the trunk and dropped his gym bag inside, then hauled out the duffel containing his gear. All of the team carried spare weapons and tactical armor everywhere they went. It was the nature of the job.
Shel pulled up behind Remy and waited as the other man threw his duffel in the back. Remy kept out a 9 mm Beretta M9 pistol in a paddle holster. He wore a loose basketball jersey outside of his khaki pants that would cover the weapon.
Weapon already in place, Remy slid into the passenger seat. Golden yellow wraparound sunglasses masked his eyes.
“You ready to do this?” Remy asked.
“Yeah.”
“’Cause after that scene on the basketball court, I’m not so sure.”
Shel throttled the angry response and concentrated on breathing out. Pleasant or not, Remy’s concerns were warranted.
“I’m fine.” Shel slipped the Jeep into gear and headed out of the parking lot.
“You’re fine?”
“Yeah.”
“Just like that, you’re fine?” Remy clearly had a hard time believing that.
Shel glanced at him. “Yeah.”
“Then you tell me what that business back at the basketball game was.”
“An aberration.”
“Cool,” Remy said sarcastically. “I feel all relieved now. You’re using big words and everything.”
“You’re really going to make this hard, aren’t you?”
“We’re lucky we’re still outside a cell, still walking around. So, yeah, I’m gonna make this hard.”
“I got a thing,” Shel replied.
“What kind of thing? About winning basketball?”
Shel made himself tell the truth. “About Father’s Day.”
Remy stared at him in silence for a moment. “Oh. Okay.” Then he relaxed back into his seat like he was hesitant about saying anything else.
3
›› Interstate 40
›› West of Jacksonville, North Carolina
›› 1403 Hours
Charlotte was just under five hours from Camp Lejeune. After they were out of Jacksonville, the town surrounding the Marine camp, Shel headed west on Interstate 40, chasing the sun.
“If the traffic stays good,” Shel said, “we’ll be in Charlotte around seven.”
Remy nodded. He leaned back in the seat and played a PSP game. Earbuds filled his head with the sounds of battle on the brightly lit screen. He had pulled out the game system before they’d cleared the main gates at the camp.
“Is our fugitive still going to be there?” Shel asked.
“Yep.”
“You’re sure?”
“Yep.” Remy twisted and turned slightly in his seat as he followed the game’s shifting environment.
“And if he’s not?”
“Then maybe I saved Camp Lejeune from Shelzilla. Bad thing is nobody knows, and I don’t get a medal or a commendation.”
Shel took in a deep breath and let it out.
“That ain’t gonna work,” Remy said.
“What?” Shel asked irritably.
“Trying to suck in all the oxygen in the Jeep and hoping I pass out from asphyxiation.”
The growing irritation inside Shel almost broke free. “You planning a comedy routine?”
Remy grinned a brilliant white smile. “Nope. This is what you call natural humor. But if you want, I can use hand puppets. Might make it easier for the slow kids to comprehend.”
Shel ignored him. And he continued to do so for the next 137 miles.
›› Interstate 40
›› Outside Greensboro, North Carolina
›› 1619 Hours
Shel pumped gas at the small convenience store while Remy went to grab some burgers from the fast food franchise located inside. Max ran around the dog-walking area.
By the time Shel paid for the gas, cleaned up after Max, hit the head, and returned to the Jeep, Remy stood waiting with two paper sacks of burgers and fries and a tray containing a half-dozen bottles of water. They divvied the food, and Remy emptied one of the water bottles into a dish beside the Jeep for Max.
“Who’s the fugitive?” Shel unwrapped one of the burgers and took a bite.
“A lowlife named Bobby Lee Gant.” Remy bit into his burger, then winced a little; Shel saw him try to cover the reaction. Remy’s jaw was still swollen from the punch he’d taken.
Shel chewed, thought for a moment, then swallowed. “The biker guy who did the carjacking in Jacksonville back in April?”
Remy nodded. “That’s the one.”
The carjacking, which had involved a young Marine and his wife, had been particularly heinous. The couple had been shopping in Jacksonville. The Marine had just returned from Iraq. While they’d been stopped at a light, Bobby Lee Gant and three of his buddies had driven up beside them on their motorcycles. Gant and one of his buddies had ridden doubled up.
At the light, Gant slid off the motorcycle he had been a passenger on, crossed to the young Marine’s car, and smashed the window with a tire iron. Then he’d taken a pistol from his belt and shoved it into the Marine’s face.
Just back from Iraq and the horrors he had seen there, the Marine hadn’t reacted well to the open violence. He’d grabbed for Gant’s pistol automatically and ended up getting shot in the face. He had survived but had been forced to undergo cutting-edge reconstructive surgeries to repair the damage. His right eye had been lost, and his military career had ended at the same time.
One of the other men had yanked the wife out onto the street. Then Gant had driven off in the car while his friends followed on the bikes, leaving the couple behind. Luckily the Marine’s wife had her cell phone and was able to call for medical assistance immediately.
NCIS had been trying to get a lead on the biker for the last two months. It was the kind of assignment Shel enjoyed: danger with a hint of vengeance.
“How’d we find him?” Shel asked.
“Charlotte PD nabbed Gant’s girlfriend on a holding charge. She’s pregnant. A fall like that, she’d be inside county lockup and the kid would end up on its own. She tried to pull hardship, claimed that her family had disowned her and nobody would take care of her kid. Charlotte DA froze her out.”
“Hard.”
“Yeah.”
Despite the years of military life, wars, and what he had seen while with NCIS, Shel hadn’t hardened to the struggles of others. He empathized with the young mother. A lot of people who trafficked in crime weren’t evil. Not like Bobby Lee Gant. They were just people looking for an easy or quick way out of a bad situation.
“The girlfriend rolled on Gant?” Shel asked.
“Like a log.” Remy pushed the last of his first burger into his mouth, chewed, and swallowed. Afternoon sunlight glinted on his yellow gold lenses.
“Did Charlotte PD check her story out?”
