His final destination was the Florida Keys, a motel with a bar close to the pool, and endless amounts of white sand. Maybe he’d rent a boat and do some fishing. He had no set plans, nor did he want any. Set plans meant a schedule, and he was on vacation from Uncle Sam’s army. He spent every day following the rules and working by someone else’s schedule. When he got his leave, Hart left his uniform in his townhouse and the car pulled into the garage. He got his bike out and threw a duffel bag over the back before setting off. He didn’t look back and wouldn’t think about his MOS change or duty for his eight weeks extended leave. This was his time for peace and quiet if he could find it. He wasn’t about parties and women, not like other men with a few weeks’ leave who were horny as hell. He wanted to be alone and if someone decided he looked like an easy mark and had beef with him he’d fix it quickly and efficiently before getting back to his cold beer.
