Chapter 2 — Logan

Classic rock music blared through the garage, loud enough to rattle the windows. A sheet of metal dug into Logan’s glove as he pounded the dents out of the rare fender. The skeletal bones of the motorcycle sat in front of him. Outside a strip of sunlight covered the driveway as he hammered the shit out of the scrap.

Pang! Pang!

The noise was deafening, loud enough to hear through the music, but Logan didn't care. It felt therapeutic to watch the bumps even out, to bash something into place. Another blow hit the sheet a little too hard and he flipped it around, brows knitting at his error. He gave the distortion a few taps and after evening it out again, was satisfied with the correction.

He lifted the hammer again—pang! Beating this thing to death wouldn't help clear the thoughts out of his head. The sound ricocheted in his ear painfully. Frustrated, Logan threw the hammer to the ground and used the back of his hand to wipe away the sweat that was gathering on his forehead. Sighing, he stepped over the scattered pieces of the motorcycle and walked across to the fridge in the corner. He selected a beer, unscrewed the cap and wrapped his warm hand around the refreshing, ice-cold bottle. He tipped his head back and took a long sip, knocking back half the bottle.

With his free hand, he wiped away the excess from his mouth and then moved over to his desk in the corner of the garage. Sinking into the seat, he continued to sip his beer but his eyes were magnetically drawn to the stack of bills and paperwork resting on the right-hand side. The latest one had arrived earlier this morning, which further added to his dark mood. Logan had literally skimmed it and then thrown it onto his desk, without giving it too much thought. He wanted to concentrate on Jon Hammond’s bike and didn’t need the added distraction of more doom and gloom.

Now, however, he couldn’t avoid the pull of the paperwork any longer. Exhaling loudly, he grabbed the stack of papers and brought them in front of him. Logan’s heart sank when he reread the morning’s letter. He was late on his mortgage payments for the garage the past few months and the bank was now threatening foreclosure if he didn’t clear his arrears.

The problem was, Logan knew he didn’t have the foothold in this small town to sustain the upkeep. When he first opened the motorcycle repair shop six months ago, he initially loved the tranquility of the quiet town and threw his efforts into restoring the machines. Growing up, before he joined the military, he spent his teen years around custom bikes and even though his presence was rarely wanted, Logan picked up a lot of the tricks of the trade. He knew that someday he’d start up his own garage and turn his passion into a business.

Unfortunately, things didn’t go as planned. Logan wanted to escape his past, and through a connection, he somehow arrived in Magnolia Falls, which was two hundred clicks from San Francisco. He decided to stay and set up his garage but as the months ticked by, Logan soon realized that even though he loved the town, it was much too small for his kind of specialized business. The bills were piling up and without the customer base, he had fallen behind on his mortgage and utility payments.

Fuck. I need to do something.

Logan hung his head in his hands, racking his mind with how he could save his beloved garage. Running a hand through his hair, he closed his eyes for a moment, thinking up different scenarios and wondering if he could ask for another loan from his bank manager, although he knew the odds were stacked against him.

The sound of wheels crunching on his driveway shook Logan out of his thoughts and he raised his head to see an SUV approaching, kicking up dust clouds in its wake. He sat up straight as soon as the vehicle came into view. A black Humvee. He recognized it immediately.

His eyebrows drew down as Logan stood and walked to the entrance, wondering what in the hell Michael Barnes was doing here.

The door opened and his old friend and ex-commander stepped out, a wide smile on his face. Logan grabbed a rag and wiped his hands the best he could before moving out into the drive. The bright sun had Logan squinting his eyes as he approached Michael.

“Michael. What are you doing here?”

“Good to see you too, son.” His grin was warm and Logan couldn’t help but notice the extra wrinkles around his eyes, though apart from that, he still looked the same. Strong. An air of authority. Dependable.

He held out his hand and Michael returned the firm handshake.

“Is there somewhere we can talk, Logan?”

“Sure.” He looked back into the garage. “Is it private enough in here or would you prefer to go someplace else?”

Michael shook his head. “No, this is good. Are you alone?”

“Yeah. Not expecting anyone today.”

Michael gave him a small nod in approval and followed him back inside the garage.

They stepped over the various pieces of metal covering the floor until they reached the area designated for his desk and paperwork. Logan offered Michael his chair, grabbing the stool for himself. “Can I get you a beer?”

Michael pulled at the collar of his polo shirt. “Sure, it’s damn hot out there.”

A few minutes later, they sat side by side, drinking in silence. Soon, Logan couldn’t stand the suspense any longer. “So, what brings you out here, Michael?”

Michael glanced at around at his desk and Logan inwardly swore when Michael’s eyes landed on the letter he was reading earlier. However, Michael didn’t comment and merely put his bottle down.

“How you holding up, kid?”

Logan shrugged. “I’m fine.”

“You spoke to anyone in the past six months about the stuff that went down?”

Logan looked away, the muscles in his jaw tensing. “If you’re referring to the shrink, then no. I don’t need to speak to someone about what happened just because they’ve got some fancy letters next to their name.”

Michael sighed, his brows knitting together. “I understand—”

“No one understands. Look, I don’t want to talk about it.” Logan drained the last few drops of his beer and crossed his arms.

“Okay, fine. I get it. I’ll let it rest for now but know that this isn’t the last you’ll hear of it.”

Logan released a deep breath but didn’t reply. He was getting a little tired of the monthly calls, checking up on his mental health and general well-being. Most of all, he just wanted to be left alone in peace. Or rather, with my demons.

“So, let’s cut to the chase.” Michael sat up straight in his chair, clearing this throat and taking on a business tone. “I had a call from Lieutenant Kellen Walker yesterday.”

“How is he?” Logan had met him once before with Michael and thought he was a pleasant-enough guy.

“He’s incredibly busy but also very worried.”

Logan furrowed his brow. “Is he okay?”

Michael nodded. “Yeah, he’s fine, but his best friend’s in trouble. Have you heard of a designer called Reed Luxe?”

Logan thought the name rang a distant bell, but shaking his head, he couldn’t connect any information. “No, I don’t think so. Why?”

“Apparently, he’s one of the most sought-after designers right now. Spends a lot of time in the public eye. Turns out, he’s been receiving threatening notes—the latest was five days ago following the success of his show in Tokyo.”

Logan raised an eyebrow. “Tokyo?”

“Yeah, Fashion Week. He was out there showcasing his latest collection.”

Logan’s mouth pulled up at the corners. “Sorry, I don’t know anything about that social calendar.”

Michael waved his hand dismissively. “Trust me, my knowledge is as good as yours. Anyway, he pretty much received a death threat, along the lines of ‘If I can’t have you, then no one else will.’”

“Man, that’s rough. Is he okay?”

“According to Kellen, he’s pretty shaken up. The stalker gained access to his house while he was away and sent him photos from inside. Yet there was no obvious break in and entry.”

Logan raised an eyebrow. “He’s smart. Security cameras?”

“Scrambled.”

“Fuck.”

“Yeah, the stalker’s tech savvy too.”

Logan shifted on his stool. “What’s Kellen having you do?”

Michael shook his head. “Not me—I’m swamped this month.” He took a breath. “I want you onboard as his bodyguard until they catch the stalker. I don’t trust anyone else to do the job.”

Logan groaned. “C’mon, Michael. We’ve talked about this before. I’m not a freaking bodyguard. And besides, like I’ve told you, I’m happy here. I happen to like the non-action life.”

“It’s just for a month or two. Now that the threat’s escalated, Kellen’s sure they’ll catch him soon.”

“Micha—”

Michael held up his hand, stopping him mid protest. Logan watched as he reached into his trouser pocket and pulled out a slip of paper. Unfolding it, he placed it on the desk, spinning it around in Logan’s direction. “Paperwork’s at the office; I’ll go through it all with you later.”

“What’s this, then?”

Michael pointed at the figures. “This, Logan, is how much Mr. Luxe is willing to pay for your services.”

Picking up the slip, he stared at the scribbled figure. Logan swallowed. Hard.

Shit, this is more than enough to pay off all my debts and then some.

“Is this for real?” He looked at Michael with disbelief.

“It’s negotiable. If you don’t think it’s enough, we can get back to Mr. Luxe—”

“No, no. Not at all. This is an extremely generous offer.”

Michael’s shoulders dropped, a small smile playing on his lips. “That’s what I thought.” His smile faded. “But you can’t put a price on someone’s life. He’s understandably scared about the whole thing.”

“I can imagine.”

Michael sat forward in his seat. “So, you’ll do it?”

Logan threw the slip of paper on the desk and looked straight ahead. “Nope.”

Exasperated, Michael stood and began to pace. “Why the hell not, Logan? With your background as a trained SEAL, he couldn’t be in better hands. It’s an easy gig, you’re the man for the job. You’d be crazy to refuse this.”

Logan’s lips flattened. “I’m not looking after anyone.” Ever again.

Michael stopped pacing, a soft expression forming on his features. “That was different and you know it. You need to move on, Logan. Get back to the real world—do what you’re trained to do. This will get you out there, earning a decent wage and then you can come back here to your peace and quiet—one, two months later, and with your pockets lined.” He paused. “And, you’d be able to get the bank off your back, too.”

Logan’s brows flattened and his eyes snapped to Michael.

“It was staring at me. I couldn’t help scanning it. Things are tough, huh? Why didn’t you reach out to me?”

Logan sighed. “I thought there would be enough clientele here but it’s pretty dry. I’ve been trying to drum up business… but in the meantime, the bills are stacking up…” He trailed off.

Michael returned to his seat. “Take the job, Logan. You’ll be helping me out, too. Kellen’s a good friend and I don’t want to let him down. I’d be confident Reed Luxe will be a hundred percent safe in your hands.”

Logan took a few deep breaths, weighing up the cons. However, in this instance, with his dire financial situation at stake, the pros came out on top.

He inhaled sharply. “Fine, I’ll do it. Two months tops.”

Michael grinned, his eyes bright with victory. “I knew you’d come around. There’s too much talent in that body of yours to be hidden behind this grease and metal.”

“Hey, don’t knock the bikes, old man.”

Smiling, the two men stood and shook hands, sealing their mission.