Chapter 11 - SHADOWS IN THE VALLEY
The serenity of the Montana evening did not last. Two days after the sunset on the porch, a sleek, black European sedan with tinted windows crawled through the dusty main street of Paradise Ridge. In a town where everyone drove battered Fords or mud-splattered Chevys, a car like that stuck out like a bloodstain on snow.
Logan was under the hood of an old John Deere tractor at the shop when the shadow fell across his workbench. He didn't jump. Years in the high-stakes world of elite covert operations had trained his body to react long before his mind consciously registered threat. His hand moved naturally, almost lazily, toward the heavy iron wrench resting on the steel table.
"Nice place you got here, Logan," a voice purred. It was smooth, refined, and drenched in venomous nostalgia.
Logan wiped his grease-stained hands on a rag and straightened up. Standing at the entrance of the garage was Vance—the right-hand fixer for Victoria Sterling, the woman whose betrayal had nearly buried Logan five years ago. Vance was dressed in a three-piece suit that cost more than the entire tractor Logan was fixing.
"You're on private property, Vance," Logan said, his voice dropping an octave into that cool, emotionless tone he hadn't used in over a year. "And you're a long way from Chicago."
"Victoria sent her best regards," Vance said, taking a slow step inside, his polished Italian leather shoes stepping carefully around oil stains. "She misses her top operative. The board of Sterling Global isn't as manageable without your... unique persuasion techniques. In fact, things are falling apart."
"I don't work for Sterling Global anymore. I don't work for Victoria. The court records are sealed, the debts are paid, and I'm a civilian."
Vance chuckled, a dry, humorless sound. "A civilian fixing tractors in a ghost town? Don't insult yourself. Victoria needs the ledger back, Logan. The black book you took when you disappeared. She knows you have it."
Logan’s eyes narrowed slightly. He had burned that ledger months ago. But in Vance's world, truth was irrelevant; only leverage mattered.
"I don't have what she wants," Logan stated calmly. "Get out of my town."
Before Vance could reply, the side door opened, and Nora walked in carrying a clipboard. She stopped dead in her tracks, sensing the icy atmosphere immediately. Her sharp green eyes flicked from Logan's tense posture to Vance's tailored suit.
"Is there a problem here, Logan?" Nora asked, her voice steady, though her fingers gripped the clipboard a little tighter.
Vance turned, his eyes sweeping over Nora with condescending evaluation. "Ah, the local flavor. Simple, charming. You always did have a soft spot for charity cases, Logan."
Logan moved so fast Vance didn't even see the blur. In less than a second, Logan had closed the distance, his hand clamped firmly around Vance’s throat, pinning the man against the doorframe of the office. Vance’s face flushed red, his smug expression shattering into sudden terror.
"Look at her again like that, and you won't leave Montana alive," Logan growled softly into Vance's ear. "Tell Victoria to leave me alone. If I see another one of her suits in this valley, I won't just hide—I'll hunt."
Logan released his grip. Vance collapsed slightly, coughing and gasping for air, rubbing his reddened neck. Scowling, Vance adjusted his tie, threw a hateful glance at Logan, and backed out of the shop toward his car.
"This isn't over, Logan," Vance rasped before getting into the sedan and speeding away, kicking up a cloud of dust.
May you like
Nora walked up to Logan, laying a hand on his arm. She felt the iron tension in his muscles. "Who was that?"
Logan looked down at her, the warmth returning to his eyes, but beneath it lay the grim realization that his past had finally tracked him down. "A ghost from my old life, Nora. And I'm afraid he brought a storm with him."
