Page 155 of To Die For

“Hey, Kor,” said a grinning Odom as they exchanged a hug.

“Hope you’re hungry ’cause I made your fav,” said Rose.

“Cheeseburgers and fries?” she cried out.

“Okay,secondfav.”

“Pepperoni pizza with extra mozzarella?”

He high-fived her.

Standing in the doorway watching the pair, Shore said in a low voice to Devine, “Some serious federal dudes come to see me and Kor. They told us ’bout stuff with Betsy and her uncle and all, but I want to hear it from you.”

“You want to hear it before or after the pepperoni pizza with extra mozzarella?” asked Devine.

“How bad is it, really, dude?”

“How active is your imagination?”

Shore grimaced. “Let’s chow down first then. Might be our last time.”

The storm hit right as they were finishing the last slices of pizza, with raindrops pinging off the roof.

“Damn, Korey, that is the best pizza I ever had,” proclaimed Devine.

“He makes his own crust,” said Shore. “Got up early this mornin’ to do it and the sauce, too. For all I know, dude raised hogs and cows, slaughtered ’em, and made his own pepperoni all in eight hours.”

“It’s all in the balance between the pork and beef,” said Rose knowledgably. “And the trick to a great sauce is never to open a bottle or can. Just fresh ingredients and a hand-crank grinder.”

“And elbow grease, and time,” added Shore.

After the meal and some more catching up between Odom, and Shore and Rose, Odom went to her room to unpack.

Devine used this opportunity to fill in Shore and Rose. He didn’t give them all the background on 12/24/65, but said that the “Termites” were dangerous as hell and probably coming for Betsy Odom. He explained that there was protection around them. But he didn’t tell them that the FBI was counting on an attempt on Odom’s life to push Glass over the goal line on his cooperation. That would just further complicate an already convoluted situation.

Devine took out his backup Glock and two extra mags and handed them to Shore. The man expertly checked the ammo, racked the slide, pocketed the spare mags, and put the gun in his rear waistband.

“They go through us to get to her,” he said firmly.

Devine glanced at Rose. “You cool with that, Kor?”

Rose reached over to the kitchen counter and lifted up a long narrow box with a clasp. He opened it and took out a knife nearly a foot in length with a serrated blade four inches wide.

“I don’t really shoot all that good. But I can julienne with the best of ’em.”

“Ain’t no lie,” said Shore. “Dude’s hands move so fast, you can’t even see ’em.”

Later, Devine glanced at the window in the living room, where the light was starting to dim, along with maybe all hope. Despite the reinforcements out there, all Devine could reliably count on was himself and two men he’d just recently met.

Let’s hope we’re enough.

CHAPTER

71

THAT NIGHT DEVINE CHECKED HISweapons: the Glock, with extra mags, a K-bar knife from his Ranger days, the metal baton he’d kept from Hastings and company’s attempted beatdown of him, and a backup pistol Campbell had given him, a compact Glock 42 that weighed less than a pound with a full mag.

Guns obviously had been an important and integral part of Devine’s long military career. They made things less and more complicated. Perhaps more of the latter than the former, at least in the long run. But no problem was ever solved in the long run with a pull of a trigger. It merely tended to create new dilemmas; yet it wasn’t bad for short-term challenges.

---