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I’m not sure why, but I do.
The man at the market frightened me. The darkness frightened me. The moose terrified me. Samuel makes me nervous. Angry. Confused. He makes my body react in ways I don’t want to examine too closely.
“Tell me why they want me,” I say.
Samuel stares into his coffee.
“Your father and I worked with bad men.”
“During your time in the Navy?”
“Some.”
“And after?”
He gives a slow nod.
I wrap both hands around my mug. “What kind of bad men?”
“The kind who don’t forgive.”
The fire pops in the next room. I wait for him to continue. When he doesn’t, I wave one hand impatiently. “That’s it?”
“What else do you want?”
“Details.”
“No.”
“Names?”
“No.”
“Anything useful?”
Samuel looks toward the nearest window, studying the mist as though expecting a face to appear in it.
“Doug and I ran undercover operations for years,” he says. “We dealt with arms dealers. Smugglers. Mercenaries. Men who sell information to the highest bidder and kill anyone who becomes a problem.”
A chill passes through me despite the warmth of the fire.
“My father told me you were both Navy SEALs. He never mentioned any of that.”
“He wouldn’t.”
“Why?”
“To protect you.”
“Everyone keeps protecting me by refusing to tell me the truth.”
Samuel absorbs that without argument.
“Your father made enemies,” he continues. “So did I. Most disappeared when we left that life. Some didn’t.”
“And those men yesterday?”
“I don’t recognize them.”
