Page 22 of Viking

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Logan

“Odin?” Lila asks as we make our way over toward my fighter.

I smirk, pulling sunglasses from my pocket as we walk into the sunlit space and putting them on. “It’s only right, since they call me—”

“Viking. Yeah, yeah. I know.” Her laugh is warm.

“Odin’s as loyal as they come,” I say, moving even closer until there’s barely a foot between us. “But even he doesn’t compare to what’s standing in front of me right now.”

Her breath hitches, and I know I’ve hit my mark. She glances to the left and right of us. “Logan…”

“Just telling the truth,” I murmur.

We’re interrupted by the sound of a wrench clattering to the floor a few yards away, snapping us back to reality. Lila straightens, her cheeks pink, and I step back, giving her space even though all I want to do is pull her closer.

I thought kissing her in her office would satiate the new ever-present desire to but it only made me crave more.

She walks away from me, getting close enough to plant her small hand against the gray metal.

It feels telling, her tiny frame dwarfed by my Raptor.

Like my two worlds just collided.

“Impressed?” I ask, walking up to her.

She turns to me, her lips curving into a smile that makes my chest feel a little too tight. I adjust my sunglasses to give my hands something to do.

“Completely.”

I step past her, my boots echoing on the concrete floor, and gesture for her to follow. “Come on, let me show you why I spend so much time with this guy.”

She nods, her gaze transfixed on the golden canopy.

I start with the basics, pointing to the cockpit. “This is the nerve center. Full glass cockpit design—no dials or gauges like the old-school fighters. Just digital screens and HUDs, or heads-up displays. That screen up front projects everything I need to know—altitude, airspeed, weapons systems, target tracking—onto the glass. Keeps my head up and my eyes on what matters.”

Lila steps closer, her fingers grazing the smooth metal as her eyes roam over every detail like she’s trying to memorize it. “It’s incredible,” she breathes, awe threading through her voice.

I watch her, the words out before I can stop them. “So are you.”

She tilts her head, her gaze locking with mine. A slow, knowing smile spreads across her pretty face. She lifts a brow. “Using your jet to impress me? Is that your move?”

I narrow one eye behind my sunglasses, scrunching up my face like I’m weighing my options because this feels like a loaded question. Have I used my job to get a woman’s attention? Yeah. Has it worked? Every time. Am I doing that right now? Maybe. Should I admit it? Definitely not.

Instead, I tip my head, letting a slow grin tug at my mouth. “Depends. Is it working?”

She tilts her head, pretending to consider this. “You make a better tour guide,” she says, planting her hands on her hips and leveling me with a look that knocks me a little off-balance.

I clear my throat. “Guess I’ll stick to what I’m good at,” I say as I tap the Raptor’s sleek surface, steering the conversation back to safer ground before I completely lose my cool. “This is stealth technology at its finest. Radar-absorbent coating, a design that scatters radar waves—it makes us nearly invisible out there. If you can’t see us, you can’t hit us.”

Lila steps forward, running her fingers over the jet’s wingtip. “So, when you’re flying, you’re basically a ghost.”

“Exactly. But don’t tell Ghost I said that. He’ll never let me hear the end of it.”

She grins, her fingers still trailing along the Raptor’s surface. “And what about these?” she asks, pointing to the thrust-vectoring nozzles at the back.

“Thrust vectoring,” I say, my tone proud. “That’s what gives us our insane maneuverability. Those nozzles can angle to change the direction of the thrust mid-flight, letting us do things like a Herbst maneuver or the famous pedal turn.”