Saving Wyatt (Mayberry Protectors #8)

1. Wyatt

ONE

WYATT

I’d made a lot of mistakes in my long life. My whole life was full of mistakes I couldn’t undo. That I couldn’t salvage.

Funny thing about mistakes. They had a way of coming back to bite you in the ass. One such mistake was staring right back at me now, with dead eyes. And I knew—I knew—this was the start of a whole new set of mistakes that were going to destroy me and everyone I loved.

Earlier

The bar was heaving. There were patrons coming out the wazoo, and they only seemed to be multiplying.

Gotta love the day after Christmas.

The island was still full of holiday tourists who either wanted relief from their families or to treat their hangovers by getting more sloshed. Not that I minded. Anything that filled up the reserves to get me through the quiet months was always welcome.

Although the lull between seasons and festivals was the least of my concerns at the moment. I was far more worried about his next move.

I’d been waiting all month. Waiting for him to do something—anything. The fact that he hadn’t acted yet worried me more than if I’d found myself knee-deep in trouble. The wait was worse. Far, far worse.

It meant he was calculating his next move. He was being strategic. He wasn’t acting on impulse.

Or maybe he was simply waiting to get into the office before he wreaked havoc upon our lives.

It had been over a month since we all found out the man we’d been hunting for over a year, the man who had made my home island a hub of crime and illegality, the man going by the name of Raymond Salieri, was none other than Jake Wilson. Our new mayor.

A man that had infiltrated our lives with lies and deceit and a healthy dose of philanthropy and fooled us all into believing he was nothing short of a saint.

Yet all he was was a sly criminal, a runaway from a New York City family, who’d somehow crowned himself king of Mayberry Holm with stolen money and resources.

“You okay, boss?” Donovan stopped next to me and nudged me with his elbow.

“What?” I grumbled.

He narrowed his eyes but didn’t seem deterred by my scowl.

None of them were. My effect on the men I used to command seemed to wane more each day. Nowadays all the men who had followed me in Mayberry Holm to help me rid this island of its rot looked at me more like that annoying uncle—hell, probably grandpa—who just spouted shit around the dinner table.

“You seem…away with the fairies.”

My chest flared at his words, and I growled a “get back to work” before I returned to my previous job. That of scoping out the place, of keeping an eye on every patron. Trying to suss out any suspicious glares or moves.

But of course, Wilson was far smarter than to make an appearance here and so were his men.

A part of me wished he’d strike already. This wait was putting me on edge that even strangers could notice. As was apparent by all the stares I got whenever my gaze landed on someone else’s.

“Mr. Goodman?” A young boy—hell, he was almost a man now—stopped in front of me, staring with bright gray eyes as if he was terrified of me, and I softened.

“What is it, Elliot? And I told you, you can just call me Wyatt.”

I must have re-iterated it like a hundred times, but he still called me by my last name. Not that it was a bad thing. It showed he was respectful and considerate, both great attributes considering the rough start he’d gotten in life and the way he’d ended up in my care.

“Sorry,” he said and licked his lips for a second. “Erm…Mr. Hawkins is looking for you.”

Parker?

I patted Elliot on the shoulder, and he showed me where Parker was waiting at the bar, head bowed, eyes focused on the sticky floor.

Shit.

“Parker, is everything okay? What happened?” I asked him as I approached, and he turned to me, looking more than a little flustered.

“Can we speak…somewhere more private?”

I bit the urge to curse and instead made him follow me to the top of the stairs and through the password-protected door into the hallway, and the buzz from downstairs was immediately drowned out, turning into a distant constant hum instead.

“What’s up, Hawkins? You’re worrying me. Did something happen? Is Levi okay? Hwan?”

He nodded with a smile.

“We’re all okay. Levi is settling in well. He’s still too shy to talk to us, but Hwan is spoiling him rotten with bubble tea and all the Korean food he could ever want.”

“I’m sure he’ll get there in no time.”

Parker shrugged. “Even if he doesn’t, it’ll be okay too. We’re prepared for any possibility.”

I put my hand on his arm and squeezed, looking him dead in the eyes. “Fostering is hard, but you two are more than up to the task.”

I didn’t know what had possessed them to apply for fostering when we were still dealing with Salieri and his criminal network.

Then again, so many of the guys I had invited to the island came with baggage.

Baggage I couldn’t have predicted or accounted for.

It was my fault for promising them a new start when that wasn’t a guarantee considering what we were dealing with here.

I hadn’t been able to sleep since Azrael brought a baby back with him.

And it was even worse when Teddy came with his little nephew.

They all seemed to be building their lives despite the danger, and while admirable, my guts were twisted to death.

They’d been twisted for months. I dreaded to think what might happen to them.

All of them. Even the SEALs without kids.

They’d all been through so much already, and thanks to me, they were being put through more hell.

“Do you need anything? You seem anxious.”

Parker shook his head and a smile crossed his face. He put his hand in his back pocket and handed me an envelope.

A pink envelope.

“What is this? Is your boyfriend sending me love notes now?”

Hwan was addicted to pink, though I wasn’t sure what the pink envelope was for.

“Fiancé,” Parker corrected me as I opened it to read.

Hwan Kim and Parker Hawkins request the honor of your presence on their special day.

“You’re…you’re getting married?” I asked.

Parker winced. Had I said something offensive? Or was it just my face?

“That’s…that’s great. Con-congratulations, guys!” I rushed to add and put my arms around him before he could detect something in my eyes or my expression that gave away my secret.

That I wasn’t angry he was marrying another man or in a relationship with one. I wasn’t mad at anyone who had come here and found the love of their lives in the eyes of another guy. I was frustrated I couldn’t be like them. Open. And happy.

“We…we were kinda hoping to have the ceremony here. If you wouldn’t mind,” he said with hesitation when we pulled away.

“Here? Really? Are you sure? There are far nicer places to have such a—pink, I imagine—wedding?”

Parker chuckled and scratched the back of his neck. “Ah yeah. Definitely pink. But we still want to have it here. This place—you—brought us together. We wouldn’t have met if you hadn’t invited me here. We want to honor that.”

There was a sting in my eyes, and my throat tightened, but I somehow kept my composure.

“Of course. I’d… That would be great.”

The day had been so…odd today. First Dare showed up at the crack of dawn to tell me he forgave me for breaking his heart and chickening out of making a home with him five years ago, and now Parker was getting married and telling me the life he had built was thanks to me.

Nice things didn’t happen to me. Ever. And now all of a sudden two of them happened on the same day?

I didn’t know what to make of it. What to think. Everyone was moving on with their lives but me. Everyone had found love on this island but me. Everyone was happy but me.

Maybe I was cursed.

Or maybe I simply didn’t deserve it. Happiness.

Maybe it was for people who hadn’t fucked up. For people who hadn’t made so many mistakes. For people that didn’t ruin everything they touched. For people who hadn’t put their friends and family in danger for some ego trip.

Because wasn’t that what it had been? This stupid decision to cleanse this island of the scum that had seeped into it while I was busy with the Navy? What was it if not my ego that made me think I had some sort of authority or power to go up against literal crime lords?

All I’d achieved was to start something I didn’t have the power or resources to see to the end. I’d been doomed from the start, but the worst part was I’d doomed the men that had trusted me too.

So, no. Nice things didn’t happen to me. Because I didn’t deserve them. So, I was sure—one hundred percent sure—that however great those things were that something terrible was going to happen. Something to balance the equilibrium or tip the scales against me even further.

It was a thought—no, a certainty—for the rest of the day. I expected my actions to come back at me, to haunt me like the monster I was. Only nothing happened, and I went to bed convinced I was wearing my demons around my back and convinced they’d turn into nightmares as soon as I fell asleep.

Smash.

Something broke. I opened my eyes, my ears already sharpened by the noise that shattered the quiet of the night and shot out of bed.

With my gun in my hand, I walked down the hallway, listening in on Autumn’s and Elliot’s doors, but they seemed to be fast asleep. Which only meant it had come from downstairs.

I made my way downstairs to the bar, and as I navigated in the dark trying to find the source of the mysterious noise, my foot slammed into something hard.

Aiming the gun at the floor, I looked down and felt a gut punch in my stomach. Because I was right.

Good things didn’t happen to Wyatt Goodman. And the dead body in the middle of my bar was proof of that.

I didn’t even have a chance to turn the lights on when the sirens and blue lights flooded the space and came for me.

Dakota Mitchell, the chief’s son, led the arrest, and it was then, as the cold metal of the handcuffs strapped around my wrist and the bar was illuminated by the dozen flashlights, that I saw the face of the murdered man at my feet.

Detective Bennet. One of Salieri’s dirty cops who’d been on the run since October.

I sighed and steeled myself.

Game on, Salieri. Game on.