“Jesus, you scared me,” she said, her hand to her throat. “You move so quietly for such a large man in boots.”
“Sorry,” he muttered. “I’m used to living and working on my own…at least for the past couple of years. Not used to company in the house. Guess I’ve lost my manners.”
Leaning her hips against the counter, she peered up at his face, holding his gaze. “So, have you decided what you’re going to do?”
“I admit to being surprised, but I agreed to the mission, so I’ll work the mission.”
Letting out a huff of air, she opened her mouth, but he got there first.
“But,” he added, “I have no idea about the marriage thing. Never been married. Never figured I would.” She burst into laughter, a sound he was unused to and, yet, the melodious tone was not unwelcome.
“Logan, you don’t have to know about marriage, after all, we’re just pretending. We’ll just act like a normal couple.”
Logan remained quiet, not wanting to admit he had not been part of a couple in a long time and that his only experience with it was just a college romance that only lasted a few months. When he had needs, it was easy enough to find a willing woman, usually a tourist passing through, or SEAL bunnies years earlier, but lately it had been his hand he had been wedded to.
Walking over, she placed her hand on his arm. “Come on, let’s get the rest of your stuff inside and then we can put our heads together.”
Still smiling, she walked to the kitchen door leading outside and he followed in her wake, unwanted and unexpected, ideas of what he would like to put together with her, bouncing in his mind.
And with that came the realization that this mission with her was a mistake. A big mistake.
“Good God, you’ve got one of those old gas-guzzling trucks as well,” she huffed, shaking her head.
He sighed. Yeah…a big mistake.
Sitting at the table, digging into their easily nuked dinner, Vivian looked over, a crooked smile on her face. “I should apologize for the dinner. It was just simple for tonight, but I really can cook.”
“No need,” Logan commented, keeping his eyes on his plate as he shoveled another forkful into his mouth. “You don’t need to cook for me.”
“Well, I’m certainly not going to cook for just myself,” she retorted. Popping the last piece of bread into her mouth, she took a hearty gulp of tea before standing to take her plate to the sink. Washing it, she reached her hand out for his dish as he moved toward the sink.
“I’ll get it,” he said, sliding in next to her at the sink.
“How about you wash and I’ll dry?” she offered, smiling at him.
Logan nodded, the dour frown on his face lifting for a second. So used to being in his house by himself, he found it disconcerting to have someone sharing the space. Once finished with the plates, cups, and utensils, he wiped his hands as she finished drying. Watching as she stood on her toes to reach the top shelf to set the cups, he reached around her, his front at her back as he took them from her to place them there. Their proximity unnerved him and he stepped back quickly, but she did not seem to notice.
“Thanks,” she said, twisting her head around to grin up at him. “See? We’ll get along just fine.”
“Insufferable man!” Vivian grumbled under her breath.
Their pseudo relationship devolved quickly after dinner with an argument over her phone and their rooms. She wanted to discuss their plan but he appeared to be as closed-mouth about it as he was everything else. Her earlier attempts to draw him out had been met with silence and now he was invading her space and making demands. Pulling her phone out of her purse, he took it and shoved it in his pocket.
“As of now, this phone is off limits for you—”
“What?” she screeched, her gaze snapping.
Handing her a burner phone, he said, “Use this. Only when you have to.”
She held out her hand, palm up, and demanded right back, “Give me my phone.”
“Nope. And you need to get your things out of this room and into the bedroom across the hall.”
Incensed, she argued, “Why? My things are already in the closet and drawers.”
“I need the room on this side.”
Standing in the hall, she watched as he dumped his bags on the bed she slept in last night. “The rooms are the same size,” she said, following him into the bedroom and grabbing the handles of his duffle bag, attempting to lift it. Barely able to budge the heavy bag, she grimaced as he swiftly moved in, putting his hand on the top.
“Don’t,” he ordered. “Don’t touch my things.”
Whirling around, she huffed, “Seriously? I normally wouldn’t consider touching someone else’s property, but you’ve entered my room, putting your bag on my bed, not to mention you stole my phone!”
“I’m taking this room,” Logan declared, once more, his tone firm. Used to men under him obeying without argument, her defiance began to unnerve him.
Stepping closer, with her hands clasped together in front of her, Vivian took a deep breath before letting it out slowly. Pinning him with narrowed eyes, she forced her voice to be calm. “I will not leave this room without you giving me a reason. A good reason. You are not my boss. You are not here to order me about. You are—”
“I need to be on this side because it faces the neighbor’s house.”
Her mouth hung open as her eyes darted to the window, the neighbor’s house clearly in view. Snapping it shut, she finally mumbled, “Oh.”
Logan looked down at her, seeing the blush staining her cheeks.
Swallowing audibly, she complained, “If you had just said so to begin with, I would have understood.”
Moving to his bag, he unzipped the duffle, pulling out some sweats and running shoes. Moving silently around her, he stepped into the bathroom, shutting the door firmly behind him, leaving her still standing in the middle of the bedroom.
A moment later, he walked out of the bathroom, bypassing her, heading down the hall. She hurried after him, calling out, “Where are you going?”
“Running.”
“But why now? We need to talk about what we’re doing! Plans to make—”
Turning on his heel, he faced her, barely keeping her from running into his body as she skidded to a stop. “Vivian. We will talk, but not now. I’m going for a run and you’re going to get your things set up in the other bedroom.” Watching her jaw drop, he lifted his finger and placed it on her chin, shutting her mouth. “And Viv? Get used to this, ‘cause as of right now, I am your boss.”
With that, he turned and walked out the front door, closing it behind him.
Fifteen minutes later, Vivian found herself going between the two bedrooms, transferring her clothes from one to the other. As she put the last of her things in the chest, she slammed the drawer in frustration. It got caught and she shoved all her weight against it, crying out in anger. Stepping back, she sat on the bed, blinking back tears. Glancing out the window, she saw the sky as the sun set, turning beautiful colors over the deep green of the fir trees. Realizing this bedroom did not get the glaring morning sun, but did get the glorious sunsets, made it the better room, even though they were the same size. He couldn’t have known that…he wasn’t being nice…just demanding. And now I look like an idiot for standing up for myself when I wouldn’t have had to if he’d just come out and explained things.
Walking back into his bedroom to make sure she had all her possessions, she looked at the bed, his big bag still sitting on the quilt. Damn…the sheets. Sighing, she knew she needed to change them since she had slept on them last night. Moving to the bed, she grabbed the handles once more, lugging on his bag to move it, struggling just to lift it off. Standing for a moment in indecision, she decided to take some of his clothes out so she could move the duffle.
Don’t touch my things. “Humph,” she groused. “I’ll touch them or you won’t sleep on clean sheets.”
Burying the feeling of guilt, she unzipped th
e top and reached inside to lift out a pile of clothes. Her fingers hit cold metal and she snatched them back as though burned. Sucking in her lips, she hesitated before her curiosity got the better of her. Leaning over, she peered inside, seeing two guns in holsters, and at least one other lying underneath some clothes. Her breath left her in a whoosh and she plopped down heavily as her thoughts tumbled.
Lightheaded, she began to breathe deeply, acknowledging that nothing was going the way she thought it would. I thought I’d share a house with some nice man who would just sneak in next door, do his thing, get some samples for me to test, and then we’d be outta here. Guns? Weapons? And who knows what else is in that bag.
Jumping up, she bent over the bag again, carefully placing the clothes back the way she found them before zipping it closed. Fixing the handles the way they were before she began her ill-fated sheet changing, she stepped back. Looks the same. He can’t tell. Letting out a whooshing breath once more, she glanced about the room in guilt before hurrying to the living room.
7
Logan walked back into the house, locking the door securely behind him, turning the porch light off that Vivian must have flipped on for him. Staring at the lock, he knew he should have added extra security before he left on his run. Vowing that would be the first thing on his to-do list for the next day, he turned from the door, noting a lamp turned on in the living room, as well as the light in the hall, providing illumination.
He knew the hour was late, but it was a nice gesture from her. Double checking the back door in the kitchen, he turned off the lamp before heading to the bedrooms. A quick glance inside his room satisfied him that she had, indeed, done what he asked and moved her things from that room. A note on the bed caught his eye.
Snatching it up, he read,
Didn’t want to touch your stuff, so I couldn’t change the sheets on your bed. They were clean when I slept on them last night, and I assure you I had a shower before I went to bed. See you in the morning, Vivian
The door across the hall was closed and he moved to it, his hand on the doorknob before hesitating. The desire to open the door to see that she was okay was strong—unnervingly strong. I can’t just open her bedroom door. I can’t just peek in. What if—fuck it, I need to see that she’s safe.
Opening the door slowly, his eyes adjusted quickly to the dark room, the moonlight barely peeking in through the slit in the closed curtains. An unmoving lump was in the bed, so he stepped closer, allowing light from the hall to shine on her. Her dark hair flowed out behind her on the pillow as she lay on her side facing him. Her eyelashes made thick crescents on her cheeks and her mouth, for once not talking, was slightly open, her breaths deep.
The floorboards creaked underneath his weight and he inwardly cursed, but she never moved. Satisfied she was safe, he backed out of the room, closing the door behind him. A slight grin slid over his face as he thought about how deeply she slept. He was trained to sleep light, to be awake and aware in an instant. But her? She looked as though she could sleep through fireworks.
His cock stirred at the thought of her tucked into bed, but he tamped down any thoughts of sex with the pretty Viv. His frown now back firmly in place, he headed to wash up in the tiny-ass bathroom. At least the water was hot. Back in his bedroom, dressed in cutoff sweat pants and a t-shirt, he set his bag off the bed after checking his weapons. The rooms were small, only fitting a twin-sized bed with a scuffed wooden headboard, a chest of drawers, and a sliding door that opened to a small closet. Vivian had closed the curtains but he moved to the window, barely pulling them to the side once his light was out, and looked next door. His run in the dark included some reconnaissance on the neighbor’s property. Their lights were out as well now.
Satisfied there was nothing else to be done tonight, he pulled back the covers and slid into bed. As his head hit the pillow, the soft floral scent of Vivian encircled him, filling his nostrils. For an instant, he thought that perhaps he should have changed the sheets. But as he relaxed into sleep, he liked that her scent surrounded him.
Vivian’s eyes opened and, just like the previous morning, it took her a moment to remember where she was. Always a deep sleeper, she lay for several minutes as her brain tried to catch up to the fact that there was sunlight coming through the slit between the curtains and the sound of boots could be heard down the hall.
Swinging her legs over the side of the bed, she pulled on her woolen socks, desperately longing for coffee. Standing, in a mindless quest for caffeine, she staggered out of her bedroom, barely noting Logan’s bedroom door was open. Scuffing into the kitchen, she rounded the corner and viewed the back of him.
Tall. Muscular. And this she knew because of the 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 could have cared less about his clothes or how they looked on him. She was still gawking when he looked over his shoulder, catching her standing there.
Stunned, Logan stared at her, the flannel pajamas hiding her figure, but he knew they kept the morning chill off. Her silky hair hung straight, close to the sides of her face but unable to hide the pillow crease running along her cheek. The slack, still half-asleep look on her face almost made him grin.
“Viv? You awake?”
Her eyes jumped to his and she shook her head. “Uh-uh. Coffee.”
He poured her a cup before setting the creamer found in the refrigerator and the sweetener packets he noticed in the cabinet onto the counter as well. She shuffled toward the steaming cup and dumped creamer and two sweeteners in before circling her hands around it, 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 came from her but he heard slurping. Plating the bacon and eggs, he moved past her to set them on the table. She was still 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 spoonful of scrambled eggs into her mouth. “This is good.”
He eyed her carefully before asking, “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 laying in the same position, as though you hadn’t moved all night. Now, you can barely speak a sentence and look like you’re gonna 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.
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 so I can keep track of the house next door.”
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. Setting one in front of him, she said, “Here’s your unsullied cup.” 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 and she was unable to hide her grin. “Yeah…it’s unsullied with anything to make it remotely drinkable. But, that’s the way you like it, right?”
Noddin
g, his grin slipped out. Then, just as quickly, it disappeared. “Okay, we need to talk about the plans.” He leaned a long arm over to the counter, snagging a folder and laying it out in front of them.
She slid over to the 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 laid out 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 did not come straight to Alaska. They immigrated to Chicago and it appears 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 would be able to identify them when she saw them.
Continuing, he said, “They took out a lease on this house about four months ago.” Flipping to the next page of photographs, “And these people seem to be the most frequent visitors. Malik Jones, Rashad Smith, and Nafisa Fariq. All university students majoring in biology or chemistry. There have been other visitors since they’ve been under suspicion, but these are the most frequent.”
Thin Ice Page 4