Standing in the kitchen the next morning, Logan poured a cup of coffee for himself, then pulled down another mug and filled it with coffee, creamer, and sweetener. Hearing the scuffing of footsteps coming down the hall, he hid his grin as he pushed the mug toward a flannel pajama wearing Vivian.

“Umm,” she grunted, taking a sip before moving around the counter, straight into his arms.

Tucking her head under his chin, he closed his eyes for a moment, allowing the sweet floral scent of her shampoo to tease his nostrils, finding it eased his stress. Her body fit perfectly into his and the feel of her arms around his waist, her cheek resting against his chest, made his heart pound with joy.

“Is zombie Viv awake yet?”

“Maybe after a few more sips,” she grunted, hugging him tighter. Tipping her head back, Vivian stared at his chiseled jaw, the worry from yesterday having etched deeper lines radiating from his grey-blue eyes. “You okay? About yesterday?”

“I never worried about a mission,” he began. “The men on my team…we worked as one. We could look at each other and know what the other was thinking. We could tell by the tone of each others’ voices over the radio what the fuck was happening and what we needed to do.”

She watched as pride morphed into concern as he dropped his gaze to hers, his arms tightening around her back.

“But yesterday damn near took me over the edge, babe. You gotta know though…I couldn’t be prouder of you than any SEAL I ever served with.”

He bent and took her lips, his mouth plundering, tasting, searching as his tongue tangled with hers. She responded in kind, desperate to join with him.

Walking her a step backward, he plucked her up and planted her onto the counter. His hands were on her shoulders, pulling her top downward, when the sound of his phone buzzing halted them.

“Ughhhhh,” she groaned, but accepted he needed to take the call. He had rarely received a call since they had been working together so, whoever was on the other end, it was important. Hopping down from the counter, she grabbed her mug on the way back to the bedroom.

Changing into a pair of jeans and thick cotton and wool socks, she slipped on her bra and thermal shirt. Deciding to be domestic for a change, she gathered their dirty clothes into a pile next to the door. Stripping the sheets off the mattresses, she threw them into the ever-growing pile. Finding clean sheets, she made the bed, tossing the pillows to the head near the wall.

Stepping into the hall, she opened the closet door, revealing a washer and dryer. Throwing in detergent and a load of clothes, she started the machine. Listening, she did not hear Logan’s voice. Assuming he was finished, she walked back into the kitchen for a coffee refill. Looking out the window, she saw Logan sitting in his truck, still talking on the phone. Curious as to who he was talking to, she moved to the cabinets, pulling down bowls and cereal. She continued to glance out the window as he spoke and then had long periods of listening.

Out in his truck, Logan spoke to Greg, telling him everything that they had discovered.

“So, Ms. Sanders is certain it is Tularemia?” Greg queried.

“Yes, she’s sure. I’m not at my computer right now, so I can’t give you the details, but she said it was a stable bacteria and that the incubation period is only two to fifteen days. It’s rarely passed from human to human, but the cell’s scientists may have done something with it.”

“I’ve got it pulled up now,” Greg said. “Ingestion of contaminated food or water. So, it could be simply added to a water supply. It says it can also be used in aerosols. Fuckin’ hell, Preacher. Fever, chills, nausea, vomiting, muscle aches—”

“I remember Vivian telling me that many people could have it and doctors wouldn’t know to look for it until vast numbers were showing up, draining the medical resources.”

“You know what to do, Preacher. Take them out. Everyone. Then destroy that house. Today.”

“Sir, I’ve got a request. I need to get Vivian out of here first. She has no idea what will happen next and I’d rather her not find out.”

“She’s finished with her analysis and should leave, although you’ve got to get her input on how best to destroy the house.”

“I’ll take care of it, but I’d feel better if she were gone.”

“Understood.”

He sat in the truck for a moment, trying to figure out his next move. Never, as a SEAL, had he been faced with such indecision. He had to keep her from knowing how he was going to dispatch the cell members…hell, she can’t even know that I am dispatching them. But to send her home early might undermine the relationship they were building. Christ, what the fuck am I going to do? He sat for another minute, steeling his resolve, knowing that whatever happened when he went back inside would gut him, but he prayed when the mission was all over, she would let him explain—grovel, if that’s what it took.

Climbing out of his truck, he slammed the door harder than he meant to. Stalking to the kitchen door, he entered, seeing Vivian sitting at the dining room table, finishing a bowl of cereal. Lucky Charms. A grin slipped over his face despite his mood, seeing her turning her bowl up, slurping the milk.

Standing, she walked over to place the bowl in the sink. “You okay? ‘Cause you don’t seem very okay.”

Rubbing the back of his neck, he ducked his head, staring at the counter instead of her.

“Now you’re not looking at me.”

His gaze jumped to hers as he said, “You’ve done your job, Viv. Thanks to you we know what we’re dealing with and how to move forward.”

She narrowed her eyes but his face gave nothing away. “Okaaaaay.”

“It’s just that now things will get hotter and I’ve got to be able to do my job. And that’s not something that I need an audience for.”

“An audience?”

“A distraction.”

Her voice rose slightly as she repeated, “A distraction? I’ve gone from a partner, to an audience, to a distraction? Wow, that’s some kind of demotion. Do I dare ask how me as a lover fits into that?”

“Don’t make this harder than it already is.”

“Harder?”

“I needed you to tell me what they had so I’d know how to destroy it properly and safely. You’ve done that. Now, I need to do the job I was hired to do.”

“Arrest them, right?” she stood with her arms crossed, her foot tapping a pattern on the floor. “So, why do I need to leave for that? Won’t I be needed to testify against them?”

“I need to take care of them and destroy the lab. Me…not you.”

“Destroy how?”

“Fire,” he responded. “There’s nothing there that’s going to explode, but everything can be destroyed in a fire.”

Pinching her lips, she tried a different angle. “What about my makeshift lab in the shed?”

“I’ll destroy that too.”

“I could help with that, Logan. Why are you pushing me out?”

“I’m not willing to risk your safety anymore. I can focus on what I need to do if I know you are safely away from here.” Holding himself back from taking her in his arms, he clipped, “Your part in the mission is finished now and you need to go home. That was what was always supposed to happen.”

Vivian stood still, the only movement the slight quivering of her lips as she battled back the tears, but her chest was tight with agony. “Are you telling me to leave the job…or are you telling me to leave you?”

Sucking in a ragged breath, Logan hardened his voice as he repeated, “You need to head home.”

Her heart lurched as her head gave a short, jerky nod as she set her unfinished coffee cup in the sink and walked past him, rounding the counter. He swallowed deeply, his heart ripping in fear she would never give him another chance when the mission was over.

Ten minutes later Vivian returned from the bedroom, her suitcase in her hand. Bypassing him without speaking, she moved to the table and packed up her laptop. Glancing around the room, she snatched her eReader from the coffee table and added it to her purse. Taking out the burner phone, she laid it on the counter, reaching into the drawer and snatching her personal phone.

Pulling her purse up on her shoulder, she picked up her suitcase and moved toward the kitchen door. Stopping, she choked back a sob before swallowing it down. She turned to face him, not understanding the stone-faced man staring back, resembling the stoic man she met when she first came to Alaska. “I was in the bedroom packing and thinking of all the terrible things I wanted to call you…say to you. But I just can’t. I told you I didn’t do flings, but the truth is, I’m glad I was here. Glad I met you. Glad I got to work with you.” Taking another shuddering breath, a lone tear ran down her cheek as she finished, “And I’m glad I…” choking back a sob, she shook her head, arguing with herself. “Good luck, Logan.”

With that parting shot, she walked out the door, threw her bags into the back of her little rental car, and backed out of the driveway. Logan watched her every movement, a weight heavy on his heart. Stalking out of the house, he headed toward the shed, destruction on his mind.