At the airport, the army were everywhere and the trepidation and confusion were palpable. People rushed about, seeking tickets to leave the country, dragging hastily packed belongings. Logan pushed his way through the crowd and directed me to a medical centre where my arm was cleaned and bandaged, and my other injuries checked. He then consigned me to an airport assistant who was to see me safely on board the next plane.

“I have to leave you now. I think I’ll pack up the centre and get out too. It’ll take a couple of days to tie up loose ends, but I want you gone first so I can concentrate on the job.”

His worried face gazed down at me and I felt a sudden vacuum at the thought of leaving him. We had spent less than two days together, but the bond forged by our shared experience was not so easily broken.

His warm hand reached out and his fingers closed around my chin. “Niki, you did well. You’ve got grit.”

“You did well too.” I smiled, but my eyes were heavy with unshed tears.

He leaned forward and kissed me – gently and quickly, his lips brushing mine, then pulled back. But I wasn’t leaving him like that – it wasn’t enough. I put my hand behind his head and brought his face back down and this time, his mouth closed over mine, forcing my lips apart and I could feel his passion glide down through my chest and sink into my pelvis, where it flooded my nerve endings and set my skin alight. I pulled away gasping.

“Wow. Nice.” I pushed my hair back off my forehead and grinned. “Can we do that again sometime?”

Logan smiled and brushed his own hair off his forehead. “I guess we’d better. I know where to find you.” He turned and I watched with a dull ache of longing inside as he disappeared into the crowd.

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