Page 30 of Logan

“Silence!” His voice sliced through her objections. Nafisa’s mouth snapped shut, but her chest heaved. Facing Vivian, he repeated, “We will join you and your husband. Rashad can go now to assist with the fire.”

Smiling with accomplishment, she turned to walk back to her yard, praying Logan would not be pissed.

18

Logan offered a chin lift to the man behind the bar in the only establishment in town that offered a drink as well as something to eat. The rough building, like most in the area, looked worse for the wear. Harsh winters had obviously pounded the weather-beaten wooden exteriors. He cast his gaze around the clean interior, and it appeared just as worn as the outside. It reminded him of the bar in Cut Bank.

A large man, his tan skin, eyes, and cheekbones giving evidence of his native Alaskan heritage, smiled widely as Logan settled onto a barstool. “Whatcha havin’?”

“Draft.”

“You’ve been here two days in a row, newcomer.” This came from behind him, and as he turned, his gaze landed on the server he met yesterday when ordering the burgers. Even with her sleek black hair and dark, twinkling eyes, he knew she was fishing.

“Yep,” he replied, lips twitching upward.

Huffing, she slapped her dish towel on the bar and said, “So you gonna talk or what?”

“Woman, leave the customer alone,” the bartender growled and winked simultaneously.

“Iggie, if we want fresh blood in this joint, we need to be friendly with the customers,” she groused back.

“And I’m tellin’ you, Sally, we gotta give the man a chance to have a drink before you pepper him with questions.”

At their lively banter, Logan let a grin slip out despite his efforts to rein it in. “Either you two have been working together for a while or you’re married.”

“Both,” Iggie and Sally said at the same time.

The man held his hand out, grasping Logan’s in a firm handshake. “Guess you figured out I’m Iggie. Igaluk’s my name, but Sally nicknamed me Iggie about twenty years ago when we met as teens. It kind of stuck. Welcome to the Goldmine Saloon.”

“Logan Preacher.”

“Nice to meet you, Logan,” Sally said, her smile genuine. “You living around here or just passing through?”

Eyeing her carefully, he said, “Why do I get the feeling you already know?” Seeing her grin, he confirmed, “My wife and I just moved here. We live off Ester Creek Road, right at the end.”

Sally and Iggie shared a glance, which wasn’t lost on him. He continued to drink his beer as he added to the story. “Got a part-time job as a mechanic. Wife’s taking online classes for now.”

“Met your neighbors yet?” Sally asked.

He acknowledged her attempt to keep her voice neutral but heard the inflections nonetheless. “Nope. My wife met the woman who lives there.”

Her eyes flared with interest. “They don’t come in here, but then I heard from Betty, over at the grocery, that when they come in there, they don’t talk much.” Hearing Iggie making a grunting noise, she hurried to say, “It just seems weird to me when someone moves to a small town yet don’t make any attempt to meet the people they come in contact with. That’s just not neighborly.”

“He’s got those college kids around,” Iggie said, “so they probably spend a lot of their time in Fairbanks.”

“Whatever,” she grumbled, then smiled again as she looked over at him. “So, Preacher, when are you going to bring your wife in?”

He startled at the sound of his SEAL name being used so easily by someone else. He had to admit he had chosen it as a way to connect with his former missions—well, the ones taken with a bunch of badass SEALs and not an impetuous scientist. Clearing his throat, he said, “I’ll get her in here soon. She’s a real sociable girl and would love to meet you.”

Sally’s eyes sparkled. “Well, that's good because I doubt she’ll have any luck making friends with your neighbors!”

As Logan’s truck rumbled up the lane, his thoughts alternated between strategizing the infiltration of the Zaman house to gather vital intelligence and the image of Viv. Thoughts of her won out, fueling his eagerness to get home. Knowing she might be bored and lonely, he rounded the curve, anxious to see her again. And not remembering the last time he’d ever been so anxious to see anyone.

His gaze landed on a gathering of people in front of his house, and his heart raced as he blinked to take in the scene before him. Wisps of smoke curled upward from an old grill that had seen better days and probably better decades. A few weather-beaten lawn chairs were scattered across the grass, while a card table was set up in the center, complete with bowls and platters.

And there, in the middle of the group, was Vivian, standing at the grill, surrounded by two men. Her smile was bright, and herhands waved while she chattered. Two women with traditional hijabs wrapped around their heads were nearby, one sitting in a chair and the other standing by the table. As he pulled closer, he noticed Akram standing to the side, his face set with distaste.

Fuck me. I’m gone part of a day, and Viv’s managed to get the whole gang together.Thoughts of throttling her were becoming more of a reality. He’d never had anyone get his emotions in such a tangle.

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