Page 6 of Flint's Battle

Flint sighed then leaned in. “Believe me. I’ve wanted to hold it since the night we met. But that’s a different story. So, let’s get this meeting over with, and then we can talk about it over coffee. If you’re game.”

He’d wanted to hold her hand since they’d met? And had he just asked her out on a date? Because coffee was still a date, wasn’t it?

She must have nodded because he smiled, then nudged her forward, following her to the door. He didn’t let go, motioning for her to knock with her other hand.

Not that she needed to when the door cracked open a moment before she’d raised her arm. An elderly man with white hair and strong features stared through the small sliver of space, eyeing her and Flint.

Emery smiled. “Mr. Snider. It’s Detective McClane. Do you remember me?”

He squinted, then his weathered face lifted into a bright smile. “Detective McClane. I’m so glad they sent you. You’re the only one who ever listens.” He closed the door, rattled the chain lock then opened it wide, frowning when he made eye contact. “What happened to your cheek?”

“I had to set a guy straight.”

“You seem to have to do that a lot.” He waved them inside.

She stepped into the nicely appointed room as she motioned to Flint. “Mr. Snider this is Flint O’Connell. Flint, this is Master Sergeant Henry Snider, retired.”

Flint shook Henry’s hand. “Honored to meet you, Master Sergeant.”

Henry eyed Flint, giving him a thorough once-over before nodding toward the large window in the living room. “There’s something you should see.”

Flint winked at her when she gave him a quick glance before trailing after Henry. The man walked over to a telescope hehad positioned near the window, pointing to the factory in the distance.

Emery stopped next to it. “Dispatch said you saw some people carrying crates into the old Wilson factory?”

“There were three or four of them. Big guys, like your fella, over there. And it took two of them to carry the crates. See for yourself…”

Emery peered through the scope, panning the grounds when she spotted a flash of light. She stopped, adjusting the focus until the image sharpened. A second beam pierced the darkness then vanished, only to appear in the next window.

She straightened, motioning for Flint to have a look. “Tell me if you see something on the second floor, west side.”

Flint leaned over, his massive form taking up all the space. She thought about stepping back — giving him more room — but there was something inherently calming about having him close. All that strength no more than a breath away. “Those are flashlight beams. No doubt about it. At least two.”

He looked over at Henry. “How big do you think those crates were?”

Henry scrunched up his face for a moment. “At least double the standard issue trunk.”

“That’s… disconcerting. And did you see how many crates they carried in?”

“I counted three, but they could have taken more in before I noticed the lights.”

Flint met her gaze. “Still think it’s some frat boys with beer?”

Emery shrugged. “I think it’s worth checking out.” She walked over to Henry. “Thanks for the tip. And you can rest assured that whatever they’re up to, I’ll take care of it.”

Henry snagged her arm when she went to dart past. “You’re taking Flint with you, right?”

She focused on Flint, noting the way his eyes had narrowed and his lips were pressed tight. “He’s not a police officer.”

“Maybe not, but he’s Navy, isn’t he?”

Flint chuckled. “How did you know?”

Henry waved the question off. “Son, I spent forty years in the Marine Corps. I’d recognize a sailor anywhere. And you’ve got the look. But you’re no regular squid, are you? You’re one of those specialty guys. Black Ops.”

“I’m impressed, Master Sergeant. Emery was right. You’re one of a kind.”

“Detective McClane’s one of the best. And I expect a man of your caliber to have her back.”

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