Present Day
Logan threw a hard punch at the leather bag. He’d thrown so many that his arms should be trembling. Sweat should be beading his forehead, dripping down his arms and shoulders.
He’d been at this for over an hour. So long that the building had quieted and the window darkened.
There was no tremble in his limbs. No sweat. Because his body didn’t have an off-switch. He could go at this for hours and probably never feel the weight of exhaustion.
He landed another punch. This time harder.
The bag shuddered at the ferocity of the impact. At the weight of his frustration. No, not just frustration. Anger. Rage.
He should be free. Wasn’t that how it worked? Destroy your enemies and become a free man?
He was hardly free when reporters were in his face every damn day. When the world suddenly knew his story and wanted to hear a version from the man himself.
All thanks to that goddamned article.
Was it not enough that he’d been kidnapped and held against his will for two years? Routinely drugged, forced to train, turned into something other than normal? Faster and stronger than he should be. Able to hear the impossible. Hear things that no normal man should be able to hear.
Two additional punches. Each time the bag flew more violently.
His gaze shot to his phone, silent finally. It was only over the last few days that the calls had decreased. Reporters on the other end. And celebrity talk show hosts trying to outbid each other to book appearances with him and his brothers. Writers and actors begging for the rights to their story. Hell, even foreign leaders desperate to learn how the Americans managed a “successful super-soldier drug”.
The calls hadn’t stopped entirely. Probably wouldn’t for a while.
The worst had been the call from his parents.
His insides rebelled and a new round of frustration rocked him at the memory. He hadn’t told them the truth after he’d escaped. He couldn’t. He’d made up some bullshit story about being sent away on a mission. He’d been a special operations soldier, so it was believable enough.
Now they knew the truth he’d tried to protect them from.
He aimed a ferocious kick at the bag. The impact was so loud it could probably be heard on the street.
The sound of footsteps penetrated his anger, footsteps that a normal man wouldn’t be able to hear. Logan paused, already knowing who was about to walk in.
The door creaked behind him. “You gonna punch that bag all night?”
Dropping his arms, Logan turned toward his friend and business partner, Jason. One of seven business partners. All of whom had been through the hell of Project Arma. “Nah, it wouldn’t last that long.”
Jason chuckled. “You’re not wrong. Man, we’re gonna be replacing them left, right, and center.” Some of the humor left his face. “Anything you want to get off your chest?”
Logan almost laughed. That’s what he was doing here in the workout room. He just wasn’t using words. “You mean like the fact that we’ve been fending off a dozen strangers a day for the last two weeks? Or how half of Cradle Mountain’s residents look at us like we’ve got two heads?”
Jason lifted a shoulder. “It’s kind of like being a celebrity, isn’t it?”
This time he did chuckle. Trust Jason to try to find the positive.
His friend stepped further into the room. “Seriously though, it’ll die off.”
He knew that, but when would it die off? Soldiers Given Experimental Drugs Become More Than Human was a pretty sticky headline. “I know. But patience doesn’t seem to come as easily to me as it used to.”
And it was in particularly low supply when people followed him home. Or camped outside the Blue Halo office, waiting to bombard him with questions.
The team had opened Blue Halo Security a little over a month ago. As a security company, it offered whatever their clients required, whether that was private or corporate protection agents, consultation on personal security, or self-defense education.
They also completed off-the-books missions for the government. Missions that normal men could seldom accomplish.
“Did it really ever come easily to you?”
His lips tilted up. Asshole. “Probably not.”
The smile slipped from Jason’s face. “You thinking about that therapist, too?”
Logan’s muscles bunched at the mention of the woman. Grace Castle. She’d broken her therapist-patient confidentiality when she’d exposed everything the women in Marble Falls had told her.
Spoke volumes about her ethics.
“I just don’t get why she did it,” Jason continued.
Logan scoffed. “Doesn’t matter. The point is she did.” He was lying. It did matter to him. He wanted to know what motivated a woman to disregard her professional ethos.
Jason sighed, no doubt hearing the lie, but not pulling him up on it. He started to turn, then stopped. “Any word from the guys?”
Callum, Flynn, Tyler, and Liam were in Celaya, Mexico, completing one of those off-the-books missions, attempting to shut down a sex trafficking ring.
“Flynn contacted me earlier today. They’re making progress, still haven’t found the exact location of the operation, but they don’t think it’ll take long.”
Jason nodded. “Looking forward to them catching the scum and shutting the organization down.”
“Shutting it down for good,” Logan agreed.
By killing every last asshole involved. Less evil in the world was always a good thing, as far as he was concerned. Apparently, this trafficking ring had been in existence for nearly a decade. Ten years of American women being kidnapped, kept in a guarded compound. Used. Sold like fucking property.
“They will.”
They were supposed to capture and bring the guys in. But if they were “required” to protect themselves…well, they’d do whatever was necessary, even if that involved dead scumbags.
“Anyway, I’m gonna head home.” Jason tapped the doorframe. “I’ll see you tomorrow, brother.”
Giving his friend a nod, Logan turned back to the bag, tightening the boxing gloves around his wrists. This time when he hit the bag, he imagined he was hitting the assholes in Mexico.
He knew what it was like to be a prisoner. To be held against his will, his body no longer his own. But while he’d been fed well, remained predominantly uninjured and was provided with decent accommodations, he knew that wasn’t the case for the women.
He hit the bag again and again. His fists never slowed.
Freedom was an illusion. He’d come to understand that very quickly over the last few years. People thought they were free—but was it really freedom if it could be snatched away in a split second?
Punch, punch, kick.
Logan had thought he was safe three years ago when he’d returned home from a mission and gone to bed in his apartment. Then he’d been snatched away. Separated from his life and thrust into a new one.
Punch, punch, kick.
And now the entire world knew. Not his pain; they couldn’t know that unless they’d lived it. But they knew the basics.
His next punch was so hard that the bag flew up, hitting the ceiling. The bang echoed through the room, almost sounding like a gunshot.
When it fell, he grabbed it with both hands and pressed his head against the surface, trying to calm himself.
The people who had taken him were dead. And now, his team would work to rid the world of other criminals, starting with those assholes running the trafficking ring.
Yanking his gloves off his hands, he tossed them in his gym bag before heading down the hall to the shower. The full bathroom was an addition to Blue Halo Security that wasn’t necessary but was definitely well used and appreciated.
He stripped and jumped into the shower, closing his eyes as the warm water beat down on his back. Would there be reporters waiting outside? By his car? Would they attempt to follow him to his house again?
He’d just continue telling them the same thing he’d been telling them…to go to hell.
Logan was about to turn off the water when a noise skittered from another room. He stilled.
A door opening and closing. Then footsteps.
Last man out at night was normally the person who locked the office doors, since they were fully capable of protecting themselves and fending off intruders, so the unlocked door wasn’t a surprise. The intruder on the other hand…he wasn’t expecting company. It was past closing time. Was it someone looking to hire their services? Or was it another overstepping, lowlife reporter wanting a story?
His fists clenched.
He left the water running, not wanting to tip off whoever was out there that he’d heard them. He stepped out of the shower quietly. Drying himself quickly, he threw on a pair of shorts before moving silently down the hall.
When he neared the entrance of the foyer, he didn’t walk through the doorway, instead remaining just behind, standing in the shadows.
A short brunette with her hair tied up in a bun faced the desk, but her head was turned, like she was looking back at the door. The hallway he stood in was perpendicular to the entrance she’d just come through, giving him the perfect view of her while remaining unseen.
The woman wore blue jeans that hugged her generous hips and a tight beige T-shirt that accentuated her waist.
He watched as she took a step closer to the desk. When she turned her head, Logan got his first good look at her face. The room was dark, but just like his teammates, he had enhanced vision and could see perfectly. Her eyes were a light brown, almost topaz.
Reaching out, she lifted a framed photo. It was a picture of his team, from the first day they’d opened Blue Halo last month.
The woman studied the image closely.
Did she plan to take it for an article? Snap a picture of it and go?
She didn’t do either of those things, instead placing it back down on the desk.
Her head swiveled toward the exit again. Was she going to leave?
Go, sweetheart. Don’t do something you shouldn’t.
She took a step toward it but stopped.
His gut clenched. She wasn’t going to leave. Not just yet anyway.
As if she’d heard his words, she turned back toward the desk. Only this time, she moved around it, opening the top drawer.
That’s when Logan came out of hiding.
He was across the room in under a second. Positioning himself behind her, arms trapping her to the desk, hands going to her wrists, stopping her mid-search.
There was a sharp intake of breath, quickly followed by an acceleration of her heartbeat.
Yeah, you’re not taking anything, sweetheart. Not today.
