in the truck. Don’t worry, I didn’t steal it from the navy or anything like that. I own it, permit and all.”
“Do you think the Taliban will attack today?”
“Not the Taliban.”
Did he know? Had he figured out my secrets? For a second, I was sure he had. My stomach plummeted to my feet. My blood turned into iced water. Then he smirked.
“Rent and protection,” he said.
“Excuse me?”
“Rent and protection.” He pulled himself up from the floor and hopped gracefully on his uninjured foot. “That’s why I’m here. Right? That’s the deal you put on the table.”
“Protection?”
“Protection. Mountain lion, remember?” He lifted his arms over his head and stretched like a lion himself.
“Oh, yeah, sure, I remember.” Why couldn’t I think straight? “Okay, protect away. I’m off to feed the crew.”
“Wait.” He grabbed the IV, hopped to the window and hung the bag on the curtain rod. He picked up the rifle and, putting his eye to the scope, swept it in a slow arc as he scanned the hills and the woods. “Let me do some recon. Give me a sec.”
“Fine,” I said, “but if you spot the mountain lion and it’s like, really far away, chasing butterflies or doing something harmless, don’t shoot. If it’s not endangering my animals, I don’t want you to kill it. Promise? It deserves to live too.”
“Yes, ma’am,” he said. “Rules of engagement: I shoot only if it threatens you or your animals. Otherwise, the son of a bitch can live forever.”
“Good.”
Eye on the scope, he swept the grounds again while I stood over him, keenly aware of his proximity. I breathed in his scent, heated iron, boiling water and something darker and slightly spicy that enticed my senses and discombobulated my body.
This had to stop. Now.
“I sure hope that mountain lion stays out of your way,” I said.
“Sometimes you’ve got to make shitty choices.”
I had a feeling we weren’t talking about mountain lions anymore. “Must be really hard to make choices like that for a living.”
“It comes down to some simple facts, really.” The lines between his eyes deepened as his eyes narrowed when he slowed down to scour a distant thicket of trees. “It’s whether you want to make your own decisions or play someone else’s game; whether they’re gonna kill your guys or you’re gonna to kill the ones who want to kill your guys. The rest is just bullshit.”
I seized the chance to snoop. “So you were a sniper with the Marines?”
“Sometimes,” he said cryptically.
“Did you ever regret one of your kills?”
“That’s a hard-ass question.”
“Sorry,” I said. “I didn’t mean to intrude.”
He glanced at me then put his eye back to the scope. “Are you sure about that?”
The flush on my face confirmed my guilt. “I better go.”
“Stand by,” he said, scanning the far hills. “For someone who doesn’t like to answer questions, you’ve got a wicked double standard.”
“Forget I asked.”
“I could, but I think I won’t.”
“Excuse me?”
“There was this one time,” he said, one eye shut, the other squinting against the scope. “It was a while back. We were doing over watches for the Marines. This woman steps out of a mosque tugging this kid by the hand. The kid is crying. I can see them clearly through my scope. My marines are coming around the corner and the woman sets an intercept course. My spotter is like, ‘She’s got a kid,’ but I track her with the scope, and the kid is still crying, and my guys are about to meet her in ninety seconds...”
I couldn’t even imagine the pressure of a situation like that. “And?”
“She pulls out an AK-47 from under her burka. I get a glimpse of the bulk beneath her robes and some wires. It’s not an easy shot or a done deal at over two thousand yards. It’s got to be final, you see, or else she’ll have time to pull the wire. My marines, they’re less than ten yards around the corner.”
I nibbled
“Do you think the Taliban will attack today?”
“Not the Taliban.”
Did he know? Had he figured out my secrets? For a second, I was sure he had. My stomach plummeted to my feet. My blood turned into iced water. Then he smirked.
“Rent and protection,” he said.
“Excuse me?”
“Rent and protection.” He pulled himself up from the floor and hopped gracefully on his uninjured foot. “That’s why I’m here. Right? That’s the deal you put on the table.”
“Protection?”
“Protection. Mountain lion, remember?” He lifted his arms over his head and stretched like a lion himself.
“Oh, yeah, sure, I remember.” Why couldn’t I think straight? “Okay, protect away. I’m off to feed the crew.”
“Wait.” He grabbed the IV, hopped to the window and hung the bag on the curtain rod. He picked up the rifle and, putting his eye to the scope, swept it in a slow arc as he scanned the hills and the woods. “Let me do some recon. Give me a sec.”
“Fine,” I said, “but if you spot the mountain lion and it’s like, really far away, chasing butterflies or doing something harmless, don’t shoot. If it’s not endangering my animals, I don’t want you to kill it. Promise? It deserves to live too.”
“Yes, ma’am,” he said. “Rules of engagement: I shoot only if it threatens you or your animals. Otherwise, the son of a bitch can live forever.”
“Good.”
Eye on the scope, he swept the grounds again while I stood over him, keenly aware of his proximity. I breathed in his scent, heated iron, boiling water and something darker and slightly spicy that enticed my senses and discombobulated my body.
This had to stop. Now.
“I sure hope that mountain lion stays out of your way,” I said.
“Sometimes you’ve got to make shitty choices.”
I had a feeling we weren’t talking about mountain lions anymore. “Must be really hard to make choices like that for a living.”
“It comes down to some simple facts, really.” The lines between his eyes deepened as his eyes narrowed when he slowed down to scour a distant thicket of trees. “It’s whether you want to make your own decisions or play someone else’s game; whether they’re gonna kill your guys or you’re gonna to kill the ones who want to kill your guys. The rest is just bullshit.”
I seized the chance to snoop. “So you were a sniper with the Marines?”
“Sometimes,” he said cryptically.
“Did you ever regret one of your kills?”
“That’s a hard-ass question.”
“Sorry,” I said. “I didn’t mean to intrude.”
He glanced at me then put his eye back to the scope. “Are you sure about that?”
The flush on my face confirmed my guilt. “I better go.”
“Stand by,” he said, scanning the far hills. “For someone who doesn’t like to answer questions, you’ve got a wicked double standard.”
“Forget I asked.”
“I could, but I think I won’t.”
“Excuse me?”
“There was this one time,” he said, one eye shut, the other squinting against the scope. “It was a while back. We were doing over watches for the Marines. This woman steps out of a mosque tugging this kid by the hand. The kid is crying. I can see them clearly through my scope. My marines are coming around the corner and the woman sets an intercept course. My spotter is like, ‘She’s got a kid,’ but I track her with the scope, and the kid is still crying, and my guys are about to meet her in ninety seconds...”
I couldn’t even imagine the pressure of a situation like that. “And?”
“She pulls out an AK-47 from under her burka. I get a glimpse of the bulk beneath her robes and some wires. It’s not an easy shot or a done deal at over two thousand yards. It’s got to be final, you see, or else she’ll have time to pull the wire. My marines, they’re less than ten yards around the corner.”
I nibbled
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