Page 20 of Logan

Swinging her legs over the side of the bed, she pulled on her woolen socks as a desperate, primal urge for coffee overrode all other needs. She staggered out of her bedroom in a mindless quest for caffeine, barely noting Logan’s bedroom door was open. Shuffling into the kitchen, she rounded the corner and viewed the back of him.

Tall and sinewy. His tight, long-sleeved T-shirt pulled across his back and fit along his trim waist. His jeans hung just right on his ass, but she could tell he didn’t care about his clothes or how they looked on him. He exuded confidence just in his bearing.

She was still gawking when he looked over his shoulder, catching her standing there. His lips quirked slightly, sending a jolt of awareness coursing through her veins. Holy hell. It wasn’t much of a smile, but she wasn’t sure she’d be able to handle theforce of his gorgeousness if he offered a full smile. Especially not without caffeine first.

“You’ve got a pillow crease on your cheek.”

“Huh?” She kept her gaze down, now focused on the mug of coffee he had in his hand.

“Viv? You awake?”

Her eyes jumped to his, and she shook her head. “Nuh-uh. Coffee.”

He filled another mug and set it down before placing the creamer and the sweetener packets on the counter.

She fixed her coffee and then glanced at the very black brew in his mug. “How’d you know how I liked my coffee?”

“Creamer was in the refrigerator, and the sweetener was on the counter.”

Wondering if she’d ever get used to his short way of speaking, she circled her hands around the warm mug, holding it close. Her eyes closed as she inhaled deeply. After taking a few sips while he stood at the stove fixing bacon and eggs, she finally asked, “When did you get in last night?”

“Late. You were already asleep.”

No response seemed necessary, so she continued slurping. He plated the bacon and eggs, then moved past her to set them on the table. She remained standing in the same position, her hip leaning against the counter as though it were holding her up.

“You gonna eat?” he asked, taking a seat.

“Uh-huh,” she mumbled as she shuffled to the table and sat down. Sniffing appreciatively, she nodded her thanks as she shoveled a forkful of scrambled eggs into her mouth. “This is good.”

He eyed her carefully. “Are you always this much of a zombie in the morning?”

Blinking, she halted the fork on its path to her mouth. “I’m not a zombie.”

“Viv, you sleep like the dead. I checked on you last night, and you didn’t even stir. I checked on you this morning, and you were lying in the same position as though you hadn’t moved all night. Now, you can barely speak a sentence and look like you’re going to face-plant right into the middle of your eggs. I’d call that a zombie.”

Vivian opened and closed her mouth several times, but no response came. How did he do that? Reduce her to silence.And he calls me Viv. No one calls me Viv.Her parents sometimes called her Vivie, but that sounded too much like her teenage years.But Viv?Her lips curved up slowly as she turned her attention back to her plate. “I just need caffeine in the morning.”

As he finished his breakfast, he pushed his chair back, stretching his long legs in front of him. “Thanks for taking care of changing bedrooms last night. I need to be on that side to keep track of the house next door at night for any unusual noises or visitors.”

Realizing he was ready to talk business, she finished quickly and took their plates to the sink. Rinsing them, she left them for later and poured two more cups of coffee. She doctored hers and left his black before setting it in front of him. “Here’s your unsullied cup of coffee.” Taking her creamed and sweetened cup to the opposite side of the table, she sat down.

“Unsullied?” He chuckled.

Not having heard him chuckle before, she stared for a second. The rumble came from deep in his chest, wrapped around her like a hug, and her breath caught in her lungs. She looked down, trying to hide her grin. “Yeah…it’s unsullied with anything to make it remotely drinkable. But that’s the way you like it, right?” she asked, looking up to see him smile. And her breath caught once again.

After taking a sip of his brew, he nodded. “Okay, we need to talk about our plans.” He leaned a long arm over to the counter, snagging a folder and laying it out in front of them.

She slid her chair next to him so they could view it together.

“Were you given any details about the suspects?” he asked.

Shaking her head, she answered, “No.” Biting the corner of her lip, she altered her reply. “Other than they were suspected terrorists. But, honestly, that means little to me.”

His sharp gaze met hers, and she quickly added, “It’s not that I’m ignorant, but there are many terrorist sects, and the particulars weren’t shared with me. I’m just interested in the possible chemical and biological combinations and mixtures that can be made. Unlike explosives, the results can be easy to hide. They don’t have to be completely volatile.”

Turning to the first page of the notebook, she observed the pictures in front of her: one man and one woman. Tapping the two pictures, he said, “This is Akram Zaman. The house is rented in his name. The lease includes his wife, Farrah. Whether or not they are actually married, we can’t say for sure. We do know they didn’t come straight to Alaska. They immigrated to Chicago, and it appears they spent time in Denver as well. He’s been on the radar because of the past company he’s kept—members of other known ISIS cells. They moved to Fairbanks almost two years ago, where they leased an apartment near the university. Akram was active in the local mosque and began spending time at the university, hosting gatherings for other Muslims.” Snorting, he added, “That sounds good, except he was recruiting for his organization, not socializing with peace-loving students.”

She listened attentively, studying the photographs carefully so she could identify them when she saw them.

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