Blood Lines Read Free

it.”

    >> Locker Room
    >> Camp Lejeune, North Carolina
    >> 1307 Hours
    â€œYou want to tell me what that was about?”
    Shel tucked his shirttail into his jeans, buttoned the fly, and cinched his belt. He had pulled his boots on right after his pants the way he always did. The shirt always went on last.
    Remy, still dressed in basketball clothes, leaned against the lockers in the dressing room. Everyone else in the room gave them plenty of space.
    MPs had arrived within minutes and started sorting everything out. Remy had interfaced with them and cut Shel loose, which had suited Shel just fine.
    â€œWhat?” Shel asked. “The part where Greene was ticked about potentially losing the game because he got tired of me hanging with him? Or the part where you stepped into that haymaker and nearly ended up lights out? Because, honestly, neither one of those things makes sense to me.”
    Remy looked flustered. “I didn’t see him because I was busy watching you.”
    â€œ I wasn’t going to hit you.” Shel calmly put his gear into a gym bag and zipped it.
    â€œAt the time, looking at you, I thought you might hit anybody.”
    Shel flashed Remy a crooked-toothed grin. He didn’t feel humorous, but he’d learned that a show of gentler emotion sometimes defused a situation even if he didn’t feel it.
    â€œI wouldn’t have hit you,” Shel said. “I wouldn’t even have hit him if he hadn’t hit you.” And maybe that was the truth.
    â€œIt was just a game.”
    â€œYeah. I had a good time. Glad you invited me.”
    Remy looked at Shel as if he thought he were insane. “We could have gotten waxed out there.”
    â€œMe and you?” Shel shook his head. “We could have taken a dozen guys like Greene. Maybe two dozen. He crawfished out of the situation quick enough once things started to go south.”
    â€œThis isn’t funny.”
    â€œThat’s because you didn’t see that look on your face when he pasted you.”
    Remy frowned and touched his jaw tenderly. “We could have gotten in a lot of trouble.”
    â€œNot from Greene and his buddies.” Shel reached back and ruffled Max’s ears.
    â€œFrom the MPs. We could have spent Father’s Day in lockdown.”
    â€œWe aren’t. C’mon. I’ll buy you a beer at the canteen.”
    Remy didn’t readily agree.
    That bothered Shel. He believed in working closely with his team. Remy’s reluctance, though understandable, hurt.
    A cell phone rang shrilly and cut through the hiss of water coming from the showers. Remy reached into his pocket, pulled out his phone, flipped it open, and spoke his name.
    Shel leaned up against the lockers and waited like he was totally relaxed. Instead, his insides twisted even tighter. His anger was an old acquaintance. He knew from experience that it wasn’t going to be easily dismissed. He needed another diversion.
    And the canteen’s probably the last place you need to be, he told himself honestly. Thinking about it, he figured beer and a pizza would be a better choice. He felt the need to apologize to Remy. That was normal too.
    Remy listened to the phone conversation for a few minutes, then said, “Sure” and closed the phone. He looked at Shel in idle speculation. “That was Maggie.”
    Shel waited. Special Agent Maggie Foley was the team’s only civilian agent. She specialized in interrogation and profiling. Before landing the post at NCIS, she had been a Boston police officer.
    â€œI thought maybe she was calling because she’d heard about what went down here,” Remy said.
    Shel had figured the same thing.
    â€œBut she’s calling about something else,” Remy went on. “How do you feel about doing a job on Father’s Day?”
    â€œWhat kind of job?”
    â€œFugitive recovery op. Got a guy on the local Most Wanted board that just turned up in