Chapter 21
Logan
The operation was tonight.
I’d been solid at the three-a.m. planning meeting early this morning, mapping terrain and answering questions. But the closer the countdown got to being real, the more my head kept circling back to what had happened on my last mission with Warrior Security.
A door slamming in a hallway of that hotel in Spokane. Ten seconds when my mind left my body and went somewhere else entirely. Ten seconds when I was useless to the team.
Worse than useless. A liability.
The memory crept in at the edges while I worked stacking hay bales in the barn. That had been six weeks ago. I hadn’t had another full-on PTSD panic episode since.
Tova, the routine, Lark, and the work Pawsitive demanded from me every day had given me more solid ground than I’d had since Reid died.
But solid ground and operational ground were different things. No, I hadn’t had more conscious PTSD episodes. But neither had I done any true tactical work like we’d be doing tonight.
I set the last bale and straightened up.
My hands were fine. My breathing was even.
The barn was a barn and the floor was concrete and the horse that had kicked the stall board was Duchess, who kicked things because she enjoyed the sound.
None of that changed what my head was doing with the hours between now and nightfall.
Lark was in the aisle updating a chart on one of the kennel doors. She capped the pen and turned toward me, and whatever she saw in my face stopped her mid-step.
“Talk to me.”
I rubbed the back of my neck. We’d promised each other no more junk drawers, and I was going to keep that promise, even when every instinct told me to handle this on my own.
“I suffer from PTSD. I lost someone. The nightmares, they’re… I don’t want to go into all of it right now, but I promise I’m not trying to hide it from you.”
She nodded slowly. “I figured about the PTSD.”
“I know you did. That’s why you set me up with Tova.”
She shrugged one shoulder with a soft smile.
“But it’s more than that. Before I came here, I did one active mission with Warrior Security.” I said it straight because there was no other way to say it. “I…had an incident.”
“What kind of incident?”
“I went blind for ten seconds in a hotel corridor and almost got Beckett killed. And tonight, I’m going to be in the dark with weapons in play on your property.”
She set the clipboard on the kennel door.
“I’m thinking about pulling myself out tonight. Hunter, Beckett, Coop…they can handle it without me. I’d rather step back than be the reason something goes sideways out there.”
“Was anyone hurt?”
“No. Beckett covered me. But he shouldn’t have had to.”
She crossed her arms. “Did they blame you?”
“No.”
“Did they tell you to leave? Were you fired?” Her eyes moved across my face, reading something I couldn’t hide even if I’d wanted to.
“No. I made that call myself.”
Lark was quiet for a long moment. When she spoke, her voice was careful and clear.
“Do you trust Hunter?”
“With my life.”
“Then tell him your concerns about tonight.” She held my gaze. “Being honest with each other changed everything for us. So trust that it’ll work the same way with him.”
I wanted to argue. Stepping back was one thing. I could do that on my own, quietly, and nobody had to know why. What Lark was asking me to do was stand in front of Hunter and say it out loud.
“Those men are your team.” She picked up the clipboard and held it against her chest. “And the team deserves the same honesty I just got.”
She was right. I didn’t like it, but she was right. I didn’t want to bail on the guys when I was needed, but on the other hand…Hunter needed to know a member of the team was flawed. It wasn’t fair to catch him off guard.
“Okay.”
“Good. Go find him before your stubbornness talks you out of it.”
I kissed her once, brief and hard, and walked out of the barn before I could think about it too long. The gravel crunched under my boots and the late sun was low enough to throw long shadows off the barn roof, and every step toward that conversation felt heavier than the last.
Hunter’s truck was already in the lot. He was leaning against the tailgate with his arms crossed, watching the road. Beckett and Coop hadn’t arrived yet, but they’d be here any second.
“Got a minute?”
He studied me. Whatever he read made him push off the truck and walk with me toward the paddock fence, away from the house, away from the barn.
“I need to tell you something before tonight.”
“I’m listening.”
“You know why I left Warrior Security. What happened on that last op, the ten seconds I lost in the corridor, Beckett having to bring me back.” I gripped the fence rail.
“I haven’t had an episode since. But tonight, it’s trying to surface, and I can’t promise it won’t happen again when things get real out there. I’m a liability.”
I hated that fucking word. Actually, the word wasn’t the problem. I hated that the fucking word applied to me.
Hunter was quiet for a beat. He turned to face me fully, his forearms on the top rail, and gave me the same unhurried focus he gave a tactical problem.
“I appreciate you telling me. And here’s what I’ll tell you back.” He held my gaze. “You’re not the only one on this team carrying something like that. I’ve had episodes that shut me down so hard my hands wouldn’t work.”
He let that sit. “Beckett’s had it happen. Cooper. And Travis, hell, he was a fucking basket case for years. Every one of us has a version of PTSD.”
“That’s different. You all still operate.”
“We operate because we know each other’s edges. That’s the whole point of a team. The problem isn’t the ten seconds. The problem is if nobody around you knows it could happen.”
He straightened up. “But now we know.”
“And if it happens again?”
“Then someone will be there. We’ll all be watching for each other tonight. I’ll talk to the guys individually so they know what’s going on. And now you know to keep an eye on them too.” He clapped my shoulder once, brief and solid. “That good enough?”
It was better than anything I’d gotten from my own head in the past six hours.
“Yeah. That’s good enough.”
“Good. Then let’s go take care of business.”
Beckett and Cooper pulled in fifteen minutes later. We gathered in the barn while Lark finished evening rounds, and Hunter walked through the plan one more time with everyone in the same room. I trusted him to do as he’d said and talk to the guys individually.
The afternoon bled into evening. Lark and I fed the animals together the way we always did, moving through the routine like it was any other night. She locked the barn early. I checked the water troughs. She made sandwiches for everyone, and we ate together, mostly in silence.
We all changed into our tactical gear and deployed once night settled. I moved through the tree line to the north approach with an earpiece and a weapon and the familiar weight of a vest across my chest.
Tova was in the house with Lark. She would have followed me into the field without hesitation, and tonight was no place for her. I still wished she could be with me.
I was looking at the Pawsitive property through different eyes tonight.
The ridgeline was a sight line. The ditch was a barrier.
The pine stand screening the shed was concealment, and the shed itself was the target.
I settled into position behind a downed trunk on the north side of the ditch, fifty yards from the clearing, and let the night close in around me.
“Comms check.” Travis, precise and unhurried from the compound.
Each operator checked in.
Then Lark. “Relay is set. Barn is locked. Animals are settled.”
“Copy,” I said.
A pause on the line. Then, quieter, “Come back in one piece, Stroud.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
Travis cut in. “Cameras are live, all positions confirmed. Now we wait.”
We waited. Hours of silence and cold ground seeping through my pants while the property settled into its night sounds around me.
An owl somewhere to the west. The distant hum of the county road.
My knees stiffened and my shoulders tightened against the bark of the trunk, and I kept my breathing even and my eyes on the clearing and my mind right here, right now, on this ground.
Finally, Travis came back on comms. “Movement. South camera. Two vehicles approaching on the access road from the county route.”
I shifted behind the trunk. My hand found the grip of my weapon, and my thumb moved to the safety. This was it. It was a little past midnight.
“Make that three vehicles. Third one running dark, about forty yards back.”
Three vehicles. We’d planned for two at most. Hunter came over comms immediately.
“Adjust. Logan, hold north. Beck, shift east to cover the second entry point. Coop, you’ve got the shed. Nobody moves until they’re out of the vehicles and committed.”
“Copy.”
“Copy.”
“Copy.”
The engines grew louder. Headlights cut through the pine trunks and threw long shadows across the clearing.
The first truck pulled up beside the shed.
The second stopped twenty yards back on the access road.
The third killed its engine near the tree line, no headlights, just the tick of a cooling engine in the quiet.
Doors opened. I counted as they emerged. Six. We’d expected three.
“Six tangos,” Travis confirmed. “Two at the shed, two on the road, two at the south tree line.”
“We stick to the plan,” Hunter said. “Let them commit. Lachlan, you’ll have company heading your way when this breaks.”
“Copy. I’ll be here,” Lachlan said. “I’ve got officers with me, and if this goes to hell, we’ll all be flying in your direction.”
The assholes at the shed propped the door open. The first truck’s tailgate dropped, and they started pulling out duffel bags, heavy enough that each one took two hands and a grunt. The pair from the road moved to help. The two at the tree line stayed put, watching the road behind them.