Engaging his Enemy (Shattered SEALs #4) - Amy Gamet Page 0,47

him right now. He wasn’t even confident she’d be happy he was moving to town.

He thought of at least seven different sentences, discarding each one before it could reach his lips.

“Never mind,” said Wyatt. “You don’t even want a girlfriend, so I guess you don’t want my mom.”

“Oh, Wyatt. You’ve got it all wrong.” He turned into the hospital parking garage. “The only woman I ever wanted was your mom. It’s just going to take a little time for us to figure out our feelings for each other, okay? You need to be patient with us for a while.”

“And then you’ll get married?”

He’d never truly considered marriage in his life before that moment, and he was shocked to realize it sounded rather good. “Maybe, if she wants to.” Or maybe the exploding ship had sent a shock wave through his brain, destroying his higher reasoning ability. He kept that possibility to himself but didn’t rule it out.

They got out of the car and walked inside, then headed upstairs to Ben’s room. His face was a riotous mixture of blues and greenish-yellow, a cast on his left arm and his leg in traction. “Jesus, Ben. You look like shit.” Moto handed his brother a chocolate milkshake.

“Thanks. You don’t look so good, either.”

Moto barely had a scratch on him, but he smiled at his brother’s quip. “Wyatt has a surprise for you.” He leaned back, watching as the boy explained how he proved Ben had been framed. When he was finished, Moto clapped him on the back and looked at his brother. “That’s my kid.”

Ben slurped his milkshake. “A couple of DEA agents were here earlier. Said they’d salvaged most of the ship from the bottom of the river. It was loaded with more than a ton of pseudoephedrine that’s used to make meth, enough heroin to supply half the US for a month, and three shipping containers full of nothing but oxycodone.”

“Damn.”

“They said with DeRegina out of the picture, they have a real shot at cracking down on some of the distribution in the American south.”

“Until another head pops up in place of that one.”

“True. We’ve got to take the victories when they’re offered.” He turned to stare out the window. “I did a lot of damage when I worked for that son of a bitch. I have a long way to go to make up for it.”

“You can go back to selling houses and the American dream, instead of the American horror story.”

“I want to try to be a cop, if they’ll have me.” He grinned at Wyatt. “And thanks to you, they just might.”

Moto rocked back in his chair. “You know, when you’re cleared of these charges, you won’t need a lawyer anymore.”

“Not for nothing, I’m already one step ahead of you.” The men laughed.

Moto looked from his brother to his son and back again, thinking of how much he’d gained in such a short time and feeling happier than he could remember being in a very long time. “I’m glad you’re not going to jail, Ben, but I sure am glad to be back in your life. I don’t know if I ever would have come back here.”

Ben nodded. “I’m glad I’m not going to jail, too.” He smiled.

Moto stood, grabbed the pillow from beneath his brother’s head, and hit him in the face with it. “You dickhead. Get some sleep. I’ll be back tomorrow to check on you.”

29

Heartache had never been Davina’s strong suit.

Love always sounded so appealing, but on the rare occasion she got to taste it, the flavor was fleeting at best. The disappointment left in its wake, the longing and despair. These were emotions with which she was well acquainted, their bitter taste at least predictable and true.

Zach would always leave, just as he had all those years ago. Of this, she had no doubt. There was nothing for him here, the sheer ordinariness of her life standing out in stark contrast to his achievements and abilities.

He’d come back to visit Wyatt, maybe even try to take up with her while he was here, but that would simply perpetuate the cycle of heartache and despair, never really allowing her time to heal in between. She wasn’t a woman who could settle for part of a man, not even if he was the only man she had ever loved.

She took a sip of her wine, then dropped a pound of dried spaghetti into a pot of boiling water. This would be their last meal before