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  Published by The Hartwood Publishing Group, LLC,

  Hartwood Publishing, Phoenix, Arizona

  www.hartwoodpublishing.com

  Logan

  Copyright © 2017 by Theodora Lane

  Digital Release: February 2017

  All Rights Reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

  This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the writer’s imagination, or have been used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locales, or organizations is entirely coincidental.

  Logan by Theodora Lane

  Logan made a deathbed promise in Iraq to his best friend and brother-in-arms, Billy. Now, years later, Billy’s kid sister Shae is in trouble, and Logan needs to make good on his vow. The only problem is Shae’s not a little girl any longer, but a grown woman who can take care of herself.

  Every year on Billy’s birthday, Shae gets a call from his best friend Logan. They’ve never met in person, and the call is a reminder of how much Billy’s loss means to her and to Logan.

  This year, things are different. Shae’s in trouble, and she really needs someone to listen to her and tell her she’s not crazy or imagining things. Logan is the one person who might be able to help her.

  But getting involved with Logan could be the biggest mistake she’s ever made. He’s ex-Special Forces, a man who killed for his country. Her father hates Logan and blames him for Billy’s death. And though she’s only seen Logan in her brother’s high school photos, he was her teenage crush.

  Logan will do anything to keep his promise to Billy. She needs him and his skills. But Shae’s in the “little sister” zone and off limits, right?

  Tell that to Logan’s body and to his heart.

  Dedication

  To Georgia, thanks for the idea of Maximus Garage.

  Prologue

  Mosul, Iraq

  Four Years Earlier

  “Man down!”

  Logan pressed his back against the Humvee and sucked in a deep lungful of floating dust. He gripped his M4 rifle tighter, hacked, and spit, trying to clear his throat of the cloying brown dirt. His ears still rang from the blast. At least his double vision had cleared behind the protection of his helmet’s visor.

  “Logan!” A strangled cry cut through the confusion and noise of weapons firing.

  Billy’s voice.

  Logan tensed, gathered his legs under him, pushed up, and peered over the top of the vehicle.

  His best friend lay on the other side of the road in a growing pool of blood.

  “Billy! You hit?” he shouted.

  “Logan…” Billy whimpered.

  “Hold on, I’m coming!”

  Logan dropped back down and crab walked around to the rear of the Humvee. He scouted the area. Gunfire from the front of the convoy barked up more dirt into the air. Heart hammering, he slung his rifle over his back and bolted around the bumper.

  He pumped his legs like he was shagging a fly ball to center field, his gaze pin-point focused on Billy’s unmoving form, spread-eagle on the ground. Fuck. He couldn’t be too late. No fucking way.

  The twenty feet of rutted dirt road felt like the long white line from third to home plate. Logan slid into Billy feet first and then grabbed his vest. Legs pumping, he reversed course and pulled Billy back toward the vehicle for cover. Machine gun fire traced red-hot bullets through the air over his head.

  His men laid down cover for him.

  “Come on, Billy. Stay with me.” Logan got to his feet, crouched low, and poured on some speed, his heart beating hard in his chest as he strained against the dead weight of the man. Billy’s head lolled to one side. Logan looked down at his best friend’s serene, pale face and then glanced past to the dark trail Billy’s limp body smeared across the dirt. The ground drank his blood, starved for moisture of any kind.

  Not good.

  They made the Humvee, and Logan dragged Billy behind it.

  “Billy. Walker! Talk to me.” Logan ripped open Billy’s Kevlar vest to find the wound. His chest was clear. Logan rolled him over, and his hand came away covered in blood.

  “Medic!” Logan couldn’t keep the terror out of his voice. “Medic!”

  He slapped Billy’s face. “Come on, man. Look at me.”

  Billy shuddered, opened his eyes, and gasped. “Logan.”

  “Hey, man. Don’t ever scare me like this again.”

  “Logan.” Billy reached up, grabbed Logan’s vest, and pulled him down with shocking strength. “Take care of Shae.”

  “Don’t talk like that.”

  “Promise me.” His grip tightened, and Logan couldn’t turn away from Billy’s pleading eyes as their gazes locked. “Now, Logan. Promise me.”

  “I promise. But you’re going to see your sister again, man.”

  “I can’t feel my legs.” Billy shuddered again, this time longer.

  “Medic!” Logan screamed. “Where the hell is the medic?” He whipped his head back and forth, searching for someone. Anyone.

  Two of his unit, Max, their captain, and Travis, crouched low and ran to him. They slammed against the vehicle next to Logan. “We have to move him to the end of the convoy. Medic is down there. They got hit hard.”

  Logan nodded. “Roger.”

  Travis looked at Max. “I’ll help drag.”

  Max nodded. “I’ll cover you both.”

  Logan grabbed one side of Billy’s vest at the shoulder, and Travis took the other.

  “On my mark.” Max gave Logan and Travis a sharp look and then checked the area.

  Logan held on to his friend, flexing his grip, and then clamped down until his knuckles turned white. Travis’s grip was just as tight. Logan trusted these men with his life, just like he knew Billy did.

  Now they had to prove that trust.

  “Mark.” Max signaled with two sharp jerks of his hand.

  Logan and Travis, moving as a unit, jerked Billy toward the rear of the convoy, away from the fighting. Max followed, his back to them, M4 at the ready, as he scanned the area for hostiles.

  They dragged their comrade past four desert camo-painted vehicles, all in good condition, until they reached the last one. It had not fared well. Smoke still billowed from the wreckage. The chances of survival looked grim.

  But the medics were here, and that’s all Logan cared about. Getting his best friend to help. Stopping the bleeding. Getting him to evac and the hell out of here.

  “I need a medic! Now!” Logan fell to his knees next to Billy, cradling the wounded man’s head on his thighs. “It’s going to be okay, Billy. Help’s here.” He unsnapped the chinstrap of Billy’s helmet and pulled it off.

  Travis crouched on the other side of Billy. He glanced up at Logan, down at Billy, and then over to Max. He shook his head.

  “Fuck you.” Logan growled at Travis. “Shut up, Travis.”

  Max leaned over as he pressed his fingers to the man’s neck.

  The medic arrived. “What we got?”

  “His back.” Logan couldn’t get much more past the lump buried in his throat. Max took Logan by the arm and tried to pull him away, but he pulled back. “I can’t leave him.�
�

  “You can, and you will.” Max glared at him. “Don’t make me order you, Speers.”

  Logan returned the stare and then exhaled. Fuck. Max was right. He lowered Billy’s head to the ground, stood, and backed away.

  The medic worked quickly, searching for the wound. He rolled Billy onto his side, prodded his upper torso, and then rolled him back.

  He pressed a stethoscope under Billy’s vest. Listened. Searched for a new place. Listened. Sighed. Sat back on his heels.

  “He’s gone. Sorry.” He motioned to someone behind Logan. “Bring a bag.”

  “No. It can’t be. No.” Logan shook his head and threw himself forward, scrambling on his knees to get to Billy. “Billy!” He grabbed his friend’s vest and shook him. “Billy!”

  Travis threw his arms around Billy’s chest and lifted him away. “Come on, man. Nothing you can do here. They need to take care of him. Get him out of here.”

  Logan turned away and into the hard stare of Max, their captain.

  “We need to get out of here. Convoy’s got to keep moving. They’ll get him back behind the line, son.” Max gentled his voice as he squeezed Logan’s arm.

  Logan got it. No time for grief. This was war, despite what the politicians called it this week. They had a mission to free a nearby village from the Taliban.

  No one in the unit knew it would be their last.

  Chapter One

  Hockley, Texas

  Present Day

  “No! Billy!” Logan bolted upright, the image of Billy lying dead on the hard-packed dirt of some crap road in Iraq fading fast behind his eyelids.

  Logan sucked in a deep breath, held it, and then blew it out. He fell back onto the bed, throwing his arm over his face. “Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.” Four years and still he dreamed of that day.

  Would Billy ever let him go?

  He’d done what he promised his best friend. He’d seen after Shae Walker. Well, as much as he could without her knowing. Not many knew of his promise to Billy, and he preferred to keep it that way.

  He and Billy had attended high school together, played baseball, Logan’s shortstop to Billy’s catcher. Shae’s father had sent her to a private girl’s boarding school to keep her away from boys like Logan.

  The only image he had seen of Shae, Billy’s little sister, was an old photo Billy carried in a pocket of his jacket. How many times had Billy taken it out and just stared at it, his finger tracing her face? When he did talk about his baby sister and what a pain in the ass she’d been, how spoiled, and how sheltered, he’d grin with a love and affection no one could deny.

  In Logan’s mind, the memory of the photo was now worn, fuzzy around the edges, the colors faded. He closed his eyes to drag the image back, fearful he’d forget what Billy looked like after losing him four years ago.

  Billy tugging Shae’s ponytail, both laughing into the camera as they stood under a large oak tree at their home in Houston. Billy, eighteen on the day he left for boot camp, so fresh-faced, young, and eager. He towered over the slim girl, an arm around her, holding her close. They looked like brother and sister, their faces similar in shape, same dark brown hair, brown eyes, white smiles, and those dimples. Of course, the dimples looked cuter on the girl. Shae had to be about sixteen, on the verge of growing up.

  Logan hadn’t ever spoken to her, not even at the funeral. God, what a fucking cluster fuck that had been. Billy’s father had spotted Logan and came at him like a bull. He’d told Logan in a voice that carried over the hushed canned music and quiet whispers at the funeral home, he blamed Logan for Billy’s death. It was Logan’s fault his only son had enlisted and been killed. That he never wanted to see or hear from Logan again, unless it was his fucking obituary.

  Logan had left before Billy’s father had thrown a punch. Maybe he should have stayed, taken the hit, and eased both of their minds. But no one, especially not Shae, needed to remember that ugly scene on the day they buried her brother.

  Four years later and he’d never been to the cemetery, although it was only an hour away if the Houston traffic didn’t go to hell. He didn’t bother. It wasn’t Billy in the ground. Not really.

  Besides, Billy visited him in his dreams. Reminding him over and over of his promise. “Take care of Shae.”

  Reminding Logan that maybe, yeah, maybe, he was responsible for Billy’s death.

  Logan sat up, slung his legs over the edge of the bed, and scrubbed his hand over the stiff bristles of his crew cut. He picked up his cell phone and checked the date, even though he knew what day it was and what he had to do.

  “Damn.” He reached for a half-empty pack of smokes, patted one out, and snatched up his lighter. He flicked it, lit the cig, and inhaled, sucking soothing menthol smoke into his lungs.

  The only time Logan ever smoked was when he dreamed of Billy. He’d quit after coming back from Iraq, but there were times, like now, when he needed just a few drags.

  Logan took another deep lungful, held it, and then tilted his head up and blew it out. He rose, padded to the bathroom, and ran the cigarette under the tap, then flushed it down the toilet. After he emptied his bladder, he started the shower and stepped in.

  After washing the sweat and stink of the nightmare away, he toweled off and dressed. A white T-shirt and a pair of camo-colored cargo shorts. Standard wear for the heat of Hockley, Texas, in June and at Maximus Garage, where he was a partner in the business and handled the accounts.

  Logan crossed his small living area to the kitchen of his apartment. He jerked open the door of the fridge, grabbed a bottle of water, twisted off the cap, and downed it in one long drink. Then he tossed it in the recycle bin.

  Enough stalling.

  He went to his couch and flopped onto it. The cool leather sent a chill through the thin cotton of the shirt and everywhere it touched bare skin. He closed his eyes and enjoyed the sensation, letting himself wake up until his body’s heat warmed the leather and his brain fired on all cylinders. Moments ticked by.

  This was going to be the last time he made this call. Billy had been twenty-five when he died. Shae had to be at least twenty-six now, all grown up. Out of college and on her own. She really didn’t need this yearly reminder of the death of her brother anymore, and neither did he.

  Let it go, right?

  Their talk last year had been awkward. He’d run out of things to say soon after “hello.” She’d answered in one-syllable words. She’d graduated that May from Baylor. He’d congratulated her.

  End of convo.

  He sighed. “Here goes nothing.”

  Logan searched Contacts. Found Shae Walker. Hit Phone.

  After the first ring, she picked up, breathing hard.

  “Yes?” Her voice trembled with a throaty vibrato he’d never heard from her in the last four years.

  “Shae? Are you okay?” Logan clutched his phone tighter, all his instincts firing to alert.

  “Who is this?” A stab of disappointment she didn’t recognize his voice hit him in the chest.

  “It’s Logan. What’s going on?”

  “Logan? Oh, hell. I forgot. Billy’s birthday.” She exhaled. “I can’t talk.”

  “Wait. Something’s wrong. Are you okay?” He hated not getting answers to his questions, so he pressed. “You can tell me, you know.”

  “No. I can’t. I can’t…tell anyone.” She swallowed, the sound echoing in Logan’s ear. She was in trouble. Something tightened in his belly.

  “I’m not anyone, Shae. You’d tell Billy.”

  “You’re not Billy.”

  The knife found its mark. Taken off guard, Logan gasped.

  “Sorry. That was…wrong. It’s just—” Another inhale, and then she let loose with a string of curses, words he never thought she even knew.

  “Look. I know I’m not Billy, but I’m the next best thing.” He might have lost Billy, but he’d be damned if he’d give up on Shae. If she needed him, he’d be there, just like he promised his best friend.

  �
��I can’t. Really.”

  “I want to help you, Shae.”

  “I know you do, but…it’s personal.” She growled. “Look, maybe…hell, I don’t really know you. I know you have this thing about Billy and all, but I don’t need a big brother, Logan.”

  “I get that. What about a friend? Whatever’s going on sounds serious. Maybe I can help.”

  “I’m not sure anyone can help.” Her voice cracked, and the pain in it stabbed Logan in the chest.

  “Maybe I can, maybe I can’t. If you tell me what it is, we’ll see. Can you trust me, Shae?”

  Silence. Then a soft sigh, almost like surrender.

  “It’s about my dad.”

  Logan froze. Swallowed. “You know how your father feels about me, right? I’m pretty damn sure he doesn’t want you talking to me about him. He’d blow his lid if he knew I even spoke to you once a year.”

  “He hates you.” Shae snorted. “And I’m not sure he’s wrong.”

  Logan’s belly rolled over. “Look, it was Billy’s idea to enlist. I told you that the first time I called you. Believe what you want, okay?” Logan ran his hand over his face. How many times could he ask for forgiveness?

  “No, that’s not…” She cleared her throat. “I believe you. It’s exactly what Billy would have done, just to get away from Dad. Dad just couldn’t ever see it. I’m saying I’m not sure I should tell you about what’s going on with my father, that’s all.”

  “Okay. Good.” Logan switched his phone to his other ear. “I’ll listen if you need me to, you know that, right?”

  “All right. But I don’t want to talk about this over the phone.”

  “What if I came to town? Met you at a coffee shop?” For the first time in ages, someone needed him, and if it was Shae, he’d do anything to keep his promise to Billy.

  “A coffee shop?” She paused. “Well…you don’t live in Houston, do you?”

  “I’m in Hockley, just northwest. It’s not far, really. Billy would be there for you if he could. Think of me as a stand-in. Not good enough, but at least you can talk to me. Maybe I can help you hash it over, whatever is bothering you. And from the sound of your voice, this is big, right?”