Shawn smiled at him.
“I told him the truth. That your team was competent, brave, and crazy. Everything a Marine reconnaissance team should be—”
His genuine honesty took Aberlour by surprise. The military was a giant pissing contest—especially betweenbranches. For a captain in the Navy to say something like this to him was unheard of.
“Why are you telling me this?” Aberlour asked, suddenly suspicious of O’Reilly’s motives.
“Because I don’t like bullshit—and unless I’m reading you wrong—neither do you,” he replied.
Aberlour wasn’t sure that explained anything. He opened his mouth to question him on this, but the captain cut him off.
“And to apologize for Clarence. He’s being—dealtwith, but I did appreciate the way you handled it.”
Aberlour gave a curt nod, then looked at the phone number still held between his middle and index finger.
“And this?” he asked, one eyebrow raised.
Shawn shrugged, looking almost a little bashful, “I don’t know a lot of straight shooters—and you’re the best shot I’ve seen in a long time. Perhaps when we’re both stateside, we can get a drink—leave the pissing contests on the ships.”
Maybe Abe was reading this wrong, but he could swear there was a hint of flirtation in his tone. Aberlour had never gotten hit on by a man before, but he felt like maybe that’s what was happening.
He looked down at the proffered scrap of paper and ran his thumb over the digits scribbled there. The man had horrible handwriting. Abe found this strangely surprising considering Shawn’s personality and squared away appearance.
“Then in the spirit of complete candor—my mom used to say that worthless men can drag down even the best ones,” Aberlour found himself saying, as he gazed at the numbers. “You should get rid of Clarence before he sets your whole career on fire.”
“As I’ve said—it’s in process, but things are never quite that simple,” Shawn replied tersely.
Aberlour looked up at him, surprised by his change in tone. Shawn’s jaw was now clenched and he was frowning.
“Of course,” Abe agreed. He held up the piece of paper, giving him a friendly smile. “You can explain it to me when we get that drink,” he countered. “ThenI’ll tell you why you’re an idiot.” And because he’d apparently lost his goddamned mind, he winked at him.
Shawn smiled ruefully and shook his head, as if he couldn’t believe Aberlour’s nerve.
“See you around,Shawn,” Aberlour said with a smug grin and walked down the hall.
He didn’t turn around to check to see whether Shawn was watching him leave—but he sure as hell wanted to.
Chapter 3
September 2012
“Abe, are you listening to me?” His mother’s voice drawled in his ear. Her tone was tinged with annoyance with a side serving of humour. He could picture her perfectly, wearing a long skirt and flowing blouse, hands on her hips as she chastised him.
“’Course,” he lied, shoving Marcus sideways while holding the phone between his shoulder and cheek. His mother had called in the middle of a Call of Duty tournament. Like an idiot, he’d picked up, and now he was a few seconds away from potentially losing the gargoyle to Marcus—of all people! Unacceptable.
“So, you’ll try to come up for Christmas?” she asked, hopeful.
“Right,” Aberlour said, clearing his throat. “Listen, Mom, I’ll try, but I don’t know if I’ll have enough days off to make it up there.”
“We haven’t seen you in two years, Abe.”
His mother was one in a million: a beautiful, wonderful, sweet, and caring woman. She’d been incredibly supportive when he’d announced he was enlisting, and not once had she made him feel guilty for leaving them behind.
But there was another side to her that he witnessed many times. She was also thoroughly ruthless. When she wanted something, Florence Aberlour got it. He sighed over the phone, and watched, as he died on screen. Marcus jumped to his feet, did a silent scream with mouth wide open, and baited Aberlour by doing a victory dance around the living room.
“You’re right. I promise I’ll try my best to get up there.” Standing up, he headed for the kitchen.
The team was back stateside, squatting at Oliver’s house. The little house at the end of the street had become the official hangout for most of Team Specter. It was also where Aberlour could be found most days. On the one hand, Oli didn’t like to be alone. As much as he’d craved his own space, he liked it filled with people who mattered. Aberlour, on the other hand, enjoyed a fully stocked kitchen, clean bed, and a house that didn’t look like something out of a horror movie.
