Billy Boyle (Billy Boyle World War II, #1)

by James R. Benn

“Can you get up, Billy?” I tried to focus on him. It was hard to see. “I think so.” I rolled over, got to my knees, and let Anders help me the rest of the way. He sat me on the bench. “I’ll get you some water to wash your eyes out with. You’ve got powder burns on your face and dirt in your eyes, as well as cuts and bruises.” “How long have I been out?” I asked as he brought back a pitcher of water. “About twenty minutes.” “You could have been long gone by now. What if some of Rolf’s men came along?” “Waiting here is not as dangerous as what you did, Billy.” “Something had to give. I could see he was getting shaky. We were about to lose control.” I looked over to Rolf’s body. Things were clearing but still a little out of focus. He was a blurry mass of red. It was almost funny. He had come here to do the right thing, to be a good Norwegian soldier and save his country. Instead he’d gotten killed for doing the wrong thing, to the wrong person. I might have been tempted to let him get away with killing Birkeland, but I had to avenge Daphne. The weapons had all vanished except for a Sten gun slung over Anders’s shoulder. As he set down the pitcher of water on the bench, he let it hang there, like an afterthought.