Night Watch

by Suzanne Brockmann

  Knowing Britt, she’d told Jones the truth.

  Oh, boy. Wes was so dead.

  “There’s coffee in the kitchen,” Lt. Shaw told them.

  Wes escaped, certain that Jones would somehow be able to tell from looking at him that Wes had quite possibly gotten Jones’s sister-in-law pregnant just last night.

  He poured himself a mug of coffee and took a bracing sip. It was hot as hell and burned all the way down, but that was just as good. It distracted him sufficiently. This wasn’t the time or place to be thinking about what he and Britt had done last night.

  Oh, but holy God, he hadn’t been able to stop thinking about it, all night long. He’d even dreamed about it, while he’d slept.

  If she was pregnant, he’d marry her. He didn’t have to think twice about it—but that wasn’t what was on his mind.

  No, what he couldn’t stop thinking about was how badly he wanted to make love to her like that again. With nothing between them. If she were pregnant, then hell, he couldn’t exactly get her pregnant again, now could he? So they could throw away their condoms and…

  And spend the rest of their lives laughing and talking and making love the way they had this past incredible week.

  Yeah, some time between last night and this morning, Wes had started praying to God that Brittany was pregnant.

  And wasn’t that the weirdest flipping thing?

  No. Actually, it wasn’t so weird. It made sense in an odd sort of way. If Britt was pregnant, Wes would have no choice.

  Those things she’d said to him last night had struck home. Some truths had come out—including the fact that for all these years, Wes had felt as if he should have died instead of Ethan. It was crazy. It didn’t make sense—he wasn’t even in the car—but that didn’t matter. He was the loser in the family, so he should have been the one who died.

  He’d thought about it some last night—when he wasn’t losing himself in Brittany’s sweet love.

  This was why he didn’t go home to visit. Because he couldn’t face his parents and his brothers and sisters. Because surely they looked at him and shook their heads, and wondered why God had taken Ethan and left screwup Wes on earth, instead.

  So yeah. Brittany had been right about a lot of things. His loving Lana. Yes, it was true that people couldn’t help falling in love. But they didn’t have to spend over five years pining away, for God’s sake.

  Unless maybe they were punishing themselves.

  Losers like Wes didn’t deserve to live happily ever after. They didn’t deserve a beautiful, warm, caring woman who loved them fiercely and passionately.

  They could, however, get a woman pregnant and have that happy ever after forced upon them.

  Jesus. He clearly needed some serious therapy.

  Or a whole pack of cigarettes.

  Or maybe he just needed Brittany.

  The back door opened, and the CO’s wife, Ronnie, came into the kitchen with Amber and… Lana.

  Wes’s heart twisted when he saw her, but it was a different kind of twisting than it had been in the past.

  She looked exhausted, with dark circles beneath haunted eyes, and a face that was pale and pinched with grief.

  It was more than obvious that all three of the women had been crying.

  Lana slipped past Wes without saying anything, with only the briefest touch of her hand on his arm. He watched her head down the hall to her bedroom, feeling helpless and useless.

  He wasn’t what Lana needed or wanted right now.

  She wanted Quinn to come through the front door, laughing and telling them all that he wasn’t dead, that it had been some kind of crazy mistake.

  But Wes knew that wasn’t true. The senior chief had told him that Lt. Jim Slade—the SEAL known as Spaceman—had been on that op, and had seen Quinn’s body.

  Ronnie followed Lana, sending Wes a look filled with sympathy and compassion, but Amber stayed behind, in the kitchen.

  “They won’t tell her anything about the mission he was on,” she said to him, her voice tight. Amber was amazing. She even managed to look beautiful right after she’d cried.

  Or maybe she was just plastic.

  “Yeah,” Wes said. “That’s the way it works. The Navy can’t give out details, and for a good reason. It put other SEALs and other ops in jeopardy. But I think Lana probably knows in her heart what Matt and his team were doing out there. It wasn’t just some pleasure cruise.”

  The SEALs had been making the world just a little bit safer, even if it was just by eliminating one terrorist at a time.

  “That doesn’t make it any easier for her,” Amber said.

  “No,” he agreed. “It doesn’t.”

  Amber sighed. “I know it was probably hard to tell, but… Lana’s glad you’re here, Wes. She’s told me a lot about you, just over the past couple of days—we’d been talking a lot, on the phone, before this happened. It’s crazy. I just had this conversation with her where I actually asked her if Quinn died, would she hook up with you.”

  Wes took a step back, not sure he wanted to hear what Lana’s answer had been.

  But Amber didn’t seem to notice his reluctance to continue this conversation. She just kept on talking. “She said she didn’t really know if that was something you wanted anymore—you know, a relationship with her. I pushed her, asking what she wanted, and she finally said maybe she would, and God help me, because I like you so much better than Quinn, I said, well, then I hope he dies.”

  Her face crumpled like a little girl’s as she started to cry again, and Wes put his arms around her.

  “Come on, Amber,” he said. Like Lana, she was much shorter and slighter than Britt, and it felt odd—almost as if he were embracing a child rather than a woman, as if he had to be careful, to treat her as if she were fragile and might break if he held her too tightly. “You know saying that didn’t make it happen.”

  “He was a complete scumball,” she sobbed into his shoulder, “but Lana loved him. I didn’t really want him to die.”

  “I know that,” Wes said. “And I’m sure Lana does, too.”

  “I just thought she deserved better.”

  “She deserves someone who loves her enough to be faithful,” Wes said. “Everyone does.”

  “I’m supposed to be asking everyone to leave.” Amber looked up at him through her tears. “Lana’s said she was going to take one of the sleeping pills the doctor gave her, and… But maybe you should stay.”

  “I don’t think—”

  “Maybe you could make her feel better, make her start thinking about the future. Maybe—”

  The future? “That’s not such a good idea.”

  Amber pulled back slightly. “Why not?”

  He sighed. “Well, for one thing, Lana doesn’t need to think about the future today. She needs to grieve. And that’s not about looking ahead. It’s about reflecting and, well, being. Enduring these next few days and weeks.”

  “She needs someone to hold her,” Amber countered, wiping her face with her hands and stepping more fully out of his embrace. “She needs someone who loves her.”

  “That’s why you’re here,” Wes said gently. “Right?”

  Amber nodded. “But—”

  “I’ll stay if she asks me to,” Wes said. “I’d do almost anything for her—I think she knows that. But she’s not going to ask.” She’d barely even looked at him when she walked past him. It was beyond obvious that she didn’t need him. And funny, but that realization didn’t upset him the way that it would have just a few weeks ago.

  A few weeks ago, he would have followed Lana out of the kitchen—no, he would have gone out onto the beach, looking for her when he first arrived. He would have fought through a crowd to get to her side to comfort her—whether she’d wanted him to or not.

  “She needs you and Ronnie to stay right now,” Wes continued.

  Amber wouldn’t let him escape out the back door. “Lana told me that she kissed you once.”

  Oh, man. �
��Yeah,” Wes said. “And the key word there is once. It shouldn’t have happened, and it didn’t happen ever again.”

  “She said you were the most honorable man she’s ever met.”

  “Yeah, I’m not so sure about that.” Time to change the subject. “How’s it going with the new security team?”

  Amber shrugged. “Fine. My manager found a security company that specializes in guards who fade into the background. It’s working well. The weird phone calls have completely stopped.”

  “That’s good to hear.”

  “Yeah, maybe he’s given up and is stalking Sarah Michelle Gellar instead.”

  Wes glanced over at the door leading to the living room, checking out an alternate escape route, only to find Lt. Jones leaning in the doorway, listening. How long had he been standing there? He turned back to Amber. “Maybe you better go let people know Lana would like us all to leave.”

  She nodded, giving Jones a somewhat blatant once-over before leaving the two of them alone.

  Jones—tall and lean with a face like a movie star and sunbleached hair—didn’t so much as glance at Amber twice. “Where’s Brittany?” he asked.

  “She’s heading back to L.A.,” Wes said. “She’s renting a car—she didn’t want to stick around. She said she didn’t want to get in Lana’s way.”

  Jones didn’t look happy. “So you just…what? Put her on a bus to the car rental place?”

  “No, sir. She said she was calling a cab. I tried to give her money, but, you know, she’s a big girl, Lieutenant. I can’t force her to do anything she doesn’t want to do.”

  “She’s in love with you,” Jones told him.

  Wes laughed—mostly because he was so surprised. It was either that or faint. “Whoa,” he said. “Wait. She actually told you that?”

  With Brittany, anything was possible.

  “Not in so many words, no,” Jones said and the accompanying disappointment that hit Wes at that news surprised him even more. God, maybe it shouldn’t have, considering what he’d been thinking these past few hours. “I know her pretty well, Skelly. She’s not the type of woman to have casual sex.”

  “She’s not some kind of nun, either,” Wes told him. “She’s incredibly hot and—”

  Jones closed his eyes and made a face. “Yeah, don’t go into any details. That’s already more than I want to know.”

  “She’s great,” Wes said simply.

  “Yes,” Jones said. “She is. So don’t mess with her. I don’t know what you’ve got going here with Lana—”

  “Nothing,” Wes said. And damn if it wasn’t the truth in every single way. He still loved Lana—on some levels he would always love her, but it was a pale emotion compared to his crazy feelings for Brittany. Brittany—who was so much more to him than a distant and unattainable goddess. She was his friend, his lover, his partner.

  His heart.

  Wes took out his cell phone. “Excuse me, sir, but I have to call Brittany. There’s something I forgot to ask her before she left.”

  BRITTANY PARKED THE rental car in her driveway in Wes’s spot.

  Wes’s spot. Listen to her. The man had only been around for about a week, and somehow this particular patch of the driveway had become his?

  Yes, he’d parked there, but big deal. It was where Melody parked when she and Tyler came to visit, too.

  God, she was exhausted. And yes, let’s be honest. She was sad. Very, very sad.

  She was in love with Wes Skelly.

  Who, right now, was probably sitting with his arms around Lana Quinn, comforting her while she cried over her scumbag of a dead husband.

  Britt dragged herself up the stairs to her door, unlocked it and stepped into the past. Inside her apartment it was still three days ago. Everything was carefully preserved as if it belonged in a museum devoted to late last Saturday night.

  The dishes they’d used for dinner were still in the sink. The newspaper was open on the table, to the entertainment section. Yeah, like they were actually going to go out to see a movie. They’d considered it for all of four minutes before falling back into bed.

  They’d left in a hurry, though, when Andy had called.

  The garbage was ripe—man, it smelled awful in there. And the dishes in the sink didn’t help.

  She carried the garbage pail through the living room and set it down on the porch, outside the front door.

  The dishes were handled quickly, too, but the room obviously needed a good airing out. Brittany pushed the air conditioning to a colder setting, and then there was no reason to procrastinate further.

  She picked up the kitchen phone and dialed Wes’s cell. She already knew the number by heart.

  Please God, don’t let him be there. Let her leave a message. It would be much easier that way. And God knows this was going to be hard enough.

  She’d come up with a plan during the drive home from San Diego, and although it involved fighting for Wes, trying to make him see just how good they fit together, it had to start with her setting him free.

  Completely. Like that stupid, sappy saying about the butterfly or the bird or whatever it was that she’d always rolled her eyes over in the past. Or…

  If you love someone, set them free….

  She had to do this.

  “You have reached the voice mail for…”

  “Skelly,” growled a recording of Wes’s voice.

  “Leave a message at the beep or press one for other options.”

  Britt took a deep breath as the phone beeped. “Wes. Hi. It’s Brittany. I’m back in L.A.—I made it here, no problem. I just wanted to…” She had to clear her throat before she said it. “I wanted to tell you that I truly enjoyed the time we spent together these past few days. I wanted to thank you for that, with all my heart.” She said the words in a rush. “But I really think it would be smart if we didn’t see each other again. At least not, you know, romantically.” God, now she was even starting to sound like him when she talked. “And not at all for at least a few months.”

  She cleared her throat again. “I’m going to pack up your things—your clothes and toothbrush and whatever else… I’ll send them back to you. I’ll overnight the package so you’ll have it right away.

  “I hope you aren’t too upset with me, but I really do think it’s best that we make a clean break, and that we do it now. I know your leave’s not up yet, but I’ve got school and Andy and his scholarship to handle, and this thing with Dani to help with. I don’t need any distractions right now, and let’s face it, you’re pretty distracting. And you…well, you’ve got a…well, a rather full plate right now, too.”

  Here came the really hard part. The flat-out lie. “I know you’re probably freaking out about last night, thinking that I might have gotten pregnant, but you don’t have to worry about that. Everything’s fine. I got my period this morning.

  “So,” she said, trying her best to sound breezy and upbeat. “Okay. Thank you again. It was… fun.”

  Hang up the phone, fool, before you say something you regret.

  “Good luck, Wes,” she said. “Take care of yourself.”

  She cut the connection.

  Don’t cry, don’t cry, don’t cry.

  Have a cup of tea instead.

  Brittany emptied the kettle and filled it with fresh water, then turned on the stove. Her eyes were watering merely because it still smelled so bad in here.

  She rummaged under the kitchen sink for the Lysol, and sprayed the room. Too bad she couldn’t erase her feelings for Wes as easily.

  But okay. She’d done it. She’d survived step one.

  Step two was going to be hard, too. If he called, she’d have to refuse to talk at any length, to be polite but firm. No, she didn’t think it would be smart to see him again. No, it was no problem, in fact, she already sent his stuff. Yes, she definitely wasn’t pregnant.

  Liar.

  She hated liars. She’d worked long and hard to teach Andy that no matter what the situation, tellin
g the truth was the only real option.

  Although, at the time, she hadn’t encountered the situation in which her lover might have knocked her up on the night before finding out that the husband of the woman he truly loved had been killed.

  God.

  With luck, she wouldn’t be a liar for long. She should be getting her period in a matter of days. And if she didn’t…

  She didn’t want to think about that. If it happened, she’d cope.

  Step three in her plan was waiting. One month definitely. Probably more like two. Matt Quinn’s body had to be recovered—if possible. There would be a funeral, or at least a memorial service. And then time had to pass. Weeks. Maybe months.

  Enough time for Lana to begin to stop grieving.

  Enough time for Wes to feel comfortable about courting Matt Quinn’s widow—if that really was what he wanted to do.

  Of course, this plan could backfire. Wes and Lana could very well leap into a relationship right away. And then Brittany would lose.

  But if that happened, so be it. It would mean that Wes would never have been happy with Britt. It would mean that Brittany would have been his second choice. And, after a great deal of thought and reflection, she had come to the realization that being someone’s second choice would never really be enough to make her truly happy.

  But, in a few months, if she hadn’t heard about Wes’s pending engagement to Lana through reports from Melody and Jones, Brittany would plan a trip to San Diego. And while she was there, she’d make sure she bumped into Wes. Heck, she’d knock on his door if she had to.

  And, at that point, after giving him plenty of time to think and recover from the shock of Quinn’s death, Brittany would do her darndest to make Wes see that he belonged with her. She would fight for him. She would convince him that this thing that they’d found together—friendship, passion, compatibility, laughter, love—was worth keeping. She would convince him that she was not just his best choice, but his only choice.

  But first she had to wait until the confusion and grief and emotion surrounding Matt Quinn’s unfortunate death began to fade.