Logan, page 23
Akram’s voice came from the right of the stairs, which, from what he could ascertain, was where the dining room would be. He heard the keyboard clicking, probably Akram on his computer, as well as Malik's pacing.
Wanting them to be in the same room, he waited patiently until he heard Malik’s footsteps move close to where Akram and the computer were.
Slipping down the stairs with his weapon drawn, he rounded the corner, catching the two men unaware. Their eyes widened, first at him and then at his weapon. Malik stood perfectly still, his hands raised by his side, his mouth open in surprise.
But Akram’s lips slowly curved upward as he stood, one hand slightly behind his back. “Well, well. Mr. Preacher.” He chuckled. “I should have known that name was false. I congratulate you on your charade.”
“Hands where I can see them.”
Akram’s smile dipped slightly as he slowly raised his hands, a gun held loosely in one of them.
“Drop the weapon,” he ordered as Malik began to babble.
“What are you going to do? Arrest us? You can’t do this. You can’t stop us. It’s already started—”
“Our neighbor has no intention of arresting us, do you?” Akram’s dark eyes remained locked onto Logan. “He has to get through us to get to the women.”
Malik looked between the two men, understanding dawning on him. “Nafisa!” he cried as he whirled, darting for the front door.
Logan fired, and Malik dropped onto the floor, a pool of blood spreading out from underneath him.
Akram fired a wide shot, hitting the wall next to Logan as he ducked, then fired another shot toward Akram. The bullet hit the man in the arm, sending his gun skittering down the hall. Standing, Logan stalked forward and leaned over the bleeding man, surprised the smile was still on Akram’s face.
“You cannot stop us. You take down one, and a hundred more will rise to take our place.”
“Your particular jihad stops here,” he growled.
Grinning, Akram reached his hand to press against his bleeding arm when he suddenly slammed it against his chest instead.
A beeping began, and Logan yelled, “Fuck!” knowing the sound of a timer on a bomb. Whirling around, he snatched the laptop off the table and sprinted toward the door to the screams of Akram.
“Noooo!” Akram wailed.
Racing through the front yard, he was unable to discern the voices of the Keepers in his earpiece as the ground shook when the explosion behind him rocked the land. Throwing himself face down onto the grass, Logan covered his head as pieces of wood flew past him. Turning back to observe the blazing inferno, he pushed himself up and ran into the woods by the side of the driveway. Having parked down the street, he raced to his truck, throwing open the door. Once started, he gunned it, churning up the gravel. He put distance between him and the destroyed house, assuming the Tanana fire station would respond, just like they had in Ester.
Two miles down the road, he pulled into a parking lot at the edge of town, desperate to find where Farrah, Nafisa, and Rashad were.
“Tell me what you’ve got!”
“The last message Akram sent before the explosion was in code. We’ve just got it,” Sadie radioed in return.
Arriving at the Tanana Inn again, Vivian retraced her earlier steps and returned to the reception desk. The same man looked at her, his head tilted in question.
Offering a smile that was as fake as she felt, she shrugged. “I thought I saw some friends, but…uh…”
“Oh.” He nodded. “Didn’t find who you were looking for?”
“No…no, I didn’t. He…uh, they weren’t who I thought they were… at all.” Looking around the lobby, she said, “I know you’ve got the show tour…um… thing going on. Do you have a room for the night?”
“Looks like you’re in luck, but it’s not my best room. We’re at capacity in the main building, but we’ve got one of the original cabin rooms toward the back that’s rarely used.”
She scrunched her nose in distaste, saying, “What kind of shape is it in?”
He threw his hands up in defense and quickly explained. “Oh no, ma’am, don’t worry. It’s a perfectly fine room. It’s just behind the inn. Two of the original cabins were left when they tore the others down to build this building. They were the ones closest to the woods. One is for overflow guests, and the other is used as the housekeepers’ storage room and hotel laundry.”
She cocked her head to the side, searching her memory. “I used to spend my summers here with my grandparents when I was little. I remember this inn… it was tiny, individual cabins.”
A smile spread across his face as he nodded. “Yeah, I always loved those cabins. They were torn down when new owners decided to make this a hotel to get more rooms and more money. We usually rent it last since a lot of customers don’t like the distance or the laundry noise, but other than that, it’s a perfectly good room. And anyway, the housekeepers are gone for the day and the laundry’s all done. So there won’t be any noise. You should be good for the night.”
“It’ll be fine,” she replied, her gratitude real in the face of overwhelming exhaustion. “I’ll be leaving early tomorrow morning anyway.”
Leaning forward, he smiled and said, “I’ll give you a discount since you’re being so nice about it.”
Smiling her thanks, she handed him her credit card. A few minutes later, she walked past his desk and down the hall to a door that opened to a path toward the cabin. The mulched path led her to the door of a tiny log cabin. The front faced the back of the hotel, and to the side, farther in the woods, was an identical cabin with an engraved wooden sign over the door indicating the laundry.
Her room key was just that—an old-fashioned key on a key ring with a white plastic tag and the cabin number engraved on it. Entering, she flipped the light switch and breathed a sigh of relief. The room was old but perfectly clean. The window facing the direction of the laundry had been boarded over, probably to attempt to keep out the noise and possible prying eyes of the housekeepers. Shutting the door behind her, she dropped her overnight bag on the floor.
Walking over to the only other window, she pulled back the curtain and stared out over the back of the hotel and parking lot in the distance. Not worrying about the view, she turned and moved to the bed, jerking the covers down. Seeing the clean sheets, she flopped onto the bed, her body finally giving in to the day's exhaustion.
Thoughts of Logan and the mission filled her mind. Angry with herself that she agreed to the job without finding out the entire facts first, she had to admit that her supervisor probably did not know the extent of the security specialist’s job description.
Rolling to her side, she thought of Logan’s deception but knew he was right when he said he never mentioned arresting anyone. That was her expectation. So he didn’t lie…he just let me keep my false assumption.
The faces of their neighbors and visitors drifted through her mind. She knew they were terrorists… she knew they were working on biological warfare… and they had to be stopped. It’s so much easier being just a civilian who wants terrorism to stop, yet we sit in our safe houses and never know what others endure to make that happen. She thought of Logan’s SEAL team and the injury that forced him to find another way to earn money and then serve again. He has the guts to do what it takes to make us safe. How can I sit in judgment of that?
37
When her mind refused to stop swirling, Vivian climbed off the bed and, listening to her stomach growl, walked over to her purse. Checking her wallet, she pulled out some cash, deciding to hit the vending machines she’d seen in the lobby. Not in the mood for a meal, she thought a soda and some chips would work. And maybe a candy bar…yeah, definitely chocolate. The thought that vending machines should stock wine ran through her mind, but she’d settle for chocolate.
Walking to the door, she hesitated when she heard voices just outside her room. Knowing there were no other guest cabins and the receptionist had said the housekeepers were gone for the day, she leaned closer, placing her ear to the wood. Whoever was outside talking, their voices moved farther down the path.
Frowning, she stood on her tiptoes to look out the peephole in the door. The viewer was old, but wiping it on her side, she stared at the pathway, seeing nothing.
Setting her heels back to the floor, she shoved the cash into her pocket, still intent on getting a snack. Not wanting to startle the housekeepers if they’d returned, and having no desire to draw unwanted attention to herself, she opened the door quietly and slipped outside. Male and female voices were coming from inside the laundry, but she wasn’t sure how many. The door was partially open, but she was unable to see inside.
Assuming the housekeepers hadn’t finished their work, she turned and hurried quietly to the back door of the inn. Once inside, she trudged along the carpeted hallway before rounding the corner into the lobby. Fatigue had settled deep inside, and each step was harder than the one before.
Seeing the receptionist’s eyes pinned to the small TV on his counter, she headed to the vending machines. Grinning at the low prices compared to California, she soon had a caffeine-free soda, a bag of chips, and a chocolate candy bar.
She turned to ask the receptionist if the returning housekeepers would be in the laundry area for long, but a crowd of people came from the main hall and into the lobby. They were talking loudly and, from their conversations, were from the tour group. As they passed her, chatting about the bar they were going to for dinner and how it was part of the Men of Alaska film set, she stepped to the side and made her way back to the hallway opposite the lobby.
Returning down the old, worn, multi-patterned carpet toward the back door, her hands were now full of her snack booty. As she neared her cabin, she shuffled the chips and soda to one hand to snag her room key out of her pocket. She could still hear low voices from inside the laundry cabin as she stuck her key in the lock.
Opening her door, she looked over her shoulder. With the laundry door now fully open, she could see two female housekeepers filling spray bottles with liquid from a large plastic container. Leaning slightly, she could now see the housekeepers’ heads were covered in hijabs. Gasping, she started to turn back toward her room when one of them stepped outside. Farrah. She jolted just as the other woman stepped outside. Nafisa.
Her mouth opened to scream when a large hand from behind clamped over her face. She rolled her eyes to the side and saw Rashad, his jaw set and lips turned down in a frown.
Struggling as he wrapped his arms around hers, he easily dragged her down the path and into the laundry room.
“Damn,” Nafisa bit out, her eyes blazing with fury. “Why is she here spying on us?”
“I don’t know,” Rashad said, still trying to subdue Vivian as she struggled. His hand stayed in place, firmly shutting off any chance she had of screaming.
Stepping forward, Nafisa stood directly in front of her and, pulling out a long knife, ordered, “Kill the bitch.”
Vivian immediately stopped struggling, and Rashad moved them backward. “Are you stupid? Kill her with that…here? We have work to do, and you want to bring the police and feds here to investigate the dead body of a woman left in the laundry room?”
Nafisa’s eyes narrowed as she stared up at him. “Do not call me stupid. I’m the one who developed what we needed—me, not you, and certainly not that fool, Malik.”
Rashad towered over the woman, using his height to his advantage, and smirked. “You? The great Nafisa? Do you think you’ll live to see our plan in action if you spread her blood all over the room? You’re a fool.”
Eyes wide, Vivian attempted to follow their bickering, but her mind stayed firmly on the words Kill the bitch. Her gaze lingered on the knife in Nafisa’s hand, her heart pounding as she watched it slowly lowered.
“What are you going to do?” Nafisa asked, her words hard and angry.
“Tie her up for now. We finish what we came to do here, and then she comes with us. We go out into the woods and kill her, where the wild animals will easily destroy any evidence. Get what you need and bring it along.”
“No, no,” Farrah moaned, her body visibly shaking as she rocked back and forth.
Nafisa whirled, and a resounding slap sounded as her hand contacted Farrah’s cheek, leaving a red print. “Shut up, you weak, worthless bitch!”
Rashad roared, “Stop!” Stalking back to the women with Vivian still dangling in his arms, he lifted his hand from her mouth to grab Nafisa’s arm, swinging her around. “Touch her again, and I’ll use that knife you’re so fond of carrying around on you.”
Vivian opened her mouth to scream, but his hand clamped her mouth shut again. This time, the grip partially covered her nose, and she fought to breathe.
Nafisa’s eyes widened as she stared up at Rashad and then back to Farrah, her chest heaving. “Well, well. You and her? Akram’s supposed wife? You choose her over me?”
“It was never a choice between the two of you,” he ground out.
With the two distracted, Vivian managed to move her head enough to clear her nose from his hand, pulling in much-needed air.
Rashad looked down at her before lifting his gaze back to Nafisa. “Enough of this. Use your knife to cut some strips to bind her with. Then do your job. Fill those bottles. Now.” Having given his curt orders, he grabbed at the bindings handed to him and pulled Vivian outside and farther down the path into the woods.
Taking a long strip, he tied Vivian’s wrists together before tying one around her head and over her mouth. Pushing her against a tree, he forced her to sit.
His eyes narrowed on hers as he growled, “Stay there. Stay quiet, and when I kill you, I’ll be merciful and do so quickly.”
Her eyes darted everywhere, but the setting sun cast the woods in shadows. Rashad had placed her where they could keep an eye on her as they worked inside, giving her the chance to watch them working as well. Grateful he’d at least tied her hands in front of her, she felt around to see what she could use as a weapon but soon came up empty-handed.
The strip of sheet cut into her wrists as she wiggled them in an attempt to loosen the bindings. Grateful the cotton material was old and somewhat worn, she found the knot might be solid, but the cotton binding had some stretch to it. As she continued to move her wrists, she still had not come up with a plan or a weapon to use, nor could she dislodge the gag. But if I can get my hands free, at least that’s something, she thought over her panic, trying to ease the pounding in her chest.
“I can’t get Akram or Malik to answer,” Rashad growled, his pacing now stilled, his phone to his ear. “Something’s not right.” Looking at her, he stalked over and stood over her, his face full of rage. “If she’s here, I wonder where her husband is.”
Nafisa walked over and grinned. “If he shows up to Akram, he’ll get a surprise. That house is set to go, just like the other one.”
Vivian forced her eyes not to widen at the thought of Logan in danger, not wanting to give away her emotions.
Rashad stood, his hands on his hips, for a moment before he looked back at Nafisa and Farrah. “I’m going to the house to see what’s happening. It’ll only take me ten minutes to drive there. Stay here and watch her. Finish what you need to, and I’ll be back within a half hour. Don’t fuck this up. Just leave her tied until I get back.”
As he stalked away, she watched Farrah and Nafisa come out of the laundry room and caught a sly grin cross Nafisa’s face.
Logan pulled into a lone space at the Tanana Inn, stunned to see the almost full parking lot. Jumping out, he hustled toward the front steps leading to the rustic inn. Approaching the porch, his eyes caught a small black car tucked next to the pickup trucks, vans, and SUVs. Rushing to the parked vehicle, his gaze sought the license plate, and his heart dropped.
Sadie had reported Vivian’s car was there, and she’d used her credit card, but the inn didn’t have a room assigned to her. “She’s not at her car, so she must be inside somewhere,” he radioed.
Turning, he ran to the entrance and hurried inside, his plans for finding the terrorists now gone awry. All he cared about was making sure Vivian was safe.
After a quick glance at the small, empty lobby, he stalked to the receptionist's desk. The young man sitting behind the counter was talking on his cell phone, but his eyes widened at the sight of him standing in front of him, angry vibes filling the room.
“My wife just called and said she’s not feeling well, so I brought her medicine,” Logan lied. “What room is Vivian Pr…Sanders in?”
The receptionist hesitated. “Uh…we’re not supposed to give out room—”
Leaning forward, menace in his eyes, he growled, “If my wife gets sick ’cause she can’t get her medicine in time, I’m coming for you.”
“Uh…yes, sir. Uh, we were full in the regular rooms, but I had an older cabin room behind the inn that I put her in. It’s clean and perfectly fine, but—”
“Where?” he bit out.
The receptionist pointed to his right. “Down the hall…at the end is a door…it’s the only cabin next to the laundry—”
The boy’s words were cut off as Logan stalked around the corner, his determined footsteps softened by the carpet. Opening the door carefully, he peered out, seeing two cabins farther down a path, one with a laundry sign over the door. Nearing the first, he viewed the open door, observing a drink, a bag of chips, and a candy bar lying on the floor. A quick search showed him Vivian had been here, her still packed bag sitting near the turned-down bed, but she wasn’t in the room or bathroom.
Heading out, he noted a light shining from the laundry cabin’s doorway. He glanced down, and his heart plunged as he saw the evidence of a scuffle, one where someone with small feet was dragged down the mulched path toward the door of the laundry room. “Someone’s got her,” he radioed. Logan knew he needed backup and tossed up a grateful prayer that Cole had flown to Ester and then was on his way to Tanana. “Get Cole and Casper here.”
