Page 21 of Duty Devoted
“It’s more than that. They trust you. Respect you.”
“Why does that surprise you?”
He studied me with those dark eyes. “It doesn’t. But trust can be dangerous in places like this. Makes people vulnerable.”
“Everything here is dangerous.” I stopped walking to face him again. “Including self-important security contractors who think they know better than the people actually doing the work.”
He raised one eyebrow. “That what you think I am? Self-important?”
“I think you’re here to check boxes and collect a paycheck from my parents.” The words came out harsher than intended. “One week of babysitting the idealistic doctor, then back to whatever war zone pays better.”
Something flashed in his eyes, but his voice remained level. “You don’t know anything about why I do this job.”
“Enlighten me.”
“Maybe I believe in helping people too. Just differently than you do.”
“By dragging them away from where they’re needed?”
“By keeping them alive.” He stepped closer, intensity radiating from every line of his body. “That is my primary mission.”
“You sound like a robot. I didn’t ask for your protection.”
“No, but you’ve got it anyway. So maybe try not to make my job impossible.”
We stood there, too close, tension crackling between us like a live wire. For a moment, something else flickered in hisexpression—heat, maybe, or interest. But it was gone before I could be sure, replaced by that maddening professional mask.
“We should finish rounds,” I said, hating how breathless I sounded.
“Yeah.” He stepped back, creating distance. “Lead on.”
We walked farther into the village toward Carlos Quispe’s house.
“Carlos is my most complicated case right now,” I explained. “A bullet fragment is still lodged near his spine. I’ve been debating whether he needs surgery I can’t provide here.”
Logan nodded, but I noticed his posture had changed—more alert, more focused on our surroundings rather than our conversation.
“Something wrong?”
“Maybe,” he said. “Just noticed we’ve been in the village for over an hour, and I haven’t seen or heard many vehicles. Now, I’m hearing engines.”
I listened, catching the low rumble of engines beneath normal village sounds. My stomach clenched with familiar dread.
“Supply delivery?” But even as I said it, I knew better. Supply trucks didn’t sound like that—aggressive, fast, multiple vehicles.
Logan’s hand moved to his waistband, a subtle adjustment that told me he was armed. “How often does the cartel come through?”
“Not often.” The engines grew louder, closer. “But when they do…”
The first black SUV rounded the corner, kicking up dust. Then a second. A third.
My blood turned to ice as I recognized the lead vehicle.
The Silvas were here.
Chapter 7
Lauren
