Page 26 of Velvet and Valor
But I manage to shake it off, for the most part.
“Superman has his kryptonite, I don’t like closed in spaces all that much. It’s all good. And besides, bugs won’t be a problem. I guarantee it.”
“How do you know?”
“Bugs like food, and there hasn’t been any food at that place in…man, when did I deploy?” I scratch my head. “Anyway, there’s nothing there for them to eat. We’ll have to get something from the cabana down the beach.”
“Beach?” she says in alarm. “This is a tent, isn’t it? You’re going to make me sleep in a tent on the beach.”
“It’s not a tent. I wouldn't do that to you, June.”
Her dubious expression says it all. My place is a far cry from a palace, but it’s not a condemned building, either.
June stares at the vine-covered sign marking my turn.
“Crest Cove? I thought this place got shut down.”
“Not shut down, just closed to new development. My place predates that ruling.”
“That makes me feel a lot better, thanks.” Her sarcasm is so thick you could cut it with a knife.
I pull the car to a stop outside the faded green facade of my one-story beach house. The bushes have kind of grown upenough to partially swallow the porch on either side, but there’s a path a human being can walk through. I hope.
At least the kid I paid to keep the place tidy has been cutting the grass. Guess he figures I didn’t tell him specifically to trim the hedges so he’s not going to do it. Little punk, let’s just see what happens when I stop the Venmo payments.
June’s lovely face remains impassive, but I can tell she’s judging me silently with her eyes. I hurry to get up the short flight of steps and unlock the front door. The alarm whines and shrieks until I get the door open and put in my deactivation code.
My nose wrinkles at the musty smell. Hastily, I bounce around and open windows to let in some air. The sound of the ocean rolling in mingles with June’s footsteps as she enters my house.
“Sorry, it’s been sitting empty for a while,” I say while lighting a few candles.
“It’s fine,” she says. “I mean, it’s better than fine. It’s right on the beach, cozy…I’ve seen worse Airbnb rentals.”
I'm glad she likes my digs. Spartan would be an understatement. The beach house is surfer friendly, which means all scored, waterproofed concrete floors and minimal upholstery.
There’s a combination living room/kitchenette, and a short hallway leading to exactly two other rooms: The bedroom and the bathroom.
I don’t have a lot more furnishings in the bedroom than I do the rest of the house. Inside the fridge, I find a half-empty case of Corona and a shriveled, blackened lime. Not one scrap of food, which is probably just as well considering what happened to the lime.
But there is one part of my house which is fully and generously stocked: The mini bar.
“Can I get you something to drink?” I ask.
“I thought you’d never ask,” she replies. I dust off one of the stools and offer it to her. She seats herself and gives me an inscrutable stare. “You know, I’m surprised you don’t have an official safe house.”
“What do you mean?” I ask.
“Like a place already set up for your agency to take clients to.”
“Oh,” I say. “Yeah, Jax the bossman is working on something like that. Knowing him and the people he employs, it’s going to be heavily fortified. This place is all right, though. I mean, it’s no mansion, but it has a great view.”
“It really does.” She spins the padded stool seat, facing the ocean. The waves crawl toward shore, low and slow. But it’s clear that the ocean seems a little closer than it should be. In another ten years my house might not be here.
But for now, it’s a great place to hide out until we figure our next move.
I turn my attention from the ocean to where it belongs, on June. Man, she’s gorgeous. And I’m not just thinking that because I just got out of the army. Gorgeous women are never far from any military base, anywhere in the world.
No, June’s got that something extra. Something only a few people on this planet possess. I can’t define it, but I know it when I see it.
