“Why?”
“Because deep down, what I did for a living?” He put a hand on his chest. “It’s who I am.”
“Aren’t you being unfair to yourself? I mean, just because you-”
“Killed people? I had a job to do. We did, Harv and I. There’s no sugarcoating it. It’s what we did. And we were really good. We took pride in our missions, in getting the job done. But it’s hard to feel good about killing people. I’ve really struggled with it over the years. Harv too.”
“The fact that you’re having this inner debate speaks volumes about you. I’d be concerned if you didn’t question it.”
“I appreciate you saying that.”
“I mean it.”
“I know you do.” He lapsed into a long silence. “Seeing Montez in Gitmo… I felt pity for him.”
“And that surprises you? Not me. I knew in my heart what kind of a man you were when you tossed the knife aside.”
“I’m glad you were there.” He leaned his head back and closed his eyes.
“Hey, you. Upstairs. Now.”
Holly rinsed the plates and put them in the dishwasher while Grant and Sherman studied her every move. “You’re guys are good company.” She pulled a couple of cheese sticks from the refrigerator and scored some points.
Half an hour later, she went upstairs to check on Nathan. With the dogs at her side, she stopped at his bedroom door.
What she saw brought a smile.
For there lay Nathan McBride-sleeping soundly-in his bed.