Total pages in book: 92
Estimated words: 89095 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 445(@200wpm)___ 356(@250wpm)___ 297(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 89095 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 445(@200wpm)___ 356(@250wpm)___ 297(@300wpm)
Instead, Zy had tried to reverse engineer the situation. Since Walker had been the one to accuse Trees—to deflect blame? To project his own guilt elsewhere?—he had some skin in this game. While the sniper had been out on the throwaway assignments meant to punish him, Zy had prowled through his desk, his computer, and his Jeep. He’d even revisited a part of his youth and done a little B and E at One-Mile’s house. Despite all that sneaking and spying, Zy hadn’t found a damn thing except that Walker had interesting decor, expensive taste in booze, and a really fucking impressive gun collection.
Now what?
Time to try something else. Tiptoeing around the bullshit hadn’t gotten him anywhere—and it wasn’t his style. He’d rather approach this bitch head on, which meant talking to One-Mile. Besides the fact he hadn’t found any proof the sniper wasn’t on the up-and-up, Zy’s gut told him the guy wasn’t dirty, just misguided. But if he didn’t get to the bottom of this soon, Trees would be hitting the unemployment line.
With a sigh, he leaned against the side of the blues bar on the corner and whipped out his phone. He never called Walker, but all the operatives had been expected to program one another’s numbers in their phones in case of emergency. So he wasn’t shocked when the sniper picked up on the first ring.
“What’s up, Garrett?”
Damn, he should have planned an approach before actually dialing. He could hardly jump down the guy’s throat or call him a dipshit and expect to get answers.
“Zy?” Walker prompted into his hesitation.
“Oh, fuck it. You free tonight?” This was a conversation better had in person, and the timing was perfect. Trees was out with Madison and her friends at a fucking jazz fest, which sounded horrible, so he’d passed on the invite.
“What do you need?” Walker sounded guarded.
“I want to talk. About Trees.”
“What’s there to say?”
“I want to go over the evidence.” Hopefully, the sniper didn’t interpret that as I want to tear your head off. But Zy did.
The sniper hesitated like he’d rather be doing most anything else on a Friday night. “All right. When and where?”
Zy rattled off the name of a sports bar not far away. “Can you meet me about nine?”
That would give One-Mile two hours to wrap up whatever or whoever he was doing and get his ass downtown.
“I’ll be there.” But he didn’t sound happy.
“Thanks.” Zy hung up and forced himself to find some dinner.
After halfheartedly picking at a piece of chicken and some overcooked vegetables—he’d never understand Southern cooking—he headed to the sports bar and commandeered a pair of barstools under a TV. After turning down a drunk blonde and ignoring some dirty looks from her posse, he hit the head.
By the time he left the restroom, Walker had already plunked his ass on a stool, seemingly big, badass, and annoyed as fuck. Fine. That made two of them.
“Hey, man.” He did his best to make nice, slapping Walker on the back before sliding onto the stool beside him.
He had to give the guy credit. Looking at One-Mile now, no one would ever know he’d nearly died in the middle of a Mexican desert two months ago.
After motioning to the bartender, he got a beer, then turned to Walker. The sniper looked frozen and shell-shocked. What the hell was up with him?
“You okay, man? You look shaken. Friday treating you all right?”
“Yeah,” he finally replied…but Zy wasn’t buying it. Something was going on in his head.
Was he trying to craft some reason he’d pinned his guilt on Trees? Zy had been thinking that One-Mile was too much of a straight shooter for that kind of BS, but he was also a loner and a pragmatist. What if he’d read the guy wrong? What if the asshole was preparing to shit out a big, steaming load of crap to mislead him?
“Hell of a week, huh?” he prompted.
“Yeah,” One-Mile said in a you-have-no-idea voice.
Okay, what was he missing?
“Look,” Zy began. “I know you’re probably not thrilled that I want to grill you about why you decided Trees is the asshole around here but—”
“You hear that Cutter got engaged last night?”
Talk about a subject change. “Um…yeah. I overheard the bosses talking about it shortly after quitting time.”
“Did they say why?”
“Cutter popped the question? No.” Zy clapped his shoulder. “Look, I know you had a thing for the girl but—”
“Not anymore.”
Zy didn’t believe that for a second. One-Mile wasn’t even close to being over Brea. And now that he thought about it, she and Cutter had chosen an odd time to get engaged, while she was here and he was on the coast. And that rumor kept swirling that Brea was pregnant… Everyone knew Walker had spent a night between the sheets with the preacher’s daughter a few months back. Any chance those events were related?