But she couldn’t stop wanting him. Maybe she’d never stopped.
God, her life was falling apart. She hoped that when this case was over, her fever for Logan would be, too. But she feared that was wishful thinking.
“Brad, this isn’t the place to discuss us. Let me get dressed. We’ll talk in the car for a bit.”
“Our relationship is a mess, and you want to give me ten minutes in the Audi?”
His sarcasm made her wince. “It’s all I can spare now. Tonight, we’ll talk—”
“No. Right here, right now, I want to know what’s most important to you. Either you—”
“Don’t do this.” Tara had a terrible felling that she knew what his next words would be and she wasn’t ready to face this so soon after Logan had opened up everything vulnerable inside her.
“Quit this case—”
“Stop. Brad . . .” Distress stabbed her chest.
“Or give me back my ring. Because I’ll be god damned if I’m going to do nothing while you come here every day to play kinky personal trainer with your ex-boyfriend for your ‘job.’”
Dread made her stomach plummet to her knees. Since yesterday, Tara had feared that if Brad learned Logan was prepping her for this mission that he’d blow a gasket, but this wasn’t the reaction she’d imagined. Anger, yes. Betrayal, absolutely. But this?
“You’re reading this wrong, Brad. Logan is a highly skilled non-Bureau contractor assigned to teach me everything I need to succeed and save Darcy. You know how important this is to me, to make Adam proud, see if the field is where I belong.”
“You talked about interviews, maybe a demonstration or a walkthrough of all this BDSM shit. Not hands-on experience with your ex.”
Logan got in his face. “Are you really such a prick that you’d want her to go into a potentially dangerous situation without the proper training?”
“Someone else can teach her what she needs to know.”
“I told you,” Tara insisted. “The brass put my training in Dominion’s hands because no one at the Bureau is equipped to teach me properly. The head of this club thinks Logan can prepare me to survive in this world. At this point, I think the smartest thing is for me to listen to the people who know what the hell they’re doing. What’s the brass going to say if I walk in as a junior agent on her first assignment and tell them how it’s going to go down? They would laugh at me. Nor can I walk off this case without losing credibility.”
“Maybe so, but they can’t force you stay with this job.”
Tara’s jaw dropped. “You’re asking me to quit the FBI for you?”
That took his jealousy too far. It was a betrayal of everything she wanted and believed in. Brad worked to all hours of the night. He’d asked her to sacrifice for his career, claiming that it was for the good of both of them. But her job didn’t mean anything?
“For us,” he stressed. “I’m asking you to think about our future. Take a job that doesn’t put you in the hands of ruthless bastards and criminals for a paycheck. A job you won’t have to prostitute your integrity for.”
“You’re asking me to choose between my aspirations and my fiancé? I need to know if I’m meant to spend my life in the field. And I can’t leave my maid of honor in some sick bastard’s dungeon. What about Darcy and the other victims? Am I supposed to just let them die?”
“C’mon, Tara. As much as I hate to say it, they’re probably either already dead or sold. Let’s say what this really is about. Do you want a man who wants to love you for the rest of your life, or the douche bag who’s going to treat you like a piece of ass—again.”
Brad wanted her to choose between Logan and himself, between the past and the future. He was forcing her to lay her cards on the table now.
“You don’t know a damn thing about me or how I feel about Tara,” Logan growled, suddenly standing protectively by her side. “You’ve said a lot of really ugly things about the woman you supposedly love. Have to guilt her into staying with you?”
“You really want to go there?” Brad glared at Logan, despite being four inches shorter and having thirty fewer pounds of pure muscle. “From here, it looks like you have to tie them down to keep them from running away, screaming.”
“Stop it, both of you!” Tara glared from one to the other. “Brad, this isn’t about Logan.”
Fists clenched, Brad looked like a kettle ready to blow, all red and worked up. Logan appeared calm on the surface, but she wasn’t fooled. Under that façade was a deadly force he could unleash at will.
“Don’t kid yourself, Tara.” Brad shook his head. “Either get your clothes on and come with me or give me back my ring.”
“Who’s the douche bag now?” Logan said, staring at Brad with disdain.
“Yeah, if the shoe was on the other foot?”