Page 53 of Sniper's Pride

Though the fact it was walkable didn’t mean anyone was dumb enough to actually walk on it without aninvitation. Griffin made as much noise as he could, broadcasting his footsteps so that Isaac—who would have heard him coming even if he’d been attempting stealth—understood it was a friendly, nonemergency approach.

When Griffin got to Isaac’s door, he didn’t have to knock.

Isaac was already standing there, fully dressed in his usual cargo pants and a T-shirt, in front of his door. Horatio at his side.

“Aren’t you supposed to be back on watch duty in town?”

“The new guy’s got it. And I think it’s time to pull the watch.”

Griffin threw that out there. Then he squared his shoulders as he stood in the cold, the light over the door in his face, and waited for Isaac’s response.

Isaac was his boss. But he was also Griffin’s chosen leader and friend, and Griffin hated the fact that he was standing straighter, like a guilty recruit. He hoped like hell Isaac couldn’t read what he’d been up to tonight all over his face.

“Why?” Isaac asked, with no particular inflection.

“She’s been here for weeks and there’s been no credible threat in all this time. It’s time to dial back our response here and focus on strategies going forward. The ex and the anaphylaxis appear to be contained in Atlanta.”

“Why now?” Isaac asked in the same mild tone, which Griffin didn’t mistake for anything soft. “Why right now, this early in the morning after a round of excitement on the high seas, when you’re supposed to be propping up a wall in Blue Bear Inn’s lobby? Why couldn’t this wait for the morning briefing?”

“I’m making a tactical call.”

“I’m glad to hear that, brother,” Isaac said, an affable smile on his face, but it only made Griffin brace himself. Like the beard Isaac wore to disguise the true, hard lines of his jaw, that smile was nothing but misdirection. “Tactical calls I appreciate. What’s funny, though, is that this has all the markings of a personal decision.”

“I don’t make personal decisions.”

“You didn’t used to, no.”

It was a relief to focus all his fury on Isaac rather than on himself. Griffin jumped into it with both feet. “Are you accusing me of something?”

Isaac leaned back against his front door like he was settling in for a cozy chat, leveling his gray gaze at Griffin. “What would you do if I told you a story about a woman who turned up one day bearing more than a passing resemblance to a fiancée I lost way back because my best friend took her?”

“I told you my past isn’t a factor. And the only thing Gabrielle and Mariah have in common is blond hair.”

“I know what you told me. Now I’m telling you a story. Let’s say this woman turns up, suddenly my ghosts are everywhere, and I start acting unlike myself. I start dragging this woman out of bars, let’s say. Acting like a boyfriend, not a bodyguard.”

“Is this supposed to be a story about me?” Griffin asked, his voice like a blade. “Because this sounds a lot like the Isaac and Caradine story.”

Isaac didn’t move. He even held onto that grin, but only a fool would look at him and see anything but the potential for his own imminent death, out here where no one would ever find his body. Or dare to look for it.

“And now you show up in a panic in the middle of the night—”

“I’m not in a panic.” Though he counted himself lucky to be breathing after that crack about Caradine.

“—demanding that we pull back from this woman, right now, because you had a flash of inspiration in the middle of the night. And you just know, somehow, that we should be looking elsewhere.” Isaac shook his head. “You know what that makes me think? You don’t want us looking at you.”

Griffin was surprised he didn’t break in two, he was standing so stiff and furious. “Are you questioning my integrity? My honor?”

“As your commanding officer? Never.” Isaac studied him for a moment. “As your friend? Yeah, buddy. You’re acting crazy.”

But Griffin refused to accept that. Crazy had been that room at the inn. The way Mariah and he had... fit.

“I told you,” he gritted out. “None of this is personal.”

“Griffin. You’ve spent so many years acting like nothing’s personal that I don’t think you know how to identify when it is, in fact, incredibly personal.”

“I told you what I think needs to happen, but the final vote is yours, as usual.” Griffin glared at this man who had given him a purpose and a home, who had allowed him to spend these years on the other side of the Marines continuing to do what he loved. The man who had created this space where Griffin could be who he was meant to be, instead of the shadow of himself he’d pretended to be for those strained, unhappy months he’d played a well-adjusted civilian in Arizona. That was who Isaac was, and Griffin knew it—but tonight Griffin didn’t have it in him to access his usual respect. What he wanted to do was punch Isaac in the face. “Or we can keep standing around, gossiping like teenage girls.”

This time when Isaac grinned, it was like another man’s sucker punch.

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