Page 5 of Protect and Serve

Way.

His eyes flicked to Charlie’s name-tag and he frowned. “Dunham? Not Charlie Dunham?”

“Yes.”

“Dude. We went to high school together!”

Charlie narrowed his eyes and studied the bartender again. He did look familiar. He should expect this kind of thing to happen, now that he was here. He shouldn’t let it get to him. But old habits were hard to break. He was used to being on guard, being preternaturally aware of his instincts at all times. In Iraq, it was the difference between living and dying.

Here, not so much.

“Really? What’s your name?”

The bartender thrust out a hand. “Dustin Shakley.”

Dustin. Oh yeah. “I do remember you.” They’d both been on the lower rungs of the social ladder back then, but Dustin had at least been in sports. And damn, he’d changed. He was tall and muscled and he had sandy-brown hair that flopped in his eyes, instead of that crew cut all the kids in town got from Delmar over at the barbershop.

As the two clasped hands, Dustin said, “So you’re back in town, then?”

“Yup. Got a place over on Elm.”

“Oh yeah. The old Cruster place.”

He should have remembered. Everyone in Snake Gully knew everybody’s business. “Right.”

“Pity about that.”

“Hmm?”

“Oh, the widow dying like that.”

Charlie narrowed his eyes. “Like what?”

Dustin leaned in. “Eaten by her cats.”

“Ho. Glad I missed that one.”

“Well, they didn’t eat all of her.”

“There’s a mercy.”

Dustin grinned. “So what would you like?” He waved at the menu.

Charlie scanned it for a second, but needn’t have bothered. It was the same menu it had always been. “Burger and fries, I think.”

“Gotcha. Go ahead and take a table and we’ll get you going.”

The tables were all empty, so Charlie picked one facing the door. It was second nature, he supposed. Always on point. Granted, it was unlikely that a band of armed insurgents would come barreling into Bubba’s on a lazy afternoon, but lingering ghosts died hard. While he waited for his meal, he checked the messages on his cell phone—which didn’t take long—and then studied the people sitting at the bar, looking for more familiar faces. That didn’t take long either, because there weren’t many people imbibing at this hour.

His pulse kicked into gear when the door opened and a tall man stepped through it on a glare of sunshine. It was probably foolish to reach for his gun, but again, it was only instinct. His hand stilled halfway through the motion when his eyes adjusted and he realized who it was.

“Damn,” he muttered, loud enough for it to reverberate off the walls. “Cade Silver as I live and breathe!”

He hadn’t known Cade all that well growing up—even though their families hung out together a lot at BBQs and joint vacations—because Cade mostly kept to himself back then. But they’d met again overseas, two men dealing with a hellish reality, and they’d bonded then.

Cade glanced his way and a huge smile broke his stern demeanor. “Well, hell’s bells. Is that you, Charlie?”

In response he stood and shook Cade’s extended hand. And then they hugged—one of those macho man-hugs that were totally okay as long as they slapped each other on the back so hard it thumped.