’s. She just hadn’t realized that applied to everybody, even lowly assistants to department heads. But you didn’t build the kind of family Redstone, Incorporated was without thoroughly vetting the people you let in.

She felt a bit foolish. Of course they had checked her out completely, which meant Josh knew exactly who the man in the photograph was.

“Yes,” she said.

Josh smiled slightly, as if he was pleased that she left it at that, hadn’t launched into some long explanation. As if, she realized suddenly, he was glad she’d understood he already knew all about It.

It.

That’s what that day was in her life, a big, capitalized It. And her life was divided into two parts, before It and after. And the two segments bore little resemblance to each other. Not surprising, she supposed, given the enormity of what had happened.

She snapped back to the present to find her new boss watching her, and felt herself flush.

“I’m sorry,” she said again. “I don’t usually let it get to me.”

“You wouldn’t be human if it didn’t,” Josh said. “Nobody goes through something like that and comes out without at least some baggage.”

Her mouth twisted wryly. “And some of us come out with a cargo load.”

Josh chuckled, but the sound was rueful. “Yes. Some do.”

She saw the echo of an old, familiar pain in his eyes, remembered belatedly that this was a man with painful baggage of his own that he’d been carrying since the death of his beloved wife and, much earlier, the death of his brother, his last surviving blood relative.

She responded, aware of the irony, in the same way many had responded to her after It; she changed the subject abruptly.

“Everything’s fine here,” she said formally. “I have everything I could possibly need, and I’m looking forward to getting right to work. And thank you again for giving me this chance. It’s the best early Christmas present I could ever get.”

“Very politely said,” Josh answered, his mouth quirking in turn as he accepted her verbal swerve. “But you’ll find we don’t stand on ceremony much around here. We all work on the assumption that everyone here—even a new hire—is the best at what they do. Eliminates infighting.”

“I can’t wait,” she said eagerly, meaning it wholeheartedly.

“That’s more like it,” Josh said with a grin that she thought could light up a room much larger than this one. “Lilith will be along shortly, I’m sure. She’ll get you started on what she needs done first.”

Liana nodded. She’d had her final interview with Lilith Mercer, which had surprised her; she’d thought Josh would have the final say. But he’d told her before that last session that Lilith knew what she needed in an assistant better than he did, knew what kind of person she could best work with, so she would make the decision and he would back her. That was the way things worked at Redstone.

That simple statement from a man who’d built an empire had taken her from hoping she got the job to thinking she would be missing out on the chance of a lifetime if she didn’t get it. The position was entry level, not where she wanted to be or stay, but it was at Redstone, and few jobs opened there because once you got in you stayed.

“My door’s always open to family,” Josh said. “Remember that.”

Yes, she was very glad she’d gotten this job, Liana thought.

“Thank you,” she said, fervently this time.

He was almost out her office door before he turned back. He looked toward her desk once more, then at her. “I’ll have our security look into that. Maybe there’s something we can do.”

She was sure she was gaping at him, but was too stunned to restrain her reaction.

“I tend to agree with you,” Josh said easily. “From the report I read on what happened with you, he doesn’t seem the type.”

“No,” she finally managed to say. “He’s not.”

After Josh had gone, she sank down into the desk chair, feeling oddly wobbly. It didn’t matter that she’d spent a relatively short time with Logan Beck. Didn’t matter that she hadn’t even known his name until It was all over. What mattered was what he’d proven to her during those agonizingly long moments they’d been together.

He was the type of cop who literally laid his life on the line for the people he served.

The type of cop who would die to save a total stranger.

The type of cop who had nearly done just that, to save an innocent life.

Her life.

She looked down at the newspaper again, at the stark black and white photograph. It was hard to believe it was really him; the spit-and-polish young officer of eight years ago had vanished. The photograph showed a tall, lean man in a slightly disreputable-looking black leather jacket, his dark hair falling in a long sweep down to an unshaven jaw. That jaw, strong, unyielding, was the same. But the eyes were shadowed now, and she wondered what had happened since that day to destroy the light in them.

Eight years of being a cop, she told herself. That could do it to anyone.

Reluctantly she began to read the article. She scanned the accusations, that Beck had taken a bribe to back off from the very man he’d been sent undercover to investigate, made a sound of disgusted disbelief and skipped to the lower paragraphs. There she found mention of his actions that day in the bank, taking out the heavily armed, flak-jacketed robber. That had earned him the promotion to detective, and three years ago he had transferred into the narcotics division. Where others had failed, Logan had managed to infiltrate a bastion that had remained impervious to previous police efforts, the drug operation and extortion racket of a man who’d murdered the last officer who’d tried it.

And then he’d gone over to the other side? Been unable to resist the temptation of piles of easy cash?

The allegation rankled. She couldn’t, wouldn’t, and didn’t believe it.

She went about finishing her unpacking with a fierce energy the innocent boxes didn’t deserve. She didn’t have that much stuff, really, she’d only brought some personal files, reference material, photos and the framed news story of her father’s famous rescue. There was more at home, but until she knew exactly what she’d need here, there didn’t seem much point in lugging it all in. She doubted she’d have much use for some of it anyway, not as an assistant to a department head.

She was nearly done when her new boss appeared in her doorway.

“Good morning, Liana.”

The trim blond woman looked very different today, clad in khaki pants and a cheery red sweater. Her movements were quick and lithe, belying the faintest touches of silver at her temples. Liana had no idea how old her new boss was, and had realized early on in that lengthy interview that it didn’t matter; Lilith Mercer had the energy and drive of any twenty-something.

“Mrs. Mercer. Good morning.”

She forced herself to smile. While she’d spoken several times on the telephone to the new head of Redstone’s Research and Development department, she’d only met her in person three times, twice during the long interview process, and again two weeks ago when the woman had called and invited her to dinner, where she had made the official job offer. She’d liked the woman’s brisk, no-nonsense approach, and knew that Josh had to have a lot of faith in her to get the department back on its feet after her predecessor had been caught trying to sell out Redstone.

“We’re going to be working very closely together, so I think you should call me Lilith,” the woman said with a smile. Liana smiled back; it was impossible not to respond to the warmth in the woman’s eyes. “We’re not much for formality around here.”

Liana glanced down at her own business suit, and couldn’t stop a wry smile from curving her mouth. “Does that mean I can retire this?”

The woman smiled. “You may,” she said. “Unless you’re more comfortable in it.”

“Panty hose? I think not,” Liana said. Lilith laughed; it was a warm, welcoming sound.

“You’ll find that what matters around here is the quality of your work, not your attire,” Lilith said. “You have your access card and identification?”

“Yes,” Liana said.

“Any trouble getting in this morning?”

“No.” It was true. She’d been greeted by name, as if she’d been here for years. Another testament to the efficiency of Redstone.

“Have you met anyone else yet?”

“Besides Josh?” she asked, wonder still tingeing her voice.

Lilith smiled. “Yes, besides Josh.”

“No,” she said. “I truly just arrived.”

“Well, then, come with me.”

The next few minutes were a blur of faces and names, although Liana knew there weren’t really that many. It was just that she was distracted. That photograph from the newspaper was haunting her—not a good way to approach her first day on the job she’d wanted more than any other in her life.

“—and Ian, this is Liana Kiley. She’s going to be helping me with the cleanup.”

Liana snapped back to the present when she realized she was face-to-face with Ian Gamble. In her extensive research before applying to Redstone, she’d studied the somewhat eccentric inventor’s reputation, looked at the incredible list of things he’d developed, been hardly able to believe that everything from a revolutionary prosthetic foot to a bomb detector had come from this single, fertile, brilliant mind. And this was the man JetCal, her former employer, had stolen from, this was the man who had imagined and produced what they’d wanted to take credit for.

Now that she was face-to-face with him, she was more than a little stunned. Vivid green eyes assessed her through wire-rimmed glasses that did little to mask the lively intelligence behind those eyes. His sandy hair was a bit long, the glossy strands flopping forward to his brows in that stubborn way thick hair had.

“Ian can help you if you have any technical questions about R & D,” Lilith was saying. “If you need to know if something someone else is doing bears too close a resemblance to our work to be coincidental, he’s your go-to guy.”

She’d expected a more professorial type. But then, this was the man married to the woman from Redstone Security who’d conducted her background investigation, including contacting her family; she’d heard from her little brother that the most spectacular blonde on the planet had been to the house to interview them. He’d waxed eloquent about the serious hotness of Samantha Gamble, and knowing the amazing reputation of Redstone Security, Liana imagined it took a bit more than a stereotypical lab worker to keep up with a woman like that.

Not that anyone she’d met at Redstone so far could ever be called stereotypical. She’d never been in a place that crackled with as much energy, intelligence and enthusiasm as Redstone Headquarters. It had surpassed every expectation she’d had when she’d applied for this job, and she knew she was going to love it here.

If, she amended silently, she didn’t manage to be among the rarities, a Redstone employee who got fired on her first day for not paying attention.

Hastily she scrambled to catch up. Ian Gamble smiled at her sympathetically. He really was attractive, she thought, in a boyish, bookish kind of way.

“It’s a bit overwhelming, isn’t it?” Ian said.

Gratefully she nodded. “It is. Coming to work here is so important to me, I’m afraid now that I’m here I’m a little scattered.”

“We’ll cure you of that,” Lilith said briskly but not unkindly. “Come along.”

Ordering herself to focus, Liana followed.

Merry freaking Christmas, Logan Beck thought.

He was, without a doubt, screwed.

He rubbed his eyes. He couldn’t believe that after twelve years as a cop he was sitting here on the wrong side of an interview table, in a room improbably festooned with some worse-for-wear tinsel garland and with a window smeared with that spray-on snow that looked like dried cottage cheese.

Nearly a year of round-the-clock work, walking that hideously fine line, living with the scum of the city, knowing he could be discovered and executed at any moment, all of it for nothing. His cover was blown, all the progress he’d made in the investigation wasted.

But the worst part was that, if he’d been on the other side, looking at the parade of evidence Internal Affairs was trotting out, he’d suspect him, too. And he didn’t know how to deal with that.

“—explain that deposit into your bank account?”

“I told you I can’t,” Logan said wearily. “I only know I didn’t put it there.”

“Look, Beck, everybody knows it’s hard. You work with slime like that, see them rolling in cash, while you’re risking your life for next to nothing…”

Logan looked up then. George Harkin had been, if not a friend, at least not an enemy, once. They’d gone through the police academy together and had worked in the patrol division at the same time. Harkin had transferred to IA shortly after Logan had gotten the promotion to detectives.

“You think I did this, don’t you?” He couldn’t quite believe it even as he said the words.

“I think anybody can succumb to temptation, given the right circumstances.”

There was a note of superiority in his tone that made Logan flinch inwardly. Harkin had congratulated him on the promotion to detectives eight years ago, but the words had been tinged with an edge that had made Logan wonder if they were genuine. Now he had the sinking feeling he’d been right.

“I swear, George, I didn’t. Why would I?”

Harkin shrugged, as if motive was the least significant part of this equation and not his concern. Logan had always known Harkin was ambitious, had his eyes on a steady climb in the department. Apparently if that climb included jettisoning friends and the truth, so be it.

“Think about it,” he said, hoping to find some trace of the man who had once been his friend in the man sitting in ominous silence across the table from him. “Don’t you wonder how all this evidence just sort of fell into your lap? A string of anonymous tips about a cop working undercover? You know that’s suspect right there.”

“Yet everything the caller gave us proved out. Including the money.”

“For God’s sake, do you really think if I took the money I’d be stupid enough to just dump it in a bank account anybody could check up on?”

“I don’t know, Logan. Maybe you are that stupid. Or maybe you’ve been dipping into the product, and it’s fried your brain.”

Shock slammed through Logan, and he leaped to his feet. The chair he’d been in hit the floor with a crash.

“You think I’m using? It’s not enough you believe I’m on the take, now you think I’m a junkie, a crackhead?”

“You had access, your actions became questionable…it makes sense.”

Logan swore, low and harsh, and his fists clenched. “I don’t believe this. I don’t believe you.”

Harkin lifted a brow, his expression showing that same trace of superiority his voice had earlier. “Can’t believe you’re not the big hero anymore? You’d better believe it, Beck. You’re already buried, you just don’t know it yet. Cops like you give the rest of us a bad name.”

Logan consciously relaxed his hands. He gave up battling the chill he’d been fighting since Harkin and his cohorts had shown up at his undercover apartment. He let it envelop him, cooling his anger. When he spoke, his voice was flat, emotionless.

“Am I under arrest?”

“Not yet,” Harkin admitted, obviously grudgingly.

“Then get the hell out of my way,” Logan said, and pushed past him toward the door.

“Don’t even think about running, Beck.”

He turned on his heel to look back at the man. A sour taste rose in his throat. “Why not? Then you could just shoot me and be done with it. Maybe in the back.”

“Just doing my job,” Harkin said, and the smirk that crossed his face then told Logan he’d fallen for the bait, done exactly what the man had wanted.

Logan spun back around and continued out the door. He resisted, with no small effort, the urge to slam it shut behind him. Instead he closed it quietly, walked quickly around the corner to the elevators, jammed the call button, then slumped against the wall, feeling utterly exhausted. He shoved a hand through his tangled hair, the length reminding him yet again of what he’d lost in the last seventy-two hours. His case, nearly a year of his life, quite probably his job and possibly even his freedom. His fingers pushed down on his scalp, wishing he could ease the sensation of the top of his head wanting to blow off.

The elevator door slid open, and he was grateful to see it was empty. He’d had enough of the sideways looks, the glances rife with either suspicion or pity, coming from people he’d once considered his family, the ones he’d thought had his back, as he would have had theirs, no questions asked.

He stepped into the elevator, let the door slide shut after him, but didn’t reach for the control panel. He told himself he was panicking, but he couldn’t quite stop the thought that his career as a cop, the one thing he’d aspired to his entire life, was over. He’d never really wanted anything else. His view of the job had changed, he’d learned it wasn’t quite the pillar of justice and fairness he’d imagined as a kid, but it was still the only thing he wanted to do. He’d dedicated his life to it, at the cost of almost everything else. He’d done his best, had been proud of his accomplishments but never given up the drive to do better, do more, help more of the good people, put more bad guys away.

And now it was he who was likely going to be put away.

He suppressed a shudder and wondered what the current life expectancy was of a cop who went to prison. But at least in prison, he’d know who to trust—nobody. And he couldn’t help thinking that that might be easier than finding out he couldn’t trust those he’d thought he could count on. He was on his own, and sinking fast.