Page 35 of Code Name: Tank
After the call ended,I made my way down the slope toward the lake, where Tank sat near the end of the wooden dock, his broad shoulders silhouetted against the water. The afternoon sun caught the gold in his hair, and even from this distance, I could see the alertness in his posture that never disappeared.
“Sorry about that.”
“No problem.”
“It was Secretary Hartwell calling.”
He raised a brow.
“He and I?—”
“Only explain if you want to, Piper.”
His use of my given name versus my code name surprised me. “Sure, um, of course. May I?” I motioned to the dock, near where he sat.
“I was hoping you’d stop moving long enough to stick your feet in.” He winked.
I toed off my shoes, removed my socks, and rolled my jeans up to my knees before sitting down. “How’s the temperature?” I asked.
“Like bath water.”
I stuck one toe in first, then lowered my feet into the lake.
He chuckled, watching me.
“My trust issues run deep.”
He nudged me with his elbow. “You trust me with your life but not your pretty little toes?”
I shrugged a shoulder. “This may come as a surprise, but I trust you more than most.”
“More than Pierce?”
“There are few in the world I trust less than him.” Before he could ask more—not that he would—I motioned to the small island visible in the lake’s center. “What’s the story there?”
“Nick Stoner Island.” Tank’s voice carried a note of appreciation for the distraction. “It’s named for a war hero who spent most of his life in this part of the Adirondacks. He served in both the American Revolution and the War of 1812. I guess he was pretty well-regarded since, along with the island, there’s a golf club and three lakes named for him.”
“Three?”
Tank nodded. “East Stoner Lake, West Stoner Lake, and Little Stoner Lake.”
“Imaginative. So, have you been over there?”
“A few times. Depending on how high the lake is, there isn’t much there. A spit of land wide enough for a campfire, as long as no one else beat you to it.”
“A campfire. Wow, I don’t remember the last time I sat by one.”
“It’s another thing I don’t do often enough.”
“Things like that feel a world away, given what we’re in the midst of.”
“Not a world; just a canoe ride,” he murmured.
“It sounds peaceful. Just you and the wilderness.” God, that sounded good right now.
“Sometimes isolation has its appeal.”
I started to respond, to say something about how Flint’s presence was going to complicate everything, but Tank interrupted.
