My fingers are strong enough to work the bolts loose. When I’m done with those, I start on the power cord and the data connection to the register. The driver climbs down from the cab, adjusting his hat.
I finally get the machine free. The trucker is walking toward the entrance now, keys jingling in his hand. I duck lower behind the counter.
Just as his shadow falls across the doorway, he pats his pockets and turns back toward his truck. Good. Now I just need to get Naomi and get out of here.
"You're fucking dead."
The voice behind me is low and venomous. The cook stands there, cigarette still dangling from his lips, eyes wide with fury.
I move without thinking. My hand strikes his throat, cutting off any sound he might make. In the same fluid motion, I slip behind him, arm lockingaround his neck in a precise chokehold. He struggles briefly before his body goes limp.
"Let him go."
My blood freezes at the sound. I look up to see Maude standing in the hallway, one arm wrapped around Naomi's waist, the other pressing a small revolver against her temple.
I release the unconscious cook immediately, raising my hands. "I'm sorry, Walker," Naomi says, her eyes meeting mine. There's fear there, but also determination.
I've never been this terrified in my life. Not in combat, not on missions, not even when I was staring down the barrel of her gun in the Montana woods. Back then I had nothing to lose.
Now I do.
"Maude, listen, we're not here to rob you. This place isn't what you think it is."
Maude's face twists into an ugly sneer. "You dumb fuck. I know exactly what this place is." Her grip on Naomi tightens. "And I know exactly who you two are."
My stomach drops as I look past her to the window. Outside, the truckers are converging on the diner, moving with military precision. The sheriff and one of his deputies steps out of his cruiser. They're surrounding us.
"Why didn't you just capture us, then?" I ask, mind racing for a way out.
"We were ordered to wait. To stall you," Maude says, her eyes flicking toward the door.
"Why?"
She doesn't need to answer. The bell above the door chimes as it opens, and I know before I look. I can feel him.
"Logan," I whisper.
"Hello, Walk. Long time," Logan says.
The voice is like a bomb going off, making my ears ring. I've heard it in my nightmares for years, but never thought I'dhear it again in the waking world. Logan Black stands in the doorway, silhouetted against the morning light, looking exactly as I remember him: large, powerful, and dangerous, with eyes like empty wells.
"What are you doing here?" I ask, fighting to keep my voice steady. My mind races through escape scenarios, ways to neutralize Logan, and execute my backup plan. But with Naomi held at gunpoint, none of the math works.
"I was tasked with finding your girl here. A job I do on occasion since I came back to the States. But it was the man helping her who caught my attention. The way he moved. The way he operated. It was familiar. He moved like the man who used to be my team leader. He moved like the man who betrayed me. He moved like the man I’ve thought about hunting and killing every moment of every day.”
Logan’s large frame moves with that unnatural grace we both share, circling behind the counter and pouring himself a cup of coffee. Every muscle in my body tenses, ready to spring, but Maude presses the gun harder against Naomi's head.
"That’s what helped me survive, you know, Walk. Surviving so I could one day hurt you like you hurt me. After you left me, the enemy captured me. Locked me away and tortured me. They didn’t even want information. They just wanted revenge. I understood that desire very well. I took my time with each of them when I was able to escape.”
Logan takes a slow sip of the coffee, his eyes locked on mine, a hate I’ve never seen directed at me.
“But it was always you. You were my main mission. My true calling. But now that I’ve found you, I realize torturing and killing you isn’t the best way to hurt you." Logan isn't looking at me when he says that last part. He's looking at Naomi. My heart turns to ice.
"You can’t," I say, the words scraping out of my throat. "Your bosses want her alive." They have to. They’ve had opportunities to kill her, and they haven’t.
Logan smiles, setting down the mug. "Yes, well. We’re strong enough to accomplish the things they ask us to do. But we’re also strong enough to ignore those orders, aren’t we, Walk?”
I know he’s right. And that means nothing is holding him back from hurting her. To torture me.
