Page 5 of Stryker

Conor looked dismayed. “You decidedyou don’t want to go out on missions with the team anymore? Youappeared happy back in Mexico.”

“It’s not that. I lovedbeing back with the team. It just might be time toleave.”

“Ah, okay, I get it.You’re not sure where you fit in anymore.”

Stryker looked over at Conor. “Is thisone of those gifts of yours?”

“Could be, or I could justbe a damn good judge of people. You’ve been on the move for so longthat settling down, even if it’s only partially, might be a bitscary.”

“I’m not scared ofanything,” Stryker growled.

Conor huffed. “We’re all scared ofsomething. We may try to convince ourselves otherwise, but thatfear is always ready to jump out when you least expect it. Believeme when I say I know how it feels. Every day I wait for somethingelse to surface in me that those damn Noah Project bastardscreated.”

Stryker had to hand it to the guy.Conor held it together well, but under the surface, it must feellike living with a ticking time bomb inside.

“You have a point. Maybe Idon’t see myself ever settling down in one place.”

“Or maybe you just don’tknow how to start. If you need help with that, let me know.Changing the status quo can be hard after spending your entire lifea certain way. But I can’t think of a better place than Fire Laketo try it.”

Conor walked off, leavingStryker with more questions and answers. A sorry state he’d foundhimself in more these past few months than in his entire Navy SEALcareer. He had to admit that the guy had a point.What am I so afraid of, and if I leave, do I wantto face my demons alone?

The burning question was whether hewas brave enough to stick around and find out.

CHAPTER THREE

Stryker

The table weighed more than he’danticipated as he and Brick carried it into the warehouse. It wasall hand on deck again today when the second container filled withitems arrived. Stryker huffed and strained to get the intricatelydesigned table inside.

The machinery used to create thesehandmade designs would arrive later that evening.

Shaw and Gunner were out of town on ajob but should be returning by the weekend to lend a hand. Thatleft the rest of the team as designated moving men. Julia had takenit upon herself to organize the new shop and directed them to whereeach piece must go. He had to admit she had an eye for interiordesign because the shop was coming together nicely sofar.

“Over there, guys.” Juliapointed to the opposite end of the store space. “Set it in thecorner for now.”

Stryker and Brick did as they weretold and carefully set the furniture piece in its new home. There’dbeen a lot of noise around town about this new shop, and there waseager anticipation for its opening day. More than a few onlookershad gathered outside the storefront to catch a look at what wasbeing unloaded—and of course spy out the shop’s owners to makecurious conversation. People here seemed very friendly.

Stryker had noticed several occasionswhere Jason would stop and chat amiably while John would say fewwords, then smile and slowly slip away. The man wasn’t comfortabletalking with people. Stryker could respect that because he was muchthe same. He guessed that made him a good Navy SEAL: no talk, allaction.

When they went outside again, he foundJohn inspecting a piece of furniture in the back of one of theshipping containers. His face said it all. Something was up.Stryker jumped up into the container and joined him.

“What’s wrong?” Strykerasked.

“This piece has a crackrunning straight through it. It wasn’t there when I packedeverything to be shipped; now the table is worthless. I worked forweeks to get it just right. It sucks.”

Stryker shrugged. “Don’t worry. I’msure the trucking company has insurance that should cover the cost;even if it doesn’t cover all the work you put into it, at leastit’s something.” Stryker was beginning to understand how much loveand attention John and Jason put into their work.

“That’s it,” Johnmuttered. “I wouldn’t mind near as much if I knew at least we’d begetting some money back for it. But the shipping company claims itwas already broken before they touched it. So we get nothing. Allthat work for nothing.”

There was dejection in John’s voiceand Stryker didn’t like it one bit. “Did you take pictures of allthe furniture before loading?”

“Yes, of course, I did,and I told the company that, and they still refuse to consider ittheir fault. His exact words were, ‘Fuck you,pipsqueak.’”

Stryker’s blood began to boil. “Whowere you talking to?”

“One of the men whodelivered this container. The dark-haired one named Fred, at leastthat’s what his shirt said. The two of them are over in the diner,probably laughing it off.” John’s voice trembled with anger as heran the palm of his hand across the crack as if it were an injuredperson. “But I don’t want to cause any grief because we have a fewmore containers outstanding, and they could mess with them. I guessI’ll have to suck it up.”

“Do you have that pictureon you?”

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