Page 2 of Logan

Walking through the aisles, he quickly loaded his cart with the necessities, calculating they would last him several weeks. He preferred to stock up at one time so he didn’t have to make too many trips. Avoiding the few other shoppers, he pushed his cart toward the counter and waited patiently as the woman in front of him balanced a toddler on her hip and tried to contain a small child interested in the candy.

The little boy fingered a candy bar longingly, and Logan could see the wheels turning in his head, wondering if his mother would notice if he took it. Clearing his throat, Logan gained the little boy’s attention. His wide eyes looked up at the large man standing next to him. He snatched his fingers back to his sides before looking down at his shoes.

As the mother paid and placed the toddler back into the cart, she turned to take her little boy’s hand, who glanced back at Logan as they left the store. Logan didn’t mean to scare him, but he knew his grumpy persona probably terrified the kid.

Sighing, he placed his items on the counter, and as they were rung up, he grabbed the candy bar at the last minute. He paid, then grunted his thanks and pushed his cart out to his truck.Seeing the woman strapping her toddler into its car seat, he walked over and handed her the candy bar.

She looked up in surprise as he muttered, “Saw your boy looking at it. I thought he might like to have it. You can give it to him whenever you think it’s appropriate.”

The little boy looked at him with big eyes, and then a shy smile crossed his face. Logan offered a chin lift but wasn’t sure he could manage a smile that wouldn’t scare the kid.

He turned and made his way back to his truck, hearing her thanks called out to his back. Opening the massive ice chest in the back, he placed some of the groceries there and the rest of the bags in the passenger seat. Hauling his tall body up into the driver’s side, he started the truck, pulled out of the parking lot, and headed home.

Offering a chin lift to a few people he knew as he left town, he breathed easier once he was the only vehicle in sight. A few miles farther, he turned onto his long, gravel drive, the view of his hangar and house always giving him a sense of comfort. The place had been his home for a couple of years, but now, he felt restless. Only what he was restless for seemed to elude him.

He parked in his garage and left the door open to ease the unloading of groceries. First, he hauled the ice chest through the laundry room that led from the garage to the kitchen. Setting it down on the floor, he went back to grab the bags before closing the door. Kicking off his boots, he padded into the kitchen, bent over the ice chest, and placed items into the refrigerator and freezer.

Standing quickly, he froze in place. No sounds could be heard, but the hairs on the back of his neck stood up, a sign of danger he had always listened to. A habit that served him well in the military. A former decorated SEAL, his sixth sense had saved his life and the lives of his men more than once.

Depositing the milk into the refrigerator, he closed the door with a soft click before moving stealthily to the drawer where he stowed one of his weapons. Making no sound at all, he walked with a powerful grace that belied his size. Glad for his socked feet, he quietly rounded the corner with his gun in his outstretched hand, his aim facing the living room.

The room danced with shadows from the late afternoon, providing ample cover for any potential intruder. Yet with a quick sweep of the room, he immediately discerned no threat. His attention darted to the porch, where a subtle squeak behind the front door propelled him forward. No visitors ever came to his house, and there was no one he expected to see.

Swinging the door open, he intercepted a man in mid-knock. Their eyes landed first on his face and then immediately dropped to the firearm in Logan’s hand. His gaze searched behind the visitor, and he spied another silhouette just to the side. The only vehicle in the drive was a black SUV rental.

Both men moved into the light, their eyes twinkling as deepening lines emanated from the corners.

Logan lowered his weapon, shaking his head. Not one to beat around the bush, he asked, “What the fuck are you two doing out here? Did I miss the memo for some meeting, or did you get lost?” He remained in place, still stunned at his visitors.

“You going to invite us in, Bishop?” the first man asked, grinning.

Stepping back, he still couldn’t believe who was walking into his house. Jackfuckin’Bryant and, if he wasn’t mistaken, Macewhere-the-hell-did-he-goHanover.

2

Logan was still shocked at his company and surprised that the two men had traveled all the way to Montana without letting him know they were coming. Not that he minded, but with some of the trips he made, it was always a gamble whether he was home. He stepped away from the door, setting the safety on his weapon and waving his arm to welcome his visitors inside.

Jack moved toward him with his hand outstretched. Logan reached out, clasping it, his handshake firm. One of his former SEAL teammates now worked for Jack’s Saints Protection Investigation business in Virginia, and that was how Logan had met the stoic former Army Special Forces soldier.

“Bishop, you’re looking good,” Jack stated, his eyes roving over Logan from head to toe and back again. “Have you met Mace Hanover?”

Logan turned to the other iconic man and shook his hand. “Never met but heard a lot about. Mace, it’s nice to meet you.” Mace had also been former Army Special Forces with Jack, but Mace had gone off the grid and the rumor was he had been recruited for CIA special operations.

The large, dark-haired, olive-skinned man held his gaze and smiled. “I've been looking forward to this for a long time.”

Logan led them into his living space and inclined his head toward the sofa. “Make yourself at home. I was just at the store. You want a beer?”

Jack nodded, and Mace replied, “Wouldn’t turn one down.”

Logan walked into the kitchen, rotely grabbing three bottles from the refrigerator while his mind raced. It was obvious by their visit something was happening, but what? He couldn’t imagine. Letting out a long breath, he returned to the living room, handed each a bottle, and then settled on the chair facing the two men on the sofa. Considering he never had company, he glanced around, wondering what the other men thought of his place.

The small living room was furnished simply with a comfortable sofa and easy chair facing a corner stone fireplace and a flat-screen TV on the wall. Warm paneling covered the walls, decorated with a few framed photographs of Montana vistas in various seasons. A Native American handmade blanket in reds and browns graced the back of the chair. A handwoven rug of the same colors covered the center of the wooden plank floor.

To the right was a table, mostly scattered with papers and a laptop. A map of the area was tacked to the wall nearest the table, with sticky notes denoting several locations. The kitchen, separated from the living room by only a counter, held wooden cabinets and older appliances, a testament that the owner was not a picky chef.

They all took long swigs from their drinks before placing them on the coffee table, and he returned his attention to the men. “Sorry for how I greeted you. Don’t get a lot of visitors out here.” Shaking his head, he scoffed. “Actually, I don’t getanyvisitors out here.”

“I got that feeling, Preacher.” Jack chuckled. “I drove into town, and I have to say, I can’t imagine a more remote place inthe country. When you decided to disappear, you chose really well.”

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