Read Online Nefarious (The Blackwell Files Book 1) by Mr. Steven F. Freeman - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Mr. Steven F. Freeman
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weight eased did he fully appreciate its former, crushing impact.
He felt a deeper connection to some of the group’s members more than others. He enjoyed the company of David and Mallory most of all. While he had come to know David quite well from the time they spent together both on and off the clock, he never seemed to have as much time to visit with Mallory as he would have liked. She seemed to enjoy spending time with him too but was a true social butterfly, often pulled from table to table during their evenings at the Lodge. It seemed everyone liked spending time with her.
As Alton and David leaned over the Lodge’s bar one windy evening, Alton broached a long-contemplated subject with his friend. As casually as he could, Alton observed, “Fahima looks nice tonight,” referring to the Lodge’s slender bartender. She was outfitted in western-style jeans and a black polo shirt.
“Tell me about it,” replied David. “She looks good every night.”
Alton had to agree—the girl was attractive. Her midnight-black hair was artistically braided down her back every day without fail, and her form possessed all the curves a serviceman would appreciate.
“So…do you dig her?” asked Alton.
For once, David seemed a little flustered. “Well…yeah, I do. She’s cute—more than cute. Plus she’s sweet and patient. She’d have to be to put up with this group.” He swept his hand across their gathering.
“I thought you had a…special regard for her. I see your glances, but I don’t see you all talk much, so I wasn’t sure.”
“We talk,” defended David. “Not as much as I’d like, but we talk.”
Alton understood precisely how David felt. He didn’t talk with Mallory as much as he’d like, either.
David looked up at Alton sharply. “I know what you’re thinking. You’re wondering what I talk to Fatima about. It’s strictly social. When it comes to my job, she doesn’t ask, and I don’t tell.”
“I’m glad to hear it. I was a little concerned,” admitted Alton. “Local girlfriends have been unearthing confidential information from occupying soldiers for millennium. You wouldn’t have been the first.”
“I know. Don’t worry,” said David, slapping Alton on the shoulder. “I don’t kiss and tell. Hell, I don’t even kiss.” He laughed uproariously. Fahima glanced curiously in the direction of the noise, revealing a small smile.
Later, as the evening wound down, Alton and several other soldiers piled into David’s car to return to Camp Eggers. Lately, the group had taken to returning to the camp together for their mutual safely, traveling in a convoy of ragtag civilian cars bought with soldiers’ pay. If a car broke down, the others would be there to provide protection. Kabul at night was no place to linger, especially alone.
Mallory normally drove her own car, but it had been in the shop for several days, so tonight she piled into David’s rusty, Soviet-era Moskvitch 2140. She sat between Alton and Lieutenant Carlyle in the dimly lit back seat.
“Let’s roll!” David shouted to the other cars. At this signal, the motley caravan departed for Camp Eggers. As always, Alton was attentive to the environment around them as they sped along the dark roads leading back to their temporary home. Potential enemies could strike at any time, lending an air of danger to every drive, especially those at night.
As they made their way down the road leading away from the Lodge, a voice in the back of Alton’s mind called out that something wasn’t quite right, but he couldn’t put his finger on exactly what was out of place—a mental itch he couldn’t scratch. Alton found that such thoughts generally crystalized best when he didn’t actively dwell upon them but instead let his unconscious mind put the pieces together, so he decided to set the matter aside for the time being. Besides, the bumpy ride represented a rare opportunity for him to speak to Mallory without the constant
He felt a deeper connection to some of the group’s members more than others. He enjoyed the company of David and Mallory most of all. While he had come to know David quite well from the time they spent together both on and off the clock, he never seemed to have as much time to visit with Mallory as he would have liked. She seemed to enjoy spending time with him too but was a true social butterfly, often pulled from table to table during their evenings at the Lodge. It seemed everyone liked spending time with her.
As Alton and David leaned over the Lodge’s bar one windy evening, Alton broached a long-contemplated subject with his friend. As casually as he could, Alton observed, “Fahima looks nice tonight,” referring to the Lodge’s slender bartender. She was outfitted in western-style jeans and a black polo shirt.
“Tell me about it,” replied David. “She looks good every night.”
Alton had to agree—the girl was attractive. Her midnight-black hair was artistically braided down her back every day without fail, and her form possessed all the curves a serviceman would appreciate.
“So…do you dig her?” asked Alton.
For once, David seemed a little flustered. “Well…yeah, I do. She’s cute—more than cute. Plus she’s sweet and patient. She’d have to be to put up with this group.” He swept his hand across their gathering.
“I thought you had a…special regard for her. I see your glances, but I don’t see you all talk much, so I wasn’t sure.”
“We talk,” defended David. “Not as much as I’d like, but we talk.”
Alton understood precisely how David felt. He didn’t talk with Mallory as much as he’d like, either.
David looked up at Alton sharply. “I know what you’re thinking. You’re wondering what I talk to Fatima about. It’s strictly social. When it comes to my job, she doesn’t ask, and I don’t tell.”
“I’m glad to hear it. I was a little concerned,” admitted Alton. “Local girlfriends have been unearthing confidential information from occupying soldiers for millennium. You wouldn’t have been the first.”
“I know. Don’t worry,” said David, slapping Alton on the shoulder. “I don’t kiss and tell. Hell, I don’t even kiss.” He laughed uproariously. Fahima glanced curiously in the direction of the noise, revealing a small smile.
Later, as the evening wound down, Alton and several other soldiers piled into David’s car to return to Camp Eggers. Lately, the group had taken to returning to the camp together for their mutual safely, traveling in a convoy of ragtag civilian cars bought with soldiers’ pay. If a car broke down, the others would be there to provide protection. Kabul at night was no place to linger, especially alone.
Mallory normally drove her own car, but it had been in the shop for several days, so tonight she piled into David’s rusty, Soviet-era Moskvitch 2140. She sat between Alton and Lieutenant Carlyle in the dimly lit back seat.
“Let’s roll!” David shouted to the other cars. At this signal, the motley caravan departed for Camp Eggers. As always, Alton was attentive to the environment around them as they sped along the dark roads leading back to their temporary home. Potential enemies could strike at any time, lending an air of danger to every drive, especially those at night.
As they made their way down the road leading away from the Lodge, a voice in the back of Alton’s mind called out that something wasn’t quite right, but he couldn’t put his finger on exactly what was out of place—a mental itch he couldn’t scratch. Alton found that such thoughts generally crystalized best when he didn’t actively dwell upon them but instead let his unconscious mind put the pieces together, so he decided to set the matter aside for the time being. Besides, the bumpy ride represented a rare opportunity for him to speak to Mallory without the constant
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