Walker (In the Company of Snipers #21) - Irish Winters Page 0,117

sun. Big. Black. And one damned loyal friend, Ryder was smiling like a son of a bitch. “Got some assholes out here who’ve been waiting all day for you to wake up, princess.”

“Ryder!” Words failed.

“Yeah, Boss, of course it’s me. Where else would I be but on your six? Just had to find your dumbass to follow it.”

Walker would’ve laughed if Ensigns Steel Arrington, Nguyen Le, and Dallas Perkins hadn’t jostled their wide shoulders and skinny asses through the door. Ensigns, what’s a CO to do with them? Then… Shit. Red-headed, First Class Urban Sweeny, followed by Petty Officer Third Class Amerigo. Things were getting crowded in this tiny, standing-room-only place. His guys. They were all here.

“You sailors on shore leave or something?” Walker asked, struggling to get his damned emotions in check and his voice back under control.

“Nah.” Amerigo Torres shrugged. “We quit, Boss. Figured it was high time we followed our leader into Hell again. Where are we going this time?”

“Yeah, Boss. Since you couldn’t seem to stay clear of the law,” Ensign Dallas Perkins, aka Tex, drawled. “We decided to come help.”

“You quit the Navy?” Walker had to understand what he thought he’d just heard.

“No, Boss, we didn’t quit the Navy,” Ryder said in his deep, clear-as-Michael-Clarke-Duncan voice. “The fuckin’ Navy quit us the day they convicted our Chief and sent him to Leavenworth. So yeah. We’re here for you and—”

“Figured you needed one of these to get your lazy ass moving.” Steel Arrington produced a dripping wet PBR, as in Pabst Blue Ribbon beer, from the plastic bag under his arm.

Shit. That did it. Walker was too exhausted to keep the tears from trickling out of the corners of his eyes. But then it got worse. In walked Brimley Scott with his street sweeper mustache and those same round spectacles. He hadn’t changed a bit. “Rover’s waiting outside. Hospital rules, so I can’t stay long, LT. Just want you to know not to worry. I got everything handled.”

“Brim,” Walker ground out, his arm stretched to his friend. “You’re here.”

“Where else would I be?” the old guy growled as he came to Walker’s side and pulled him into a bear hug.

Walker was a mess by then, hanging onto his friend as if Brim were a lifesaver. Afraid to let go. So damned shocked and thankful and—broken. He’d been running so long, but this crusty old veteran had trusted him from the get-go.

“There, there, son,” Brim murmured as gently as a father might.

“How… how’s Rover?”

“He’s good. They ripped you off that boat of yours so fast, I never had time to tell you a proper goodbye. Want you to know that me and Rover been taking real good care of your girl. She’s docked safe and sound in Portugal. Dry-docked her, so no one’ll see her, and no one can get at her. She’s safe, LT. Like you.”

Walker shook his head, fighting like hell to get in control before he let Brim go. It’d been a long damned time since he’d been safe. Brim’s words almost made the concept seem real.

This reunion could only have been better if—

“Walker Judge?” another familiar voice asked through the crowd. “Is this his room?”

“Come on in, sir,” Trevor answered. “He’s over here, still laying around and—”

Walker eased out of Brim’s hairy arms. “Quinn?” he croaked, so damned wrung out by this overwhelming show of support from the caliber of men crowded in his hospital room. He could barely speak.

“Hell, yes, it’s me,” Captain Quinn Dooley muttered. Dressed smartly in his official whites, with his cover tucked under one arm, he cut a proud figure. One by one, Walker’s friends stepped aside and let the Naval officer elbow his way forward. Finally at Walker’s bedside, Quinn told the room, “At ease.”

Not like most of them hadn’t already been at ease. Only the three ensigns, Steel Arrington, Nguyen Li, and Dallas Perkins, had snapped to when they’d seen him.

“What are you doing here?” Walker asked the man he’d once risked his life for.

“I’ve come to repay a debt that is long overdue,” Dooley replied somberly. Damned if his eyes weren’t sparkling a little too much. That didn’t help.

Walker coughed. “You, sir, don’t owe me any—”

“Wrong, sailor. I owe you everything,” Dooley corrected sternly. He tugged a handful of pink and blue strings and beads out of his pants pocket and handed them to Walker. “Emily asked me to give this to you. She made it, and you’d better damned well wear it. That little