Engaging his Enemy (Shattered SEALs Book 4)

by Amy Gamet

  But then you wouldn’t know about Wyatt.

  He still didn’t know what to think about the boy, didn’t know how to be a father or what this would mean for either of them. But he knew one thing. He would never want to go back to a world where he didn’t know his son existed. Whatever came next, they’d figure it out together. They would learn how to be father and son, no matter what happened with Ben or Davina. That was his kid, and he was going to do whatever it took to make a place in his life for the boy.

  “It’s the best thing in the world, parenthood,” said Razorback, seemingly reading his mind. “Even if you get there late to the party. It’s like they were waiting for you the whole time. He’ll probably put you through the wringer to see if you’re really going to stay.”

  “And how do I prove that to him?”

  “You show up, again and again. You give him time. Be patient.”

  Moto’s throat constricted. “I already missed so goddamn much.”

  “But you’re here now.” He clapped Moto on the back. “That’s what matters. The only thing you can control is what happens next.”

  Moto nodded. “Thank you.”

  “You’ve got it. What about this kid’s mother? She married to somebody else?”

  “No.”

  “Do you want her to be, or do you want her for yourself?”

  He thought of the kiss he’d shared with Davina in the kitchen not two hours before and his decision in the car on the way here. “No. Getting to know my son is what’s important right now.”

  “Don’t forget, you’ve got all that time you’re going to be waiting for that kid to come around. You may as well do something worthwhile.” Razorback turned and walked back inside, leaving Moto alone on the thin strip of balcony.

  13

  The Port of Houston was bigger than the suburb Ben grew up in, a city within a city, the dark night and blanket of foggy humidity giving it an eerie quality that put him on edge. He’d talked his way through the gate easily enough, explaining he was the Realtor on a parcel that was being sold and needed a last-minute walk-through.

  He did need to do a walk-through, but he also wanted to see the place for himself as soon as possible. If DeRegina planned to use the old warehouse to import drugs, this place would be ground zero. It was a risky endeavor at a port like this, given the level of security and government inspection, but there were always officials who could be bought.

  He took a drag of his cigarette as he moved past a tanker longer than a football field, the blackness of its steel sidewall hovering over his field of vision like the face of a threatening cliff. The warehouse was a full quarter mile from where he’d parked and he walked briskly, aware of the overwhelming silence and lack of activity in this area. A massive container crane stood like a sleeping giant, waiting to spring to life, and his mind whirled through his own culpability in the events of the last few days.

  What damage had he done, exactly, to further the spread of drugs into his community? Drugs that boys like Wyatt could take. Drugs that could ruin more lives like they’d nearly ruined his. He took one last drag of his cigarette and pitched it away. He didn’t smoke anymore, yet here he was. He didn’t do a lot of things anymore, but he still remembered.

  He remembered how good it felt to get high, to let the real world slip away into some kind of haze that covered all pain and disappointment, quelling his rage. Getting high was the ultimate in irony. There were only good feelings with drugs, but the haze could choke out any semblance of anything real and good, killing the things that mattered most in life.

  He thought of Laney. He’d been seeing her for a while after his parents died, though that time in his life was mostly a blur of pot and cocaine. He was convinced they’d been using each other for sex—him to get away from the darkness in his life, if only for an hour or two, her to get away from her drunk-ass father.

  Now she was back in his life, her name jumping out at him from his internet search of local lawyers. He didn’t even know she’d moved back to town. She’d gone away to law school, never to be heard from again, yet she was back…a divorced mother determined to save an old friend from prison.

  He’d caught her looking at him while they were up on that hill where the federal agent died, the same look she used to give him when she showed up at his door at three in the morning, needing his body just as intensely as he’d needed hers. He couldn’t help but wonder what would happen if he showed up on her doorstep now.

  He forced the idea from his head, at least for now. He thought of the look on Davina’s face when she thought he was fucking his lawyer. Hah. That wouldn’t solve his problems. He’d made a mess of his life by looking for the easy way out, a shortcut to success everyone else had missed. If he wanted to make it right, it was time to do things the hard way, to fight the battles he’d been avoiding all these years and finally do right by the people he loved. And if Laney was there when this was all over, then maybe he would do something about it.

  The sound of a truck rumbled behind him, and he turned to see lights approaching. He moved behind the base of the crane, easily hiding behind its structure as the vehicle passed. It stopped in front of the warehouse. Ben frowned. The property had been abandoned for over a year. No one should be here.

  He considered turning back but hesitated. He moved away from the ship and the lighted path he’d been on, approaching the warehouse from the darkness, heart hammering in his chest. Perhaps the truck was in the wrong location. A simple case of mistaken address. But what if this was his chance to catch DeRegina in a vulnerable position? What if he could really do something good by investigating further?

  In the distance, he could see men open the back of the truck and unload fifty-gallon drums. He crouched beside a shipping container, wishing he had binoculars to see better. His brother would have been better prepared for this kind of thing, and he instantly hated himself for his incessant failures.

  “Stop right there,” a deep voice said from behind him. “Put your hands up.” Ben didn’t move, terror flooding his senses. “Now!” barked the voice, and Ben lifted his hands, scurrying to a stand and moving to face the man. “Don’t turn around!” came the command. “What are you doing here?”

  “I’m Ben Sato, a Realtor. My client’s buying this property.”

  “Give me some ID. Slowly. No sudden movements.”

  He reached into his back pocket. “Just getting my wallet.” He held it out behind him, and the man snatched it away.

  A moment went by, time seemingly suspended. Should he run? Turn and fight for his freedom? There were easily a half dozen men at the truck in front of him, any fight sure to be quickly lost, and he didn’t have a firearm. He swallowed hard. He was at the other man’s mercy.

  An electronic blip sounded behind him, and the man spoke. “Ben Sato. Says he’s the Realtor.”

  A burst of static, then a voice burst through. “Bring him to me.”

  Ben longed to flee, panic warring with indecision. A handcuff went around his wrist and was cinched tight before locking with its mate. “No funny stuff,” said the man, who began dragging him toward the warehouse and into the light.

  This was it. These were the people he’d chosen to do business with, and if he died here tonight, it was a fate he had earned. He squeezed his eyes shut, tears falling onto his cheeks, a sensation he hadn’t felt since the night his parents died. “Please. I didn’t do anything,” he begged. “I didn’t see anything.”

  The man didn’t answer but only dragged him into the warehouse, the men surrounding the truck suddenly scattering like cockroaches in the light. There would be no witnesses, no one to say what had happened to him. He would simply disappear, and it occurred to him the world might be a better place with him gone.

  Please. If you let me live, I’ll change my life. I swear it.

  He’d be a better uncle to Wyatt, be a role model. He’d get a regular job that made regular money, be the kind of stand-up man his father had taught him to be. He�
��d ask Laney on a date and bring her flowers, treat her like a lady should be treated, not as a fuck buddy who didn’t matter beyond what she could do for him in bed. He sobbed.

  The man dragged him through the warehouse, past scores of plastic drums, pulling to a stop before a tall, gray-haired man in a suit and tie. Ben’s guard released him, and he nearly fell on the ground. The gray-haired man smiled. “Mr. Sato. It’s a pleasure to finally meet you in person. I trust your family is well?”

  14

  Moto had all but given up on Ben showing his face tonight at all. For two hours, the men of HERO Force had been going over evidence in Ben’s case with Laney, and the bastard couldn’t even be bothered to join them. Moto was livid and questioning his brother’s innocence as they went over the case against him. He wanted to believe Ben wasn’t guilty, and he wondered if that was coloring his interpretation of the facts.

  The coroner’s report was a grim and detailed explanation of a horrible death from suffocation and the physical effects of dropping a dead body almost a hundred feet onto granite boulders. It was the kind of grizzly death that would drive a jury to convict, to want to hold someone accountable, and Moto feared his brother would be it.

  Far away in the Atlanta office of HERO Force, Logan was hard at work on the case, gleaning everything he could on DeRegina’s operations and his past activity at the Port of Savannah. They needed to know how to stop him, and looking at how he’d most recently been foiled seemed like a good place to begin.

  Moto leaned over the crime scene photos as Trace used a capped pen to outline the tread of the tire track clearly defined in the mud. “Based on the weather that night,” said Trace, “the ground would have been damp enough to leave good impressions like these. Either this is the vehicle of the person who killed the federal agent or the killer and the agent magically appeared on that cliff.”

  “Could they have been on foot?” Laney asked.

  Trace shook his head. “No, the ground was too soft. See this?” He rummaged for another photograph and put it on top of the pile. “These have to be the footprints of the killer. They go from the tire tracks in the last picture to the edge, then back again, but without these drag marks alongside them.”

  “Our victim,” said Moto.

  “That’s right. Clues don’t get more obvious than this. Unless you’ve got kids cliff-jumping off of here, somebody went over that edge and died—our dead federal agent.”

  Laney shook her head. “No cliff-jumping. It’s all boulders at the bottom. Water’s not more than five feet deep.”

  A knock sounded on the hotel room door, and Razorback moved to answer it. “Those are your killer’s tracks right there, tire and shoe prints,” said Trace.

  “And they don’t match Ben’s shoes and vehicle?” asked Moto.

  Laney shook her head. “The shoes are three sizes too small, and the tires are from an SUV or minivan. He drives a sedan.” She sighed heavily. “The investigator says that doesn’t rule him out.”

  “Well, it doesn’t,” agreed Trace. “He wouldn’t be the first perpetrator to wear uncomfortable shoes to throw police off the scent.”

  “I didn’t do it,” said Ben from behind them.

  Moto turned to glare at his brother. He looked bad, the side of his face swollen like he’d just lost a fight. “Where the fuck have you been?”

  Ben crossed to the conference table, sat and dropped his head into his hands. “The warehouse.”

  “What happened to your face?” demanded Moto.

  “DeRegina’s men are watching Davina’s house!”

  Moto furrowed his brow. “What are you talking about?”

  “I wanted to see the warehouse for myself. See if they were really going to use it to import drugs. So I went down there—”

  A red haze of anger colored Moto’s vision. “Jesus Christ, Ben.”

  “I had to do a walk-through. I wanted to see it with my own eyes, and they were there.”

  “Who?”

  “DeRegina and his men! They were unloading fifty-gallon drums and putting them in the warehouse. They found me snooping around and brought me inside. Knocked me around a bit.”

  Laney gasped and covered her mouth. “Are you okay?”

  “No. He knew you were back in town, Zach. He knew everything. He knew you threw the ball to the dog with Wyatt. He knew I went to see Davina tonight. They’re watching the goddamn house.”

  “Jesus Christ,” said Moto.

  Ben shook his head. “It gets worse. DeRegina said their first shipment is arriving tomorrow.”

  “Tomorrow?” barked Razorback.

  “He said it was supposed to dock in Georgia, but there was a problem and it’s been sitting out at sea.” Ben’s face crumpled. “He told me I did a good job getting the closing on the warehouse moved up. I was sitting there bleeding, and the dickhead told me I did a good job.”

  Moto was already moving. “First things first. We need to set up a perimeter and get those motherfuckers away from Davina’s house. Then we make a plan for tomorrow.” His Sig Sauer was holstered at his side, but he took two more firearms from a stock of weapons HERO Force had on the sideboard. He shot a look at Laney and did a double take. She was crouching by Ben’s side, touching his face and talking quietly.

  “Ben?” His brother looked up. There was fear in his eyes, fear and something darker Moto couldn’t name. “You come to the house tonight, too. I don’t want you fending for yourself on this one.”

  Ben nodded.

  Of course he would come. Their family was being threatened. Ben had every right to be there, maybe more right than Moto himself.

  Razorback was barking orders. “…need them safe. We can’t have them in a vulnerable position when shit goes down at the warehouse. I’ll call the feds. With DeRegina here, this could be our chance to nail him. We’ll meet you at the house. Moto, get Davina on the phone.”

  “Already on it.” He held it to his ear. “Come on, pick up.” It rang several times before going to voicemail. He hung up and cursed under his breath. “No answer.” He turned to Ben. “Did he imply they were in imminent danger?”

  “Not exactly.” Ben sobbed once, the stress clearly getting to him. “He said if I loved them, I should be careful.”

  “Jesus Christ. Let’s go.” Adrenaline coursed through his veins as he led the way to the parking lot beneath the building.

  Ben got in the passenger seat. “This is all my fault.”

  Moto zipped around the curves of the parking garage, anxious to get onto the open road. “What is?”

  “Everything. All of it. Mom and Dad died because of me.”

  “For fuck’s sake, don’t do this now.” He paid the toll and headed for the expressway.

  “I knew this job was too good to be true. I knew it wasn’t on the up-and-up. But I fucking did it anyway because I wanted the money. I wanted to be somebody.”

  “There’ll be plenty of time later to beat yourself up. Right now, we’ve got to focus on protecting Davina and Wyatt.”

  “I wanted her for myself. I could have told you about the baby. I could have told you she wasn’t doing well and needed help. But I wanted to play the knight in shining armor. I wanted her to depend on me.”

  “Fine. You’re a terrible person. Now shut up and let me concentrate.”

  “And you! You always had to be in control. You saw your opportunity to get out and you took it. You didn’t listen to Davina’s explanation of what happened between us because you wanted an excuse to leave. You were a selfish, arrogant fuck. You still are.”

  Moto couldn’t believe this ridiculous conversation. “What the fuck was I supposed to do?”

  “Did you love her?”

  “Hell yes.” The knee-jerk response and the depth of emotion that filled him were a shock to his system. He had loved her, goddamn it. She’d been everything to him. But the moment he turned his back on her and went away, he began telling himself a lie—a lie he could see now he’d never really believ
ed.

  “Then you were supposed to take her with you.”

  Moto stared at the road whizzing by as the pieces clicked into place. The truth in his brother’s words was striking, a long-needed explanation of what had gone horribly wrong in his life. He had left here to save himself, just as surely as he’d left Davina behind, pregnant with his child.

  All of Ben’s accusations—that Moto was a selfish jerk who cared only for himself—had been true. He’d convinced himself Davina had been unfaithful, when he had barely believed it himself.

  The younger version of himself stood right before him, full of fault and horror at what he had done, and he longed to forgive the boy he had been, tell him everything would be okay. Warn him not to walk away from the people he’d loved.

  Moto exited the expressway and turned toward Davina’s street. If he was going to get past this, there was one thing he needed to know. “Are you in love with her?”

  “I was.”

  Moto fumed silently as he drove, pulling into the driveway and throwing the car in park. Davina stood up from the swing on the front porch, arms folded as she walked to the railing and looked at Moto, her stare locking with his.

  “But I’m not anymore,” said Ben. “She was your girl, even after you were gone. Looks like maybe she still is.” He unbuckled his seat belt. “Don’t fuck it up this time, you selfish prick.”

  15

  Moto watched as Ben reached the stairs first, stepping into the light, and Davina’s brow furrowed in concern. “What happened?” she asked.

  “Zach will explain. I need some ice.” He went inside.

  She turned to Zach, her mouth set in a hard line. “Is that the only way you know how to settle a fight?”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “His eye is nearly swollen shut!”

  He put his hand on her elbow, turning her around before she snatched it away. “I didn’t touch him. Come on, we need to get inside.” The house smelled delicious. He looked up the staircase to the second floor. “Where’s Wyatt?”