by Amy Gamet
The old man fired a gun at the ship. Davina screamed, though she could no longer see Zach on the vessel’s deck, and she hoped he had managed to escape. The old man headed toward her, grabbing her by the hair and pulling her to a stand, an unconscious Ben rolling to the pavement. The man held his gun to her head. “Get off my ship, now!” he bellowed.
She stared at the spot where she’d last seen him, waiting for him to materialize. Seconds ticked by, then what seemed like minutes.
“You leave me no choice,” shouted the man. “I will start with your brother.” He aimed the weapon at Ben’s head. Davina screamed.
“Wait!” yelled Zach. “We’re right here. In the water.” He and Razorback swam for a ladder on the side of the berth. “You can have your damn ship. Just let them go.” Moto got out first, the men soaking wet, their empty hands in the air.
“You stupid fools. Do you really think I would let you live?” The man lowered his weapon to fire on the men, just as Sloan looped a wire over his neck and pulled it tight. Davina ran toward Moto, when suddenly a fireball exploded below the water, lifting up the ship and throwing it back down with a thunderous boom. Flames shot out of the top deck, as DeRegina’s body twitched in the throes of death and Davina was wrapped tightly in Zach’s arms.
27
Davina stared out the window as Zach drove along the familiar streets to her house. She’d called Wyatt from the hospital, where Zach had insisted she get checked out, and asked Justin’s mom if Wyatt could stay overnight again. He didn’t know anything about what had transpired tonight, and if he saw her right now he’d know something was terribly wrong.
She was shaken to her core by what she’d seen and experienced, the ease with which Zach handled it showing her he was clearly used to such traumatic events. He treated her gently, holding her hand and stroking her hair, never expecting her to talk or even asking how she was feeling. He was simply a steadfast presence by her side, and she appreciated him more than she could have imagined.
Now she was exhausted and drained, wanting only to slip into her own bed and let her mind decompress for a while. Seeming to understand what she needed, he walked her upstairs and sat her on the edge of the bed, taking off her shoes and peeling away her socks. It was such an intimate gesture, and she wanted to shy away from it even as she desperately wanted the help.
After pulling back the covers, he settled her inside, then tucked her in tightly. “Do you want me to stay? Just for company?” he asked, and climbed in beside her when she nodded her head.
She was asleep within moments, the rise and fall of his chest and the familiar scent of his body all the lulling she needed to let go of her difficult day. She was safe here in his arms, safer than she’d ever felt in her life, and she wasn’t capable of any thought beyond that.
She dreamed of bombs and lightning strikes, and when she awoke in the night, he comforted her, cuddling her tight. When his nearness conjured her need for him, he obliged her body until the first light of morning, showering her with wave upon wave of pleasure until she again resorted to sleep.
When she finally opened her eyes again, it was nearly lunchtime and Zach was gone, a note on her bedside table telling her he’d gone to meet with HERO Force. Piece by piece, she unpacked the events of the day before, allowing herself to process everything that had happened.
That was how Wyatt found her, still in bed halfway through the day. “Where’s Zach?” he asked.
“He went to work.”
“I need to show him what I found on the computer.”
She sat up, finding her cell phone plugged in on her dresser (though she had no memory of putting it there) and called him. Her cheeks heated as the phone rang and she remembered the things he’d done to her in the night.
“Hey, how are you doing?” he asked.
“I’m okay. Listen, Wyatt’s here, and he has something he wants to show you on the computer.”
“I should be back at the house in time for dinner.”
She moved the receiver to her neck. “He says he’ll be back in time for dinner.”
“Tell him I can prove those messages on Uncle Ben’s machine are fake.”
Her eyes went wide. “He says he can prove the messages on Ben’s machine are fake.”
“Seriously? Can you bring him to the hotel?”
“Sure. I’ll be there as soon as I can.” She hung up. “How did you figure it out?”
Wyatt shrugged but beamed with pride. “It was easy, really. Once I understood how it worked and how the different dates could be manipulated, I could see the answer right away.”
“You get that from your father, you know.”
“You think so?”
“I do.” She smiled, her heart full. “Now skedaddle, and let me get dressed so we can get out of here.”
28
Moto sat at the conference table in the HERO Force suite, surrounded by some of the men he respected most in this world and a boy who’d just blown his mind. Wyatt had found a way to use a malware keystroke logger that was already on Ben’s machine to pull up an exact record of the evidence being planted on the computer. He could see the system date being changed before and after the creation of each falsified file. “You figured that out from what I taught you?”
“Well, that and a bunch of YouTube videos. It was luck, really. Most people look for malware and delete it, just like viruses, but Uncle Ben’s anti-malware software was out of date.”
Moto grinned. “Carelessness finally worked for him.” He tousled Wyatt’s hair. “I’m so proud of you, kid. You just saved your uncle from going to jail.”
Razorback sat down at the head of the table. “You ever need a job, kid, you come see me. Two of our best men couldn’t figure that out.”
“Two?”
“Logan was working on it in Atlanta, too,” said Moto. “He’s not as smart as me, though.”
Razorback snorted.
Moto stood. “Come on, kid. You want to go see Uncle Ben?”
“Where is he?”
“In the hospital. He’s okay, but he got beat up pretty bad yesterday by the same thugs who were trying to put him away for murdering that federal agent. I think you should be there to tell him the good news.”
They drove to the hospital, stopping for celebratory milkshakes at a drive-through. “Are you going to leave now?” Wyatt asked. “Uncle Ben doesn’t need you anymore.”
“You know I live in New York.”
“Yeah.”
“How would you feel if I lived here some of the time, too? I have to talk to Razorback. See if I can make it work being part of HERO Force from a thousand miles away, but I think it might be doable.”
“Where would you live?”
“I’ve got some land on a river about a half hour from here. It belonged to your grandparents. I’m thinking about building a house.”
“Oh.”
Moto narrowed his eyes. “That sounds like you’re disappointed.”
For almost a mile, Wyatt didn’t answer. Moto tried to be patient, remembering Razorback’s advice. He had to prove to the boy that he would be here for him, time and time again, no matter how long it took for Wyatt to believe him.
“I thought you might marry my mom.”
The hospital came into view just a few blocks ahead, but it was too great a distance to stymie this conversation. He had feelings for Davina. He absolutely did. But marriage was leaps and bounds ahead of 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 he returned to New York, and while she’d been tempted to impress him with some culinary delight, it seemed more fitting she make him something from which it was easier to walk away.
“Smells good in here,” he said, crossing to the stove and putting his arms around her waist. “What are you making?”
She wiggled away. “Frozen garlic bread.”
“That works for me. Are you okay?”
“I’m fine.” She forced a smile onto her face. “Why don’t you and Wyatt set the table?”
She made it through the meal without sobbing into her plate and actually enjoyed watching the two of them joke back and forth. It seemed Zach was off to a good start being a father, and she could wish for no more than that.
She was clearing the table when Zach asked, “What do you say we get some ice cream for dessert?”
“Yeah!” yelled Wyatt.
“You two go,” she said. “I’ll clean up here.”
Zach touched her arm. “Come with us.”
“I really don’t want ice cream.” She scooted around him and into the kitchen. He followed her, carrying several plates. “Please, just go. Let me get this.”
“What’s the matter?”
“Honestly? I’d just like to be alone. Take Wyatt. He’d love to go.”
He stared into her eyes, then sighed. “Okay. We’ll be back in a little bit.”
“Take your time.”
His flight was in the morning. She knew the others had already gone. What was he hanging around here for, anyway? Just to prolong the goodbye? She dropped the dishes in the sink, ran some water, and poured herself more wine, the bottle slipping from her wet hands and shattering on the floor.
“Goddamnit.” Red wine was splattered all over the floor and cupboards. She sank down and began picking it up, the very first piece slicing into her finger. “Shit!” She threw the glass into the garbage, cursing a blue streak. Nothing was going right this evening, not dinner, not Zach, nothing. She let out a cry of pure frustration, just as the door to the garage opened wide.
There stood Zach. “Are you okay?”
“Why are you here?” she screamed. “Can’t you just leave for one freaking second?”
“I forgot my wallet.”
“Well, then get it and go.”
“I can help you—”
She turned on him. “I don’t want your help! I want you to go. I want you to take Wyatt for ice cream and then bring him home, then get on a plane and get out of my life. Can you do that for me? Please?”
He crossed to the island and picked up his wallet, leaving without saying a word.
She threw half a loaf of garlic bread at the door, letting the tears come as they would.
30
Moto stood at the main computer terminal at HERO Force New York, tracking a terrorist through cyberspace. “You stupid fuck, get back here. I see you, and I’m not going to stop until I catch you.”
Champion did stomach crunches on the floor. “Does it help when you yell at them?”
“Of course it fucking does.” The tango was routing his signal through hubs all over the world. Each was its own little puzzle, a certain type of encryption or a different language to overcome. It was painstaking work, and he did it quickly and accurately, targeting his mark and gaining on him.
Razorback walked into the room. “Jax just called from Atlanta. Another note was found.”
“Jesus Christ,” said Moto. “What is it this time?”
“A ransom demand.”
Moto’s eyes shot to Razorback’s. “He kidnapped someone?”
“A little girl named Molly Esposito, daughter of a Spanish diplomat. She’s seven.”
It was a race against time, and the stakes had just gotten higher. “Logan,” he barked, even as he continued to work. “Get me Logan on the line.” When he was there, Moto said, “I need your help. Get on the main terminal and I’ll screen share with you. Every one of this fucker’s relays costs me time.”
Logan logged on to the system hundreds of miles away, the two of them working together to save a little girl from a madman. Moto was aware of the other men coming and going, no one daring to speak, each understanding the magnitude of the problem at hand.
Hours went by, and sweat soaked through Moto’s shirt. It was Wya
tt’s face he imagined while he worked, his love for his son that resonated across the miles of computer networks that secreted away the girl.
It had been three months since they’d killed DeRegina, during which time Moto had visited Wyatt five times. With each trip, he hoped for some spark in Davina’s features, any indication that she might share even a fraction of his feelings for her, but he was always let down. She was supportive of him spending time with Wyatt and always made plans for herself while Moto was in town.
Trouble was, he didn’t know why. From that last dinner at her house in Houston to the present day, she hadn’t given him any idea of why she’d shut him out, and it was killing him. His nights, when he could sleep, were filled with dreams of her. His days with thoughts of going back there.
He’d hired a contractor to build his house, even okayed the plans with Davina and Wyatt in mind. It was a fantasy house built for a fantasy family that didn’t actually exist. Surely Wyatt would visit the house someday, but he couldn’t imagine Davina would be with him.
Moto tracked the terrorist to a server in Berlin, painstakingly working to find the next link in the chain, when suddenly an address popped on his screen. 1618 Rudersdorfer Street. “Logan, are you seeing what I’m seeing?”
“Almost there. Hang on… Holy shit, we got him!”
“Razorback!” belted Moto. “We got him! Get in here.” He rattled off the address the moment the other man entered the room.
“I’ll call Interpol.”
Moto sank onto a chair, exhausted. “Be safe, Molly,” he whispered to the universe. For the next hour, he waited with Razorback for any word on the girl’s fate.
The desk phone rang and Razorback answered it. “This is Ian Rhodes,” he barked. “Yes.” He stared at Moto. “Yes. Yes, I understand.” He hung up. “They found her, safe and sound.”
Moto instantly slumped, caving in on himself like he’d lost all his bones. “I need to get out of here.”