Soldier's Choice by Morgan Blaze Page B

enjoy—and she was damned glad for the distraction.
     
     

Chapter 11
     
    Reese picked up three boxes of paintings at the Dawson place. As promised, Luka wasn’t there. It wouldn’t have worked if she was—but part of him was still disappointed. Just seeing her for a minute was enough to lift his spirits.
    Well, he’d have to get used to the idea of not seeing her. After the episode on Sunday, he was convinced that no one was safe around him. Like father, like son.
    He reached Greenway a little before seven and found MoJo Station with no problems. The two-story building stood out from its conservative neighbors—a brightly colored mural covered the entire front face, depicting a train station full of fantasy creatures and not-quite-human people. He guessed this wasn’t one of those artsy-fartsy places.
    Brett had told him to park around back and he’d meet him there. He turned down the side street next to the building, and pulled into a parking lot half-filled with cars. It seemed like a good sign. If the place was this busy on a regular Monday night, hopefully there’d be a good crowd for an event.
    As he got out of the Jeep, a familiar figure materialized from the shadows of the building and headed for him. He should’ve expected that Brett would be hiding in plain sight. The guy had a knack for not being seen, which had served them both well on countless missions.
    “Hey, Mathers.” They embraced roughly, and Brett stepped back with a grin. “You look like hell.”
    He grimaced. “Thanks. Not sleeping too well these days.”
    “Tell me about it. You been up to the VA yet? They can give you some pretty good shit, help you sleep.”
    “No.” He’d avoided thinking about how close he was to the VA here. His father, the ancient senile beast, was just a few blocks away.
    “Well, think about it, man. It helps.” Brett nodded at the Jeep. “Nice wheels. Is the stuff in there?”
    “Yeah, in the back.” He walked around and popped the hatch. “Didn’t know how many your mom wanted to show, so I brought…a lot, I guess. She can pick the ones she wants.”
    Brett stood next to him and laughed. “Shit, Mom’s going to blow a fuse,” he said. “I can hear her now, having a heart attack about wrapping and padding and how fast did you drive here you’ll scratch the canvas. Who packed these?”
    “That would be the artist,” Reese said. “She decided to get rid of them, apparently.”
    “Damn. She’s going to be really surprised. Hope she’s not surprised enough to smack you one—artists are temperamental, you know.” Grinning, Brett reached in and grabbed a box. “Well, let’s get these in to Mom so she can have her meltdown.”
    Reese took another box and followed him through a glass door into a wide, bright corridor with an open space at the far end. Handfuls of people stood or wandered slowly among displays that ranged from small pedestals to big, maze-like folding boards. He couldn’t see much of the room, but it looked busy and clean and happy—not the stuffy, low-lit atmosphere of pretension he might’ve expected. No wonder Luka liked this place.
    “Okay, here we go.” Brett stopped in front of a steel door just before the main room. “Mom should be in here still.”
    He opened the door, and Reese went in after him. The room was a workspace, with a row of long tables and a bunch of easels along the back wall. There was no one in here, but it looked like someone was moving around behind the frosted glass door at the back.
    Brett put his box down on the first table. Flashing a grin, he strode across the room and tapped on the glass door. It opened almost immediately, and a woman’s voice said, “Is your friend here?”
    “Yep.”
    “Fabulous! Be right out.” The door shut.
    Reese set the box he held next to the first one. “Fabulous?” he murmured.
    “She’s very enthusiastic.” Brett walked back and leaned on the table. “And she likes big words. She was a professor before