Page 7 of Weston

Furious, Wes still flew to Indonesia. He’d insisted on searching the research vessel Ellie and her team had been on, desperate for evidence or a clue as to who had committed such a heinous act. The image of the sea serpent drawn on a wall and finding the charm from Ellie’s necklace still haunted him.

With nothing else to go on, he went to the local morgue, screamed at them for cremating her and took her ashes. He’d lost his mind a little, but he’d been an absolute mess. An emotional basket case looking for someone to take his anger, hurt and frustration out on.

But now he had a new piece to the puzzle, a fresh lead that could help him track down Ellie’s killers. And nothing would stop him. Not his conscience and certainly not having only one leg.

Wes looked down at the prosthetic limb in the seat beside him. The moment he put it on, the clock began ticking, so he planned to keep it off until they landed. An amputee could only wear a prosthesis for a certain amount of time. It created stress and pressure on the rest of his body which could lead to not only pain and discomfort, but also early degeneration of his lower back, hip, knee and ankle. Skin breakdown at the attachment point was always an issue and he’d dealt with his fair share of blisters, abrasions and swelling. Sweating and moisture was a whole other level of discomfort, but he was prepared and used a special antiperspirant, a moisture wicking sock and a well-fitted liner to minimize those effects.

Even with all that, it wasn’t going to be perfect. All the humping through the jungle and inevitable moisture from sweat would cause his stump to burn and most likely blister. But if it led to Ellie’s murderers, every searing step would be worth it.

“Hey.” Wes looked over at Corey who sat on his other side. “If you need anything, let me know.”

Wes met Corey’s intense blue eyes. They were like two ethereal shards of ice, bright and diamond-like above his full, dark beard. An emptiness, much like Wes’, made them appear vacant more times than not.

“I mean anything, Murph.”

His friend’s offer was clear and Wes nodded his thanks. Corey had his back and was ready to slay some pirates. Shit, they were a fucked-up duo. It might’ve been for two very different reasons, but their brokenness complemented each other’s. Much like a pack of Twix that got crushed somewhere along its journey, they were a hot mess, but still damn good.

After what felt like forever in the air, the plane landed at a small private airport on an island adjacent to the ones the team planned to scour. They quickly realized Mitch’s contacts could get anything they wanted and every request had been met—gear, transpo, weapons, housing, communication.

After disembarking, Wes and the others met with their contact, a local named Bayu, who handed them keys to an SUV, a nearby house and a boat. He spoke English, albeit a bit broken, and while Brandon talked to him, Wes took a few steps away, trying to control the rapid beating of his heart. His emotions were in turmoil knowing this was the last place Ellie had been alive. If only he would’ve gone with her right away instead ofsending security. Maybe he would’ve been able to save her and the others.

Or, maybe he’d be dead now, too.

Gritting his teeth, he pushed every what-if along with his grief, remorse and sadness into a mental box, slammed the lid shut and locked it up tight. The only emotion he allowed himself to feel was rage. But he kept it under wraps and carefully controlled. If the rest of his team thought he’d be a problem, they wouldn’t hesitate to pull him off the op. And there was no fucking way that was happening.

Corey moved up beside him, clasped a hand over his shoulder and squeezed. “Ready, Murph?”

“Yeah,” Wes growled. “Let’s go pirate-hunting.

Chapter Four

The nondescript boat looked like a large fishing vessel and blended into the local waters well. The Indonesian flag snapped in the breeze above him as Wes looked out over the railing, scanning the approaching shoreline with binoculars. Every time his attention dropped to the blue-green water, he saw Ellie’s eyes and the vengeance burning inside him was almost unbearable. He needed an outlet for it fast or he might combust.

Wes wasn’t stupid or reckless, though. They had a plan, and he wouldn’t deviate and put the others in danger. In order to find these fuckers, they had to be diligent and thorough in their search. There was a lot of ground to cover, and the last thing he wanted was for a local to tip the pirates off and send them into hiding. Letting those assholes slip through their fingers wasn’t a chance Wes was willing to take. He didn’t come all this way to be impulsive and foolhardy; he came to spill some Sea Dog blood.

Jayson guided the boat as close to shore as he dared before dropping anchor. Wes and Corey lowered a Zodiac while Brand, Chaz, Lex and Xander gathered equipment and tossed it into the smaller boat. Once everything was in order, they took turns rappelling down into the fast-engine rubber raft. Jayson moved to the helm and guided the Zodiac straight into a well-concealed cove, hidden by green foliage and lots of low-hanging branches.

Once they dragged the boat up onto the shoreline, Wes checked the GPS on his watch and oriented himself. First order of business was to sweep toward the southern end of the island where jungles, lagoons, caves and islets offered endless hiding spots. Even with intel from the CIA, they needed some luck on their side. They could potentially be wrong in their search efforts, and that was a reality none of them wanted to spend too much time dwelling on. Because if that were the case, sweeping seventeen thousand islands seemed a bit overwhelming.

But Wes had no plans to give up. Never had, never would. He’d been a SEAL, for chrissake. He embraced the suck every single day, and a few extra—or thousand—islands weren’t going to stop him from finding Ellie’s killers.

Sure, it might take him the rest of his life but, in his mind, his targets were as good as dead.

The first day ended up being a bust. After scouring several islands and humping through endless jungle, Wes’ stump burned like a sonofabitch. The uneven ground made his hips ache with every step, but he pushed through the pain, focusing instead on Ellie’s suffering and what it must’ve been like for her when her boat had been attacked. Thoughts of his wife renewed his determination and gave him the strength to continue.

Once the sun set and it became too dark to search, the team returned to the safe house. Wes practically hobbled into the bedroom he was sharing with Corey, dropped down in a chair and grimaced as he removed his prosthetic limb. He’d ignored the pain all day, but it refused to be disregarded any longer.

“You okay?” Corey asked, coming in and stripping off his tactical vest and sweat-soaked t-shirt.

“Well, it looks better than it did after getting hit by that PKM,” Wes answered wryly. He poured some witch hazel on a towel, laid it over his blistered stump and clenched his jaw. Although he had some painkillers, he didn’t want to take them unless absolutely necessary. He wanted to remain totally alert and in control at all times.

“There’s a seat in the shower. If you need help getting in—”

“I’ll be fine,” Wes interrupted, lashing out harder than he intended. He didn’t want special treatment. Other than finding Ellie’s killers, nothing was more important than making sure his team knew he wouldn’t drag them down, slow them up or require extra assistance.

“Murph, it’s just me in here,” Corey said in a low voice. “Don’t be a stubborn pain in the ass. I know it hurts, so grab my goddamn arm and let me help you get in the shower.”

Corey’s eyes glittered like the shards of ice they resembled, and Wes knew better than to argue or continue to put up a front. With a sharp nod, he reached for his friend’s arm, grabbed hold and pulled himself up. Wrapping an arm around Corey’s shoulders, he used him as a crutch and hopped into the bathroom. His attention moved to the shower stall where he saw a seat and handrail.Thank Christ.Brand must’ve put in the request and he owed his friend a thank you.

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