Just as the rod hit the gun, the man pulled the trigger. A bullet raced by Logan’s hip, then slapped into the wall of the refrigerator. Logan struck at the man’s hand again until the pistol, a Glock, tumbled to the floor.

Unarmed now, the man staggered back, bleeding from both his neck and his hand.

Logan stood in front of him, ready to strike again. “Tooney,” he called out. “Can you get up?”

“I think…” Logan heard a foot scrape across the floor. “Yes…I can.”

“Go call nine-one-one,” Logan told him.

The would be attacker laughed. “You’re not going to do that. Are you, Tooney?”

Logan sensed the café owner hesitate. “Tooney, now.”

That seemed to break the trance, and Tooney shuffled out the door.

“Who the hell are you?” Logan asked the intruder.

“Why don’t you ask Tooney?”

Logan stared at him for a second. “Get comfortable. It takes the Sheriff a little while to get out here, and you’re going to be pretty damn cold by then.”

The guy began to smile. “I can handle a little cold. Can you?”

The last word was barely of out of the man’s mouth when he charged. Logan whipped a rod through the air, smacking the man in the side of the head, but it didn’t stop him. With another step, the guy had moved inside the range of the clubs.

Logan quickly let go of them, then grabbed the man by the shoulders and tried to guide the attacker’s momentum passed him, not through him. He was only partially successful, though, deflecting the man away from his chest, and into his shoulder.

The man staggered, then started to go down. Reaching out, he latched onto one of Logan’s belt loops, and they both ended up tumbling to the floor.

Logan found himself on his back, with the man on top of him. He threw a quick punch into the man’s ribs. But instead of responding in kind, the man shoved Logan in the shoulders, and pushed himself up.