Command Control

by Sara Jane Stone

  * * *

  LOGAN HAULED HIS rucksack down the stairs to his aunt’s kitchen, dressed in his uniform for the first time since he’d arrived on the farm. Through the window over the sink, he could see his aunt tossing hay bales into the front pastures, taking the time to stop and give her cows an affectionate pat. She’d appreciated his help while he was home. She’d told him as much when they’d said their goodbyes earlier. But he knew she’d be fine without him. For all her talk about wanting to live like a reality TV star, she loved her life here.

  He opened the fridge and scanned the shelves for sandwich fixings, something he could take with him to eat on the way to the airport. He would have asked Aunt Lou to drive him, but he knew she hated long goodbyes. And despite her fiery personality, she drove so slowly he’d probably miss his flight.

  He’d secured the last seat on the only flight to Nashville that day. If he didn’t make it, he didn’t have much chance of getting to Fort Campbell on time. After weeks of waiting, he was ready to be back where he belonged.

  A knock sounded on the kitchen door.

  “Shit.” He finished spreading mayo on his bread, set the knife down and headed over to greet his aunt’s friend, who’d undoubtedly stopped by for gossip. About him and those damn pictures.

  Logan swung open the door. A tall man with red hair stood on the stoop, a large duffel at his feet. Though he looked younger than he probably was, Logan knew his identity without asking. He’d been out of the service for decades, but the man still carried himself like a marine.

  “Afternoon, sir,” Logan said.

  Sadie’s father held out his hand. “Tim Bannerman. I don’t suppose you’d know where I can find my girls?”

  “Sadie left. Headed back to New York. But Laurel should be home and she has your key.” Aunt Lou had told him as much before she’d headed for the barn.

  “I guess I’ll make my way over to Laurel. If you wouldn’t mind pointing me in the right direction.”

  Logan scanned the parking area and saw his truck parked beside his aunt’s car. Sadie’s dad must have cabbed it from the airport.

  “I’m about to head out after I finish making this sandwich. I can give you a ride over there if you don’t mind waiting.” He stepped back, holding the door for the older man.

  “Thank you.” Mr. Bannerman stepped inside, carrying his bag as if it was featherlight. “Sorry I missed Sadie. It’s been a long time since I’ve seen her.”

  “She had to get back to New York.” For the interview that could drive the last nail into the coffin currently holding his career.

  “Dealing with the fallout from those pictures, I imagine,” Mr. Bannerman said.

  Logan looked up from his sandwich. “You’ve seen them?”

  “Yes, son. I have.” He held up his smartphone. “Sadie gave it to me last year. I can access the internet anywhere.”

  Logan knew everyone would see them. He was ready to face his teammates’ teasing and the wide-eyed, probably disapproving looks from the people in Mount Pleasant. After all, it was their bookstore. But standing in front of this man, knowing he’d seen photographic evidence of his daughter on her knees, blowing him away—Christ, Logan wanted to sink into the floorboards.

  “I’m sorry, sir.” What else was there to say?

  “Not your fault they showed up in the tabloids, was it?” Mr. Bannerman asked.

  “No, sir.”

  Sadie’s father nodded. “I didn’t think so. My daughter’s work—it lands her in funny places.”

  That was one way to look at it.

  “But my daughter’s job doesn’t define her.” The retired marine didn’t look away. He stared at Logan as if assessing him from head to toe. “Wearing a uniform, I know more than most people how that can make you feel as if you live and die by your commitment to serve your country. I felt that way once upon a time. Then I met my wife and had my girls. I realized that the people you love, they’re the ones who define who you are. When you make the hard choices—you make them for the people you love.”

  The older man’s pristine posture slipped as if the weight of his life, and his regrets, rested heavily on him. “On the surface, I’m an unemployed veteran who spent most of his life getting by, going from one odd job to the next. I need my daughter’s money to survive month to month. Without that...” He shook his head. From across the room, Logan could feel the shame radiating off the older man.

  “I’d like to think I’m more than that to my daughters,” he continued. “I gave them everything I had. All the love in my heart. Every day. Knowing that they might never be proud of me for the choices I made, but at least they’d feel loved.”

  The pieces fell into place. Sadie’s unyielding drive, the way she understood Charlotte, even the reason she’d carried the pink wand her father had given her years ago while herding cows—it all made sense. She thought she was searching for stability and, yes, that played a role, but deep down he suspected she wanted to show her father that she loved him.

  “You are more,” Logan said. “You’re her hero. And it has nothing to do with the uniform. You were her hero from the day she was born.”

  “I...” Sadie’s father blinked, his posture straightening. “Thank you for that, son.”

  Logan nodded and picked up his sandwich. “How about I drive you over to Laurel’s so you can meet your granddaughter?”

  * * *

  AN HOUR LATER, Logan sat in the long-term parking lot, staring at the terminal. Everything was in place for his return. He had a ticket. Aunt Lou had arranged for a friend to pick up his truck at the airport. In a few short hours, he’d be back where he belonged. He’d worked past his grief and found his way forward. He was ready to ship out with his team.

  First, he’d have to face the fallout from the Sadie/MJ Lane scandal, but he hoped he could push past that obstacle. And part of him trusted Sadie to make things right, he realized. A woman who put her family first—she might not see it that way, but he knew it was the truth—she would not strip away another’s career to sell more books. She would not drag an innocent child like Charlotte into the spotlight.

  Sadie was her father’s daughter through and through, her career choices driven by love. And like her dad, she believed she’d failed the people she loved most even when she was doing her best to help them.

  Logan watched as a plane landed on the tarmac behind the terminal. He needed to get in there, clear security and catch his flight. He reached for the truck door, but didn’t open it.

  What drove his choices? On the surface, he was a soldier, a ranger who’d ridden a horse through Afghanistan and made one bad call during a mission. But who was he beneath that? There was honor and purpose in his job, but was it worth walking away from Sadie?

  “Christ.” He closed his eyes. He’d been here before, at the crossroads between love and duty. In the end, circumstances beyond his control had made the decision for him. This time it was on him. Did he go after the woman who lit up his life with her laughter, who turned him inside out with longing and who listened without pushing when he needed to unload?

  What if he chose Sadie and went after her only to find out he wasn’t ready to hand over his heart? The memory of Sadie demanding kisses, pulling him past his fears and hesitation reminded him that he wasn’t alone in this. Together, they could find a way forward.

  Logan let go of the door, reaching for the key still in the ignition. If he drove through the night, he’d reach New York City by morning. He pulled out his cell and dialed his commanding officer.

  “Sir,” he said quickly. “I need permission to go to New York City. That show is airing tomorrow morning and, sir, I need to be there.”

  “If you’re worried about a court-martial, son—”

  “No, sir. I’m worried about living the rest of my life knowing I walked away fr
om a second chance at love.”

  22

  THE SUN ROSE over Central Park, illuminating a sleepy New York City. At five-thirty in the morning, the sidewalks below her sixteenth-floor studio remained empty. The quiet didn’t feel that different from Aunt Lou’s farm in Mount Pleasant, even though Sadie knew it was a world away. In a few hours, the city streets would be overflowing with people rushing to work. She loved watching them from her perch above the city each day before she turned to her computer. But right now, she would rather hear the sound of cows mooing in the distance.

  Don’t think about it.

  There was no going back now, only forward. Any minute the car service from the morning show would arrive and take her the few blocks to the studio. She was ready. She’d selected a simple green sundress for the interview. The fabric was soft and feminine and the color highlighted her eyes and red hair, which she’d pulled back into a simple twist. Not the bombshell outfit or diva hairstyle her publicist had recommended for her public debut. But then, she wasn’t planning on giving them a sensational, headline-grabbing interview.

  She’d stopped crying about an hour outside Mount Pleasant last night. The long hours in the car had given her time to think. She’d realized that by striving to succeed for her family, she’d risked the thing she was trying to protect.

  And that stopped today. She would do the interview and have her say, but after that she planned to slip away from the spotlight. Sadie Bannerman/MJ Lane would continue to write her books, but she would make it clear that the public was not welcome into the lives of the people she loved.

  Her sister was right: Sadie always went after what she wanted. She wasn’t afraid to use her voice. Now it was time to stand up for herself and demand that the people in those pictures maintain their privacy. If she wanted to go after Logan, she had to do this. Until she made room in her life for her loved ones, until she put them first, she didn’t deserve him.

  The phone on the wall rang. Sadie answered and told her doorman she would be right down. She was ready.

  Ten minutes later, Sadie stepped out of the town car and walked into the studio. She smiled at her waiting publicist, who was already typing furiously on her phone.

  “Good. You’re here.” Anne-Marie frowned. “I thought we decided on a black dress, something sultry, and your hair down.”

  “It’s a 9:00 a.m. interview. I don’t think sultry is appropriate.”

  “But you’re MJ Lane.”

  “I’m also Sadie Bannerman. And she prefers this dress.”

  Realizing she’d lost, Anne-Marie led her down the hall to the makeup room. “Have you prepared your answers? Do we need to run through anything?”

  “Yes. I’m prepared.” Sadie didn’t say another word, instead focusing on the cheerful young woman intent on transforming her face.

  At nine, Sadie took her seat opposite the friendly blonde morning show host, Kelsey Wise. The name, real or not, suited her. Ms. Wise looked sharp and focused. Determined.

  Sadie smiled, knowing she was about to derail the host’s plans. Ms. Wise might be shrewd and ready for battle, but Sadie was in love. And now Sadie knew that trumped ambition, work—everything.

  “By now you’ve all seen the photographs plastered all over the web of the woman many believe to be MJ Lane, bestselling author of the book everyone has been talking about, Isabelle’s Command. Well, we have her with us today. Please welcome Sadie Bannerman.” Kelsey Wise paused, smiling like a cat about to pounce. “Ms. Bannerman, tell us, is it true you are MJ Lane?”

  “Yes.”

  To her credit, Ms. Wise’s smile remained in place when Sadie failed to elaborate.

  “You have the people of America and many other countries around the world eagerly awaiting the second book in your series.”

  “The wait is almost over. Book two, Isabelle’s Command: Submission releases next month. I think fans will be pleased with how the series’s heroine finds her voice,” Sadie said. This was the easy part, talking about her work. “In the third book, which I’m writing now, Isabelle comes into her own, unafraid to go after what she wants.”

  “And I assume what she wants is your bad-boy hero?”

  “I see you’ve read the first book.”

  Ms. Wise raised her hand to her mouth as if admitting a secret. “I have.”

  “I think readers will be satisfied with Isabelle’s transformation over the course of the books. She wants the hero, but she is not willing lose her sense of self to the relationship.”

  “Speaking of relationships...” Ms. Wise looked as if she was chatting with a girlfriend, but Sadie knew the hard part was coming. “Can you tell us more about the handsome man in those photographs?”

  “No.”

  There was a beat of silence and Ms. Wise’s eyes widened. She’d been promised a tell-all interview, not one-word answers. “Some of those images were quite erotic,” the host continued. “Were you looking for inspiration?”

  “No. I was looking for love. I didn’t know it at first, but what you see in those pictures happens every day around the world. A girl falls in love with a boy.” Hearing a slight waver in her voice, Sadie paused. She wanted her words to be loud and clear, no hesitation.

  “Sometimes,” she continued, “that leads to intimate moments. I think most people watching today will understand when I say that I expected those moments would remain private.”

  “But now that they’re out there, for the world to see, can you tell us who the mystery man is?” Ms. Wise prompted, scrambling to save her interview.

  “No.”

  Watching her exposé slip through her fingers, the host turned to the one question Sadie wanted to hear. “And the little girl?”

  Sadie shook her head. “Nothing more than an example of a news outlet drawing false conclusions. The little girl lost her father in Afghanistan last year. The man in the pictures knew her father and took her out for ice cream. The only story there is sadness and loss. If the media wishes to delve deeper, perhaps they should highlight one of the charities that support children of fallen soldiers. Or look within their communities for children who might need a little extra cheering up, a chance to just be a kid after losing a parent on the battlefield.”

  The stunned expression on Ms. Wise’s face said it all. Sadie had hit her mark, shutting down the hurtful chatter about Charlotte. They might still dig, and try to determine Logan’s identity, but she felt saying more would only hurt, not help.

  Sadie waited for the host to express her supposedly heartfelt sympathy for the girl in the picture. Instead, Ms. Wise raised her hand to her ear. Someone was feeding her information.

  Nerves churned in Sadie’s stomach for the first time. Had her answers backfired? She sat still, knowing there was little she could do now. Had someone behind the scenes discovered Logan’s identity? What if they knew his name? His rank? The details behind his last mission?

  Sadie forced herself to sit still when every bone in her body screamed, Run. Coming on this show, setting the record straight, had been a mistake. She’d failed on so many fronts. But she’d especially failed Logan. She’d tried to be his hero. To save him from losing everything he cared about. And judging from Ms. Wise’s wide smile, Sadie had only made it ten times worse.

  “It appears we have a special guest. The mystery man himself showed up at our door asking to speak with Ms. Bannerman.” Kelsey Wise gave her a wink. “He’s headed for the stage.”

  Logan. He was here. Hope surged through her. He’d come back. Again. This time, she refused to let him leave until she had her say. She had one chance to go after what she wanted—a future with the man she loved.

  Sadie stood and squared her shoulders and held her head high. She was going for it. Right here. Right now. On national television.

  23

  LOGAN
FOLLOWED THE security guard and the eager girl with the clipboard through the winding fluorescent underbelly of the news studio. Sadie was here somewhere. He had to talk to her. Now. He was running out of time.

  His commanding officer had given him a brief respite. Less than forty-eight hours. By this time tomorrow morning, he had to report for duty. Logan had every intention of securing his future with Sadie before the deadline.

  The hallway ended, letting out into a bright open space. The stage, he realized, where they filmed the show. Lights and cameras surrounded the room’s perimeter. In the center was a raised dais with an L-shaped sofa and a coffee table. In front of the sofa, Sadie stood beside a blonde woman who looked as if she was made of plastic.

  “Ladies and gentlemen,” the blonde said with a wide smile, “please welcome U.S. Army Ranger Logan Reed.”

  The words crossed her lips and Logan knew he’d walked into an ambush. He had about two seconds before the cameras and lights turned his way and broadcast his image into homes across the country. He had two choices, run for the hall and hope to hell he could save his career, or do what he’d come here to do—talk to Sadie.

  Logan stepped into the light. “Sadie—”

  “Wait.” She held up her hand. He watched as Sadie moved around the coffee table. She approached him, her green sundress dancing around her legs, reminding him of the dress she’d worn to the Summer Festival. She stopped within arm’s reach. With her long hair pulled back into some sort of twist, and makeup accentuating her face, she looked beautiful. But then, he’d thought she was gorgeous with dirt smudged on her cheek in a cow field. From the moment he’d met her, Sadie had radiated light, laughter and a sex appeal that had him wrapped around her finger.

  She leaned toward him, dropping her voice to a whisper. “You don’t have to do this. Not here.”

  Logan widened his stance, rooting his feet to the ground. “I’m not walking away, Sadie. Not this time.”

  “All right, then.” She stepped back, straightening her spine. “I have something I’d like to say.”