Night Watch

by Suzanne Brockmann

  She kissed him back just as fiercely, knowing that he needed this, that even though he wasn’t going to let himself cry, that right now he could use sex as an emotional outlet.

  He wasn’t the only one.

  God, she loved him. But she didn’t dare tell him, afraid he would take her words as another burden, another worry, another problem to have to deal with.

  So she just kissed him.

  WES HAD STOPPED THINKING.

  Thinking hurt too much, and if he didn’t think, then all he did was feel, and right now he was feeling Brittany.

  Brittany, who thought he was a fascinating man. Brittany who just kept on liking him, who wouldn’t let him scare her away.

  He felt Britt’s mouth on his mouth, her breasts pressed tightly to his chest, her legs locked around his waist as he buried himself inside of her again and again and again.

  She was hot and slick and he couldn’t remember the last time anything—anything—had felt this incredible.

  “Condom,” she gasped. “Wes, we need—”

  A condom. He wasn’t wearing a condom.

  Now there was a thought that was able to cut through the haze of all that intense pleasure, and Wes froze.

  He opened his eyes and realized that not only was he inside of her without protection, but he was nailing her with no finesse, his pants around his thighs, no consideration for her comfort, her back pressed hard against the living room wall.

  But even though he’d stopped, she was still moving as if she liked it. No, forget liked—as if she loved what he was doing to her—as if she wanted and needed him as much as he needed her.

  “Please,” she said. “We need to get a condom. But I can’t seem to stop. This feels too good….”

  God, she was beyond sexy and he kissed her as he reached for the wallet in the back pocket of his pants.

  “Please,” she begged, between kissing him again. “Please, Wes—”

  Oh, yeah, the sexiest woman he’d ever had the pleasure of making it with was now begging him. But for what? To pull out, or—

  She gripped him with her legs, pushing him deeply inside of her, and she made a noise that was almost enough to make him drop his wallet.

  He’d put a condom in there in the event that they didn’t make it home from Old Town San Diego before needing to make love again.

  Because that’s what being with Brittany was like—it wasn’t so much that he wanted her, as a “yeah that would be nice” kind of thing, but rather that he needed her, like “if you don’t make love to me right now I’m going to die.” God, he needed her so badly, all the time.

  Maybe he should get her pregnant and marry her.

  God, okay, now he went from not thinking at all, to thinking crazy thoughts. Except merely being inside her like this, with no protection, was enough to knock her up. Enough damage had already been done.

  Surely she knew that. She was a nurse.

  And he wanted—needed…

  Brittany. In his life.

  For more than just the next week.

  Oh, God, what she was doing to him, despite knowing that he wasn’t wearing protection.

  Maybe she wanted him to get her pregnant. Maybe she wanted him to marry her, to start a family. He knew she still wanted to have a baby. How incredibly terrifying. What would he do with a baby? And yet the idea of coming home to Brittany every night was a damn appealing one.

  “I want to come inside of you,” he gasped, unable to form the words to really tell her all that he was feeling. Surely she would understand what he meant by that. “Britt…”

  She didn’t say no, but she didn’t say yes, either. She just exploded around him, and just like that, it was over for him, too. He pulled out, but it was, of course, too late.

  Brittany kissed him. “Tell me,” she said, before he’d even had a chance to catch his breath. “Right now, right this very moment, aren’t you even just a little bit glad that you weren’t the one who died?”

  Wes laughed and kissed her. “Yes,” he said. “Whenever I’m with you, baby, definitely yes.”

  THE PHONE RANG JUST after 4:00 a.m., waking Brittany from a restless sleep.

  Wes cursed like the sailor that he was as he reached across her for the cordless phone sitting in the recharger on his bedside table. “If this is another hang-up, I’m turning off the ringer.”

  “What if it’s Andy?” Britt asked, reaching to turn on the light.

  “Skelly.” Wes’s scowl softened when he caught sight of her face. No doubt she looked as anxious as she felt. “It’s not Andy,” he mouthed silently. But then whoever was on the other end of the phone had his full attention. “What?” He swore. “When?” Another pause. Whoever he was talking to, it was extremely serious. “Are they sure?” He swore again, then took a deep breath and blew it out hard.

  His hand was shaking as he ran it down his face, as he swore again. “No,” he said into the phone. “I know. I never thought… I mean, if anyone was indestructible… Oh, God. And they’re sure it’s not a mistake?”

  Oh, God—indeed. Someone had died. Someone Wes cared about.

  As Britt watched, he threw back the covers and got out of bed.

  “Yeah,” he said into the phone, pulling clean underwear and socks from his dresser, and a T-shirt from another drawer. “I’ll call Bobby. He’s on his honeymoon, but he’ll definitely want to know. Jesus.” He rubbed the back of his neck as if it ached. “Yeah. Thank you, Senior Chief. I appreciate the call, and…” Pause. “Yeah, I’ll see you over there.”

  He hung up the phone and stood there for a moment, with his back to Brittany, taking another deep breath and exhaling hard.

  “Wes,” she said softly. “What happened?”

  He turned toward her, his face stony in its grimness. “Matt Quinn’s dead.”

  Matt…? For a second, Brittany didn’t recognize the name. But then she did. She just hadn’t heard his given name all that often. But Matt Quinn was the Mighty Quinn. Wizard the Mighty Quinn.

  Lana Quinn’s husband. And Wes’s good friend.

  And he was…dead?

  “Oh, my God,” she breathed. “How?”

  “Helicopter crash. His SeaHawk went down over the ocean, on the way back in from an op. Jesus, I have to take a shower.”

  Brittany followed him into the bathroom. “Was everyone on board lost?”

  “No,” Wes told, turning on the water and waiting for it to heat. “The rest of his squad was pulled out of the water, but Quinn and two members of the helo crew were killed on impact. The PJ’s didn’t get them out before it went under, though. Apparently there’s some kind of storm cooking in that area right now—it’s going to be a few days before they get divers in to recover the bodies—if they manage to do it at all. Which is going to make it that much harder for Lana.” He looked at her, as if seeing her for the first time since he got off the phone with the senior chief. “Will you do me a favor?”

  “Of course.”

  “I have to call Bobby. Somewhere on the desk in the kitchen is a piece of paper with the phone number of the resort where he and Colleen are staying.”

  “I’ll find it,” she told him.

  “Thanks.” He stepped into the shower.

  “Wes.” Britt stopped him from closing the shower curtain. “It’s okay if you cry when you find out that a friend is dead.”

  But he had that stoneman look on his face again. “Just find me that number, please.”

  Brittany went into the kitchen via the bedroom, where she pulled on a T-shirt and a pair of Wes’s boxers.

  Maybe he’d just never cry. Maybe he’d go through life using high-intensity, mindless sex as his way of expressing his emotions.

  Mindless to the point of ignoring all birth control and safe sex precautions.

  A chilling jolt of disbelief went through her. God, what had they done?

  Having unprotected sex was stupid. There was no good reason to do it, no acceptable excuse.

  And the real
ly stupid thing was, they hadn’t even talked about it yet. After, Wes had dragged her into the shower and washed them both clean. One thing had led to another and they’d ended up in his bed, communicating once again through touch.

  They’d spent the whole night sleeping and waking up to make love—with proper protection each time.

  All night long, every time she’d thought about getting up the nerve to say, “So. Wesley. Sex without a condom. What were we thinking?” he’d kissed her.

  And lordy, lordy, how that man could kiss!

  He’d sucked all the unspoken words right out of her mouth, and managed to empty her brain of all thoughts besides those of immediate gratification.

  Up to a few minutes ago, when that phone call came, Brittany had played out the “what if she were pregnant” scenario right to a fairy-tale happy ending. She’d get the baby she’d always wanted, and a husband she loved—who loved her, too. Because Wes did love her. She knew that without a doubt.

  The trouble was, he loved her second best.

  But now, suddenly, with Quinn’s untimely death, Britt was the potential obstacle that would keep Wes from finally finding true happiness with Lana.

  And wouldn’t that be just his luck? Lana was finally free, although not in a way that anyone had hoped for, except, whoops, Wes might well have just gotten his girlfriend—no, make that his casual sex partner—pregnant.

  Oh, God.

  After Wes got out of the shower, he was going to get dressed and go over to Lana’s house. I’ll see you over there. They’d all go over to Lana’s house—all of Wizard’s friends and teammates, and their wives and girlfriends as well. They’d sit shiva, so to speak.

  Melody had once told Brittany how tight-knit the SEAL community was. Wes and his friends would take care of Lana. They’d comfort her.

  Yeah, Wes was pretty good at comfort.

  In the kitchen, Britt sifted through torn slips of paper that had Wes’s odd, almost spidery handwriting on them. ABC Cab, here in San Diego. His brother Frank’s new phone number in Oklahoma City. Aunt Maureen and Uncle George in Sarasota, Florida. The phone number of a comic book store in Escondido. The 800 number for Alamo car rental at the airport.

  Gee, that might come in handy.

  Aha. Bobby and Colleen. They had an entire full, untorn sheet devoted to them.

  Wes had written down their new address and phone number, as well as the dates of their honeymoon—which ended last night. Yes, according to their flight information, they’d arrived in San Diego shortly after 8:00 p.m. last night.

  The shower had shut off, and by the time Brittany went back into the bedroom, Wes was already dry and getting dressed.

  “I want to get over there quickly,” he said to her, “so if you want to shower—”

  “I’m not going,” she said. “You know. To Lana’s. The last thing she needs is a stranger hanging around right now.”

  He stepped into his pants. “It’s just… I’m not sure how long I’m going to be.”

  “That’s okay,” Brittany said. “Of course you’ll stay as long as she wants you to stay. I know that. Don’t worry about me. I’m going to call a cab. I’ll rent a car and head back to L.A. Andy’s doing fine—he and Dani seem to have things under control. You don’t need me hanging around here, so… I’ll call work, see if they need me to do a shift tonight. It’s a good thing for me to do—I’ll win brownie points with my supervisor.”

  He nodded, clearly distracted. “I wonder if anyone called Amber.”

  He picked up the phone and dialed.

  Brittany sat on the bed and watched as he made sure the word about Matt Quinn had made it to Lana’s sister in L.A. It had. Amber was already in San Diego, with Lana.

  She watched as he finished dressing in a tan uniform—a chief’s uniform. It was less formal than the one he’d worn to the party, yet it still managed to accentuate his broad shoulders and trim hips.

  He took his cell phone from the charger and slipped it into his pocket, found his hat….

  “You can stay as long as you like,” he told Britt. “Go back to sleep if you can.”

  She shook her head. “I can’t.” She handed him the piece of paper with Bobby’s phone number on it. “Don’t forget to call Bobby. He and Colleen got home last night.”

  “Thanks. I was going to call him from the car,” he said, folding up the paper and putting it in his shirt pocket. “How’re your head and ankle this morning?”

  “They’re fine,” she told him. And they were. It was her heart that was breaking.

  He kissed her—briefly—on the mouth. For the last time? Maybe. Probably. Oh, God.

  “I’ll talk to you later,” he said. “I’ve got to go.”

  Of course he did. Lana needed him.

  The stupid thing was, it was Wes’s love for Lana that had truly made Brittany fall for him. He was an amazing man. He’d cared about Lana so deeply for so long. And yet, he’d always done what was best for Lana, regardless of his own wants and needs—even when it would have been easier to do otherwise.

  And wasn’t that the exact opposite of That-Jerk-Quentin, Britt’s ex, who wanted everything in life to be easy, who wasn’t willing to work to make their relationship last even a few short years.

  God, what she wouldn’t give to spend the rest of her life with Wesley Skelly.

  Brittany figured that her best chance was to be patient and steadfast and become the woman he would settle for. And yeah, loser that she was, she was willing to be his second choice. He was that great, and she loved him that much.

  But now she wasn’t even going to have that opportunity. Because Lana was suddenly no longer unattainable.

  Britt heard the door close as he left the apartment, heard his car start as he drove away.

  Out of her life.

  Please God, don’t let me be pregnant.

  It was one thing to be his second choice when his first choice wasn’t an option. It was another entirely to be his burden.

  No matter what happened, she wouldn’t do that.

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  WES HAD TO PARK six houses down—there were that many cars in the street outside of the little bungalow Lana had shared with Matt “Wizard” Quinn.

  Bobby and Colleen were pulling up just as he was getting out of his car, and he waited for them.

  Jesus, his sister was young. Every time he saw her, he couldn’t believe that she was married. God, before he knew it, she was going to tell him that she and Bobby were going to have a baby. And wasn’t that going to be freakin’ weird.

  Bobby looked…like Bobby. Like a guy who was as big and as mean as a football linebacker, like a guy who could chew you to pieces if he got mad enough. With his long black hair tied in a braid down his back, and his Native American heritage showing in his cheekbones and coloring, people stopped and stared when he walked down the street.

  Wes knew they were something of a visual joke when they were together. Bobby and Wes, the inseparable team of chiefs from SEAL Team Ten. Wes and Bobby. Mutt and Jeff. Ren and Stimpy. Fleaman and Giagantor.

  Wes’s lack of height and girth was accentuated when he stood next to Bobby, but the truth was that there was nowhere he’d rather stand. And Bobby, God bless him, never made Wes feel lacking in any way, shape or form.

  He may have looked like a bruiser, but Bobby Taylor was one of the nicest, kindest, gentlest guys Wes had ever met, a guy with a goofy smile and dark brown eyes that could see inside of Wes’s head in a single glance.

  Wes held out his hand for Bobby to shake, but Bobby pushed it aside and hugged him. He and Colleen were both crying. She’d never met Quinn, but that didn’t matter.

  He could tell just from looking that his sister was scared to death. This was her first taste of loss of life in the teams.

  Well, welcome to the harsh reality of being married to a Navy SEAL during wartime, babe.

  She’d been so keen to marry Bobby. Now she had to face the risks and dangers, up close and personal
.

  “I can’t believe he’s gone,” Bobby said.

  “Have you been inside?” Colleen asked. “How’s Lana?”

  “I just got here myself,” Wes admitted. “So I don’t know. I’m sure she’s emotionally wrecked.”

  “Last time I talked to Quinn was, man, it must have been four months ago,” Bobby said.

  “I got an email from him right after you guys got married. He wanted me to tell you that he wished he could’ve been there.” Wes had to clear his throat. He swore.

  Bobby hugged him again, and then Wes found himself looking into the eyes of the man who was his best friend in the whole flipping world—and wanting to tell him about Brittany. But it didn’t quite line up with all this pain about Wizard.

  His news was going to have to wait. Until he figured out exactly what kind of news it was.

  “You okay?” Bobby asked him.

  “Yeah,” Wes said. “No,” he added. “I’m like you—It’s so fricking hard to believe. I mean, the senior chief called to tell me, and I kept asking was he sure, you know, that it was Quinn who was dead. How could he be dead?”

  Bobby sighed as he shook his head. “I don’t know. We should go inside though. You’re probably in a rush to see Lana.”

  “Yeah,” Wes said, although it wasn’t true. He was dragging his feet, and wasn’t that strange?

  He followed Bobby and Colleen up the path to where Lana’s front door was wide open. They all just walked in.

  The little house was crowded. Most of Team Ten was there, pulled straight out of bed upon receiving the news. Crash Hawken and Blue McCoy and even the CO, Joe Catalanotto were near the fireplace. Lucky, Frisco, and the senior chief, Harvard Becker stood by the window. Harlan “Cowboy” Jones—Britt’s brother-in-law—was right by the front door, talking to Mitch Shaw.

  They’d all worked with Wizard at one time or another.

  “Excuse me, sir. Where’s Lana?” Bobby asked Lt. Jones.

  “She’s taking a walk on the beach with Veronica Catalanotto,” he told them, his eyes narrowing slightly at he looked at Wes.

  Jesus, that kind of look meant… Did Jones know about Wes and Britt? Oh, man, look at him—he did. What had Britt told him the other night, at Dani’s sister’s apartment?