Total pages in book: 67
Estimated words: 69536 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 348(@200wpm)___ 278(@250wpm)___ 232(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 69536 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 348(@200wpm)___ 278(@250wpm)___ 232(@300wpm)
“Sure, Daddy,” Aspen says. “That would be nice.”
Lisa gestures to the living room to our left. “Have a seat. Please. Darnell will bring the coffee in.”
I take a seat in a chair so that Aspen can sit with her mother on the sofa. The room is sparsely decorated, and I like it. Not a lot of knick knacks to collect dust. The furniture is boxy, as if it all came from Ikea, and it’s in dark blues and grays.
Darnell returns with the tray holding a coffee pot and mugs. Such a big guy carrying coffee. It’s almost comical.
He sets the tray down on the coffee table and proceeds to pour a mug of coffee for each of us.
“You still take your coffee black, little tree?”
Aspen nods.
“And you?” He gestures to me.
“Black as well. Thank you.” I take a sip of coffee from the mug he hands me.
“Can I convince you to come to the basement with me?” Darnell asks. “I have some great firearms collections.”
I lift my eyebrows.
“I’d like to give Lisa some time with our daughter. If you don’t mind.”
I know what this is about. Sure, I think he does want to give his wife time with her daughter. I also think he wants to find out more about me.
Okay. I’m game. If I were Aspen’s father, I’d probably want the same thing. I rise. “Are you okay if I leave, Aspen?”
She nods. “I’m fine.”
“All right then,” I say to her father. “Let’s see what you’ve got.”
He has no way of knowing I’m a Navy SEAL and that I’ve seen pretty much every firearm in the world. I follow him through the kitchen and dining area down a staircase into a finished basement.
He wasn’t kidding. The walls are lined with firearm after firearm, and some are antiques.
For a moment I wonder if he’s brought me down here to kill me.
“You look like a man who knows guns,” he says.
“I am. I’m interested in how you know that.”
“I can tell. A certain look in a man’s eye. Or even a woman’s eye. You get to know it after a while.”
He’s not wrong. It’s not something I ever noticed, but now, looking at him, I see the same. Of course, my other clue is the mass of guns lining his walls.
“Were you in the military?” I ask.
“Sure as hell was. Navy SEAL.” He drops his gaze to the Budweiser on my forearm. “That’s why I invited you down here. I see you were as well.”
Damn. Darnell was a SEAL. Why didn’t Aspen mention that? I’ll ask her later.
“I was,” I say.
“I bet you have some stories to tell.”
“I’m sure you do as well.”
“Iraq,” he says. “Desert Storm and Desert Shield.”
“Afghanistan.”
The thing is, we may both have stories to tell, but neither of us is going to tell them. We don’t talk about that shit.
“It gratifies me to know you’re a brother,” he says. “Thank you. For taking care of Aspen.”
“My pleasure.”
He raises his eyebrows at me. “A pleasure?”
Man, did that sound all “I’m having sex with your daughter?”
I don’t think so. Aspen is a pleasure. She’s lovely. Strong and willful and beautiful and smart.
“Yes, she’s a very nice young woman.”
“Listen, she’s a beautiful girl. You just keep your hands to yourself.”
I raise one eyebrow at him. “I’m her security guard.”
“Make sure it stays that way.” He clears his throat. “I don’t want any more harm coming to my little girl.”
His eyes have a hard look. An “I’m going to make them pay” look. Hell, I know the look. I’ve seen it in my own eyes.
This dude is bigger than I am and has a wall full of guns. God help the man who crosses his path.
“Mr. Davis—”
“Darnell,” he says. “Or Captain, to a fellow SEAL. Or sir.”
If we were in the trenches, it would be sir, as he outranks me.
But we’re not in the trenches, and I don’t want to think about rank.
I clear my throat. “Why do you call Aspen little tree and baby tree?”
His dark eyes soften—as much as they can in a room full of weaponry. “She was a skinny child, always the tallest, plus her name is Aspen, though it’s a family name. Little tree seemed to fit. For Lisa, it’s baby tree sometimes. Aspen never seemed to mind, so we’ve never stopped calling her that, though she’s far from little anymore.”
I smile without meaning to. The image of Aspen as a skinny little girl doesn’t jibe with who she is now. Not at all. She’s lean but not skinny, muscular but not bulky. She’s perfect.
I wait for him to ask me about my nickname, but he doesn’t. Maybe he thinks Buck is my given name. Or maybe he doesn’t care. Probably the latter.
I gaze around the wood paneled walls again, taking in the amazing collection. “Darnell, have you done any investigation on your own?”