Page 14 of A Touch of Frost
“Any other man would have taken the hint,” I said.
He came to a stop in front of my vehicle, his hands shoved deeply into his pockets.
“You know me better.”
I said nothing.
“You’ve never questioned my loyalty before, Frost.”
“Seriously?” I asked, angrily. “Look, we’re not having that conversation again. It gets us nowhere.”
His large shoulders rose and fell as he tossed his hands up then shoved them back into his pockets. “I was telling you before, I need your help.”
I slid off my perch. “So, you’ve said.”
He tilted his head to eye me with the same patience of a lion watching an antelope.
“It’s not funny, Frost.”
“What’s funny is, the fact you’re here like you don’t already know my answer.” I shoved around him. “So sorry you came all this way and wasted your time.”
“Are you really?” Mozart asked. “Sorry, I mean.”
“No.”
“Frost, please. If you weren’t going to at least consider this, why’d you come tonight?”
“To see if you really thought I’d go there with you or that fucking team again.” I snapped. “To see if I mean so little to you, the friendship we had meant so little to you that you’d ask me to risk getting burned again. I came to see what little value you see in my life.”
My words must have hit him hard for he winced and turned his head to look out over the water.
It wasn’t hard to figure out why they’d sent Mozart. They knew I trusted him—no matter what I’d gone through with the SEALs, I’d always had a soft spot for this man in front of me.
Caught inside my own head, I walked away, stopping to stare down at the Adriatic.
It didn’t take long for Mozart’s presence to fill the spot beside me.
“What do you want, Mozart?” I exhaled. “I left. Why are the SEALs still haunting me? What did I do, that was so terrible?”
“This isn’t about plaguing you.” Mozart replied. “The only people with any idea we’re here asking you this favor is my team and Jesse. Like I said, a civilian is in trouble—Striker’s team lost him in Bucharest.”
I grunted. “They left him, didn’t they?”
Mozart didn’t have to answer.
“There’s no loyalty there.” I’d learned that lesson the hard way. “Never has been. They would sell their own grandmothers if it meant they would come out of a shitstorm clean. And you’re here asking me to go back.”
“I wouldn’t ask if it wasn’t urgent.” Mozart’s voice was soft.
“It always is.” I exhaled loud and long but still didn’t look at him. A million thoughts were floating through my head at warped speed, making me dizzy.
Eventually, I faced him.
“I need you to look at me,” I said. “Because I don’t want there to be any mistake or confusion about what I’m about to say to you.”
Mozart shifted to face me.
I met his eyes.
