Page 65 of Jameson’s Salvation

“Hi.”

“You okay?” he asked, studying me.

“Yeah. You just scared me.”

“The alarm was set,” he reminded me. “It would’ve blared like a mother if someone came in.”

“I know, Jameson told me. I’m just a little jumpy.”

He nodded his understanding and his eyes went to the computer screen.

“What are you working on?”

“Checking which of Reggie’s houses have electricity.”

“Find any?”

I ran down what I’d found as Weston came in and plopped down in the extra seat.

“Good work. When you’re done, we’ll go check them out.”

“How was DC?” I asked, taking a break from my search.

“Too long. It’s always good to see Alec and catch up, but I don’t understand how he lives in that place. The traffic alone is enough to make me crazy.”

“Sorry, I don’t know who that is.”

“Alec Hall is our contact at Homeland. Good guy, former SEAL, he left the teams a few years before we did and went to DHS. I think he’s regretting it now, working for the government means rules and red tape. Alec is a lot like us and doesn’t play well with others. I’d be surprised if he lasts another three years.”

I nodded as if I understood what he was talking about even though I really didn’t. I knew nothing about Homeland Security or how the government ran.

“Jameson said you were there about a contract. Did you get it?”

Weston tilted his head and once again he was staring at me funny. “Jameson told you that?”

“Is that a problem?” I answered with a question.

“No. No problem.” Weston righted his head and gave me what was supposed to be a reassuring smile but it did nothing to ease my discomfort. “Yeah, we got the contract. There’s been chatter about drugs being trafficked using the Maryland waterways. I mostly sat through meetings with the Coast Guard and the Delmarva Pilots’ Association.”

“I take it you don’t like meetings?”

“Not even a little bit.”

Weston sat back and the chair squeaked from supporting his large frame. He crossed his leg, resting his ankle on his knee, and crossed his arms over his chest.

“Can I ask you something?”

“Sure.” Though I wasn’t sure I wanted him to ask me anything now that his expression was serious.

“Why are you here running properties instead of getting your ground worked up or building a new beehive?”

Jeez, nothing like a slap in the face.

“I’m helping—”

“No, you’re not. You’re hiding.”

My back shot straight and as much as I wished I could conceal how much his accusation hurt, I couldn’t. Mostly because it was the truth.