by CP Smith
Logan raised a brow at the comment. “My gun?”
Duke threw the rest of his cigarette on the ground and snuffed it out with the toe of his boot before grinning at Logan. “Should I have said guns?”
“Is that a problem for you?”
“Not as long as you draw it in self-defense,” Duke chuckled, sticking out his hand for Logan to shake. “Relax, son. I ran your information this afternoon to make sure you were solid. Daniel James was a good friend. A good man. I’m not about to let someone near his daughter without checking him out first.”
Logan took his hand and shook it. “You’ll have no problems from me. I’ve seen enough death. I want simple, now. Peaceful.”
“Didn’t think so.” Duke turned to leave then paused and looked back at Logan. “How long of a kill shot have you made?”
Logan drew air into his lungs before answering. His longest shot had been too late. It had only stopped one of the suicide bombers. “Almost two miles.”
_______________
Duke poured another glass of whiskey. It helped ease the pain that accompanied long days and sleepless nights. A single light burned in his office, casting shadows on the drab room where he’d spent too much time over the past thirty years. He was ready to retire to a warmer climate. Had been for more than a year. Just him and his fishing pole. Maybe Mexico, where the señoritas were as warm as the sun.
A slow grin crept across his mouth. Logan Storm’s sudden appearance in Ennis was changing the landscape. For Skylar, and for him. He hadn’t wanted to leave Ennis until Skylar and her bothers were settled, but Logan’s arrival would help speed that up. It was obvious to anyone who looked at the man, his entire focus was on Skylar. And that focus would grow into a lifetime of happiness for both of them. But happiness required a job. A job he was suited for. A job that required carrying a gun.
His grin widened. He’d found his replacement as chief of police, and someone who would protect Daniel James’s family, all in the same person. Mexico wasn’t a pipedream anymore.
Raising his glass in a celebratory toast, Duke sighed when his cell phone began to ring in his hip pocket. He cursed, placing the tumbler on the desk before pulling out his phone and looking at the number. His brows pulled tight across his forehead when he saw K & L Mortuaries light up his screen.
“This is Duke.”
“Chief, this is Frank Wells.” He’d whispered his reply, which caused Duke to sit up straight.
“What’s going on, Frank?”
Duke rose from his seat and automatically checked his weapon and began to head for his door.
“It’s policy, Duke. We have to list cause of death on the death certificate. If we suspect the cause doesn’t match the circumstances, we put unknown and call for an autopsy.”
“I know this, Frank, so why don’t you tell me why you’re calling me at one in the morning to explain procedure.”
Duke had quickened his pace. His gut told him he wouldn’t get to bed any time soon.
“Justice Bear, Duke. Chance said he died in his sleep, but I found bruising around his neck.”
Fuck. “You’re sure?”
“As sure as I can be. I’m not a coroner, Duke, so I could be wrong. I was going to talk to you about it in the morning before I called for the coroner, but we’re out of time. You need to contact the sheriff and get his people to take a look before Chance gets a court order to release the body tomorrow.”
“Are you telling me he knows you found something?”
“I had to tell him. He woke me up and demanded his father’s body. Said he has to burn it on his property within twenty-four hours because it’s the way of his people.”
Duke’s heart was thundering with the implications. “Flatheads don’t cremate, Frank.”
“No shit, Duke, why do you think I’m calling you. He was here less than five minutes ago acting like a raving lunatic.”
“Christ. Lock yourself in,” Duke ordered, as he pushed through the door and hit the street at a run, climbing into his truck. “I’m coming to you.”
He hung up then paused for half a second. He could hear music still coming from Big Sky Saloon and considered going back for Logan, but he kept on his course. He knew Chance. He didn’t like to lose any more than his father did. If he killed Justice, he would stop at nothing to cover it up, which meant he’d strike immediately. Duke had no time to waste.
Less than two minutes later, Duke rounded the front of K & L Mortuary and found it dark on the inside. He scanned the area before exiting his vehicle. Chance’s telltale rig, with its Bear Claw insignia on the side, wasn’t in sight. Pulling his weapon out, Duke headed to the side entrance, pounded on the door. When Frank didn’t answer he tried the knob, found it unlocked. Cursing under his breath, Duke pulled a flashlight from his belt and opened the door slowly. He positioned the flashlight under his firearm and shined it down the corridor, sweeping the area for danger, and saw a foot sticking out from a doorway.
“Jesus. Jesus H. Christ,” Duke growled, entering the building quickly, swinging his weapon back and forth as he made his way to Frank. When he flicked on the overhead light, Duke stalled briefly at the sight of blood pouring from the back of Frank’s head. He kneeled to check his pulse, keeping his eyes peeled and his gun at the ready for an attack. Frank’s pulse was weak but there, thank Christ.
Time was critical, so Duke reached for his phone to call emergency services but dropped it when a large hand closed over his mouth. His attacker was stealthy. Quiet on his feet. He’d never heard Chance coming.
He struggled to break free, aiming his weapon behind him. He tried to pull the trigger, but the gun was yanked from his hand. He was a dead man. Knew it when the gun flew across the room. His fears were confirmed when the sharp sting of a blade sliced across his Adam’s apple before he could react.
Duke clutched at his throat as his life began to fade. The last thing he heard, as a white light engulfed him in its warmth, was the ticking of a clock. Its second hand taunting him as blood fled his body at a rapid rate. He should have gone to Mexico last year, his brain fired at him in the closing seconds of his life. He would have loved to feel the sun on his skin in the middle of winter.
Nine
Then Don’t Let Go
A SHARP BARK had Logan reaching beneath his pillow for his 9mm, as he tried to adjust his eyes to the dark. There were no trees surrounding him, no water lapping at a shore. He wasn’t under the stars somewhere in the middle of nowhere he realized, but in Big Sky Saloon sleeping on a cloud compared to some of the places he’d bunked the past six months. Glancing at his watch, he noted it was 4:00 a.m., one hour since he’d crawled into bed, then scanned the room for Max. The war dog was watching him from the doorway. His hackles were raised, his ears pinned back. Max was on alert, so Logan slid out of bed and threw on his clothes, ordering, “Seek,” when he was dressed.
Max sprinted through the bar and sat at the main entrance, an indication that whatever had set him off was outside. With his 9mm in his left hand, Logan turned the lock and opened the door without hesitation. If someone was on the other side, they’d have a rude awakening when Max got ahold of them. Within seconds though, Logan knew what had Max’s attention. He could smell it in the air. Something was burning.
Logan ran into the street and immediately checked the bar for flames. When he didn’t see anything but Big Sky’s glowing neon sign, he spun in a circle searching the other buildings. A pinpoint of light flickered through the trees several blocks up, so Logan took off at a sprint. Most of the structures in town were businesses, but he’d noted a small apartment complex as he drove into town in the same direction as the flames.
As he started to round the bend, a loud explosion rocked the little town. It punched him hard in the chest, sending him flying back the way he came, taking him to the ground. He shielded his head as hell rained down around him and confusion settled in from the concussion, sending him back a year into the past, to a time when he watched his
brothers die before his eyes. He raised his gun automatically, searching for the enemy, then felt Max latching on to his ankle. He was trying to pull Logan out of harm’s way. It took him a moment to clear his head as images streaked through his mind’s eye. Ones of his brothers scattered on the ground, mostly in pieces they’d had to identify through dental records and DNA. But Big Sky Saloon’s neon sign, the one he’d forgotten to turn off after locking up, pierced through the confusion and brought him back to the here and now. Skylar’s face erased the other images battling for dominance, until all he could see were her green eyes smiling back at him.
Logan kept his head covered until the last of the carnage settled around him. He rolled to his back and got unsteadily to his feet, searching the area for other victims of the blast. When he saw none, he moved toward the blast zone, storing his 9mm in the back of his jeans. He rounded the curve until he saw what was left of the flames. He had no clue what business had just exploded in front of him, but most of the front half of the building was obliterated.
Lights from area buildings and an apartment complex shone through windows one by one. Residents began to pour into the street with matching masks of shock, heading toward Logan. A man in his fifties, Logan had seen earlier at the bar, came running up to him with a phone in hand.
“What happened?”
Logan didn’t answer, just started barking out orders. “Call fire and rescue.”
The man blinked and looked at his phone, then swiped it open and started dialing.
Another man came running up with a phone in hand, so Logan instructed him to call Duke.
“I just tried calling him. He didn’t answer, but that’s not unusual. He gets up every morning before first light and goes fishing before heading into the office. Cell service is spotty out at Ennis Lake.”
“What happened?” a woman called out as she came running up.
Logan shook his head. “Max woke me up because he smelled the smoke. I got here right as it blew.” He looked at the shell of the building. “Was that a business?”
“Yeah. K & L Mortuary.”
The mortuary sat on a large piece of land away from other structures, but Logan scanned the area to make sure no other businesses were affected, just in case.
“What about Frank?” a woman asked as she walked up, clutching a robe around her body.
Logan went on alert. “Frank? Did he live in there?”
She nodded, looking back at the building with sorrow etched deeply in the lines of her face. “He lived upstairs.”
Logan took off toward the ruins, barking out, “Call the county sheriff if you can’t reach Duke,” as he maneuvered around burning debris.
The contents of the building began to take shape around him as he neared what was left of the building. Metal tables he assumed were for the dead were scattered and bent like a giant had folded them in two. The back half of the building still remained, but the front half was gone. Covering his nose and mouth with the collar of his shirt, Logan paused when he saw a body resting amongst smoldering timbers. It appeared to be an elderly woman, most likely recently deceased based on the age. If not, she was already gone. He moved the timbers away from her body then went in search for the living. He made his way through destroyed desks and empty coffins, past what looked to be the incinerator until what was left of a staircase opened up before him. It was still burning and could collapse at any time, but the living quarters seemed to have mostly escaped the explosion. If Frank had survived the blast, he didn’t have long. Logan scanned the area looking for a water source. If he could find a hose, he could attempt to put out the fire still burning the roof and stairs.
Rushing back through the debris field, he shouted, “I need a hose and water!”
The gathered crowd looked at each other with wide eyes, but no one moved to help. They were still shell-shocked, unable to wrap their minds around the destruction in front of them. He’d seen it before in the desert of Afghanistan, but he didn’t have time for them to recover from the stranglehold shock had on their minds. He needed them focused, ready for action. He was about to start barking orders again when a large figure peeled out of the darkness and headed Logan’s way. Ty kept going around the back of the building, so Logan followed, keeping an eye on the burning structure in case it collapsed.
Ty stopped at the back of the building, reached down, pulled a hose from its coil, and handed it to Logan as he connected it to a faucet. “Frank watered his lawn every day. Said the families of the dearly departed felt at ease around flowers.”
He turned the faucet on, so Logan stood back, aiming the stream at what was left of the roof. The flames weren’t thick, the blast having put out most of the fire, but he was more worried about the smoke. If Frank lived through the explosion, he’d succumb to smoke inhalation quickly.
“We need to soak the stairs,” Logan bit out.
Ty took off without argument and rounded the building. Moments later, a door on the back of the building was kicked open. Logan handed off the hose to Ty with a nod, glad in that moment to have a man his size on his team rather than fighting him. Logan stayed outside to make sure the hose didn’t snag on shrapnel, until the full length was taut, then he ran through the open door and followed Ty.
The moment Ty had the flames burning the stairs at a manageable level, Logan began to climb them. The steps creaked under his weight but held. At the top of the landing was a large hole with little wiggle room for mistake. Needing momentum to make the jump, Logan backed up as far as he could but stopped when Max ran past him and cleared the gaping hole in a single bound, disappearing through an open doorway. Logan reset his stance and jumped too, following his four-legged team member through the door. “Max! Rescue!”
Covering his nose and mouth again, he waited for the telltale bark to alert him. Less than thirty seconds later, Max signaled from the right. Logan turned toward the sound. His eyes stung from the acrid smoke, but he kept pushing through, keeping low to the floor where there was still air to breathe, as sirens broke the night air. He should have waited for fire and rescue, but Frank might not have the time, so he kept moving. Entering a bedroom, he found Max crouched next to a man lying face up on the floor under a fallen ceiling joist. Logan didn’t take the time to check his pulse. If he was dead it didn’t matter, but if he were alive he needed air immediately. He grabbed hold of the body, pulled it out from under the joist, then hoisted him up and over his shoulder in a fireman’s carry and exited the room with Max trailing behind.
_______________
I slowed to a standstill; my mouth open in shock as I entered town. K & L Mortuary looked like a bomb had exploded inside of it. A single firetruck was there, with the volunteer fire department on hand keeping an eye on the still smoldering building. Whatever happened occurred in the middle of the night, that was clear from the cleanup. There were only a few stragglers left watching, so I scanned the area for Duke. I didn’t see him, so I lifted my foot off the brake and kept going.
“Wicked,” Josh mumbled, turning in his seat to look out the back window.
“I hope Frank’s okay,” I muttered, eyeing the bar as I drove past. I wondered if Logan knew what was going on.
“Me too,” Jake mumbled, staring out the back window as well. “Text me when you find out.”
Ten minutes later, after dropping my brothers off at school and being told not to be late for the big game that night, I entered Big Sky and looked around for Logan. Max met me at the end of the bar and seemed agitated, so I crouched down and gave him some love before heading to my office. Logan must still be asleep, which surprised me. He seemed like the early to rise kind of guy.
The door was closed, so I peeked inside. Logan was on the cot, but he was far from sleeping. His head was thrashing against the pillow, his hands clenched into fists as sweat streaked his forehead, which explained Max’s agitation. I’d never seen anyone have a nightmare, and it was unnerving. Pain knotted in my chest for Logan. If what Josh had found out on the
internet was accurate, then Logan definitely had demons. The kind that followed you into dreams.
I kept Max back with a Stay and slid into the room on quiet feet. I wasn’t sure if I should wake him up or let him ride out the dream. I thought about my own nightmares, the ones that haunted me when my father first passed. The one where his eyes opened in his coffin and he begged me to keep my brothers safe. I’d woken in a cold sweat and buried my face in my pillow so I could cry without Jake or Josh hearing. I would have given anything to avoid those dreams.
Determined to help Logan, I inched closer, calling out his name softly while running my hand down his arm. Unfocused eyes—so startling blue in color they beat out the skies around Ennis with their beauty—popped open instantly. I repeated his name as he stared at me with an unfocused, unblinking gaze, then gasped when he reached up and yanked me down onto his hard body.
I froze on contact, held my breath; afraid he was still living inside the dream. I should have known better than to wake a former soldier from a nightmare, prayed he recognized me rather than saw me as the enemy. I took my first breath when he buried his face into my neck, relaxing bit by bit beneath me as his hands began to roam. “Are you real?” he whispered into my ear, nuzzling my neck.
His voice sounded strained, yet hopeful, as if the dream still held thin threads on his reality, so I pulled my head back and look down at him. His eyes were closed, his brows pinched across his forehead, so I leaned down and brushed a kiss across his lips. “As real as you want me to be.”