The Templar Reprisals (The Best Thrillers Book 3) by James Best (read any book txt) 📕

“Of course. Can I ask what’s in it?”

“An action report … and my suggestion that he should recommend her for a Silver Star to go with her Purple Heart.”

“She’s upset she didn’t get the fourth, you know.”

“The targets were moving and after she got the first three, the car was no longer in her field of vision. That was sharp shooting in a high stress situation. There’s nothing for her to be upset about.”

O’Brian nodded and put the envelop in the breast pocket of his sport coat.

“Did you succeed with your other plans?” Evart asked.

O’Brian took a deep breath. “I can’t say much, but Washington is back to normal, Jakarta is a cleaner city, and those vigilantes are corralled.”

“And my situation?”

“I should have guessed that would remain a concern of yours. I can confirm that the bounty has been withdrawn, but it would be because they brought the contract inhouse. We started executing that financial scenario we discussed. The Hildebrand Club assets are frozen for myriad financial transgressions. When you get up and about, a press conference will confirm that your taskforce led the investigation and deserves the lion share of the credit. Together with some other leaks and public pronouncements the Ikhwan should be dissuaded from believing that you’re a Templar Knight. Hopefully, the threat will fully go away in the weeks ahead. In the meantime, intelligence says that all the Ikhwan villains not captured or killed have fled the country. It’s a judgment call, but I believe you’re in the clear.

“Can it be confirmed?”

“Not until we nurture an inside asset. But … I think we’ll know if the Ikhwan returns to U.S. soil. That incident in D.C. has increased situational awareness. We’ll keep a careful watch on entry points to our country, and hopefully, we’ll keep them too busy overseas for them to return to our soil. In the meantime, my recommendation is that you assume that you’re no longer on their radar.

“Assume is a weak word.”

O’Brian stood and prepared to leave. At the door, he paused.

“Greg, thanks. You and Patricia were a great help. And … you’re right, assume is a weak word.”

Chapter 85

Evarts buried his bare heels in the sand. He had told Trish that he had no problem with abstaining from surfing for a few months. As he stretched out in his beach chair, he knew that had been a falsehood. Not to Trish, but to himself. It was easy to forgo getting in the water when the waves were crummy, but today was a different matter. A slight offshore breeze feathered the breaking surf, causing a fine spray of water to lift skyward with each wave. The well-formed shoulder-height waves were perfect for long boards. Even the youngsters in the water had abandoned their short boards to hauled logs out of the garage. Now he watched one long nose ride after another, punctuated with shouts of glee.

It was hard to sit on the beach when conditions were perfect, especially when his shoulder bothered him only in the mornings. He prayed for heavy onshore winds and white caps. That might be his only salvation.

“No,” Baldwin said as she plopped down beside him.

She had gone to his Sprinter to change into a bathing suit. They had moved back home, but since they had paid for the Hope Ranch apartment, they decided to enjoy the private beach that came with it. It had been overcast and chilly when they left home, so Baldwin had worn sweats. Luckily, she kept a bathing suit in the van.

“No? To what?” Evarts asked.

“You may not go surfing. The doctor was adamant. Watch those kids. Maybe you’ll learn something you can use when you’re fully recovered.”

“You can’t teach an old dog new tricks.”

“Of course, you can, besides you’re only forty-one.”

“Which means I’ll be nearly sixty when my first kid goes to college.”

“First?”

“Yeah, I want a dozen. If I can’t surf, I need something to keep me busy.”

“Better wait until you see how much work one is. You’ll be busy enough.”

“Yeah, making brothers and sisters.”

“Greg, I saw the boards in the van. You’re not going out.”

“Trish, I always store my boards in the van. Besides, I might hurt my shoulder if I lift them out to put in the garage. Perhaps if I—”

“You’re not going out.”

“Balderdash!”

“I take back what I said earlier, you are old.”

“A dying man’s last wish?”

“No. What did you decide about Megan?”

“I can recognize deflection.”

“All right, I’m deflecting. What about Megan?”

“I wrote her a campaign a check for twenty-five hundred.”

“After she threw you under the bus? Why?”

“I would have given her five thousand if she had stood by me. I gave her half. Enough not to make an enemy. In the end, I’m more politician than law enforcement. Not a good idea to be on the bad side of the lieutenant governor.”

“You think she’ll win?”

“She’ll win.”

“You don’t have a good history with mayors. You may regret her leaving.”

“I already do. Bedford is considering running.”

“Jon Bedford? If he wins, you damn well better have Sacramento in your pocket.”

“I’m not worried. I can always become a beach bum.”

“Not in your nature.”

“What about D.C?”

“D.C? What about D.C?”

“O’Brian offered me a job. You could teach at Georgetown.”

“You hate East Coast surf.”

“Can’t surf here … and it’s perfect.”

“Greg, is this real or are you trying to convince me to let you paddle out?”

“Yes.”

“I don’t want to go to D.C., but I won’t succumb to blackmail.”

Deep sigh. “Then I guess it’s just as well I already turned it down.”

“You did?”

“Yes.” He smiled at her. “But that was before I learned that Bedford was running for mayor. Now … I’m not so sure.”

“Well, get sure. We have a good life here and it’s a great place to raise children.”

“Good point. Guess we better stay.”

He took her hand and held it as they watched the surfers cavort.

The Shopkeeper, A Steve Dancy Tale

The Steve Dancy Tales are seven novel series. Honest westerns filled with dishonest characters.

Sample: Chapter 1

“Two.”

Richard