Sea Dog
She’d been decommissioned for at least three years now, and the winters around these parts hadn’t been kind to her. At first glance you’d be hard pressed to imagine her crossing the Atlantic, carrying everything under the sun from one far-off port to the next. But he used to love those long hauls. Hell, he felt more at home in his tiny cabin than he ever did on solid ground, and it killed him to see her like this—a rusting heap of metal in a floating graveyard. He’d put in for the security job right after she was docked for good. He wasn’t about to let anyone mess with his girl.
