Rick balked. “All that, from a few searches?”

“That,” Devon scolded, “is why I’m chief information officer, not you.”

Rick cursed softly. “I was just trying to—”

“Help,” Logan supplied. “I know, but this could turn ugly. Fast.”

“Now that you both have a heads-up, I’m going back to my office to run a few programs, see if I can’t head him off at the pass.” Devon shrugged. “Wherever that is.” She swept out of the room on a mission.

Rick rubbed his scalding red neck. “Look, Logan…”

Arms crossed, Logan waited.

“I’m sorry, man. It wasn’t supposed to go down like this. It’s not like I hacked into the CIA.”

“Maybe you should’ve. Then we’d know what we’re really up against with Hurtz.”

“I’ll make some calls.” Rick grabbed the phone on his desk and dialed a memorized number. “Some people still owe me favors in the Pentagon.”

Thirty minutes later, with the help of old contacts, Logan and Rick pieced together enough information to map out a solution. One that required around-the-clock protection for Allison.

Rick scrubbed a hand down his face. He said raggedly, “I had no idea her ex was a bona fide psycho.”

Logan released a heavy sigh. “Can you blame her for wanting to keep it quiet? Anyone who gets too close or asks too many questions faces a world of hurt he never saw coming.”

“What are you going to do?”

“The only thing I can.” Logan shrugged. “I’m moving her in with me.”

Rick coughed. “You’re kidding.”

“Care to test that?”

At the steely response, Rick held up his hands. “Okay, fine. Not joking. But don’t you think—”

“Haven’t you given enough bad advice for one day?”

Sitting back, Rick stared mutely at his desk.

Logan stood and buttoned his suit jacket. “Now I just need to convince the most stubborn woman I’ve ever met that, to stay safe, I’m her only option.”

This is one argument I look forward to winning . As he left Rick’s office, resolution forged inside him. He nodded to the security guard stationed outside his door. Mind whirling with lawyer-like precision, he walked through his door.

His office was empty. He stopped, looked at the door, looked back at the vacant room. He confronted the guard. “Where is she?”

“You mean the blonde? She was late for an appointment.”

“And you let her leave?” Logan roared. “Your orders were not to let anyone in or out . How was that unclear?”

The man paled. “She—I—she said she had a plane to catch, and if I didn’t let her leave I’d foot her bill. She told me the office would be safe.”

“It isn’t my office I care about.” Damn it . “Get out of here,” he ordered the guard.

The guard managed to follow that directive. Logan slammed his door. Then opened it again and stalked toward Allison’s office. He found it empty. He bit his thumb nail as he paced. He returned to his office and logged into his personal Stone Security account, standing as he typed. He’d put Allison on his account number when he’d upgraded the system in her apartment. He didn’t want her paying for safety he would give her for free. It also sent him alerts if her system was breached.

At the time, he hadn’t expected to use the information to spy on her, but this was important. He wasn’t going to let her take off to God-knew-where before they had a chance to talk. Come up with options. Discuss and make decisions together. He had a say in his child’s future. Allison’s days of flying solo were over.

He accessed the online feed, waited for the download then checked her system’s history. She hadn’t set the code since eight that morning. She hadn’t gone home. He didn’t blame her, with Hurtz now lurking in her subconscious fears. Logan programmed any change in her system’s status to send a text to his cell phone.

His mind churned, grasping for options. He needed someone with connections to air travel. He scrolled through his phone’s contacts list until he found a number he hadn’t dialed in a while. The line picked up.

“Angie, it’s Logan Stone.”

“Well, hey there, gorgeous,” Angie purred on the other end. “It’s about time you called.”

“I need a favor.”

“Mmm, me too.” She gave a silky laugh. “I’m between flights in Houston. Give me two hours to arrange travel to Denver. Your house, around eight?”

Logan arched an eyebrow. “Uh, no. Not that kind of favor.”

“That’s a shame,” she pouted. Finally, she sighed. “Okay, what else can I help you with?”

“I need you to check international travel out of Denver. Flights leaving between five and midnight. Passenger name is Allison Dupree.” Then he added, “Or Allison Hurtz.” He wanted to cover all bases.

Angie paused. “Let me make some calls. I’ll get back to you.”

“Thanks, Angie.”

“You owe me.” Her insinuation left him cold. He punched the end-call button.

Strange, how a woman who’d once turned him on meant nothing. Angie was a good-looking redhead, with a body that wouldn’t quit, but his libido’s former response didn’t register, not even a flicker of appeal.

That was new.

He ran a hand down his face. Damn, Rick was right. Allison had gotten to him on a level that didn’t compare to other women. She was the one he wanted, the only one who made him burn with need. Where the hell was she?

After twenty minutes, Angie called back. Logan gripped his phone. “Anything?”

“Sorry, Logan. There’s no one named Dupree or Hurtz with a plane ticket for a flight out of Denver tonight.”

Relief poured through him. “That’s good news. Thanks, Angie.”

“Call me again, sometime—?”

Logan hung up before she finished her sentence. Rude, considering the weight she’d lifted off his mind. But a new weight took its place.

He had a missing pregnant woman on his hands.

He moved down the hall toward Devon’s office. She was his go-to girl when he needed help with the female psyche.

Devon’s chair was empty, her coat and laptop gone. “Did everyone suddenly take the afternoon off?” He looked at his watch. It was four-thirty. He made a sound of frustration.