slapped a Joint Special Operations Task Force coin down on the bar. The rule was that if you and a colleague had both been given the same coin for an operation or a team you’d been on and you didn’t have your coin with you, you were responsible for buying the round. If you did have it, then the man who issued the challenge had to pick up that round. Harvath was way ahead of his old friend. Reaching down, he lifted his cocktail napkin and revealed his coin.
After asking if there was any Louis XIII Cognac in the house, Harvath shook his buddy’s hand. “Nice try, my friend,” he said, careful of Bob’s injured shoulder.
“You win some, you lose some,” replied Herrington, who was at least three inches taller than Harvath and a bit broader in the chest. His similarly colored brown hair was cut neat, but he still sported his go native Afghanistan beard. His narrow green eyes took in everybody and everything in the room. Turning to the bartender, Herrington said, “Bring us another round of whatever he’s drinking and make mine a double.”
“He’s having a pint of stout, love,” the Irish barkeep said flirtatiously.
Bob smiled his most charming smile and replied, “Then bring me two of them. I don’t like the fact that this guy’s got a head start on me.”
The woman rolled her eyes as she went in search of three new glasses.
“I think she likes you,” said Harvath once the woman was out of earshot.
“Hearts and minds. It’s what I’m all about.”
Harvath laughed. It was nice to see Bob in reasonably good spirits. Under the smile and devil-may-care attitude, though, he knew the man was not taking his forced retirement well. That was a big part of why Harvath was spending the Fourth of July weekend in New York City.
The other part was because at present, he didn’t have a solid relationship with anyone worth spending the weekend with. The only woman Harvath could have seen himself with was otherwise engaged, quite literally, and on her way to marrying someone else.
As if he could read minds, Bob wasted no time in asking, “So, how’s Meg?”
Harvath knew the subject was bound to come up. Both he and Bob had been part of a hostage rescue team that had freed Meg Cassidy from a hijacked airliner just a few years prior. Because Meg had been the only one to see the key hijacker’s face, she had been recruited to help track and ID him for termination. A good part of her training for the assignment had taken place behind the fence, as it was known, with Bob and several of his colleagues at the Delta Force compound at Fort Bragg. “This time next year, you and I’ll probably be attending her wedding,” said Harvath.
“You’ve gotta be one of the dumbest people I’ve ever met, you know that?”
“Good to see you too, Robert,” replied Harvath as the bartender returned with their beers and set one in front of Harvath and two in front of Bob.
After she walked away to take care of another customer, Bob said, “Meg Cassidy is hands down the best woman I’ve ever seen you with and you let her slip right through your fingers.”
“It’s complicated.”
“She’s a woman,” said Bob as he took a sip of his stout and let his response hang in the air between them. “They’re always complicated.”
It was a subject Harvath really had no desire to get into. “It’s over, okay?”
“It’s okay with me if it’s okay with you.”
“It’s okay with me,” said Harvath centering his beer on its coaster.
“So who are you dating now?” asked Bob.
“Nobody.”
Herrington smiled, “So then you’re not really okay and its not really over, is it?”
“Give me a break, would you?”
“At least tell me you’re gay. SEAL or no SEAL, you were in the Navy, after all. Being gay comes with the territory for you squids. What do they say? When you’re under way, gay is okay?”
“Fuck you,” replied Harvath, who then added, “You know if at any point you want to pull that excessively
After asking if there was any Louis XIII Cognac in the house, Harvath shook his buddy’s hand. “Nice try, my friend,” he said, careful of Bob’s injured shoulder.
“You win some, you lose some,” replied Herrington, who was at least three inches taller than Harvath and a bit broader in the chest. His similarly colored brown hair was cut neat, but he still sported his go native Afghanistan beard. His narrow green eyes took in everybody and everything in the room. Turning to the bartender, Herrington said, “Bring us another round of whatever he’s drinking and make mine a double.”
“He’s having a pint of stout, love,” the Irish barkeep said flirtatiously.
Bob smiled his most charming smile and replied, “Then bring me two of them. I don’t like the fact that this guy’s got a head start on me.”
The woman rolled her eyes as she went in search of three new glasses.
“I think she likes you,” said Harvath once the woman was out of earshot.
“Hearts and minds. It’s what I’m all about.”
Harvath laughed. It was nice to see Bob in reasonably good spirits. Under the smile and devil-may-care attitude, though, he knew the man was not taking his forced retirement well. That was a big part of why Harvath was spending the Fourth of July weekend in New York City.
The other part was because at present, he didn’t have a solid relationship with anyone worth spending the weekend with. The only woman Harvath could have seen himself with was otherwise engaged, quite literally, and on her way to marrying someone else.
As if he could read minds, Bob wasted no time in asking, “So, how’s Meg?”
Harvath knew the subject was bound to come up. Both he and Bob had been part of a hostage rescue team that had freed Meg Cassidy from a hijacked airliner just a few years prior. Because Meg had been the only one to see the key hijacker’s face, she had been recruited to help track and ID him for termination. A good part of her training for the assignment had taken place behind the fence, as it was known, with Bob and several of his colleagues at the Delta Force compound at Fort Bragg. “This time next year, you and I’ll probably be attending her wedding,” said Harvath.
“You’ve gotta be one of the dumbest people I’ve ever met, you know that?”
“Good to see you too, Robert,” replied Harvath as the bartender returned with their beers and set one in front of Harvath and two in front of Bob.
After she walked away to take care of another customer, Bob said, “Meg Cassidy is hands down the best woman I’ve ever seen you with and you let her slip right through your fingers.”
“It’s complicated.”
“She’s a woman,” said Bob as he took a sip of his stout and let his response hang in the air between them. “They’re always complicated.”
It was a subject Harvath really had no desire to get into. “It’s over, okay?”
“It’s okay with me if it’s okay with you.”
“It’s okay with me,” said Harvath centering his beer on its coaster.
“So who are you dating now?” asked Bob.
“Nobody.”
Herrington smiled, “So then you’re not really okay and its not really over, is it?”
“Give me a break, would you?”
“At least tell me you’re gay. SEAL or no SEAL, you were in the Navy, after all. Being gay comes with the territory for you squids. What do they say? When you’re under way, gay is okay?”
“Fuck you,” replied Harvath, who then added, “You know if at any point you want to pull that excessively
Similar Books
dragon archives 04 - dance with a dragon
linda k hopkins
Slave Empire III - The Shrike
T C Southwell
Flight of the Earls
Michael K. Reynolds
Dangerous Place For Love
Sam Crescent
Need Us
Amanda Heath
Crazy in Love
Kristin Miller
The Storytellers
Robert Mercer-Nairne
The Bourne Dominion
Robert & Lustbader Ludlum