Page 33 of Dangerous December
But while that had once made him feel free, now it just made him feel...empty.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
After a sleepless night, Dev downed a few cups of black coffee at a truck stop on the edge of town, then got back into the Jeep and drove aimlessly through town...only to find himself turning onto Hawthorne.
He continued down to the end of the block, nodding at the folks strolling along the sidewalk who waved at him—which, it seemed, like a hundred percent of the people he saw.
The first few days here, he’d been uncomfortable at the recognition and attention from veritable strangers. Now he realized that they were all simply an incredibly friendly lot, and waved to everyone.
Pulling to a stop in front of the Walker Building, he rested his wrist on the top of the steering wheel as he surveyed the beautiful old building.
Once again, he imagined a rainbow of colorful kayaks leaning against the exterior wall, and an American flag fluttering from the empty flagpole angling skyward from the second floor above the entrance.
Was it even possible? Not likely. If he sank his savings into a business like that, he’d probably end up broke before the year was out.
At a sharp rat-a-tat against his half-lowered window, the world around him exploded. His heart rate escalated to triple speed, his focus narrowing on a single point—survival.
He lurched to the right, twisting within the confines of the tight space behind the wheel as he automatically reached for his gun.
A gun that wasn’t there.
Panic surged through him as he pawed at the dashboard. The passenger seat—
An angular male face framed in a furry bomber cap, his features blurred with sags and wrinkles, stared through the window at him with a startled expression that had to match his own.
It took Dev a moment to recognize Frank Ferguson, one of the boarders.
The man adjusted his tie and tapped at the glass again. “You okay in there, son?”
“Fine. Just fine.”Until you nearly made my heart stop.
In this lazy, quiet community, Dev perceived the threat level as low. He’d relaxed his guard. But it took almost nothing to bring the past crashing back on him with the lethal force of an AK-47.
Once again, images of blood and death crowded into his brain. His hands started to shake.
The acrid scent of gunfire and smoke filled the air, making it impossible to breathe.
It isn’t real. It isn’t real.
Taking a slow, steadying breath, he curled his fingers around the steering wheel and tightened his grip until his knuckles turned white.
When he opened his eyes, he found several passersby on the sidewalk had slowed and were bending over to look through the passenger side of the Jeep with expressions of concern.
“Is everything all right with this man, Frank?” A heavyset woman in an orange jacket frowned. “He looks white as a sheet.”
Her friend’s eyes widened. “Oh...this is Vivian’s son, right? Is he okay?”
He hadn’t blushed since he was a kid. Maybe not even then. But now Dev felt heat rise at the back of his neck.
Frank straightened. “Of course he’s fine. We’re just visiting.”
Under his breath, so only Dev could hear, he added, “Old friends. They mean well, but they’re busybodies. Sorry about that.”
Dev opened his door partway, letting the elderly gent step aside, then he got out, needing to escape the oppressive confines of the vehicle. “I...I was just checking out the building. What are you up to?”
Frank arched his spine, one hand at the small of his back, then unbuttoned his suit jacket. “Morning constitutional. I walk three miles twice a day, no matter what the weather, or I stiffen right up. Sunshine and exercise do the trick.”
The innocuous conversation felt like a healing balm to Dev’s raw nerves. “Must be tough.”
