Page 5 of Logan

Logan followed, then stood stoically on the porch as their departure stirred up clouds of dust, leaving a trail down his long lane. He wandered over and sat in one of the chairs, its familiar creak underneath his weight somehow comforting. His gaze scanned the expansive vista. He owned all the land he could see, including the hills at the base of the mountains. He’d lived in this old house for several years, fixing only what broke and not worrying about making it a true home. He now wondered about that inert decision and felt strangely unsettled.Did I think something else was on the horizon?A snort erupted, and he shook his head at the fanciful notion.

Continuing to cast his gaze around, he thought about how Jack and Mace had made it to his house without him knowing. When he’d moved in, he had security on his hangar but had never bothered with his house or property even though he had a great deal of expensive equipment in his basement. Rubbing his chin, he thought of the kind of security he should have around his perimeter.That would be necessary if I started a company.

Like the incessant sound of a mosquito buzzing about his head, he couldn’t shake the thoughts of their visit. It was unexpected, but he found Mace’s unusual proposal both flattering and humbling. Of all the men Mace knew who had the ability to be a partner, he chose Logan.

Yet the weight of the proposition settled upon him, the magnitude now filling his mind. He would relinquish the solitary existence he’d grown accustomed to. Lazier days would give way to the structure of being in control. It would take a new house… a new security building… a new hangar… maybe even a new helicopter or airplane. It represented a tidal wave threatening to upend the life he’d constructed.

I’m too set in my ways. It would take money, time, and changing my life.

But the call to action was strong. He looked at the scrub brush around the yard leading to the towering pine trees. Lifting his gaze, he settled his eyes on the majestic, snow-capped mountains in the distance. He drew in a deep breath of the crisp night air, filling his lungs. At that moment, he pondered the possibility of embracing the change, wondering if the upheaval might hold unexpected rewards.

3

“Jesus, Preacher, you crazy son of a bitch!” Sisco screamed.

The blades of the bird whirled as they lifted off the ground, and I rolled over from where I was lying on the floor just enough to see if Devil was alive. Not seeing my squad member’s chest move, I rolled back, my heart pounding with adrenaline.

Devil had taken a bullet to the chest, dropping him like a stone, as we had moved through the mountainous terrain. I was the closest, turning as I heard the cry. With the helicopter almost to us, I yelled ahead before turning back. Dropping down beside Devil, whose face was a mask of pain and anger, I leaned over my comrade’s body, trying to shield him from more gunfire.

“Goddamn fuckers got me,” Devil growled, his hands clutching his bloody chest. Bending low, I picked my fellow SEAL up, slinging him over my shoulder. Blood was pouring, but there was no time to waste. Jogging toward the helicopter now on the ground, I ducked as bullets zinged through the air near my head. Just as we were fifteen feet from our destination, an explosion rocked the earth, and I tumbled forward. Sisco grabbed Devil at the last second, keeping him from hitting theground, but my knee gave out under the weight and angle of my fall.

Arms reached out and dragged me into the bird. Lying on the floor, I writhed in pain. Sisco leaned over, his face right in mine. “Hang in there, man. Hold on.”

The pain in my knee was excruciating, but as soon as the needle in Sisco’s hand hit me, the pain went away. Looking down, I knew. Fuckin’ knew. It was over. My career. Lifting a hand over my face, wanting to keep my squad’s eyes from seeing the despair, I sucked in a ragged breath.

Suddenly, a flurry of activity caused me to jerk my eyes open, and I watched as some of the others worked on Devil. “He’s alive!” the shout came from someone, barely heard above the helicopter's noise.

As the bird flew back to our base, I slowed my breathing, relaxing slightly against the hard, metal floor. Devil was alive. I’d saved him when I ran back to get him after he fell to enemy fire.

Turning my head to face the open door, I watched as the land below rushed by, the knowledge this was my last SEAL mission filling my mind. But Devil was alive…and I knew, if I had to, I’d do it all over again.

Waking up in the early morning hours, Logan sat up in bed, ensnared by the remnants of his turbulent dreams, the memories of his last mission haunting his restless slumber. Recognizing the futility of pursuing further sleep, he swung his legs over the side of the bed and scrubbed his hand over his face. He dressed for the chill of the Montana morning before moving into the kitchen. Activating the coffee maker with a flick of his wrist, he leaned his hip against the worn counter, the aroma soon filling the air.

Taking the mug of black brew onto his porch, he sat again in one of the old wooden chairs, leaning back so he could place his feet on the rail and watch the sun rise.

The dream reminded him of his call sign, Preacher. A play on his name of Bishop, it came to mean more. But those days were long behind him. Now it was time to think of the future. A future he hadn’t thought he would have.

He had spent a long time the previous night weighing the pros and cons of Mace’s proposal. His life in Montana was stable…if not exciting. He looked out over the land that was his… all two hundred acres. He lived so simply that no one in town thought much about him. But his grandfather had owned a massive ranch in Kansas that had been farmed by the family. Thankfully, his dad understood that ranching wasn’t in Logan’s future, and when his sister married a local man, the ranch went to them. A significant trust was given to Logan, and it had been invested for years. He’d hardly made a dent in it when he bought the acreage in Montana.

Now, he scanned the area leading up to the base of the mountains and imagined how the property could be used for a setup like what Mace proposed.But… can I make this decision and commitment?

He didn’t believe in signs but couldn’t deny that sometimes a beacon guided decisions in life. His gaze lifted to the mountain peaks where an old light tower still stood, a stalwart reminder of the lights guiding aircraft to safety. It was still used as a beacon for lost hikers to have a point of reference. And now, that tower was clearly visible in the light of day.

Then he thought of Sisco and Devil. For the first time since he’d left the service, he allowed himself to think of them in terms of what they were doing, whether they were fulfilled in their lives now and whether they would be interested in joiningforces again. And the small spark from last night flamed a little brighter.

Walking into Cutter’s Bar hours later, he allowed his eyes to adjust to the dim light of the old building. Built on the outskirts of the small town, the watering hole was a gathering place for locals. A few tourists came in but rarely stayed long. It was a bar, not a nightclub. No jukebox. A simple menu of burgers, fries, and nachos. No fancy drinks. Just a bar. Wooden plank floors, scuffed from years of boots walking on them, met plank walls adorned with a few vintage metal beer signs. Booths were in the back, and the bar was on the left, as plain as the rest of the building except for the liquor bottles lining the shelf.

Nodding to a few regulars seated at the long bar, he spied Mace and Jack sitting in a booth. With a head jerk toward Sam, the bartender, he stalked to the booth and slid onto the wooden bench next to Jack, facing Mace. Sam brought him a beer and headed back to the bar.

Mace’s gaze followed Sam but cut back quickly as Logan said, “Told you, no one here gets in your business.”

The three men drank in silence for a moment, the sounds of the bar being the only noise filling the air. Yet Logan noticed that there was no tension. Jack was just along for the trip and to provide the introduction. Mace appeared calm, and Logan knew it was because Mace was secure in his new life, whether or not Logan decided to join him.

He knew he could shake their hands, pay for their beer, and say goodbye. He could go back to his tours and local rescues, continue the single mission planning that occasionally came his way, and live and die in his little house on two hundred acres—alone.

Or he could reach out and grab a crazy-ass proposal, work at it, make it his own, partner with someone he would respect, yet get to be his own boss. He could be a leader again. He could liveagain. A snort slipped out, and Mace’s eyes moved to Logan’s face. The iconic man lifted a brow but remained silent.

“It’ll take a couple of years to get it off the ground, won’t it?”

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