Diesel (The Mavericks Book 13) Dale Mayer (top 10 motivational books .txt) 📖

right now, and no technology in the world could have tracked this to where we are.”

“So this was just a safekeeping measure?”

“That’s exactly what it was,” he said.

She nodded. “Good. At least there’s that reassurance.”

“Absolutely,” he said. “Just stay calm, and let’s get to that ship. We can clean out your wound, and you’ll be fine.”

Chapter 12

Diesel was right. By the time they finally made it on board—what looked like a private yacht—and Eva was taken to the bathroom, where she had the wound cleaned and just a small little bandage put on it, she felt much better about the whole deal. She also got clean clothes and a hot shower, and, as she stepped out into the galley, she was escorted to a small dining room. As she took her seat at the table, right beside an empty chair, she looked over at Jerricho. “Where’s Diesel?”

“Having a shower,” Jerricho said. “You want a glass of wine?”

She looked at him in surprise. “We have wine?”

He chuckled. “Absolutely,” he said. “We don’t have to live like heathens just because we’re on the run, so to speak.”

“Well, that’s reassuring,” she said. She picked up her wineglass as she noticed a bottle in a big cooler. “Thank you.” He poured a glass for her. “What about Diesel? Will he have one?”

“He might. He might want something stronger.”

“Are we allowed something stronger?” she asked curiously. “Are we on the run again?”

“Something stronger? Sure. On the run? I’m sure we will be again,” he said cheerfully. “But that doesn’t mean that we’ll be for the next couple hours.”

“Right,” she nodded. “I wasn’t expecting you guys to drink on the job.”

“Normally I wouldn’t,” he said, as he sniffed the aroma of the wine, “but I do like a good glass of wine. And one glass will never hurt.”

“Agreed.” She picked up hers, clinked it together with his, and said, “Thank you. I don’t think I’ve actually thanked you. I have thanked Diesel many a time, but either you’re never quite around or I’m not thinking with my clear mind at the time.”

“It’s all right,” Jerricho said, “and you’re welcome.”

She smiled. “This is quite the job you guys have.”

“You don’t know the half of it,” he said, chuckling. “It’s not a job that most people are used to, but we’re uniquely qualified for it.”

“Well, I certainly wouldn’t want to do this too often,” she said.

“Maybe not, but, when you see just how helpful we are in the world and how necessary this service is, you can understand.”

“Yeah, I’ve got a question about that,” she said. “How are you paid?”

“I didn’t ask for particulars. In your case,” he said, “we’re given a job, and we do the job. Money is never brought into it.”

“Well, it would be nice to think the world operates that way,” she said, “but I don’t think it does.”

“Well, some of it does,” Jerricho said. “Sometimes the world’s a nice easy place to be.”

“Not always,” she said. “It seems to me that more people are after money than actually handing it out.”

“Very true.” He swirled his wine and looked down at the glass and the beautiful red liquid in it and said, “You and Diesel seem to be getting along pretty well.”

“We really are,” she said, “and that is a huge surprise. I haven’t had a relationship in quite a while. Haven’t been too bothered, buried myself in work. I didn’t find anybody I liked, and then, out of all this, he’s there.”

“Good,” Jerricho said, “because Diesel’s in a similar scenario. It’s too easy to bury yourself in work and to forget about the fact that other parts of life are worth living.”

“What about you?” she asked. “Are you married?”

“Not right now,” he said. “I was.” He smiled and added, “I really liked being married, and I would certainly sign up for it again, if I found another woman who I cared for just as much.”

“What happened?”

“We married at eighteen,” he said, with a wry smile. “We were just kids. A kid in love with another kid. We couldn’t wait to be married, couldn’t wait to be together permanently, but we couldn’t make it last.”

“I’m sorry,” she said. “That’s sad.”

“It is. I went into the military after that,” he said, “more as a way to stay occupied and to bury all the pain of the relationship.”

“Do you still have any contact with her?”

“No, I haven’t had any contact in a long time,” he said. “Why?”

“Because it still seems like you’re affected.”

“She was my first love,” he said, the corner of his lips kicking up. “We should be affected. We should always remember.”

“I like that,” she said, “and I think you’re right. I just think so much of the world misses the point on a lot of it.”

“I agree with you,” he said. “That doesn’t mean that it’s the same for me.”

“If you met her again, would you be interested?”

“I don’t know,” he said. “I’ve never had a chance to meet her again.”

“Why is that?”

“Because the last time I heard, she was getting married.”

“Ah!” she said. “That makes it a little different. And were you upset?”

“Upset in the sense that we hadn’t made it work because I really like who she is,” he said, with a nod, “but not upset that she was getting married. I wanted her to be happy.”

“Yes, but usually, when people say that, they want you to be happy with them,” she murmured.

“Oh, very smart,” he said, lifting his glass at her. “That’s very true, but it wasn’t to be.”

“Unless she’s no longer married,” she said.

“Maybe, but again that would mean a whole different mind-set for her now.”

“Aah,” she said, “and, therefore, maybe not one you’re interested in?”

“No,” he said. “Where she’s been and what she’s done in the meantime wouldn’t have any impact.” He gave a one-arm shrug. “The same for myself, but we’re very different people than we were back then.”

“But maybe that’s a good thing,” she said, with an eyebrow up. “I mean, if you really