Walker (In the Company of Snipers #21) - Irish Winters Page 0,49

his regret.

“Yeah,” he replied gruffly.

He was done being a thoughtless, selfish bastard. Damn it, he’d missed the brokenness of the beautiful woman who’d been right in front of his nose. He should’ve been focused on her and truly listening. But no. He’d been more concerned with CYA, when he should’ve tugged Persia into his arms and held onto her until she knew for sure he had her back. That he’d never let her go alone into another Zapata-like shithole again.

You love her.

He shook that crazy deduction off. Nah. This isn’t love. It’s… it’s comradery. We’re two of a kind. Warriors. That’s all.

No, it’s not, and yes, you do.

Jesus! Now he was talking to himself.

Ten swift strokes took him to the swim deck, where Brimley was climbing aboard. The man was a hairy beast, from his skinny legs to his paunch, to his chest and back. His age showed like any Vietnam vet, in the flaccid bat wings under his arms, to the way he limped when he walked. To the stoop in his spine and the gnarled joints in his hands.

Rover had already scrambled happily aboard, but when Brimley’s big flat foot hit the middle cedar plank, the opposite end lifted as if it were loose.

Walker wiped the seawater out of his eyes and off his face. “Do that again,” he said, needing to be sure what he’d seen.

“What? This?” Brimley stomped the offending plank three more times. Again and again, the opposite end tilted just enough to make Walker wonder why only the one plank was loose. “Feels like your boat’s got a loose screw, kiddo. Just like you.”

Brimley thought that was funny, but Walker knew different. Scrambling aboard, he dropped to his knees to examine the loose plank. It was the only board held in place with flat-topped nails instead of weather-resistant, stainless-steel lag bolts.

Rover shook, then stuck his furry nose in Walker’s face and licked his nose. Brimley chuckled as he hoisted soggy Rover up onto the upper aft deck, aka the lounge outside the cockpit. “Enough kisses. Now sit, Doggo. Make room for me.”

Meanwhile, Walker lifted the loose end of that plank up as the rusted nails gave way with a raucous SCREEEECH!

“Whoa,” Brimley gasped from the recliner where he and Rover sat peering down at Walker. “What the hell’s that?”

Good question. “I’m not sure.” He’d found a narrow piece of a metal something beneath the eight-by-one-inch cedar plank. On his hands and knees, he leaned closer. Looked like aluminum. No screws fastened it in place, neither was there a handle to lift it. It wasn’t a sheet, nor a patch. More like the bottom of a box that had no reason to be on the swim deck, much less under it.

“You never told me this was a used boat.”

I haven’t told you much of anything. But for sure, this puzzle box hadn’t been hidden here to keep miscellaneous receipts safe. “I’m still looking for the user manual.” And the registration. The real owner’s name would be nice.

“Well, you still got that fancy blade on you, don’tcha? Why not pop this gizmo and see what you got?”

Palming his brother’s knife, Walker prepared to do the deed. But before he did, he shifted his body between Brimley and Rover. Next, he offered a quick prayer, this time to the God of all gods. Please don’t let this be a booby trap.

Chapter Sixteen

Fundamentally, Persia knew boring operations were the best. This drive to western Virginia should’ve been a relief after all she’d done for the Agency. It would give her more time to decompress, but would handling a routine op put her back in Alex’s good graces?

“You’re sure antsy,” Zack murmured. “What’s up?”

Still dressed all in black, from his work boots to his leather jacket, he was an easy traveling partner. They’d split the driving, with him behind the wheel following the US Marshal’s armored transport west. On the return trip, she’d drive. They’d stop for lunch then.

“I can’t get comfortable,” Persia admitted. Truth was she was more afraid she’d fall asleep. The steady hum of tires on the road and the gentle sway of the vehicle was working its magic. Especially since she hadn’t slept much last night. Guess she needed more rum in her coke, or less coke in her rum. Which actually made sense.

“You want the wheel?”

That was tempting, but, “Nah. I’m good.”

This unincorporated part of Lee County, Virginia, was mostly rural and fairly barren. Wide-open fields with lush green, woodsy backdrops stretched along both