Page 87 of Vaquero
“Thought you said he was here?” Duncan asked, the blade of his hand pressed to his forehead as he stared at the waves rolling in.
Julio bit his bottom lip, no longer sure of anything where Walker was concerned. At last Julio found what he’d been searching for, a pair of boot prints in the wet sand, leading to the surf. Walker had done it again. He’d escaped.
Julio turned on Duncan. “Hotrod isn’t who you think he is, Chief. He’s really former Navy SEAL, Walker Judge.”
Duncan’s face turned to stone. “That bastard? You’re shitting me.”
Julio nodded, worried for the man somewhere out there on the volatile Atlantic Ocean. Where sharks, poisonous jellyfish, and other predators lurked. Worse, Walker was alone. That all by itself hurt Julio’s heart. He could write a book on solitude.
“We need to send a team after him,” Julio said to the black night.
“Not on my watch,” Duncan muttered. “If Walker thinks he can make it to land without gear or brains, let him fuckin’ try. Dumb bastard. Who gives a shit?”
“I do,” Julio answered honestly. “Something is very wrong with the charges against him, and I believe him, Chief. Every person deserves a chance to prove his innocence. He needs our help. You have to go after him.”
“No, I don’t. For Christ’s sake, read the news. That murderer’s had more than his share of second chances. Now, are you staying, or are you coming with me? Because if you’re smart, you’ll get your ass on board. Decide now. We leave in five.”
Like that was a choice? “Yes, sir,” Julio replied, too tired to argue.Like it or not,“I’ll be on that helo.”
“Smart move,” Duncan hissed. Yet as he turned and marched away, Julio could’ve sworn he murmured something that sounded a lot like, “You go, Hotrod. Give ’em hell.”
