The Drifter (Peter Ash #1)(34)

Then raised it in a toast. “Semper fi, motherfucker.”

“Fuck the Army,” said Lewis, then drank. His shoulders touched the brick building. He appeared to lean against it, but the position was deceptive. He wasn’t at rest. His weight was still balanced, his feet still directly beneath him. Like a big cat in a tree, watching what passed below. Watching Peter.

Peter rolled the bottle against his cheek. The cold felt good. He took a long drink, half the bottle. He could feel the adrenaline draining from his system. The static drifting down and away. He wanted a shower. He wanted to sleep in a bed. Not necessarily by himself.

But mostly he wanted to find out what the fuck was going on.

It was becoming a very familiar feeling.

Lewis said, “So what’s your play here?”

“There’s no play,” said Peter. “I came to fix Jimmy’s porch and found a bag of money. Dinah thought it might be yours. That guy with the scars was watching her house.”

“I meant the original play,” said Lewis. “The one that got you fixing her porch to begin with.”

Peter noticed that the man didn’t always sound like the street. It might be where he came from, but it wasn’t who he was. Peter figured there was more to Lewis than anyone knew.

He said, “The Marine Corps has a program—”

“There is no program,” said Lewis. “I made some calls. The Marines aren’t paying you to fix anything. You got your discharge sixteen months ago. So why the fuck are you here?”

Peter sighed.

“Jimmy was my best friend,” he said. “He got wounded on my watch, and got sent home. Then I heard he killed himself, and I hadn’t gone to see him. I let him down. That’s how it is. So I came to help his family. Fixing the porch was a place to start. And I didn’t think Dinah would let me help unless I told her it was on Uncle Sam.”

“And Jimmy’s widow gonna show her gratitude?”

“It’s not like that, Lewis. She doesn’t show it, but she’s drowning. She’s going to lose her house. She needs to refinance, but the banks aren’t lending to anyone, let alone a single mother whose house is worth half what she paid for it.”

Lewis just looked at him without expression. Peter didn’t figure him for a guy who was following the foreclosure crisis, but he didn’t look confused, either.

“Dinah’s a strong woman,” Peter said quietly. “She’s not going to do anything she doesn’t want to do. She doesn’t owe me anything. I’m the one paying the debt here.”

Lewis shook his head. “You some piece of work, jarhead. Buying into all that shit about honor and obligation.”

Peter looked back at Lewis. “I’m not the only one,” he said.

Something passed between them then. Some acknowledgment of Dinah. Of debts owed to the past, before the future could be recognized or imagined.

“Maybe not,” said Lewis. He looked into the darkness. “Shit.”

They drank some beer. The November wind whistled in the trees. A car alarm sounded on the next block.

“So you were Army,” said Peter. Lewis nodded. “How long were you in?”

“Just the one tour. Early on. Didn’t like taking orders.”

“What, you expected different? It’s the Army.”

Lewis gave another eloquent shrug. “Had my reasons. Learned what I wanted and got the fuck out. Put myself to work.” He looked at Peter. “Could put some your way, too, you want. Man with your skills.”

“I’m working this right now,” said Peter.

“Yeah, but you’re flat broke,” said Lewis. “I can tell just looking at you. Wearing the same clothes two or three days. You ain’t had a shower in longer than that.” He looked at Peter steadily. “Pay’s good. Just a few hours’ work. Your kind of work.”

“I’m done with that, Lewis.”

“Riiiiight,” said Lewis, the tilted smile wide now in genuine amusement. “Tonight you shoot a guy trying to kill you. You take out a pair of skilled operators looking to give you a beatdown, and do it in about fifteen seconds. When I pull a gun, you don’t even blink. You not done with nothing, jarhead. You just a goddamn soldier of fortune like the rest of us.”

“I’m going to finish this thing here,” said Peter. “After that I don’t know.” He shrugged. “Go home, maybe. Get a job.”

Lewis snorted. “Get a job? Swing a hammer? Be a damn citizen? That’s not a life. Might as well be laid out in a bag. No, you got a taste of the real life over there, a real solid taste. And now you can’t live without it.”

Peter shook his head. “That’s you,” he said. “Not me.”

Lewis looked at him with a certain uncharacteristic kindness. “I saw your face when Nino came at you with those knucks. You lit up like it was your birthday. Like you was alive for real.” He pointed his bottle at Peter. “We not that damn different, troop. You may think you done, but I know better. You best figure that shit out.”

Peter drained his beer. “That reminds me,” he said. “You know where I can buy a weapon? I had to get rid of mine earlier.”

Lewis laughed out loud. “Oh, you one solid fuckin’ citizen, all right.”