Page 64 of Ripped & Shipped
“I’m sure it does, Soldier. Her legs in a mini-skirt, and the way she challenges you have nothing to do with it whatsoever, right?”
“Right. Absolutely right.”
“Well, carry on, Captain St. James.”
I can almost imagine Aiden mock-saluting me. Not that he ridicules my time in the service or my devotion to the values I learned. He’s just doing what we do—irreverently teasing one another.
At least Aiden got my rank right. Duke’s forever promoting and demoting me, or changing me from a commissioned officer to non-commissioned status simply by calling me Lieutenant, or Sarge, or Major General.
“Keep an eye on the situation with this guy, would you? I know it’s a lot to ask of you. What you’re doing isn’t exactly above board.”
“I’m not a soldier, but you know I’m a sucker for someone in need of a little help. I’d hate to see something happen to Ella Mae. I’ll keep you posted if anything looks suspicious.”
“Thanks.”
“And Chris?”
“Yeah?”
“Think the CIA might want to hire me as a spy?”
“I’m pretty sure that’d be a hard no.”
“Really?”
The note of disappointment in Aiden’s voice makes him sound like a pouty child who missed his nap.
“Yeah. I’m ninety-nine percent certain they’re not looking for small-town hobby goat farmers with an IT consulting business to sign on as agents. And trust me, government work isn’t nearly as glamorous as 007 makes it look.”
“MacIntyre … Aiden MacIntyre,” Aiden says in a very Sean-Connery-as-James-Bond style voice.
I chuckle.
“I’ve always wanted to say that,” he says.
“Welp. Now you did.”
Aiden and I hang up. On my way to the shower, I fight the urge to hop in my car and drive to Ella Mae’s to tell her aboutI’mSOBeefy. Not that I’m so beefy. Well, I am. But I’m not headed to Ella Mae’s to tell her that.
I want to warn her about this guy. The fact that he made another account and started following her again shows a concerning level of persistence on his part. But considering the way Ella Mae’s hackles were up about my suggestions yesterday, I’ll wait. Better to watch this guy behind the scenes, and then step in when she can clearly see I’m right. Not that I want to be right. This is one instance where I’d love to be proven very wrong.
I put Ella Mae out of my mind—mostly. I’ve got errands to run today. First stop, Mom and Dad’s.
I take the route that happens to pass Ella Mae’s home on the drive toward my parents’ neighborhood.
Is that the town fire truck?
It looks like … Davis.
Is he uncoiling the hose?
Is that smoke coming from Ella Mae’s or the neighbor’s?
Other trucks and cars pass me, pull up in front of the house, and park. Men are jumping out of vehicles quickly. I park a few houses down and hop out of my pickup.
A small plume of smoke is wafting off the front porch of Ella Mae’s home.
In theory, civilians should avoid stepping into any official situation. Any time a civilian gets in the mix, it enhances the danger and makes it harder for those trained to be involved to get their job done. But I’m not the average civilian. And, this is Ella Mae.
