A SEAL’s Legacy (Jake’s Heroes #2)

1. Amos

AMOS

There are flecks of dust in the chamber, and I take the metal bore brush and poke it inside to get every last speck of grit and sand and gunpowder.

"You know it's my job to clean the guns." Petty Officer Diaz leans on the metal bench in the middle of the gear room.

I push my cleaning line through the barrel and pull it out the other side. I don't doubt Diaz's ability to do her job. We'd be lost without her making sure we've got the gear we need, but a sniper should be responsible for his own gun. And if I make a kill, I’ll damn well clean up after myself.

"I'm good, thanks."

"How did I know you were going to say that?"

There are footsteps outside, and a moment later Commander Briggs enters the gear room. He glances around with a frown on his face, and Diaz straightens up.

"I'll check the rest of the gear in." She picks up a clipboard and turns to the corner, checking over the ammunition.

"You did good today." Briggs nods curtly. "Nice work."

"I did my job." I lay my rifle across my lap and reach for a pot of oil and a small cloth.

"It's a job that isn't always easy."

"Nope." I pin the tiny cloth square to the end of my cleaning rod and drop a few spots of oil onto it as I wonder where this is going.

If he's going to send me back to the psych doctor, I'm not going.

I did the required counseling after Jake died.

That was nine months ago, and while not a minute goes by that I don't think about my kid brother, I've talked it out with enough military shrinks to know I'm good. At least, as I'm going to get.

His death will haunt me forever, and I'll never stop feeling responsible.

But I've learned to live with the guilt, the anger, and the bitterness.

If every kill I make is a tiny lead ball weighing down my heart, then Jake's death is a giant fucking anchor, pulling me down every single day.

But I'm a Navy SEAL. We're trained to get the fuck on with things.

So here I am, coming to the end of another deployment.

Posted somewhere off the coast of Yemen, going on missions, killing bad guys, doing my job.

"A call came in while you were out."

My head snaps up. "From home?"

"From your mom."

"Fuck." I lurch out of my seat and set the rifle down on the bench, almost knocking over the bottle of oil. "Is everyone okay?"

He holds up his hands, palms up. "They said not to worry but to call home as soon as you can."

"Fuck." I stride across the room and hand the rifle over to Diaz. "Can you finish this up for me?"

"I thought you'd never ask."

She grins, but there's concern behind her smile. I've worked with Diaz and Briggs for the last several years. They know what happened to Jake and the toll it took on my family.

"I've authorized a video call for you," Briggs calls after me.

I stride out of the cabin and head to the living quarters. My mind goes over the possibilities of what could’ve happened back home. The last thing my family needs is more heartache.

Mom is used to military life, having been married to a rear admiral for almost forty years. She wouldn't call unless it was important.

My mind turns in agonizing circles. Dad could have had a fall or an accident.

Please don't let it be Avery.

I pray to a god I abandoned years ago—or he abandoned me, I'm not sure who gave up on who first—but if there is a god out there somewhere, I pray to them that my kid sister is okay.

She's got Ed, that big silent lump, to look out for her now. I've never seen love like he has for my sister, and that's a comfort.

There's a laptop waiting for me in the comms room. And there's signal, which is a fucking miracle. I put through the video call to Mom. It's midnight back in North Carolina, but fuck if I'm waiting to hear whatever bad news they've got to tell me.

"Hey honey." Mom rubs her eyes as she sits up in bed. She switches a light on, and the screen flares for a moment.

"Is everything okay?"

In the corner of the screen, I get a glimpse of striped blue pajamas as Dad sits up next to her.

It's not Dad.

"We're fine and your sister's fine."

Relief floods me, and my heart slows down a notch. "Who is it? Ed?"

She shakes her head. "Sorry to worry you, honey. We're all okay. We've just had some strange news, that's all."

I relax a little. No one's sick. There's been no accident. Dad is in his striped pajamas next to Mom, looking as pissed off and stern as ever. Then her words catch up with me.

"What do you mean strange news?"

"Did Jake ever mention anything to you about a ..." She hesitates, and her face is scanning mine through the screen. "Did he ever mention a son?"

I stare at her, trying to make sense of what she's saying.

"A son?" The rocking of the ship tilts the laptop, and I grip the edges and center it on my knees. "Jake's got a son?"

Dad takes the laptop from Mom, and his face fills the screen. He holds it so close I can see the nostril hairs up his nose. Dad was an excellent rear admiral, but he's shit with basic tech.

"He's got a boy. Did you know anything about this? It's come as a shock to your mother, and she doesn't need any more surprises."

He's pissed. He thinks I've been keeping Jake's secret, but this is all news to me. I'm as shocked as they are.

"Are you asking me if I knew Jake had a son? I had no fucking idea."

"Watch your mouth, Amos," Mom chides.

"Sorry Mom," I mumble. "It's been a long day."

I pinch the bridge of my nose, trying to process this strange news. "Jake has a son. How do you know?"

Mom wrestles the laptop back from Dad. "We got a call at dinner tonight. The boy's mom was in an accident, and sadly she didn't make it."

"Who's the boy’s mom?"

"We don't know. The details are vague. All we know is she has no family, and Jake's named as the boy's father on the birth certificate."

"What the f..." I trail off at the sight of Mom's frown.

Mom hates swearing, and it's hard to go from military mouth to speaking to my parents.

But if Jake has a son, there's a piece of him still living.

Hope blooms in my chest. I miss my brother every day, and if there's a part of him living on in this boy, then I can't wait to meet him.

If the boy is his.

The thought invades my mind and bursts the bubble of hope. But once I've thought it, I can't let it go. If Jake had a son, he would have told us.

"The boy's in the hospital. He suffered minor injuries, but they're keeping him for observation." Mom says. "There's a caseworker coming to meet us in a few days. As next of kin, they'll be handing him over to us."

"They want you to take him?" I'm surprised they're considering handing him over to strangers. We don't even know if the boy is definitely Jake's.

"That's a big deal, Mom. They're asking you to take on this boy because someone named Jake on a birth certificate?"

"Not asking, Amos. He's coming to live with us."

I stare at her through the screen and see the hope in Mom's eyes. Hell, I feel it too. If there were any part of my brother left in this world, I'd want to grab it with both hands. But Jake wouldn't have kept something like this a secret. The chances are the poor kid's not his.

"Don't you think Jake would have told us if he had a child?" I say gently, hating to be the one to dash her hopes. "He wouldn't have kept this a secret. The boy might not be his."

Mom winces, and I hate how callous I sound.

"The boy needs a home, honey."

I hang my head because she's right. The kid needs a home. I just want my softhearted mom to make sure that he's Jake's before she takes on the responsibility of raising a kid at her age.

I run a hand through my hair. "Deployment ends this week. I'll be home in a few days. Please don't make any promises until I get back."

I end the call with their promises not to do anything until a paternity test confirms he's Jake's. I feel for the boy who needs a home. But I doubt he's Jake’s. Who would put Jake's name on the birth certificate and then not try to find him? Something is definitely off here.