Chapter One

“Who in the hell is the woman?” An angry snarl. “You were supposed to come alone, Logan. As in, by your freaking self. You know better than this. You don’t bring the current lady you’re screwing to a death match.”

Logan Sterling let out a very long and very annoyed sigh. “Someone is certainly being overly dramatic.” He barely glanced toward the giant cage that waited about fifteen feet away in the center of the theater. “At most, it’s a cage match. Not a death match. Also, call me crazy, but I believe the match is scheduled for tomorrow night, not tonight.” A pause. “Though, hate to break it to you, but that match will be canceled.”

“No damn way.” The jerk in front of Logan glared harder. “No cancellation. None. I never cancel my bouts. Your player is gonna be fighting. I told you before, I’m not giving him up. You shouldn’t have brought the woman for this chat. Now send her out. Your current screw is just going to have to wait outside while we⁠—”

“Nope. That is unacceptable to me.” Logan lifted one hand. “You’ll talk about her with respect or you just won’t talk about her at all.”

The glare turned into a gape.

Logan nodded. “So much better.” Then, with the hand still lifted in the air, he waved back toward the woman standing a few feet behind him. “This is Charlotte.” Charlotte Webb. Like that name didn’t make him want to smile. Except, yeah, not really a smiling situation. More like a I-hope-I-don’t-have-to-kill-someone situation. “She’s my new personal assistant.” She was not. Such a lie. Charlotte was actually an undercover operative. A real-life CIA spy. One who had forced her way into his life, and now…

She was his twenty-four, seven shadow. A gorgeous, sexy shadow who had appeared at his Vegas casino-slash-hotel earlier that day and informed him that she would be following his every move. Incredibly poor timing on her part. And his.

Dammit. Sometimes, his luck was really shit.

This is one of those times.

If he had to kill the man in front of him, just how would the CIA operative respond? Probably not well. He was sure murdering a man was not approved behavior. Logan hoped she would not interfere.

“You brought your personal assistant here? Knowing what’s to come?” Morris Hart grunted out a laugh. “You really are one demented prick. You want the lady to see you get the hell beaten out of you?”

Logan glanced at his wrist, pretending to study the watch that he wasn’t wearing. “Oh, look at that. You’re wasting my valuable time.”

No more laughing. “You’re such an asshole,” Morris snarled at him.

“Shockingly, I have been told that before. On numerous occasions. So many, in fact, that I’ve lost count.” His gaze swept around the area. Once upon a time, the place had been a thriving theater in one of the higher end casinos. Emphasis on…once upon a time. The casino had failed. The performances had ended. The original owner had filed for bankruptcy. Since then, the location had changed hands dozens of times, often through shady real estate transactions so that the paper trail for the place was exceedingly hard to find.

And now…bam. It was the pit of hell. Basically, anyway. A late-night spot for brutal cage matches. The matches didn’t stop, not until one of the fighters was bloody on the floor. There was never any giving up. No surrender. There was just…

Agony. Destruction.

Broken bones that might never heal. Injuries that would wipe a man out for months. Or years. Or forever.

“I don’t like this place,” Logan mused as his gaze lingered on the cage that had been erected. A very tall cage. His nose wrinkled. “It smells like blood and bleach in here, and seriously, that is not the aroma that will attract high-end clientele, know what I mean?”

Morris fisted his hands. “You want the pretty lady to watch you get your ass kicked?”

“Not particularly, I don’t desire that. To be honest with you, I didn’t want the pretty lady here at all.” True story. He’d told her to stay behind. Asked ever-so-politely for her to remain in the limo he had parked outside.

Charlotte had refused. She’d insisted on accompanying him. So, there they were. All in the pit of hell. Logan sighed again. “I wanted her to wait for me somewhere else, but, hey, what are you gonna do? Handcuff her to a chair?” Like that option didn’t hold promise.

“Ahem.”

Ah. That was Charlotte. Clearing her throat. Stepping closer.

He turned his head to frown at her. “I know you’re new,” Logan began. “But there are rules involved when it comes to being my personal assistant.” Or, there should be rules. He’d have to invent some, and he could do that. Right then and there. “Rule one, stay behind me in dangerous situations.”

Charlotte blinked her gorgeous, deep golden eyes. Seriously, golden. Not some weak gold but one that was vivid and strong. Her head tilted to the right as she studied him with that focused stare of hers, and for a moment, Logan might have almost forgotten to breathe.

“Why are we in this dangerous situation?” Charlotte asked him in an exceedingly polite tone of voice. “You didn’t exactly explain this visit to me.” Her hair skimmed over her jaw. He liked her hair. Dark and silky. Maybe with just a few red highlights hidden deep inside. Hard to tell for certain, but he thought they were there.

Her full lips were currently a little tight as she stared at him, but he’d already decided that Charlotte had a delectable lower lip. It was just a little bit fuller than the top, and he could easily imagine giving that lower lip a little bite.

If, say, she wasn’t a CIA operative who’d blackmailed her way into his life and was now forcing him to cooperate with the authorities. Ugh. Talk about a pain in the ass.

Cooperation was not something he did. Ever. Especially when that cooperation involved the authorities. In this particular case, he had to deal with arrogant, we-know-best, international spy-type authorities. He was so not in the mood for their drama.

He had enough drama to deal with on his own, thank you very much.

“Logan,” Morris snarled at him. “Are you here to flirt with your assistant or are you here to fight?”

Right. Case in point, he had to deal with this bullshit right in front of him.

Charlotte’s delicate brows rose. “I’m sorry.” She didn’t sound sorry. Not at all. She sounded mildly curious, and her long lashes had just fluttered as she blinked at him…blinked at him from behind the lenses of the sexiest damn glasses.

His PA wore a pair of glasses with black frames. They perched on her delicate little nose. She hadn’t worn the glasses when he’d first been introduced to her in London. But when she’d shown up in Vegas earlier that day…

She’d been wearing her buttoned-down blouse, the pencil skirt that fell to her knees. No-nonsense black heels. And the glasses.

Maybe Charlotte thought that the glasses gave her some sort of studious air. Made her look business-like.

Nope. They just make you look sexier, sweetheart.

They also made her eyes look somehow bigger. Deeper. And⁠—

Morris snapped his fingers.

Seriously, snapped his fingers. At Logan.

Oh, dumbass, I’ll be breaking those fingers. Because did it look like Logan was some dog?

“Over here,” Morris thundered. “I’m standing right here, waiting for your fool ass to make me some kind of real offer in order to buy the fighter’s freedom, and all you are doing is mooning over your PA. Fuck her after we are done. We have business to conduct.”

Again, Logan sighed. “Some people have no manners,” he lamented to Charlotte. “Just pure rudeness.”

She bit that delectable lower lip. “Uh, Logan…”

“So I’ll just have to teach those individuals how to behave. Don’t worry. It shouldn’t take too long.” His hands reached out. Curled around her shoulders. Brought her closer. Close enough that he could smell her heady scent. He breathed it in. Deep. “What is that scent?”

“It’s, um, called Passion and Candy.”

Utterly fascinating. “Tell. Me. More.” He forgot Morris, for the moment.

“It’s really just a mix of vanilla sugar and, I think…raspberries. Body lotion.” Breathless. “Logan, sir…”

Oh, that was fun.

“I think we should leave this location,” Charlotte finished in a rush.

“That is on the agenda.” Deliberately, Logan maneuvered her so that she stood behind him. Completely so. “After I finish my meeting.”

She grabbed the back of his shirt. “There are four of them.”

“I can count,” he murmured. He could. He had.

“You didn’t come in with backup!”

Morris swaggered closer. “Didn’t you hear the part where he was supposed to come alone, lady?” Morris pointed one fat finger toward the exit. “Send her back to the car. Hell, better yet, let one of my boys take her out.” A wide smile. “Don’t you worry, my guy will keep her nice and occupied.” Another snap of his fingers. “Raymond, go take this pretty thing outside, will you? Keep her occupied.”

Raymond—young, with a wide neck, fingers full of rings, and a piercing through his nose—immediately stalked forward. “My pleasure.” His head swiveled as he craned to look around Logan, and his lustful stare focused on Charlotte.

Don’t look at my PA that way.

Seriously, this crew needed instructions on manners. Fortunately, Logan was up for the challenge. His grandmother had always taught him how important it was to have manners in any situation.

He waited patiently and when Raymond attempted to walk around him in order to get at Charlotte, Logan ripped out the guy’s nose piercing.

Raymond screamed. Blood spurted. And Logan smiled. “Great. Do I have everyone’s attention now?” He tossed the ring away.

“My nose!” Raymond yelled. He dropped to the floor. One hand covered his nose. The other searched for his piercing, a gold hoop. “Look what you did!”

Logan didn’t give a shit. He also didn’t need to look. His eyes were on Morris. His main target. “You are trying to force one of my employees into your cage.” Real anger simmered in his voice. Seriously, how annoying. You left town for a few weeks in order to handle some business abroad, and a rival tried to snipe one of your employees. Not cool. “Jake will not be fighting in your match tomorrow. He will not ever be fighting for you.”

“Jake’s dad owes me ten grand!” Morris huffed. He ignored the bleeding Raymond. “His old man traded Jake to me in exchange for the debt. That means Jake will fight whenever I want.”

Right. That was the way Morris typically acquired his fighters. They ran up a debt—or someone close to them did—and the only way out of that debt was to bleed in Morris’s cage. Only this time, that was not happening. “You picked the wrong player,” Logan informed him. “You picked one of mine.”

Morris grinned at him. “You want him back? You want the debt canceled? Fine. Then you can trade your ass for his.” Mocking laughter. “You can get in the cage. Because someone has to enter. I’ve got to have my fight. You can take his place tomorrow night, and if you manage to beat my fighter, then we can talk about Jake and⁠—”

“Nope. I’m done talking. But I am in the mood to fight. Though I don’t need a cage to do it, and I won’t be waiting until tomorrow. I’ll take the battle here and now.” With that, Logan lunged forward. His fist slammed into Morris’s jaw. The man had a glass jaw. Always had. Always would. Morris went down, hard, his whole body rolling on the floor.

That seemed to be the signal for the other goons to attack. And they did. One rushed at Logan with a knife.

Seeing as how Logan had recently acquired a slash on his right cheek that required seven stitches, he wasn’t particularly in the mood to feel the slice of a blade on his skin again. “Bad mistake,” he snarled at his attacker.

He disarmed the punk in two seconds. Threw the knife, embedded it in a nearby wall. Logan drove a right hook at the man. A hook, then a gut punch. Then a powerful left that sent the man crumbling.

The next fool came at him—tall, lean. But not with a knife. Armed with a gun. Because, sure, when you couldn’t take down your opponent in a hand-to-hand fight, you always went with the gun. “Hardly fair,” Logan grunted. Also, “Charlotte, get down!” Not like he wanted a stray bullet hitting her.

The CIA would roast his ass if that happened.

“Get him!” Morris shouted. Ah, so he was back in the game, was he? “Shoot him!” Morris urged. “Shoot. Him!”

Logan launched at the man with the gun. He tackled him. They hit the floor. “Is this really any way to conduct a business meeting?” Logan asked as he wrenched the gun away. Then he slammed the butt of that gun into the creep’s head. “Night, night.”

“Shoot!” Morris screamed. “Shoot!”

Oh, hell. Logan whipped around. The bloody, missing-nose-ring punk had a gun in his hand now. One aimed at Logan and he was⁠—

Jerking. Shuddering. The punk’s eyes rolled back in his head even as drool poured from his gaping mouth.

Why? What had just caused all the jerking and shuddering?

Charlotte. His new PA stood behind the little bastard. With a taser gripped in her hand. A taser she’d just shoved into the side of his neck.

Still keeping the taser in place, she took the gun from the guy. Then she removed her taser and let him fall forward. His body quivered a few times.

She nudged him with her high heel. Then straightened her shoulders and lifted her chin. “Do you require additional assistance, sir?” she asked Logan in a crisp, cool, professional tone.

Well, well. Logan smiled at her. “I think you are going to be one exceptional PA.”

Her lips pressed into a thin line.

Morris tried to make a run for it. Logan caught him near the cage. He slammed Morris’s face into the side of the cage. “You can’t leave yet.” Logan felt distinctly cheery now. “The meeting isn’t even over.” He flipped Morris around. Pinned him in place.

Morris whimpered.

“Guess who owns this building now?” Logan asked him.

“I-I…do?”

“Nope. Not as of three hours ago. I do. I own the building. I decided to take a more active interest in my neighborhood, mostly because you were bringing down my property value.” He smiled at his prey. “You made a fatal mistake. You went after someone who belonged to me. Now your cage matches? That stupid shit you would run every single week? Over. This place is mine. This town is mine. And if you want to keep seeing daylight, you’ll have your ass and your whole crew—you will all be gone from Vegas by dawn. Got me?”

“G-got you.”

“See, that wasn’t hard.” He looked over at Charlotte. A Charlotte who gripped the gun that the bleeding thug had dropped. “I’m really great at negotiating.”

Charlotte nodded. “Yes, I can see that you’re fantastic. A real people person.”

“You have no idea. Wait until you see me engage in contract negotiations.” His attention shifted back to a very watchful Morris. “Contract killer negotiations,” Logan clarified.

“OhmyGod,” Morris breathed.

“Ready to hitch that ride out of town?” Logan asked.

“You’ll never see me again.” A fast promise.

“I hope not.” Mild tone but dark words as Logan added, “Because if I do, Morris, you’re a dead man.”

***

“You should have taken me in with you, boss.” A deep rumble from the limo driver. He waited near the long, sleek, black ride, his arms crossed over his chest and his shoulders hunched.

“No worries, Barney.” Logan slapped him on the shoulder and motioned toward Charlotte. “I had my new PA with me. Charlotte totally kicks ass and takes names. Or maybe she tases ass and doesn’t ask for names. Effective, either way.”

Logan Sterling thought he was funny. Clearly.

He was not funny. Clearly. Based on her observations, he was dangerous, potentially unhinged, and he had a taste for violence.

The limo driver—Charlotte knew his name was actually Barnabas Bailey—tossed her a suspicious glance before he hauled open the vehicle’s back door. “She doesn’t look particularly dangerous.”

Logan laughed. A rich, warm sound. “Appearances are deceptive with her. I’m telling you, she’s gonna earn herself a raise within a week.” He motioned for her to enter the limo first.

Her high heels clicked over the broken pavement. After murmuring a quick thanks to the driver, Charlotte climbed inside.

Driver. Bodyguard. Hired gun. She was pretty sure that Barnabas was all three of those things. When the CIA had peered into his past, they’d actually found links to him being a former mercenary. Like that was reassuring.

Logan pulled the door shut after he entered, not waiting for Barnabas, then Logan sprawled—rather broadly and a bit too close—next to Charlotte.

The back of the limo glowed with a soft, warm light. A fully stocked bar waited to the right, and when Barnabas began to drive a few moments later, soothing music filled the air. Her eyebrows rose at the music. Not like she’d expected Logan to go for Mozart. She’d pictured him as more of a hard rocker.

“Barney,” he groused. “Playing his shit again.”

She didn’t think that Mozart was actually, uh, shit. Quite the opposite.

Her gaze darted to the front of the vehicle. The tinted privacy screen was fully in place. So Barnabas was the one who liked the classical music?

“Don’t worry, sweetness. He can’t see us or hear us. So you can spill all sorts of juicy spy secrets, and I’m the only one who would know.” His knee brushed against her leg.

With one finger, she poked at his offending knee, then deliberately moved it away from her person.

“Don’t like being touched?” A careful question from Logan.

“I’m merely keeping things professional.” That had sounded prissy. Too prim. She nearly winced at her own words. But it wasn’t like she wanted to tell the man…

When you touch me, I feel this heat rush through my blood. A heat. A…yearning. It seems to surge through me and my heart races, and my breath comes a little faster, and I want to get a bit closer to you.

Nope. Not going to say those words. She had a job to do. A mission to accomplish. She could not afford to be sidetracked.

It was all Logan’s fault, of course. The man was entirely, ridiculously too sexy. All that thick, tousled, dark hair. Those intense brown eyes. That hard jaw, lined with stubble. That strong nose—a nose that appeared to have been broken at least twice. And even the still red scar on his right cheek made Logan appear dangerously attractive. A scar shouldn’t have made him more gorgeous. And yet, somehow, it did.

“Professional.” Logan seemed to taste the word. His lips twisted. Sensual, sculpted lips.

Stop noticing his lips!

“That’s an interesting term. Kinda…boring, don’t you think?”

She could feel the heat from his body reaching out to surround her. His crisp scent teased her nose, and her gaze had just dropped to his hands. His hands pressed flat against his thighs. His broad, muscled, jean-clad thighs.

He wore jeans, battered boots, and a black t-shirt. And he was so sexy that all of the moisture was drying from her mouth.

Get it together! She’d been on dozens of dangerous, international missions. She’d stopped assassins. She’d infiltrated a drug ring. She had stopped a major weapons deal in Russia just four months ago.

Why, why was she so weak in the knees for this man?

“I didn’t expect a boring secret agent when I was blackmailed into this circus.” His head cocked to the right. “Figured you’d be an adrenaline junkie who lived for the thrill of the mission.”

“So sorry to disappoint you.”

“Nothing about you has disappointed me.”

Now that caught her off guard. Her gaze whipped up to catch him studying her far too intently.

Boom. Boom. Boom. Her heartbeat was so loud that she suspected he could hear it.

“What’s up with the glasses?” he murmured.

“Uh, they let people see better.”

His lips quirked even more. “I mean, you didn’t have them on when we met in London. Are they part of your disguise? Trying to go for professional and understated, are we?”

Yes, actually, she was.

“Doesn’t work. They just make your eyes look bigger, more golden. They frame your face too well, and you look sexy as hell. Slutty glasses really work for you.”

Her mouth opened. Then closed. Then opened. “Did you just call my glasses slutty?” That wasn’t a thing. Glasses were not slutty.

“Sorry. It’s just that they have this naughty-librarian vibe going on, and they seriously work for you.”

She whipped off the glasses and tossed them onto the seat next to her. “Professional.”

“Right. I will work on that.” His hands lifted, and he held his palms toward her, as if surrendering. “But I am an asshole. You heard Morris. Everyone knows that particular fact about me. So you should probably just report back to your boss that this isn’t going to work. I’m too much of a dick. You can’t get me to cooperate with you. I’m a lost cause. I offend you constantly, and you want someone else for this mission.” A brisk nod. “Totally understandable. Tell your boss all of that stuff.”

The light dawned. And she had to smile at him. A big, wide grin.

“Hell.” He swallowed. She caught the faint click of his Adam’s apple. “That’s dangerous.”

“You’re trying to make me angry.” Obviously. “You’re deliberately saying inappropriate things and attempting to infuriate me so that I will leave you.” She leaned toward him. Put her hand down very close to his thigh. Not touching him because she knew that if she did, she’d feel that powerful attraction again. Yes, dammit, attraction. “Not happening. I am in this mission until completion. So you can call my glasses slutty. You can insult me all you like, but it won’t work. I am not going to run away from you. I am here for the duration.”

He didn’t look away from her. “For the record, I meant slutty in the best possible way. I happen to love slutty things.”

That was actually believable. “I’m sure you do.” Time to take control of this situation. “I saved your life tonight.”

Logan squinted at her. “Did you?”

“Yes.”

“Hmm. I think I had things under control.”

“I think a man with a gun was sneaking up behind you,” she gritted from between clenched teeth.

“I knew he was there,” Logan revealed. “Not like I could forget about the missing-nose-ring punk.”

“I think that if I hadn’t tased him, you would have gotten a bullet to the spine.”

“Nah. That idiot had to be a horrible shot. Worst case, it would have gone in my shoulder, but, like I said, I knew he was there. I would have disarmed him before he fired.”

She frowned at him.

He smiled at her.

“Would it kill you to say thanks?” Charlotte asked.

“You didn’t have a purse with you. No bag at all. I have got to know, just where were you hiding that taser?” His intent stare drifted over her. “So many possibilities…”

“Logan.”

“Charlotte.”

She huffed out a breath. “You are working with the CIA. I am your handler. I am your twenty-four, seven companion⁠—”

“Not exactly.”

“I am your—what do you mean, not exactly?” He’d derailed her.

“I mean, you’re my personal assistant. You work with me during the day. And, sure, some nights. But when we reach the hotel—and we’re almost there, FYI—I will go to my room. You’ll go to your room. Don’t worry, I’ll give you one on the floor below my suite. But you won’t actually be with me in my suite. So not twenty-four, seven. Because that’s not something a personal assistant does. Stay with me during the night, I mean.” A pause. “That’s what a girlfriend does. A lover. In order to sleep in my bed, to truly be twenty-four, seven close, you’d need to take up that role.” He scraped a hand over his jaw. “Interested? Want to switch positions?”

“I—” That was all she could manage. Her hands fisted.

“Do you want to be my lover or my personal assistant? Which works better for you?”

“Stop being outrageous.” Hadn’t she told him that this ploy would not work?

“I wasn’t being outrageous. I was being helpful. I was giving you options.”

“I am your personal assistant.”

“Noted. Then you will sleep downstairs, on the floor below my suite. Such a disappointment for us both.”

The limo was slowing. They were, indeed, at his hotel. His hotel-slash-casino. The huge, red beacon in Vegas. Barnabas pulled them right up to the valet area.

She turned for the door. Logan was driving her crazy. She reached for the door handle.

But his hand caught hers.

“I’m touching you,” he said.

Uh, yes, obviously, he was.

“My apologies if I am breaking a rule you have, but there is something you need to understand. A warning I want to give before anyone opens this door.”

Her head turned. They were very, very close.

And all traces of humor were gone from his face.

“I put you behind me tonight for a reason,” he rasped. “When we were meeting with Morris, I deliberately had you positioned behind me so that I could protect you.”

“I don’t need protection.”

“Don’t you?”

Uh, no, she’d just said⁠—

“You will not ever be hurt when I am the target. I will shield you from my enemies.”

He wasn’t supposed to be the target in this mission.

“You follow my orders, Charlotte. Or this does not work. I don’t care what the CIA thinks I owe them. You put yourself in danger again, and we’re done.”

Oh, was that what he thought? Soft laughter rolled from her.

He blinked. Twice. And looked, for just a moment, spellbound.

Her hand rose and touched his jaw. She felt the prickle of stubble against her palm. “I’m afraid you don’t get to decide when we’re done. I’m here with you until my mission is complete.”

“You haven’t told me what the mission is.”

That would be because it was classified information, and Logan Sterling—one-time petty thief turned criminal mastermind turned hotel and casino magnate—he was not someone she was supposed to trust. He didn’t get classified intel. No civilians ever got classified intel, not on day one of the mission.

“It’s my life you’re invading,” Logan told her. “So you follow my orders.”

The valet attendant opened the door.

She and Logan were positioned close to one another. Intimately so. With her hand on his jaw. With his hand on her. It probably looked as if they were about to kiss. They weren’t. Kissing was not going to happen. She’d play the role of his assistant. She’d do her job. Get him to provide her with the access she needed in order to reach a certain twisted and depraved individual.

But she would make no promises to Logan. Certainly not about allowing him to shield her from his enemies. That just would not work at all.

Because the big plan was for her to attract major attention from one of his enemies. Not just attract that attention, but to become that man’s next potential victim.

Her hand slid away from Logan’s jaw. Her shoulders squared. “Is there anything else you need tonight, sir?”

His eyes glittered. She could hear the sound of voices beyond the vehicle, rising and falling. Car horns honked in the distance. Music played. For just a moment, as Logan stared at her, she thought he might say…

You.

Instead, he shook his head. “I’ll give you a week. Hell, maybe not even that long. Five days.”

There was no timeline on how long she worked undercover. She stayed in place until the job was done.

“Five days,” he repeated. “Before you run screaming from me. I am certain that I will drive you crazy by then.”

She exited the vehicle. As she climbed out, his hand released her wrist. Heat lingered against her skin, like a brand he’d put on her. “I won’t run screaming.”

He exited. Stood beside her. Tall and strong. Six-foot-three. An easy two hundred pounds of muscle. At least.

“We’ll just see about that,” he murmured.

“It takes a lot to make me scream.”

His sensual lips curled. “Trust me, I’m up for the challenge.”

And, for some reason, she felt the impact of that particular vow all through her body.

Logan Sterling is dangerous. Logan Sterling is trouble.

Logan Sterling…was going to be her companion for the foreseeable future.

This particular case might just turn into a nightmare.