He felt his phone buzz in his pocket but it was his personal phone so he didn’t bother looking at it. Even though he wanted to see if it was a message from Grace, he rarely looked at or used his personal phone while he was on the clock. This job might be a cakewalk, but he never wanted to get complacent. Not when Wyatt’s safety—which meant all of theirs as well—was on the line.
As he neared the back door of the huge ranch house, Julian, one of his coworkers, stepped out. In standard gear for a job on location like this, Julian had on dark cargo pants, a thick down jacket and a black beanie. “Too damn cold out here,” he murmured, a half-smile on his face. At least a decade older than Logan, Julian would be retiring soon enough.
“How’s it going in there?” They’d been in meetings all morning and Logan had opted to take the outside shift, even if it was cold. The fresh air made it easier to think, and right now his mind was on the future. One he wanted with Grace. If he could just figure her out.
“Good, I think. Nothing on the cameras and they’re taking a break now. Brister has some calls to make or something. Why don’t you head inside and grab a coffee?”
“You sure?”
Julian nodded and tugged his cap down. “Of course, man. You’ve been out here all damn morning. I’ll take over the exterior for now. Then one of us can switch out with Benjamin.” Who was currently manning the security feeds.
“All right. I’ve got my radio on me.”
“I know. I’m good though. Take your time warming up.”
Hell, maybe he would. The cold had gone bone-deep by now and the chance of anyone targeting Wyatt here was minimal. Logan pushed open the heavy wooden door and immediately savored the blast of warm air that met him.
He could already feel it seeping into him as he rolled his shoulders and shut the door behind him. Tugging off his gloves, he moved around the huge granite-top island toward the coffee pot. As he started to pour a mug, he froze.
“Stop!” A muffled female voice cried out from…somewhere.
He straightened, setting his mug down on the countertop. On quiet feet, he stepped out of the kitchen and headed in the direction he’d heard the voice. He knew the layout of the house—they’d all studied it before arrival as standard protocol. Wyatt had refused to meet with Brister until the rancher had sent over his architectural plans. Because yes, Wyatt was that paranoid, but he also had a hell of a lot of enemies.
Logan paused, waiting and listening. He knew he hadn’t imagined the woman’s voice but all was silent now. Everybody was supposed to be meeting on the opposite side of the huge house in an oversized living room with a roaring fire and a bank of windows overlooking a frozen pond. Brister’s office was connected to it so no one had any business on this side of the house. And the man’s wife had left to go grocery shopping a while ago, so she shouldn’t even be here. But he’d been out by the barn and storage facility for a while so maybe he’d missed her coming back.
“You’re hurting me.”
The laundry room. Moving quickly and quietly, he hurried down the rest of the short hallway that led to a laundry room and four-car garage.
Pausing outside the door, he leaned in then quietly twisted the handle. Easing it open, he tensed, unsure what he would find.
As it swung fully open, he froze for only a second as Austin Brister swiftly punched his wife in the ribs.
Logan reacted on pure instinct and training. He didn’t remember crossing the few steps of the laundry room, but suddenly he was in Brister’s space, grabbing him by the shoulders and hauling him off his petite wife. The woman who’d only hours ago smiled so nicely at all of them and given them a quick tour before she’d left to buy food.
Rage popped hard inside him as Logan yanked Brister back and slung him across the room. Brister bounced off the front-loading washing machine.
“What the fuck are you doing!” Logan shouted even though it was pretty damn obvious the asshole was beating his wife. He had no tolerance for violence against women. Ever.
The man jumped to his feet, snarling like a raging bull. He was in his fifties, but strong and in good shape from ranching.
Logan somehow remained calm, though he kept his fighter’s stance and Heidi Brister behind him. She reminded him of his own mother, but petite.
She had on loose jeans, a turtleneck and a cardigan with little Christmas elves on them. She was sniffling and crying quietly, and though he wanted to check on her, he needed to make sure the threat was neutralized. Because he knew if he turned his back on this guy, Brister would attack him from behind. No doubt. The kind of man who hit a woman—his own wife—would have no problem fighting dirty.
“Get the hell out of here,” Brister ordered as he stepped forward menacingly. From the way he spoke, his swagger and tone, it was very damn clear he expected Logan to fall in line and follow his orders.
Which told him all he needed to know. This man wasn’t going down without a fight. Still, he tried to keep a calm head.
Logan held up one hand as he pulled out his cell phone. “I’m not going anywhere. And if you take one more step, I will lay you flat on your back.” He kept his voice as quiet as possible though it shook slightly from the pure, scorching lava of rage pumping through his veins. The way that man had just hauled off and nailed his wife like that.
He’d seen violence many times before. Too much of it. But this had stunned him, maybe because of the domestic setting. Hell if he knew, but he was barely holding on to his control, barely holding back from bashing this man’s face in.
“This is all just a misunderstanding.” Brister held his palms up as if he was surrendering. “I was just having a private conversation with my wife.”
“Yes, it really looked like a conversation when you punched her in the ribs.” Logan gritted his teeth as he held his phone up to his ear. “Julian—”
Brister rushed at him, moving like a bull.
Though Logan’s instinct was to slide to the left and swivel so he could slam his elbow down on the man’s back, he didn’t want to give the guy any sort of opening to go after his wife again. Dropping his phone, he rushed straight at Brister.
They rammed into each other like two bulls.
Logan grunted under the impact of the other man’s tackle even as he landed a punch to the gut. Brister hit back just as hard. Logan grunted against the pain of a shot to his ribs, but moving quickly and efficiently he decked the man across the face before slamming Brister onto his stomach. Wasting no time, he dug his knee into Brister’s spine as he yanked the man’s arms back.
“You’re going to regret this,” Brister snarled, struggling underneath Logan. “You’re going to jail for assaulting me in my own home!”
Ignoring him, Logan secured the man’s hands. On the job they always carried flex cuffs because they never knew when they would need them. He’d used them exactly twice before, and until two minutes ago he would have bet good money he wouldn’t have needed them on this job.
“Ma’am, step around me and quickly exit the room,” he said without looking over at Heidi. Sometime during the scuffle, she’d plastered herself against the washing machine, as if she was trying to make herself smaller.
God, Logan wanted to grab this guy’s head and smash it against the tile floor. He could hear footsteps in the distance and quiet murmurs of alarm. Everything had happened so quickly but the backup team was on the way. Julian might not know what was going on, but he would have heard enough, thankfully.