Thin Ice

by Maryann Jordan

  Vivian nodded once more, fatigue pulling at her very core. “What about my car?”

  “I’ve already taken it to the little rental place here and they were glad to get it, with all the film buffs in town. I got your stuff out of it and into my truck.”

  Standing, he assisted her to her feet. She leaned her head back, and said, “And you? You’re going to go after Rashad?”

  “Yeah…I’ve got to get him before he leaves the country.”

  Letting out another deep sigh, she nodded wearily as he picked up her bags and they walked out of the little cabin. Without looking toward the woods, she allowed him to lead her around the outside of the hotel to where his truck was parked. Sliding into the passenger seat, she leaned back against the headrest, her exhausted mind ready to shut down.

  Once at the airfield, he stowed her luggage in the small charter plane, talking to the pilot. Handing the man what she was sure was a significant amount of money and probably giving him a warning about her safety, the two men shook hands. As the pilot climbed into the cockpit, Logan stood with her at the door to the small plane.

  Determined to face their goodbye with a modicum of control, she looked up at his rugged, handsome face, her heart skipping a beat for the millionth time since meeting him. Drawing in a shaky breath, she said, “Thank you for everything, Logan.”

  Logan stood statue still, his gaze searching hers, before growling, “Oh, fuck it,” and pulling her into a close embrace. He felt her body shiver against his and the sting at the back of his eyes unsettled him. Once more, a man at war with himself, he wanted to tell her he would see her again but knew no promises could be…or should be, made.

  “Thank you, Viv. You kept me from skating on thin ice by myself.”

  At that, a sob shook her and she let go, her hand reaching up to cup his face. “God speed, Logan.” Inhaling a shuddering breath, she turned and climbed into the back seat of the plane and he shut the door. As the aircraft revved down the runway, she turned away so he would not see the tear that slid down her cheek.

  As he watched the plane lift into the sky, his heart ached more than he had ever experienced—not his career-changing injury or the long rehab afterward. Staring into the dark, night sky, he stayed rooted in place until the lights of the plane mingled with the stars and faded from view.

  34

  Three Months Later

  “Oh, my, will you look at that? I want to get a picture of everything.”

  Logan heard the excitement from the hobby photographer taking his first trip over the Glacier National Park. The photographer had glanced Logan’s way, but with his headphones covering his ears, it was easy for Logan to pretend he did not hear him. Even an enthusiastic passenger gave him little pleasure these days.

  He maneuvered his helicopter along his regular path, circling around the snow-capped mountains of the park before dipping near the crystal clear lake. Hovering occasionally so the passenger could aim his camera and shoot, he let out a sigh. My solitary existence used to be enough…but not now…not since Viv.

  He tried not to think about her too often, but she was always on his mind. When he drank his unsullied morning coffee and wanted to fix another cup full of sweetener and cream. Even in his home, he would look for her to stumble into the kitchen…my zombie Viv. Late at night was the worst, when the loneliness of his life would threaten to choke him. The sunsets that painted the sky and the sunrises that shook off the night, all brought her right back to him—and the reminder that they were never meant to be.

  As he began the flight back over the Blackfeet Indian Reservation, he heard the photographer say, “Man, you gotta love this job. Best job in the world.”

  With a smile that resembled more of a grimace, he turned and headed back to the Cut Bank Airfield. Once he dropped off his passenger, he made his usual, daily detour on his way home and headed to Cutter’s Bar.

  Stepping inside the dark interior, he nodded toward Sam, ordering his beer.

  “You got a visitor,” Sam called out, jerking his head toward the back.

  Logan’s gaze shot toward the direction Sam was indicating, the desire to see Viv overwhelming his senses. But instead, his heart fell as he saw who was waiting for him. Blanking his expression, he walked over and said, “Commander.”

  Greg stood and shook Logan’s hand before the two settled into the booth. Sam brought the beers and they sat, silent, staring at each other for a long minute.

  “You being here must mean you’ve kept tabs on me. Know my daily routine. Guess maybe I should mix that up a little.”

  A smile tugged at Greg’s lips but he managed to rein it in. “I got your report about Rashad. You tracked him and eliminated the problem. Congratulations on a successful mission. The country owes you a debt.

  Dipping his chin, Logan silently accepted the other man’s gratitude.

  Greg dropped his gaze to his beer, seemingly fascinated by the sweat droplets running down the glass. “Any…uh…problems encountered that I need to know about? It’s been a couple of months since we last debriefed, but I wondered if there was anything else you remembered.”

  “Three months, four days, and about twelve hours.”

  Greg’s gaze jumped up to Logan’s, a slow nod of understanding passing through his eyes.

  “Any particular reason you came all the way to Montana, Greg…other than to check to see if I’m functioning? You’ve got no worries. Once a SEAL, always a SEAL. You know that. What happened up there…how it ended…was fucked up.” Sighing, he added, “She should have never had to deal with that.”

  “Bottom line, Preacher, you completed the mission. What Ms. Sanders went through was unfortunate, but she knew when she signed up for field work that things could get messy. Even getting sick, she still knew what could happen.”

  Logan’s eyes widened and he stammered, “What...sick…what are you talking about?”

  Greg grimaced, unhappy with his slip…an occurrence that rarely happened. Knowing he had no choice but to explain, he said, “Ms. Sanders became ill upon her return to California. She was exposed to the bacteria, but it appears she was not a carrier. She was the only one ill.”

  His breath leaving him in a rush, Logan leaned forward, his gaze anguished. “Is she all right? Is she—”

  “She’s fine, she’s fine,” Greg assured, his gaze assessing. “She was treated in a hospital with antibiotics. I talked to her supervisor at the DHS, who was in constant contact with her and the hospital staff.” Staring at him intently, his eyes showing understanding. “So, as I said, her supervisor says she’s fine…got debriefed…got counseling. I’d say she knew what she was getting into and handled things very well.”

  Logan’s jaw hardened as his eyes narrowed. “Seriously? You seriously think that? She had no fuckin’ clue—”

  “If she had left when her part of the mission was over, she wouldn’t have ended up in the thick of things at the end—”

  Slapping his hand down on the worn table, he growled, “I told you what happened. She just happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time.”

  Greg nodded, once more, slowly, as he said, “Or, perhaps she was in the right place at the right time.” Not giving him time to respond, he continued, “She did her part of the mission without fail and then, at the end, worked with you instead of against you when she realized what you had to do. From what you said, it seems she saved your life.”

  Silence descended over the table, the sounds of the mid-afternoon bar activity in the background. Now, it was his turn to focus on his beer, his rough thumb sliding through the condensation, creating pools of water on the table. “Thin ice,” he mumbled under his breath.

  “What was that?” Greg asked, his head cocked to the side.

  “Nothin’,” he responded. “Just a saying I heard from someone.”

  Finishing his beer, Greg looked back at Logan’s ragged expression, and said, “Preacher, any chance you’d want more work from me if it comes my way? There’s
always another cell cropping up that needs to be eliminated.”

  He held his gaze steady and shook his head. “Thanks for the vote of confidence, Commander, but no.”

  Greg nodded slowly, his penetrating gaze as sharp as ever. “What about in planning? Using the skills you have, working from your home. You’ve got a sweet setup there and I know I could use your expertise.”

  A slight smile curved his face as he nodded. “That, Greg…I can do.”

  Meeting his grin, Greg stood and reached his hand out across the table. He shook it, standing as well. Walking out at the same time, the bright sun hit their faces as they slid sunglasses on in unison before turning back to each other.

  “Goodbye, for now,” Greg said before he stalked over to his car.

  Logan waved and watched the iconic man drive away. His heart heavy for the suffering Vivian had to suffer, as well as the loss of her in his life. He climbed into his truck and rumbled down the road. Alone. And destined to be alone.

  35

  One Month Later

  Parking his truck outside the Cut Bank Airstrip hangar, Logan alighted from his truck and walked inside the small office. Gus had called him an hour earlier reporting a tourist wanted to book a helicopter tour of the mountains. Initially telling Gus he wasn’t available, Gus begged, saying the tourist was only in town for one day.

  The office was empty but as he walked toward the hangar, he noticed a woman standing near his helicopter. Closing the distance, his heart began to pound and his lungs felt as though he were gasping for air. Long, dark, silky hair, gently blowing in the breeze. Navy corduroy pants, paired with a light blue sweater. Black boots. Petite body that he knew fit perfectly with his.

  As he approached, he noted the tentative smile darting about her lips and her hands twisting together. Gazing into her eyes, her nervousness was palpable. Stopping a few feet away, he drank her in but, not knowing why she was here, he held back from pulling her into his arms.

  They stood, silent for a moment, as though both afraid to speak. Finally, giving in, he simply breathed, “Viv.”

  She immediately pressed her lips together tightly, before sucking in a deep breath and letting it out slowly. “I thought this would be easier,” she said, blinking several times as she breathed in and out.

  His brow furrowed in silent questioning.

  “Seeing you again, that is.”

  “I take it you’re the tourist who asked to be taken up?”

  Her slight smile slipped. “Yes. I’m sorry for the subterfuge. I just wasn’t sure how to find you…and Gus is very tight-lipped about where you live.”

  Dropping his chin, he shook his head. Of all the times for Gus to get protective. Lifting his head, he held her gaze. “It’s fine, Viv. I’m really glad to see you.” Seeing her uncertain smile again, he wondered about her motive. “Uh…did you want to talk…or uh…?”

  “Yes, very much. I’d like some…um…I need some closure.”

  “Oh. Yeah…sure.” His mind raced as to where they could talk, but the idea of her forever-goodbye hitting him while standing on the airfield of Cut Bank gutted him. Knowing it was a mistake, he said, “How about I take you back to my place…just to talk. It’s private…uh…”

  “I can follow you,” she said. “I’ve got a rental.”

  He turned and saw a small, black, energy efficient rental. Looking so much like what she drove in Alaska, he closed his eyes at the memory. Nodding, he agreed, knowing it would be best for him not to have to drive her back to town after their goodbye.

  Ten minutes later, he climbed out of his truck and watched as she pulled up next to him. He walked over and opened her door, offering his hand as she stepped out. The electricity from her fingertips to his had them both staring at their hands for a moment before their gazes jumped back up. Knowing this would be the last time her hand would be in his, he entwined his fingers with hers and led her toward his front porch. He felt a gentle tug and looked down, relieved she was not trying to disengage his hand, but was instead staring off into the distance, the first real smile on her face since he had seen her at the airfield.

  “Oh, my,” Vivian breathed, her eyes filled with the wonderment of the Montana terrain. “This is breathtaking. To think that you look at this every day. Every sunrise and sunset. Wow.” Giving her head a small shake, bringing her mind back to her personal mission, she blushed as she quickly continued along with him to the front porch.

  Throwing open the door, Logan led her inside, giving her the view of his open, but warm, living space and the minimal, but comfortable, furnishings. Offering her a seat on the sofa, he reluctantly let go of her hand as he headed to the kitchen, grabbing two beers before walking back to her. Choosing to stay close, no matter how much her words were going to hurt, he chose to sit on the sofa, twisting his body so that he faced her.

  Taking a long swig, she looked down for a moment, gathering her courage.

  “Viv, you came a long way to talk to me…or to tell me something. I’m gonna let you take your time…say whatever you need. You can call the shots.” Steeling himself for her anger, he sucked in a deep breath.

  “I…I got sick when I got back from Alaska,” she began, forcing herself to stare into his eyes. “It must have happened when I was cleaning up, although with so much bleach, I have no idea how. I handled the plastic bag afterward…that must have been it.”

  “I am so sorry—”

  “No, no. I mean, it’s not your fault. It certainly proved what we knew could happen as far as biological terrorism.” Snorting, she added, “In fact, they used me to study what drugs worked best and how to contain contamination.” Giving a slight shrug, she said, “I became another DHS biological test.”

  “Oh, shit, Viv…”

  Unable to hold back a rueful chuckle, she smiled, and he felt the punch to his gut. He had woken up to that smile for weeks and had missed it for months.

  “Anyway, I’m all better…no lasting side effects or anything.” They sat in silence again for a few minutes, before she continued, “Uh…I’m also in counseling. For…well, for everything.” She lifted her gaze back to his and said, “My supervisor said it was mandatory for me to keep my job and, let’s face it, I needed it. So, I’ve been seeing someone who works with former military personnel. They understand PTSD.”

  His heart ached at her words. He knew what she went through, but hearing her speak of it, pierced straight through him.

  “But, I’m actually doing really well,” she admitted, with a small smile. “I don’t have nightmares anymore…well, at least only rarely, and when I do, I know several techniques for calming myself.”

  “I’m glad,” he said, sincerity filling his voice. “I never meant for any of that to happen, Viv. None of it—”

  She leaned forward, placing her hand on his arm, giving a little squeeze. “Oh, Logan, I know. None of it was your fault. You had a job…I know that.” Swallowing deeply, she said, “I’m not here to make you feel guilty. I’m here because my therapist told me I had one more thing I needed to take care of and that was to face you. The way things ended…well, I had no closure.”

  “And that’s why you’re here? Closure?” he asked, thinking his heart could not take any more pain, but determined to let her have what she needed.

  She nodded slowly as she said, “I need you to hear me out, please.” Seeing him give a quick nod, she continued, “I’m not sorry at all that I took the assignment. The truth of the matter is, I was bored just working in a lab and, even as scary as it got, I needed to see how my work has meaning when faced with how terrorists can use biological warfare. It opened my eyes.”

  Sucking in a deep breath, she added, “But on a personal level…the way things ended…it was all so…” Huffing, she grimaced. “I’ve practiced what I was going to say so much and now that I’m here facing you, my words all seem so stupid.”

  Reaching over to take her hand, he rubbed his thumb over her soft skin, and prodded, “Just say whatever it
is, Viv. I know I deserve whatever you’ve got to say…whatever you’ve got to get off your chest.”

  Her head turned swiftly, confusion in her eyes. “I was going to say that I felt so connected to you, it wasn’t like we had to play the part of being a couple. And well, I fell for you. Truly, honestly, fell for you.”

  His hand stilled as he jerked his head to the side, but before he could speak, she continued. “It’s just that, at the end, when you had to do your job and then everything went crazy with them, I felt like we didn’t get our chance to tell each other how we really felt. It was all so much about the mission…and needed to be…but,” she shrugged, “I’ve felt for months like so many things went unsaid.”

  Pushing her shoulders back, she steeled her spine, holding his gaze. “So that’s what I came to say. I fell in love with you in Alaska and I’m not sorry at all. I just didn’t get a chance to tell you how I felt. I once told you I was holding out for a hero and that hero was you. That’s still true.” Her shoulders hunched slightly, as her voice took with a sad quality. “My counselor said that I need to face the fact that I was grieving lost love as much as the PTSD and I should come, face you, so at least I will have said it instead of holding it all in.”

  Seeing the tick in his jaw, she smiled gently, reaching up to cup his stubbled cheek. “Please don’t feel the need to say anything…I don’t want anything from you other than the chance to have seen you one last time. Thank you for letting me get my feelings out.” Standing, she slid her purse strap on her shoulder and walked toward the door.

  Dizzy with emotions, he stood quickly, calling out, “You loved me?”

  Turning, her gaze sought his and she nodded slowly. “Yes. That’s why I needed to come see you. To know for sure that I’ve told you how I felt and then hopefully I’ll be able to move on from this.”