“My pleasure,” he’d told Maverick’s mother when she’d finally let go of him.
By then his eyes had been shimmering plenty, too.
“So what’s next?” Beau asked Connor now, needing details.
“We regroup. Rethink what we thought we knew, and we go after Montego again.”
“Only this time...” Gabe slanted a hesitant look Beau’s way. “You do know you’re off the case, right?”
“Yeah, yeah,” Beau waved his one good hand dismissively. “Alex said something about me taking some well-earned R&R.” Precisely what Beau was not good at doing.
But this time he just might do as he was told. He was after all, physically attached to some bright, shiny torture device hooked up to his bed frame, one that kept his new and freshly bandaged hand elevated, the attached finger in question restrained. The recently installed metal pins and rods in that hand also kept him from getting dressed and taking off like he had before.
The catheter under his sheets wasn’t much fun, either. Neither were the monitors at the head of his bed that the nurses fiddled with around the clock. But after emergency surgery to extract one helluva splinter from his extreme lower back, Beau figured he was lucky to be alive. The damned thing had barely missed one of his kidneys.
Not to mention that once Dr. Decker and Dr. Fitzgerald put their pointed little heads together, his war for independence was lost. Joining their forces, Alex Stewart had posted guards, like Gabe and Connor, to ‘visit’ and otherwise ensure that this ‘junior agent’ stayed put this time. Normally, that sort of treatment would’ve made Beau fighting mad, but he was learning what it meant to be part of The TEAM. Damned if it wasn’t—nice.
Not like Beau had any place to go besides his empty apartment, that while good enough, hadn’t been more than a clean place to chill. Bottom line, his world had changed, and he was changing with it. He’d finally ceased fighting the war within himself. He wasn’t an army of one. Had in fact never been one. And that was okay. All’s well that ends well, and all that crap.
Cocking his good arm behind his head, Beau asked his all too subdued teammates, “So where is she now? Do we, umm, do you guys know?”
“Seth spotted her in Havana,” Connor answered quietly. “He’s due home in the next day or so. Hope he’s got good intel.”
“We could use some,” Gabe added.
“Havana, huh?” Beau raised his eyebrows. “You guys sure that wasn’t another fake Montego?”
Connor shrugged. “Not sure of anything right now. This op’s been crazy from day one.”
“You’ve got that right. There were too many crazy women,” Beau replied.
“Makes you wonder if it’s nature or nurture,” Gabe mused as he scratched the day’s scruff under his chin and kicked his long legs out in front of him.
“Both,” Alex said as he opened the door, his other arm around his wife. “Montego’s parents were depraved murderers. No doubt Catalina and Roland witnessed plenty growing up. You slackers mind if we join the party?”
“Come on in,” Beau replied easily. “Sorry I can’t get up, ma’am,” he told Kelsey as he sent his boss an evil glare. “For some reason, I’m not allowed to leave.”
Alex grunted like he couldn’t care less, which was par for the course. Gabe and Connor however, popped to their feet and transferred their garbage to the waste can to clear a seat for Kelsey as quickly as they could.
“Guys, relax,” she told them. “We’re not staying. Just wanted to check in and see how you’re doing.”
Beau eyed her suspiciously. Both she and Alex were wearing black, him in a suit and she in a simple A-line dress with black heels. There was something she wasn’t saying. “Be better when I’m back on my feet, but Doc Fitz says I have to stay put if I want to keep my finger.”
“I’m surprised it’s still attached after all you put it through,” she said.
Connor chuffed. “So’s Doc Decker.”
Beau looked at his heavily bandaged left hand. For now, it was numb, but supposedly responding well. But if it ever came down to losing a finger, a hand, or hell, his leg to save McKenna, she’d win every time.
“So where are you guys headed?” he asked.
“Dempsey’s viewing is tonight,” Kelsey murmured.
“When’s the funeral?” Beau had to know.
“No funeral,” Alex said grimly. “Just a celebration of life, which you won’t attend if you know what’s good for you.”
‘We’ll see about that,’ Beau thought as he gave Alex his chin like he concurred with that stupid order.
Alex cleared his throat. “I heard back from the Army.”
This ought to be good. “And?”
“And you’ve earned a full and honorable discharge, Special Operator Jennings. No reduction in rank. No loss of seniority or benefits. The case has been officially dismissed.”
Kelsey smiled. “Isn’t that great?”
Beau’s throat went dry at how much his boss had done for him these last few days. “I, ah, don’t know what to say.”
Alex shook his head. “Forget it. It’s my job to take care of you screwballs. But before we leave…”
He reached behind Kelsey and opened the door to a frail Latino woman with an even frailer Latino gentleman at her side. The woman wore a light pink blouse over tan twill pants. The man’s outfit consisted of faded jeans, a worn western style shirt, a light gray cowboy hat, and a fancy tooled leather belt, complete with a silver buckle. Both were around fifty. But my hell, they looked like a puff of air would blow them over.
“Beau Jennings, I’d like you to meet Rubio and Esperanza Villanueva. Essie for short.”
“Evening,” Beau said as he eyed the strangers. Yet, there was something familiar about them. Something that called out for him to remember. He motioned them to come in. “It’s kind of crowded in here, but please—”
The woman’s fingers flew to her mouth. “It is him.”
Beau swallowed hard at the tremor in a voice that sounded damned familiar. “I’m who?”
“It’s you. My son,” she breathed, those slender fingers now fluttering at the center of her chest. “Do you see it, Rube? His eyes. The way his lips move. The shape of his eyes. It is him. I know it is. I’m sure.”
The gentleman’s dark brown eyes brimmed. He wiped a hand over his weathered, wrinkled brow, then took his cowboy hat off, and—
The planet jerked to a full stop. Damn. It can’t be...
Beau cocked his head, not ready to believe in miracles, but finding it hard to catch his breath. Truly afraid to believe that a hardass like Alex could pull off two miracles in one day, an honorable discharge, and whatever this was. But that older gentleman standing there twisting his hat in his hands could’ve passed for Beau’s older brother. Same skin tone. Same piercing dark eyes. Same—Jesus Christ—same everything.
Had Hell officially frozen over? “You know me?” Beau asked, seeking the truth in tired, mellow eyes that looked so much like his. Jesus, even the way this guy cocked his head and blinked as if he needed to clear his vision was oh, so familiar.
He bobbed his head as he pressed a sharp crease in that cowboy hat. “A father never forgets the child he lost,” he said, his voice cracking.
Chills swarmed up the back of Beau’s neck as suspicion gave way to suppressed anger. “Why?” he croaked, daring to believe this was true.
The woman’s head canted like she didn’t understand. “Why what, my little one?”
And that was enough.
“I’m not your little one!” Beau blasted her and the old guy for all the pain and suffering they’d left him to endure. “Why the fuck did you give me away? What’d I ever do that was so bad you didn’t want me?”
With tears in her eyes, she flew to his bedside and reached for him, but didn’t touch him. “Oh no, no, no. I did not give you away. It wasn’t like that. Your father and I have searched many years for you.”
“Then how?” Beau ground out. “How do you know I’m your kid? Cuz I’m sure as hell not feeling it. Not after all this time. Not after the crappy life I’ve had. It’s been years!”
Alex stepped forward. “DNA, Beau,” he said evenly. “I located them in Mexico City after they took one of those ancestry tests that are so popular right now. I’ve checked out their story. You were stolen out of the back seat of their truck at a rest stop in Nevada, when they traveled north to work the apple orchards in eastern Washington. As illegals, they had no way to locate you. Nobody at the rest stop saw anything. But trust me, Essie and Rubio are telling you the truth. They did all they could, even contacted the authorities, but there were no leads. No way to track you or to know who took you. No way to get you back.”
Bass and Fidget stole me? Why? Beau stared through his tears, ashamed at his ugly outburst, but so damned sick at heart. All these years wasted. All that time gone. And through every last sucking day of it all, he’d had parents who’d truly wanted him. Who still did. They were here, weren’t they?
“You named me Beau,” he said, not asked. Here was the test. He was sure Benjamin Beau had always been his name, though Bass had called him everything but.
With her fingers clenched at her side, Essie’s head bobbed. Man, with all those tears in her eyes, they were the exact dark chocolate caramel as his.
But it was the gentleman beside her, who claimed to be his father, who spoke. “That is not entirely true. We named you Benjamin Beauregard after your grandfathers. Beau for short, but none of that matters. I can prove you are my son.” Tipping forward as if he had a bad back or something, he pulled a tattered folded document out of his rear pocket. “Here. This is your birth certificate, Mr. Jennings. Look at it if that is who you really are, then tell me you are not mine.”
Beau did just that, snapping what looked like an aged document out of this convincing man’s fingers. His own eyes were plenty blurry, but he’d been fooled before. And yet…
The yellowed sheet of paper did look authentic.
That was the great seal of Mexico in the upper left corner.
The name of the civil registry judge did look authentic.
The date of birth wasn’t right, but that made sense. How would Bass or Fidget have known when he’d been born? Yet that was his name under the heading ‘Recorded Data’. Those were Rubio’s and Esperanza’s names on the lines. Villanueva, huh?
Rubio stepped forward, his head bare and a hint of something Beau could relate to in his eyes. Anger. “Why do you not believe me? Why are you still so angry, my son? We have waited long for this day.”
Essie’s fist went to her clenched lips. “You do not remember us,” she whispered, her voice no more than a raspy breath. “You... you do not need us.”
But Rubio had just used a term Beau had craved all his life. Not just son, but my son. To hear it now and said with such sorrowful conviction ripped the scabs off the blistered, aching holes in Beau’s heart. My son declared an intimate knowledge and an ownership. It declared fatherly possession of what had been lost. Goddamn, it declared love.
“It’s not that. It’s just” —he swallowed hard, finally convinced and in need of apologizing— “it’s just that all these years…” Jesus, how do I say this? “I thought...” Just spit it out. “I thought you gave me up because you didn’t want me.”
Those last, few, pitiful words came out like a pointed accusation. Out there in the universe somewhere, Kelsey’s sob caught. Alex cleared his throat. Connor and Gabe were silent.
“I thought, I don’t know, that I did something wrong to make you… to make you…” Beau never got the rest of that false childhood assumption—to make you stop loving me—out of his mouth.
With a heartrending cry that pierced every last chamber in his heart, Essie reached out and circled his hard head into her soft, warm embrace. Crying unabashedly, she kissed the top of his head while she rocked him and cried, “Mi bebé. Mi pobre bebé!”
My baby. My poor baby.
And Beau let her. Like a damned two-year-old, he let her, because this—this!—was what he’d missed every day of his miserable life as the worthless son of Bass Jennings. This connection. These arms. This sensation of being valued and treasured. Of being loved.
Reaching up with his one good hand, wishing to Jesus he had two, Beau clutched his mother’s quaking shoulder while her tears fell on him like rain. Blessing him like only a mother—a real mother—could ever do. Sobbing and crying, and that was proof enough. Fidget had never cried over him, not once. Over herself, yes. An addict living with Bass Jennings had plenty reasons to cry.
But this woman pressing him against her body now—like she wanted him back inside of her heart—like she was absorbing him even as big as he was—like he’d always been her little boy and no one would ever take him from her again—was hurting as much as Beau. No one could fake this kind of anguish.
“I’m sorry,” he cried as he held his mother for the first time in his memory.
“No, no, no! Not sorry, not you. I have you now. You are come back to me.” Without letting him go, she crossed herself and murmured, “Gracias Jesús. Muchas gracias,” into his hair.
To which Beau heartily agreed. Yes, Jesus. Thank you, thank you, so damned much.
Closing his eyes, he took a deep breath and let his weary soul fill with the lovely fragrance he vaguely recalled from long ago. Rosewater. His mother’s unique scent and the smell of home. Windows too long shuttered in the forgotten reaches of his heart reopened. Memories of sunny apple fields. Baskets of red, ripe fruit. Clusters of purple and green grapes. Dusty truck rides over bumpy gravel roads and fields. Giggling. Smiling for no reason other than he was a happy kid, and at long last, he was loved.
“Ma,” he choked out, then corrected himself. “Mi Madre…” Those words his heart knew. He’d said them before. “Mi Mama,” he savored, then nodded at his father to come join the huddle with a ragged, “Mi Padre. Papa. Dad.” My real Dad.
Essie stepped aside, giving Rubio access to his son for the first time in years. And Damn! Real men didn’t cry, yet when his father jerked him into his arms and squeezed the life out of him, Beau sobbed. Sons aren’t men. Not really. Inside, they’re needy little buggers who just want their moms and dads, and Beau was that very lost, needy little kid who’d finally been found.
When at last he lifted his teary face from the dampened folds of his father’s shirt, the room was empty except for him and his parents. And that was a good thing. Beau had some catching up to do.
Dragging his wrist across his face, still putting on a brave front, he motioned for Rubio to pull the hospital chairs closer to the bed. “Sit,” he told his mom and dad.
And stay. Please, please stay.
Chapter Fifty-Two
“Did I miss it?” McKenna asked as she ran toward Beau’s room, where it looked like a TEAM convention was in process. “I couldn’t get away.”
Alex stood there with his arm around Kelsey, who had her face in both hands against his chest. Connor and Gabe just looked awkward, like they didn’t know what to say or do.
“Rubio and Essie arrived early. I couldn’t make them wait to see their son,” Alex answered.
“No, of course not.” But darn. McKenna wanted to be with Beau when he met his parents for the first time. That had to have been hard on him.
“I’m sure he’d like you to join him now,” Kelsey added, wiping her teary eyes as she stepped away from Alex.
“Are you okay?” McKenna asked.
“Yes, but that was some reunion. All this time...” Kelsey’s voice trailed away.
Gabe blew out a whistle. “All this time is right.”
“What I just heard in there explains a lot. All this time, I thought he was just a
n ass....” Connor choked on his unfortunate word choice, then auto-corrected, “Ass-tronomically big jerk.”
“Good save,” Gabe snorted as he punched Connor’s bicep.
“How did he take it?” McKenna needed to know before she wandered into the lion’s den. Beau could be unpredictable, and this was such an—astronomically big event in his life.
Alex inclined his head at the closed door. “Go find out.”
“But first,” McKenna said when her hand hit the doorknob. “How’s Mother?”
“Dempsey’s viewing is tonight,” Alex replied. “Her celebration of life is tomorrow.”
“I can’t make it tonight, but I’ll be there tomorrow.”
“We’ll all be there,” Connor added. “My kids, too. They loved Dempsey.”
“Thank you, guys,” Kelsey said as she wiped the corner of her eye again. “Mother’s always kept so much of her life and problems to herself. I’m sure she’ll appreciate the support.”
Connor cocked his head, the sparkle in his blue eyes gone. “She’s always had it. She’s like Beau, she just didn’t know it.”
“And now she will,” Alex said as if that solved everything. “Damned hard way to figure it out, though. Are we still on for early this afternoon?” he asked McKenna.
“I’ll be there if you’re still willing.” Offhandedly, China had mentioned how much McKenna wanted to learn to shoot, but now she wasn’t so sure. Once Alex heard that, he’d scheduled time at the range. She’d rather wait for Beau, but she was committed now.
“I’ll see all of you later then.” And with that, McKenna slipped out of the hall and into Beau’s room.
His eyes lit up the second he spotted her. “McKenna! Come meet my mom and dad. And I’ve got older brothers. Robert lives in Houston, Mateo and Diego in Southern California. They’re coming to see me!”
Her eyes teared up at the genuine glow in his heretofore grumpy eyes, that, oh, my goodness, look just like his dad’s.
Beau (In the Company of Snipers Book 18) Page 36
