3. Wyatt
THREE
WYATT
"Seriously, Hank. You don't believe me? You've known me, what, fifty years? You think I killed your dirty cop in cold blood?"
Hank Mitchell stood still, as if frozen in time, and looked at me with a deep frown. "You and I both know what you're capable of, Wyatt," he said, and even his own son, Dakota, looked at him in shock.
I simply let out a frustrated chuckle and shook my head, leaning closer to my old friend. "And you think I wouldn't cover my tracks if I did?" I said, and immediately, my lawyer slammed her hand on the table.
"I think that's enough talk for today. You...clearly don't have enough to charge him other than for circumstantial evidence, so I think it's time you let my client go."
Camille seemed rattled by my admission, and I couldn't blame her.
Yet, I couldn't help it if it was true. Had I wanted to kill Bennet—and why wouldn't I after everything he put us through this past year working for Salieri—he would still be missing.
His body would be fish food, and no one would be the wiser.
Look at Victor Lombardi. Dare's boyfriend had killed him to protect Dare, and no one knew he was gone. My team and I were very good at what we did. We didn't leave loose threads. We didn’t leave evidence. If we wanted to get rid of someone, there was never a trace leading back to us. This was clearly Salieri trying to shake the ground from beneath us, but I couldn’t tell anyone that.
And I wasn't going to let that man get to me.
I wasn't going to allow him to throw me off my game.
"Of course." Dakota rushed to get up and walked to the door while his dad was less quick to see me out.
"You know the drill, Goodman. Don't try to run."
I sighed and shook my head. I didn’t know why my friend wouldn’t believe me. He was being a professional, I guess, but did he have to talk to me like a common criminal?
Maybe he thought I’d done this. I should’ve been mad at him for not cutting the bad fruit from the tree sooner, for not knowing what was happening right under his nose, but I guess that wouldn’t help my case much.
I let Camille out first, and I followed behind her until we came up to a row of unoccupied chairs and she slammed her briefcase down.
"What the fuck, Wyatt? I told you not to say anything, and you practically admitted you would’ve killed the son of a bitch, only better."
I shrugged. "It's not a secret I was a Navy SEAL, Camille. I've done worse things."
Camille frowned and searched around us before she pouted. "Yes, but that's different. It's an assumption. Top secret stuff. This... You're a civilian now. You can't say shit like that. Especially not to the police."
I put my hands up and apologized when I caught a familiar figure entering the station.
"Warren?" I asked.
He rushed to me and stopped short of giving me a hug, choosing instead to grab my shoulder and shake me gently. "Are you okay? I just found out. I came as soon as I could."
"I'm okay," I said, and Camille huffed.
"Yeah. Only 'cause you have me here. You would have gotten yourself life in prison if there was no one to stop you in there," she said.
Warren turned to her, and I didn't miss the glint in his eyes as he scanned her top to bottom appreciatively. By the time she realized he was checking her out, he'd already composed himself.
"Hi," he said. "I don't believe we've met."
They shook hands, and Camille went off on my inability to shut up, making Warren laugh.
I groaned but took it. There was nothing else I could do in this situation. Especially with my brother flirting instead of showing his concern for me.
I couldn't blame him. I'd probably flirt too if Camille was my type.
Though she was a bit too young and a bit too woman for me.
I hated how easy it was for my brother to exist in this world.
How easy it was for most people, and yet I was scared of my own shadow.
So scared, in fact, I'd lost the One. The One who had loved me and cherished me for a decade.
Gosh, I'm pathetic.
It was probably for the best anyway. Dare dumping me. He deserved better than a guy who always looked behind his back even in the privacy of his own home in case anyone found out he was queer.
I'd spent so long being angry at him, but how could I blame him for not wanting to be a secret? No one should be a secret. And no one should put their dreams and goals on hold for someone like me.
"Do you need a ride? We can drop you off somewhere if you need," Warren asked.
Camille put her hands up. "I drove here. I'm okay," she said, and it was then Warren turned back to me.
"Can you go or are you waiting for something?"
I looked behind me, at Hank staring at me, and huffed. "We can go. It's okay," I said and took the lead walking outside.
The sun had risen while I'd been interrogated, and the sudden light and winter breeze took me by surprise.
I walked toward my brother's car in a straight line, but suddenly it wasn't so straight anymore and everything went blurry. My stomach growled.
I felt uneasy and unsteady, and just as I was about to collapse on the ground, I felt a strong pair of arms catch me and embrace me.
"Whoa there. Wyatt! Are you okay?" Warren asked, and I turned in the direction of his voice.
It was then I realized he wasn't the one to catch me. No. It was someone else.
I looked right in front of me, to the man who had stopped me from face-planting the dirt road underneath me, and I sucked in a big breath.
Standing before me was the most handsome man alive. Tall, dark, and handsome was an understatement where he was concerned. His trimmed beard framed his chiseled square jawline to perfection, yet didn't take away from the kind brown eyes staring back at me with concern.
"It's okay. Take it easy," he said in a foreign accent that sounded somewhat familiar, yet I couldn't quite place it.
Definitely not while he was holding me for dear life.
"Mmhmm," was all I managed and followed his instructions as he breathed in and out.
"That's great. You're doing great," he said, and a zing of heat, an energy of pure desire, shot down my body, making it harder to breathe instead of easier.
I stood there for what felt like a century, gazing into his eyes and him gazing into mine. It was intense, yet it felt completely natural, as if we'd been doing it for a whole lifetime.
I licked my lips and sighed deeply, savoring this moment, this view, when my brother walked into my field of vision and I realized what I was doing.
Shit.
"Uhm...I...feel better," I said and pushed myself away from that hunk of a man and stood on my own two feet, even if the ground felt unsteady in his presence.
"What happened?" Warren asked, and it took all my willpower to look away from the handsome man.
"I...I don't...I've been up all night. I'm probably hungry. Haven't eaten anything."
My stomach chose that moment to growl again, only helping my story.
Although, to be honest, it wasn't a lie.
I had felt lightheaded before the man caught me.
The problem was I was still lightheaded, but for entirely different reasons.
Reasons that I could feel staring at me and causing my body temperature to drastically rise.
"We should get you into the car. Maybe we should grab some breakfast?" the gorgeous man asked, and I had to fight with myself not to gape at him.
What was wrong with me? I'd never been like this in all my life. I knew how to control myself. I was never a desperate, horny man. I wasn't a victim of my own desires. I knew how to keep a straight face both figuratively and literally.
What was it about this man that made me forget myself? My very old self. I had years of practice being composed.
"What do you think? Should we get something to eat? I'm hungry myself," the man said to Warren, and I took a moment—just a second—to admire the shape of his face, the cheekbones, the ruffled hair, the thick eyebrows.
"Yeah. Me too," Warren replied and turned to me.
Thankfully, this time I managed to pry my gaze away before I embarrassed myself further.
I'd already made a fool of myself. Hell, I'd made more than a fool of myself. I'd almost collapsed, and this beauty of a man had caught me. As if I was a damsel in distress. Like a fucking princess.
"You two know each other?" I pointed from one to the other, and Warren smiled.
"Yeah, this is my friend, Ari. I told you about him," Warren said.
I narrowed my eyes and stared at my brother, trying really hard not to look at Ari, searching my memories for a mention of a friend.
"The doctor?" I asked. "You've got a van on Main Street, right?" I couldn't resist. I looked at him, and my knees went weak again.
This time, I didn't let myself collapse, though. I'd been enough of a clown for the day.
"Indeed. I have a mobile outreach van. I'm trying to help those who can't afford insurance."
I offered him my hand and steeled myself so his touch wouldn't affect me. "I'm Wyatt," I said. "Nice to meet you."
"I’m Aristotle. Aristotle Speliopoulos, but you can call me Ari. And it’s nice to finally meet you too," he said, and I cursed myself.
Because of course his touch made me feel things. Things that couldn't be described nor tamed. Not for long, anyway.
The hairs all up my arm rose at his mere touch, and the back of my neck filled with goosebumps that made me shiver. There was only one way to stop the flood of sensations. To pull away.
Which was exactly what I did.
"Come on. Let's go to Bonnie's." I checked my watch and headed to Warren's car. "She's the only one that will be open this early."
The others nodded, and after a few words with Camille, we set off. Ari offered me the front seat, and I spent the whole ride trying to resist looking back at him.
For some reason, I felt flustered the whole ride to Bonnie's. Flustered and on edge. As if I was still in the interrogation room and every move I made was being watched.
Was Ari staring at me from the back or was I projecting because he was the first guy I had taken interest in since Dare?
I was curious but too chicken to find out, so I didn't dare look back. I wanted to avoid giving my brother the impression that I was interested in his friend. Least of all to avoid giving away I was gay and not interested in women like him.
Yeah, the closet was so deep it was a surprise I hadn’t made it to Narnia yet.
Gosh, I'm pathetic.