Logan, p.2
Logan, page 2
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 get any visitors 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 in the country. When you decided to disappear, you chose really well.”
The use of his SEAL nickname, Preacher, sounded strange to his ears, having not heard it in almost two years. He still remembered the team giving it to him as a play on his last name of Bishop and…for other reasons. Shrugging off the memories, Logan replied, “Cut Bank’s a nice little town. Good people. They’d help anyone who needed it, but they stay out of my business, and I stay out of theirs.”
“I notice you’ve got a hangar out back. That where you keep your birds?”
Nodding, Logan figured both men had checked him out for whatever reason, so they already knew the answer to that question. He played along, curiosity outweighing all other thoughts. “I run tourists up to take pictures of the mountains and have a Lakota for rescues.”
“Get a lot of business?”
“Enough. Tourists can fill the spring through fall, but rescues can be anytime.”
“And how’s that working for you?” Mace asked, his gaze sharp.
Logan leaned back, his body taut with the intrigue of the visit, but he knew the two men would tell him their reasons when they were damn well ready. Answering the question, he replied, “It’s a living… I’m good with that. When I’m not in the mood, I turn down tourists but take all the rescues I get called for.”
Nodding slowly, Jack took another long pull of his beer. Leaning forward, he pinned him with a steely stare. “I imagine you’re curious about why we’re here, so I’ll get to it. Mace came to me with his new endeavor and wondered if I had any good people who might be interested. I thought of a couple of people, and you were one of them. So Mace has been checking you out, and when he said he wanted to come out here, he asked if I would come along.”
Logan eyed Jack and then Mace carefully, uncertainty filling his mind. Not saying anything, he simply let the silence fill the room.
Mace ignored Logan’s blank expression and plunged ahead. “First off, what I say has to stay between us. You don’t like what you hear and aren’t interested… I count on you as a former SEAL to keep this in confidence.”
Logan’s expression changed to one of annoyance, his eyes flashing fire, but Mace threw his hand in the air. “I know, I know. Once a SEAL, always a SEAL, but it had to be said.”
Logan’s shoulders barely relaxed, but it must have been enough for Mace to notice as he offered a chin lift, then leaned forward, his forearms resting on his knees.
“I retired some years before your knee gave out. I heard about it… how your mission ended with success but with an injury that cut your career short.”
Logan grimaced, hating the reminder of why he had no choice but to retire. One last mission—successful but devastating. When he went back to get a fallen team member, his knee took the brunt of a fall, tearing it to shreds. He’d saved a life and gave up his career all in the same minute. But if he had to do it over again, no question—he would have made the same decision.
Mace continued as though he hadn’t noticed Logan’s expression change. But Logan had a feeling that very little got past Mace.
“My own career path had gone sideways at one point, but I had the opportunity to lead a team for the CIA that included special op personnel from SEALs, Deltas, Rangers, Air Force… hell, it was a dream come true. All egos were checked at the door, and the experience let me know that I wanted to replicate that when I got out. No more military or governmental bullshit… just me taking on the missions I wanted.”
Interest flared… or maybe it was more curiosity. With a short nod, he indicated for Mace to continue.
“Anyway, I had some money come my way, and then it seemed the government was willing to pay for me to go private. Built Lighthouse Security Investigations. Based in Maine.”
Logan continued to nod but couldn’t imagine why Mace was here ’cause there was no way he’d consider moving to Maine to work for someone else.
“So now I have a team, a special compound that holds our company, and since we’re right on the coast, we can deploy boats when needed. And the government I used to serve that would then put restrictions on me now sends jobs my way to handle how I see fit. And I only take the jobs I want. We have other contacts and even do our own missions to assist the local area.”
Jack snorted, drawing Logan’s attention. “That’s how Mace met his wife.”
Logan’s brows lifted. He knew Jack and most of his Saints had met their significant others, but it was hard to imagine the hard-edged man in front of him as married. Then Mace’s face gentled into a softer smile, and Logan could have sworn he’d just witnessed a personality change right in front of him.
Getting his mind back to the reason his visitors showed up, he said, “I admire what both of you have done, but forgive me if I don’t see what it has to do with me.”
Mace nodded slowly, but his gaze never wavered. Logan’s confidence always gave him the upper hand in situations, but he fought the urge to squirm under Mace's perusal.
“Makes sense,” Mace said. “Why the fuck would I come all the way out to Montana to tell someone I’d never met what the fuck I’ve been doing?” He chuckled. “No, I don’t want to ask you to give up all this and come work for me. What I want is for you to consider a business proposition.”
Logan’s brows lifted to his hairline. A business proposition? His mind blanked, uncertainty now taking precedence over any ideas he thought might have brought the two to his door.
“I enlisted Carson Dyer to start work on a Lighthouse Security Investigation on the West Coast in California. He and I now work together as business partners, and he’s started taking assignments after hiring the best employees.”
Logan worked to keep his breathing steady. Mace's revelation was fascinating, but Logan was still in the dark as to how it pertained to him.
Mace leaned back and took another swig of his beer. “I’d like you to consider doing the same.”
Logan’s mouth opened, then he narrowed his eyes. “You want me to do the same what, exactly?”
“Consider being a business partner of LSI as an owner. You’d be the leader, the one calling the shots, and the person the others would report to.”
“And where would this proposed LSI business be located?”
“Right here.”
“Here?”
Mace and Jack looked at each other, and both men smiled. Mace turned back to Logan. “I don’t figure you plan on moving. You have a great location, and it seems you do a lot more here than anyone knows.”
Logan’s eyes narrowed again, but he remembered Jack telling him that Mace had checked him out. Nodding, he said, “Got some land—”
“You’ve got almost two hundred acres that extend from here to the base of the closest mountain,” Mace interjected.
“Okay… and I have a couple of birds—”
“You’ve got more than just two helicopters in your hangars.”
Logan snapped his mouth shut. He hated to be interrupted, but Mace wasn’t just shooting at the target, hoping to randomly hit something. Mace had his facts right. Heaving a sigh, he said, “What about this place? Not exactly like your setups, is it?”
“Plenty of time to work on that. You’d get the money necessary to build the kind of place that would work for you and the business.”
The three men sat in silence for several long minutes, all finishing their beer as Logan pondered the bizarre situation. He finally said, “This proposition is interesting, but I’ve only worked alone since getting out.”
“And not just flying tourists around,” Jack said, re-entering the conversation.
Logan looked over at Jack, knowing he’d only come on the visit to be the familiar face to connect him with Mace.
“You’re not the only former SEAL trying to settle into a life that isn’t very rewarding,” Mace said. “I find the men and women who I think are right for the job and make an offer. Carson is starting this process, too. A lot of former special operators out there… but not everyone is right to work for LSI. It takes someone special.” He cocked his head to the side, his gaze never leaving Logan. “Bet you know of a few yourself who would fit the description of a Keeper.”
Logan’s first thought slid to some people he’d worked with and lost touch with. The idea that they might work with him again lit a tiny spark. The second thought had his chin rear back. “Keeper?”
“The idea of the lighthouse keepers of old. My base is underneath the ground in the caves of the Maine coastline, directly under an old decommissioned lighthouse. Carson is near one. Keepers guide people to safety. They protect and rescue when necessary.”
Logan barked out a rough laugh, evidence that he rarely laughed aloud. “I hate to be the one to point it out, Mace, but there are no lighthouses in Montana.”
Mace turned and looked out the window toward the mountains close by. “What’s that?”
Logan bent slightly to see what Mace was indicating. “That’s a light tower. Keeps aircraft from slamming into the mountainside in the dark. It can also be used for rescues, giving someone a directional point.”
Mace turned back, his lips curving slightly. “You’re a pilot. You know how necessary that tower is to keep people safe. Just because you’re landlocked doesn’t mean your existence isn’t that of a Keeper.”
Logan fought to keep the air from audibly rushing from his lungs, but his chest felt tight. He’d felt the importance of his job every day that he was a SEAL. But now, there were days he struggled to get out of bed and face another group of tourists. His bottom lip pulled in, and he bit down as his mind sifted through everything Mace suggested. “Why me, though?”
“You’ve already got some kind of setup here. Or is my information wrong?” Mace asked.
Logan paused, his thoughts carefully pondering his next actions. Then he took to his feet. “Follow me.” Without any explanation, he walked toward the kitchen and stopped at a closet. He didn’t turn but could hear Jack and Mace following. He opened the door, revealing a set of stairs, and offered one word as an explanation for now. “Basement.”
He led the way downstairs, flipping the light switch as he went. At the bottom, he entered a code into a security panel and walked through the door that opened. Inside, several computers lined two walls of the small room. A white screen filled the third wall, ready for maps, computer images, and intel to be projected. Turning around, he faced the two whose eyes were not showing surprise.
Logan’s revelations unfurled. “I work missions… predominantly rescues. At least overtly. But at times, I get called in for my expertise in strategic planning or oversight in critical situations. Other than using my computer skills for planning and my pilot skills for rescues, I only take a few active cases… sometimes for a termination that never goes on the books… usually for Homeland Security. But I haven’t led a team since I got out. So I’m not sure what you think I can do for you.”
Standing before him, Mace seemed undeterred, his conviction unwavering. “You’re just the person. You can’t tell me that you’re not twitching at night with the restless tug to want to lead a team again. You wake up wishing there was more to your retirement than flying tourists around and rescuing dumbass hikers who have no business climbing mountains they didn’t prepare for.”
He sucked in a deep breath and looked around his room. Mace’s words struck a chord deep inside. He had sometimes sat in here alone, planning a mission for someone else to go on while he forced down and nearly choked on the desire to get back out. But what Mace proposed was life-changing, forcing Logan to a crossroads he was not prepared to navigate. Logan had already lived through a change in career trajectory he hadn’t planned on. He scrubbed his hand over his face.
With his hands on his hip and his eyes on his boots, he thought over how his life would change. Finally, lifting his head, he looked Mace in the eyes. “I need to think it over.”
Mace nodded, acknowledging Logan’s hesitation. “I can give you that. I know it might take longer than a night, but I’ll have to start looking for someone else if you’re not interested. We’re staying at the Glacier Hotel tonight. We’ll meet you at the bar in town for lunch to see what you think before we head out. You can let me know by the end of the month.” With nods, Jack and Mace turned and headed up the stairs.
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 the ground, 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.
