“Honey, can I get you anything?”
I place an order, which I haul back to the table to fulfill my obligations.
“I gotta say, Law,” Mia offers raising her beer while sitting between Beatriz and me. “I didn’t think you had it in you. Glad to officially have you on the team.”
We all drink to that, but we don’t hang out too long. Tomorrow is a workday and there are always new dark forces at play requiring our attention.
Murph and Adanna get up to leave first, and ask me to follow them outside.
The night air is cool and the sky clear. I stare at two of the closest friends I have, who stare right back at me with grins.
“What is it?”
“Well,” Murph says, before looking at his boots, apparently looking for the right words. “There’s something that we… ah, wanted to… ah—”
“Law,” Adanna says while frowning at him. “We want you to be the best man at our wedding.”
Murph finally lifts his embarrassed gaze and settles it on me as she adds, “It’s in two months.”
Two months?
Wow. Warp Speed, indeed.
Murph gives me a shrug. “Would you, man?”
“Of course, guys. I’d be honored.”
Adanna gives me a hug and shocks me by whispering, “You’ll find the right one, Law. She’s out there somewhere.”
We say our goodbyes and I watch them make their way to their car. Then I feel a presence behind me, followed by the sound of a lighter flicking a flame.
“So, Law,” Mia says while lighting up and walking past me. “Ever heard again from that Lil’ Jersey girl?”
I shake my head and start after her.
“Well?” she asks as I catch up.
“Radio silence,” I reply.
“She’s still pissed at you for signing up for that op?” She takes a drag and exhales the smoke skyward.
I slowly nod.
“Boy, she really knows how to hold a grudge.”
Another nod.
“Screw her, then.”
Yeah. Problem is I can’t get her out of my head. Maybe with time I’ll be able to—
“There’s always Lil’ B.,” she continues, taking another drag, exhaling through her nostrils as her eyebrows burrow toward the center of her head, forming an almost continuous line.
Now I narrow my gaze. “Come again?”
“Oh, Law,” she says, shaking her head in obvious disappointment. “You’re so fucking slow. It’s pathetic.”
I blink at the comment as it’s almost verbatim what Franky said.
After a moment of very awkward silence—at least on my part because Mia is grinning—I say, “Look, Beatriz and I have a good working relationship and—”
“She has a crush on you, dumbass. Always has.”
This woman is impossible. “A crush? How could you possibly know that?”
“A girl can tell.”
I stand there considering that, which reminds me of what Kate said. Did all these women go to the same school of male mind reading?
“Law,” she adds. “Can I give you a piece of advice?”
“Why not?”
“Franky’s gone. Let her go.”
I just stare at her.
“And in the eternal words of Stephen Stills, if you can’t be with the one you love, then love the one you’re with.”
“What happened to the keep-my-dick-in-my-pants speech?”
She smiles. The jarhead in her just loves crude. “That was before.”
“Before what?”
“Before you became one of us. Plus, you don’t work with her anymore. You work for me, so as long as you don’t try to fuck me, we’re good.”
And with that, she takes a final drag, flicks the butt away, and gets in her fancy SUV. She cracks the window and I see another puff of smoke blowing out as she lights up again.
Almost on cue, Ledet, Rossi, and Beatriz step out as Mia steers out of the parking lot and accelerates into the night. There’s no sign of Cope, though the lone wolf enjoys drinking alone. And come to think of it, he came with Murph and Adanna, so I’m guessing he’s going to Uber it.
The two guys are also parked in front, so they wave at me and head for their respective cars. Beatriz walks in my direction.
“Law?” she says. “Waiting for someone?”
“Just saw Mia off,” I say. “I’m in the back.”
“So am I,” she says.
We walk in silence, reaching her Chevy Tahoe, which is parked a few spaces away from mine.
“You know, I never properly thanked you,” she says as she unlocks her door.
“For what?”
“For what you did on that parking lot… for rolling over me to protect me.”
Before I can reply, she gives me a hug, the first since the day of the Hampton VA shooting, but much tighter.
And I hug her back.
I think Mia, with all her harshness, might just be right. There’s something that flipped in Beatriz’s mind during the shooting, as I held her bleeding in my arms and then tried to protect her, willingly placing my body in harm’s way for her.
A bond was formed, just like those forged in the heat of battle. It’s in the air between us every time we happen to bump into each other at work.
Slowly, she pushes away and looks me in the eye with her green stare under that tomboy haircut. She’s leaving it up to me to make the next move.
If you can’t be with the one you love, then love the one you’re with.
But I just can’t.
Call me a romantic fool, but it needs to feel right.
I like Beatriz—a lot, actually—but not that way. I don’t get that amazing feeling I got when I held Franky. And the last thing I want to do is start something like I did with Kate when I’m still in some sort of bizarre and apparently quite prolonged rebound phase.
Because, after all, a girl can tell, right?
At my obvious hesitancy, she settles for another one of her friendly punches in the shoulder, just like last time, before saying, “See you around, Law.”
“Count on it,” I reply.
I stand there watching her get in her SUV and drive up to the front of the lot, by the entrance to the club.
And just as my luck would have it, Cope steps out.
I stand there and watch as Beatriz slows down and pulls up to the curb, lowering the passenger side window.
Cope walks up to her SUV and leans down.
You’ve got to be kidding me.
After a brief conversation, he opens the door, gets in, and they drive off.
I stand there stunned. Even Cope, the lone-fucking-wolf who never says a damn word, is able to steal a woman from under me.
Then again, maybe she’s just giving him a ride home.
I exhale loudly and step over to my Ford truck, climb in, and start the engine. And that’s when I notice a black Chevy Suburban pulling up behind me, blocking my way.
I momentarily tense, but slowly relax when I see, through the rearview mirror, the SUV’s rear tinted window rolling down, revealing the bottom-heavy face of Colonel Granite.
I leave the engine running and just get out and walk up to him, but the colonel remains inside his vehicle.
“Evening, Marine.”
“Colonel,” I say, standing by the window. The last time I saw the man was before jumping off that plane. My discharge from Highest Law had come in the form of an encrypted email. I’ve tried repeatedly to reach out to him to find out how Uncle D. was doing, since he won’t return my phone calls, but the colonel, once again, had made himself unavailable. “Long time,” I add.
“Indeed,” he says. “I heard you kicked ass and took numbers over at Quantico.”
I grin and shrug. “It was a
cakewalk, sir.”
“Good. Good. I just wanted you to see this.” He pulls out a tablet, taps on it for a moment, and faces the screen toward me.
It’s some sort of chart, but I can’t tell of what.
“Sir, ah, what is that?”
“You’re latest bloodwork.”
I open my mouth but say nothing for a few seconds, then I mumble, “Okay… and?”
“And your CPT levels are a tad high,” he says. “That’s the Creatine Phosphotinlyn enzyme that—”
“I know what it is, sir,” I tell him, while quickly looking over my shoulder in both directions before checking my six.
“Lawson? What the hell are you doing?”
“Are you here to take me in, sir?”
Granite makes a sound that reminds me of a train leaving the station. He is laughing. I guess that’s a first.
“No, Marine. I’m not here to drag your sorry ass into a padded cell. I just want to make you aware that your level is up.”
“But I already stopped taking Zilopronol and replaced it with—”
“Propranolol. Yes, we know.”
“Of course, you do.”
“ But the effects of Zilopronol stay in your system for a while,” he adds.
“So, you’re saying I’m screwed?”
“Not necessarily. And that’s why I’m here, to give you this.”
He produces a prescription bottle without any labels filled with tiny red pills.
“It’s still experimental, but we’ve seen very good results at our clinical trials at the CDC and Gitmo. It doesn’t reverse the damage already done, but it prevents further degradation. It’s similar to the treatment HIV patients get to prevent it from turning into AIDS. It’s a start. That’s a six-month supply.”
I stare at the pills.
“One a day with the rest of your meds. Don’t forget, okay?”
“No, sir. Thank you, sir.”
“Least I can do. I’ll check up on you in a few months, okay?”
“Yes, sir. By the way, how’s my uncle doing?” I ask since I have the man’s attention. “He hasn’t returned any of my calls.”
“That’s between you and him. All I can tell you is that he’s well and also damn busy. Okay?”
“I know, sir, but I just worry about—”
“Alright, Lawson,” he says, lowering his voice even though we’re the only ones, aside for his driver, in the vicinity. “Danny’s out of the country tracking down some of Sokolov’s associates.”
“Associates?”
“Yes, as in partners-in-crime. Apparently, the snake was more like a damn hydra.”
I consider that for a moment, then ask, “Are my friends and I still in danger?”
“There are no guarantees, Lawson, but no, we don’t think so, or we would have come to you with it. Okay?”
“Okay, sir.”
“Still, do watch your six, Lawson. These Russian fuckers can hold a grudge for years, and we really screwed their operation. But the plan’s to get to them long before they can get to us, okay?”
I inhale deeply, nod slightly, and look away before whispering, “Okay.”
“Take care, Marine.”
And just like that, the window rolls up and the SUV drives off.
After a moment ruminating on what I was just told, I decide to simply accept it and move on. There’s nothing I can do about the damn Russians or the damage already done to my noodle. Hopefully Uncle D. and his SAP compadres will keep us all safe to do our NCIS jobs, and perhaps the little pills will work enough magic to keep me from being taken in the middle of the night.
I mean, what choice do I have on the latter? My meds are the only thing that keeps me functional during the day. And the smell of the sea and the waves help me at night.
So, I get back in my truck and also drive off while my mind shifts from Granite to Beatriz, and for a moment I second-guess my decision.
It could have been you, Law.
I frown as Franky’s face from that night fills my mind.
But you let Dix steal me away.
Just like I just let Cope steal Beatriz, who may end up using the quiet sniper for rebound sex like I did with Kate. But who knows? Look at what happened with Murph and Adanna’s one-night-stand.
I shake the thought away while driving the route that always takes me by Dix and Franky’s old place, now home to a young couple and at least two kids, based on whom I’ve seen playing in the front yard when driving to and from work.
I pull into the marina’s lot and park in my designated spot, before making my way to the gangway and down my stall.
There’s a wonderful breeze sweeping in from the bay, and along with it are the shallow waves slapping the sides of boats, rocking them gently.
As I feel the floating dock give under my weight, I inhale deeply, thinking of Dix and Franky, of Murph and Adanna, of Chappy and Cope—even of Uncle D. and Granite. All unfortunate casualties, in one form or another, of this damned War on Terror.
And I have to wonder if I made a difference, if I—
I freeze.
The zipper of the clear plastic walls of my boat’s cockpit is all the way up, which causes the stern flaps to sway in the breeze.
Still, do watch your six, Lawson. These Russian fuckers can hold a grudge for years.
I immediately reach for my Sig while fast-walking to the stern and peering into the cockpit. But just as my fingers curl around the pistol grip, I hear a familiar voice streaming out, “So, what does it take for a soldier to buy a girl a drink?”
I stare in disbelief at the petite figure stepping onto the walk-through transom.
Franky drops her fine brows at me as her blue eyes glint with what can only be described as dark amusement at having caught the Navy SEAL completely by surprise.
“I’m a Marine, actually,” I tell her.
Her hair is longer and her face is glowing with a healthy tan as she smiles that good smile I haven’t seen in a while.
She’s holding a bottle of Cava de Oro in one hand and a six-pack of Budweiser in the other. She tosses the bottle of tequila up in the air and catches it a moment later, just as I saw her juggling the night we met.
It’s a swift and cool bartending move, and she gives me another smile and raises her eyebrows twice.
“What do you say, Marine?” she asks, her eyes narrowing as she tilts the bottle towards me. “Want me to hit you?”
And just like that, all seems right with the world.
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About The Author
R.J. Pineiro is a 30-year veteran of the computer industry as well as the author of many internationally acclaimed novels, including Without Mercy, Without Fear, Ashes of Victory, Avenue of Regrets, and Chilling Effect. His newest novel is Highest Law, the first book in a new mystery-suspense series. He is an instrument-rated pilot, has a black belt in martial arts, and is a certified SCUBA diver. Pineiro makes his home in central Texas, where he lives with his wife, Lory Anne.
For more information on the author please visit www.rjpineiro.com
Highest Law: A Gripping Psychological Thriller Page 34