Chapter 9
9
Logan stared in silence, not bothering to hide his surprise at the realization that the woman on the bed was his biologist contact. From the rumpled bed linens, it appeared she had slept in the rental house.
Vivian’s eyes stayed on him, and she didn’t seem to breathe until his stance relaxed slightly. She swallowed deeply, and her voice shook as she said, “You now know who I am. I’d like the same consideration, please.”
With another glance, Logan stepped back from her legs, watching as her hand moved to the bottom of her T-shirt, pulling it down to cover her underwear. Glancing up, he saw the fear in her eyes. An uncomfortable guilt slid over him, an emotion he was unaccustomed to and immediately decided he hated. He stepped back quickly, keeping his gaze on her face. “Sorry, I wasn’t expecting anyone to be here. I’m Bishop. Logan Bishop.”
Her large eyes popped open even wider as she exclaimed, “You’re the man I’m supposed to be working with?” Pushing up on her elbows, she stared at him unabashedly before narrowing her eyes on the weapon. “Do you mind putting that thing away before you accidentally blow my head off?”
Irritation now moved into the already crowded emotions sweeping through him as he re-holstered the gun. “I assure you, when my gun goes off, it’s not by accident.”
Scooting to the edge of the bed and standing, Vivian skirted by him, returning to the chest of drawers to pull out a pair of jeans. She looked at him expectantly for a moment, but he wasn’t willing to turn his back until he verified her identity. Stepping just outside the room, he heard material shuffling around before a zipper sounded out.
Another drawer opened, and he hastily stepped back into the room to see what she was searching for, only to find she had simply retrieved a pair of thick green woolen socks. She sat on the edge of the bed and slipped them on each foot, wiggling her toes when finished. Fully dressed, she turned to him, but with the height difference, her eyes were at the level of his chest. She tilted her head back and held his gaze, offering no explanation as to why she was in his house.
She was a natural beauty, and in another time and place, he might have been tempted to flirt with her… if his flirting skills weren’t rusted over from unuse. Blinking at the random path his thoughts had taken just from being in her presence, he shoved them down, reminding himself this was a job and nothing more. Frustrated, he demanded, “Where were you?”
His voice sounded harsh, even to him, but her brow simply crinkled as she tilted her head to the side. “What do you mean, where was I?”
“You were supposed to meet me at the airport today so we could discuss arranging our work schedules.”
“Tomorrow. I was given your arrival date as tomorrow.”
“Today.”
She rolled her eyes. “I was told tomorrow. Sorry if your people can’t get things right.”
At that, he bristled. “My people? Listen, missy, you’ve?—”
“Missy? Oh, no, Mr. Bishop. You can call me Vivian or Ms. Sanders. Your choice. But if you Missy me again, we’re going to have problems.”
“Gonna have problems? Clue in, Ms. Sanders, we’ve already got problems. Where’s your vehicle?”
Pinching her lips together, she jerked her head toward the window. “I parked on the cul-de-sac. It’s the Fusion. It was the only energy-efficient car I could rent. Everything else was a gas-guzzling truck or?—”
“Okay, fine.”
Her fists landed on her hips as her eyes flashed. “What the hell is your problem? I was told to come to this house, get settled, and meet my partner tomorrow. Which, I might add, made no sense to me because you obviously have a vehicle. You didn’t need me to pick you up.”
“Settled? Get settled?” he growled, his eyes narrowing even further as he took in more of the room. He noted that her suitcase had exploded toiletries on top of the chest of drawers. “Why the hell would you need to get settled in my house?”
Blinking, she snapped her brows together and stepped back, her hands dropping to her sides. “How else are we supposed to work together? I was told we would live here, pretend to be a married couple, and investiga?—”
“Pretend to be a married couple?” Logan’s voice rose with each word as the blood rushing through his veins caused a buzzing in his ears greater than one of his helicopter rides. “Hell, no.” Turning on his booted heel, he stalked from the room, pulling out his secure phone. He was pissed, but at the moment wasn’t sure who would bear the brunt of his frustration. Donald, for orchestrating the situation, or the woman he’d left back in his bedroom.
He walked into the front room, his phone pressed to his ear. “Mary, what did you know about the biologist I was meeting with, who appears to be planning on staying in the house with me?”
“Nothing, Logan. Mr. Markham was very closed-off about the security surrounding this mission.”
“Who’s available there?”
He heard lowered voices in the room, and Cole came on the line.
“What’s going on, Logan? No one here knew any more than you about the mission. Do you need backup? I can fly?—”
“No.” He sighed. “I’m fine. But get whatever you can on Vivian Sanders. She’s the biologist. I’ll talk to Donald, then I’ll be in touch. Tell Casper the truck is just what I needed.”
“You got it,” Cole agreed.
Disconnecting, he dialed Donald. “You know this is not how I work.”
A few seconds of silence passed before Donald said, “Look, Logan. I knew you wouldn’t have a problem working with a woman, but I also knew you’d balk at the idea of the subterfuge.”
“Subterfuge? Hell, I’ve worked missions with more subterfuge than you can ever imagine. But I never had to pretend to be married to someone?—”
“Then consider it a new experience.”
“You’re fucking kidding me, right? This is not how I work?—”
Donald’s voice hardened. “You took the mission; now see it through. Vivian Sanders is there to work with you and provide cover. Otherwise, you’d be too suspicious on your own.”
He pinched the bridge of his nose and breathed deeply. Donald was right. This was just an assignment. One that he wished he’d been fully briefed on before agreeing—a mistake he wouldn’t make in the future for any of his Keepers. “Fine. Consider it done.”
“Good. I knew I could count on you.”
Logan could swear he heard Donald chuckle before he disconnected. Turning, he watched Vivian make her way down the hall to the front room. Lifting his phone, he snapped her picture. Sending it to both Donald and Mary, he texted for them to verify that she was Vivian Sanders.
He and Vivian stood silently, staring at each other. When his phone indicated messages received, he looked down. Donald confirmed. Mary also confirmed, then, in an uncharacteristic manner, she sent a wide-eyed emoji. Another message came from Mary. Do I need to make alternate housing arrangements for Ms. Sanders?
For a moment, Logan almost confirmed, then he sighed and typed, Negative. Shoving his phone back into his pocket, he continued to stare as tension filled the air as well as in his stance.
Vivian finally moved first. Sucking in a fortifying breath, she skirted around him, moving to his unpacked grocery bags on the floor. “I also bought some groceries, but more is always better.” Her voice was natural, almost sounding friendly.
But Logan was anything but comfortable. She began putting the groceries away, haphazardly tossing the cans into the cabinets next to her purchases and the cold items into the refrigerator.
“I see you bought two percent milk. I have one percent, but I suppose it doesn’t matter. I’ve never really tasted a difference, but I figure I don’t need the extra fat.” She smiled as she turned away from the refrigerator. He still glowered, so she quickly turned back to her task.
He moved forward, but the tiny kitchen had little room for both of them. “I’ve got this.”
She stepped to the side and nodded, her lips pressed together, but he didn’t speak, not sure what he’d say. He arranged the canned goods in the cabinet, labels facing out in a neat stack. After he finished placing the cold items in the refrigerator and freezer, also arranging them neatly on the shelves, he stowed the plastic bags and turned to face her.
She walked straight to him with her eyes flashing. “Mr. Bishop, please… stop the silent pouting.”
Irritation morphed into anger at Donald’s duplicity in a mission, but seeing her take a step backward, he reached out to stop her retreat. Seeing the flash of fear in her eyes, Logan grimaced, immediately mumbling, “Sorry.” Filling his lungs with air before letting it out slowly, he knew the situation needed to be salvaged.
Vivian stared up at him, resignation in her voice. “Look, why don’t we sit down and talk this out? Obviously, neither of us was completely informed about the situation, but we have to work together.”
Nodding, Logan knew she was right and was galled to admit she was coping better than he was. SEALs adapted. SEALs reassessed at a moment’s notice. And now, he hoped that as the leader of the Keepers, he would do the same.
He walked into the living room, which was only a few steps from the kitchen, once more forcing him to realize how closely the two of them would be working together. Living together. Not hearing her follow as he sat down, he turned his head to see her returning to the kitchen and retrieving two beers from the refrigerator before making her way to him. Setting them both on the old coffee table, she sat in one of the chairs, now facing him.
He dipped his chin in appreciation and held out his bottle in a silent toast. She smiled and clicked her bottleneck to his. Taking a long drink, he began, “I suppose we should start over. I’m Logan Bishop.”
Her lips curved up ever so slightly as she responded, “Nice to meet you, Logan. I’m Vivian Sanders.” Taking a sip of her beer, she continued, “We might as well be forthcoming so we each understand exactly what we’ve been told.”
At his slight nod, she said, “I’m a biologist employed by the Department of Homeland Security. I was hired to study and test the different chemicals and biologics that terrorists?—”
“I’m aware of the interest in biological warfare.” He interrupted. “I had the opportunity to meet Dr. Kendall Rhodes a few years ago.” Now that he thought about it, it was more like five years ago. And once more, he felt the passage of time rushing by.
Her eyes widened as her smile brightened. “Kendall? You know Kendall? I visited her lab in Louisiana when I was training. She’s brilliant. Her research for the International Olympic Committee is valuable for all of us in this field… and… uh…”
He stared at her blankly. Her shoulders slumped, and her smile became less bright. His gaze moved over her face, noting her striking features. High cheekbones and silky, straight black hair. Her dark eyes were clear and shining, no longer filled with fear but doubt. His gaze dropped over her body, observing her slight stature paired with feminine curves. Jerking his eyes back to her face, he was relieved to see her tearing off the beer bottle label. That meant she missed his perusal of her body.
Clearing his throat, he gained her attention once more. “What were you told about your work here?”
“I was approached by a supervisor and told that I was to attend a meeting with another person in the department, someone high up… Donald Markham.” She shrugged. “I hadn’t heard of him before, but that’s not unusual since I’m just a lab rat. I went to the meeting to discover it was only him and me. He told me terrorist groups in Alaska were feared to be working on biological contaminants that could easily be used to incapacitate thousands of people from all over the world. Either killing them outright or causing severe illness. After COVID, you can imagine how we all have a heightened awareness of this.”
He nodded, and she continued. “So they needed someone to do the testing to determine what was being created.”
“Why you?”
Snorting, she said, “I’d like to say that it was because I was the best person they could send…but more likely, it was because of my heritage.”
“Heritage?”
“You’re not much of a conversationalist, are you?” she joked, but her mirth died as she observed his unchanging expression. She blushed as her lips pressed together and nervously tucked another strand of hair behind her ear. “I’m from California, but my parents were born in Alaska. My mother is full-blooded Tanana Athabaskan. I think because of my appearance, it was thought that I would easily be disguised here. You know…integrating into the area and not really being noticed.”
“And the so-called marriage ?”
Vivian visibly bristled, then shrugged again. “I was told that I would be in charge of determining what was being produced in the suspect’s house, and since I would be sharing a house with a security investigator, we would have the cover of being married so as not to draw unwanted attention to ourselves.”
“Security investigator,” he muttered to himself. Donald wants me to investigate… and then he wants me to exterminate.
Her eyes narrowed. “Are you just going to keep asking questions? What about you? What do I need to know about you?”
“I’m the investigator,” he said, leaning forward to snag his bottle off the table. He took another long swig. “And what else were you told?”
She must have been lost in thought when she didn’t speak, and a chuckle erupted at the lunacy of the plan.
Snapping out of her trance, she blushed. “I’m sorry. What did you say?”
Now he was lost in thought at the slight rose spreading across her cheeks. Pulling himself back to the subject, he repeated, “What were the rest of your instructions?”
“I was told that the security investigator would be in charge, letting me know what I needed to do, and would let me know when there were samples for me to test. I was also told that we would be sharing a house next to the suspects and that our cover would be to appear as a newly married couple.” Seeing his eyebrows lift, she hastened to say, “I assure you, I was equally surprised, but it makes sense. Why else would two people be moving to this remote location and live in the same house? A newly married couple who can’t afford anything nicer right away is perfect.” Her shoulders lifted again in a shrug. “Anyway, we certainly don’t look like relatives.”
Logan had to admit the logic was sound—he just wished Donald had informed him of the complete cover. But then, would I have agreed to take the mission? And which other Keeper would I have sent? A strange flash rushed through him at the thought that he wouldn’t want any of his Keepers to be in this room with Vivian except him. As soon as that crossed his mind, he shut it down. Mission only. Get it done… go home. Just like every other mission.