Walker (Bowen Boys) by Kathi S. Barton

ago
on information that he had given her. It wasn’t his fault that the information
was only half there, and she’d already told him she was fine. But because of
her injuries, it was the reason that she’d been sleeping so soundly the night
the idiots had broken in. She’d taken a pain pill so she could sleep after
talking with her boss for over an hour beforehand.
    Lynne shrugged. “He’s the best, but a
little off his rocker. That was awesome pizza. How much do I owe you for saving
me from having to cook for myself?”
    “Nothing. It was fun and I like talking
to you.” Jane looked at her watch as she stood up. “I need to get going.
Working a double tonight. Thanks, Lynne. It was really nice for me too. I hate
to cook.”
    “Me too.” Jane went out the door and
Lynne was just shutting it when she caught something out the corner of her eye.
Waving at Jane and making a production of slipping around on the wet decking,
she saw who was there.
    “Mother fuck,” she said low and to
herself as Jane drove away. She made her limp more pronounced as she made her
way into the house, pulling out her cell as she went. “Agent McCray to speak to
leader Garrett.” She recited the numbers that were given to her when she was
first trained. “I have a code seven twenty-three.”
    “Stand by, Agent McCray, while I find
him.” The girl’s tone was nervous and full of terror. Lynne knew that had she
shown up rather than called, the girl would have pissed herself. Lynne wasn’t
your every day agent.
    “Where?”
    Lynne told him the precise location of
the man across the street when he came on the line.
    “I’m sending a sleeper to you. For
Christ’s sake, don’t fucking shoot this one.”
    One time. One time she shoots the guy
sent to protect her and it’s like she did it every day. She went to the front
room, pulled up the sight to locate camera she had mounted on her roof, and
turned the camera toward the man standing there.
    “Gray sweat pants, green and navy sweat
shirt. He has on tennis shoes, running and high top. He has on a cap and
his…you might want to tell the sleeper he’s armed. I think it’s a Glock, but
can’t be sure since he has it in his hand.” She heard him tell someone to be
careful and she smiled. She thought maybe she’d taught him a few of those
words. He came back on the line.
    “You have that good of a view of him,
why the hell didn’t you tell me in the first place?”
    She hadn’t told Garrett about her extras
she’d put on her house a few months ago.
    “I don’t suppose you know if he has on
clean underwear, do you?”
    She might not be able to see if they
were clean, but she could see that they were white. She zoomed in on who she
thought was the sleeper as he walked toward him. She had never understood why
Garrett had called them sleepers. He had told her once it was because they
could go past you as if in a dream. Bullshit. She knew every time one was near
her.
    “He has him in his sights. He said that
he doesn’t see a gun.”
    Lynne snorted when she herself could see
he was armed and knew that Garrett was lying to her again.
    “He’s about five yards away.”
    By the time the sleeper was about ten
feet away, the man had seen him. He turned in the opposite direction and
started walking away. Lynne was no longer watching the sleeper, but the man who
had staked out her house. When he slipped around the corner and out of her
sight she waited. This was, she was sure, far from over. The car coming around
the same corner had her watch in fascination as the sleeper was gunned down.
    “He said he’s got a make on the man. The
sleeper said for you to slip out the back and to a safe house.”
    Lynne made no comment as she watched the
car drive by her house fast. She got a great picture of the man driving as he
looked right at the camera for her. “Which safe house?” She rewound the
recording and froze it on the face. She blew it up until she could make out
features without