Five
Istanbul
Dak stood in the shower for an eternity, letting the hot water soak over his tired muscles. The soothing warmth reached deep into his bones and gave him a sense of relief he hadn't felt in days, though it seemed much longer. When he finished, he stepped out of the shower and grabbed a towel from off the nearby rack, dried himself off, and tied it around his waist.
He padded over to the mirror and slicked his hair back, then used a hand towel to finish drying his beard.
While he stood there at the sink, a knock came from the door. "You decent?" Nicole asked, cracking the door open an inch.
"Yeah, I have a towel on," he said.
She pushed it all the way open and stepped in. Nicole caught herself accidentally appreciating the man's form, the broad shoulders and back, the muscles in his arms and chest.
"My eyes are up here," Dak joked, motioning to his face.
She shook her head quickly and recovered. "I have no idea what you're talking about. But your clothes will be dry in a half hour."
"Thank you," he said sincerely. "Any luck finding my friend Will?"
"Actually, yes. Turns out he wasn't that difficult to locate."
"That's a bit of a surprise," Dak said as he turned around to face her, planting his palms on the edge of the sink as he leaned back.
Again, she caught herself admiring his form, but he said nothing this time.
"Yes, well. It surprised me too, since you seemed to think it would be much more difficult. If your friend is trying to keep a low profile, he's not doing a very good job of it."
Dak offered a snorted laugh and bobbed his head.
That much was true.
Will wasn't good at keeping a low profile. He had too much pride for that. The man known as the quartermaster had always been happy to share tales of action and adventure with friends, even some stories that were supposed to remain classified. He omitted names and locations, of course, but the stories were there just the same. The funny thing was, Will almost never took part in any of the missions he discussed, though no listening ear could discern that. He was an armorer, a guy who could get things, but a killer? Maybe in a life Dak didn't know about, but as far as he knew, Will had never even been in a bar fight.
"Where?" Dak asked pointedly.
She crossed her arms. "You're welcome, by the way. I said it wasn't hard, but I'm good. For an ordinary person, maybe it would be."
"Thank you," Dak offered. "I do appreciate it. Seriously."
"Good. And you're welcome." She cleared her throat. "He's in a small Portuguese fishing town called Nazare. It's famous for some of the largest waves in the world. Once that word got out, surfers from around the world started coming to visit or buy condos there. Your friend Will has a place on the beach."
"You're amazing," Dak said with a smile. "Thank you again."
"Don't mention it. I'll leave you to your… um, drying off. You'll hear the alarm on the dryer when your clothes are ready."
She abruptly left the bathroom and closed the door behind, leaving Dak alone to his thoughts and speculation.
Nazare, he thought. It was just like Will to find some obscure European beach to settle down. It was also the last place anyone would look for an ironmonger like him. There wasn't a huge market for weapons on the Iberian Peninsula, not that Dak knew of, but from there Will could connect to buyers in France, England, and beyond. Then again, it wasn't really Will's style to work with those types, which meant Dak's friend may have changed his business a little. In the past, he was happy to sell certain kinds of weapons to citizens in the US, weapons that were deemed illegal.
He still ran background checks on them, making sure he wasn't selling these guns to psychopaths. Will had strict standards for that sort of thing, considering what he was doing was illegal.
That was another reason Dak trusted the man. Will had a code of ethics and stuck by it. Even when breaking the law.
A thought occurred to Dak. He tried to keep it from slipping out, but he couldn't fight off his curiosity. He pushed away from the sink and stepped around the corner to find Nicole standing over a glass of red wine at the kitchen counter. He couldn't tell if she was crying, but it sure looked that way from the side.
The pain from years before sunk into his chest like a rusty knife. He knew another apology wouldn't change anything. Maybe a little flattery could.
"I gave you nothing but the man's first and last name. How in the world could you have possibly located him in less than ten minutes with that minimal information?"
Nicole's lips creased, easing up her right cheek. "First of all, you were in the shower for twenty minutes. Five more and you would've run out of hot water. Second, a girl has to have her secrets, doesn't she?"
He inclined his head, peering at her over the tops of his lower eyelids. He surrendered a nod. "I suppose so."
"Although," she added, "since you gave up the fact he was in the military before and maybe had a few run-ins with authority in one form or another, that helped a bit. I also don't think your friend is trying very hard to keep a low profile. Not like I would if I was in his shoes. Honestly, I expected it to take hours, maybe even a day or so to find him. And I'm good."
"He's on Instagram. Isn't he?"
"Yep." She emphasized the word with a pop. "Didn't even bother changing his name to an alias."
"Well, in his defense, he's not super creative with things
