Page 4 of The Night Ride (SEALs on Wheels #3)

Morbidly curious, I headed over and sat on one of the lounge chairs.

Wyatt had expanded the concrete porch with gravel and stone pavers.

He’d added a fire pit that was already lit even though the sun was still shining.

With the privacy fence enclosing the yard, he’d turned it into a private oasis.

It made me think that perhaps I should look into buying a house.

Yet I didn’t know if I wanted to stick around when my twenty was up if I didn’t re-enlist. Norfolk felt too temporary, and I didn’t see parting with my hard earned cash for a house I didn’t plan to stay in.

“Like what you did back here, Wyatt. The place is looking good.”

“Appreciate it.” Wyatt was a man of few words.

“When’s the last time you spoke to him?” I didn’t say his name, but I didn’t have too. We both knew who I meant.

Wyatt glanced my way. His somber gaze full of the more emotion than I’d seen him display in years. “Two weeks ago. And no, I had no idea he was that close to the wire. You?”

“Month ago. None of us knew. Did the Navy forget to contact his family?” I wanted to know why Beth didn’t make it for her brother’s funeral. If they couldn’t locate his next of kin that would make more sense.

Wyatt took a swig of beer with a pensive expression before responding. “Not sure. Evan burned a lot of bridges.”

“He sure as shit did. I’m gonna miss that fucker.” I chuckled, trying to lighten the mood, but my laugh rang hollow.

“We all will.” Wyatt turned and checked the grill just as Lucas strolled outside, beer in hand.

“Jesus H. Christ, that’s it, isn’t it?” Lucas nodded to the box on his trek to one of the chairs. Lucas was a showman with a chip on his shoulder. But today his ego was muted.

“No, it’s some other package Wyatt received. He switched them out just to fuck with us.”

Lucas gave me the middle finger salute. “Sit and spin, motherfucker.”

We both grinned at one another like idiots. One thing could be said for wakes, they were a chance to cut loose and let the shenanigans ensue.

“I gotta get the steaks. You two behave while I’m gone. None of the shit you pulled on our last deployment.”

Lucas spread his arms with a shit-eating smirk. “Don’t hate the player, hate the game.”

“Idiots.” Wyatt shook his head, rolling his eyes toward the sky as if he was asking some higher power for patience not to crack our heads together, and left us alone on the patio.

On our last deployment, after a few beers, we snuck into another unit’s tent, stole all their underwear and hoisted their tidy whities and boxers up a flagpole.

It was fucking hilarious. Well to everyone who wasn’t in that unit.

We had our asses handed to us by the base commander and were sent to dig new latrines as punishment.

It had been worth the penance to witness the varied range of expressions from horrified to downright side-splitting laughter.

Evan had damn near laughed himself into a hernia, after reaming our asses. “When was the last time you spoke to Evan?”

“Dunno.” Lucas shrugged and sat on one of the chairs. “Couple of weeks. You know how it is. He was busy and so was I. Hard to believe your ugly ass survived this long. When I thought for sure you would wind up six feet under.”

“Right back at ya!” I tipped my beer in salute. Because what he didn’t say was that we both had outlived Evan. As our commander, he had been the one busting our asses if we stepped a toe out of line or missed a mark.

“Looks like Wyatt planned ahead.” He jerked his chin toward the two huge coolers on the patio filled with ice.

“It’s like you don’t even know him. I’m sure he has the rest of his life planned out the moment he retires.”

“Hmm. I don’t know. Say Wyatt?” he asked as the man in question strode outside with a platter filled to the brim with big meaty slices of raw steak.

“Yep.”

“You got your life planned out after retirement.”

“If I did, do you really think I would explain it to you numb nuts?”

Lucas tossed his head back and howled with laughter. I almost choked on my beer as I tried not to laugh. But I gave up the fight.

I was a happy drunk, always had been. Couple beers in, I turned beet red and was everyone’s best friend. It’s why I kept my drinking to a minimum most days.

Today wasn’t most days. We buried a friend. In my book, it gave me an all-access pass to get shitfaced. I might puke my guts up later.

But I figured, fuck it. Life was too goddamn short.

“I gotta visit the men’s room. Back in five.” Lucas rose from his chair.

“Breaking the seal already?”

“Naw. Gotta drop some kids off at the pool. Make room for that steak.” He rubbed his belly as he rose.

“Just make sure you use the air freshener when you’re done,” Wyatt sighed, while he added steaks onto the grill.

“Noted. Need anything?” he asked as he headed toward the house.

“I could use another beer.” I lifted my almost empty bottle.

But Wyatt chimed in before Lucas could reply. “There are some bottles in the patio coolers. Ben is picking up more. I figured between the five of us, we’d need a hell of a lot more.”

I rose and snagged another beer. “Need another?” I asked Wyatt.

“Fuck it. Why not.” He replied with his back to me while he grilled our meal. Although later when we were all shitfaced, we’d likely order some pizza to chow on.

I heard James’s voice before I saw him. He strolled onto the patio, his shaggy, mud brown hair in need of trim, holding a beer.

After that entrance, Ben arrived in short order.

“Look who finally decided to make an appearance.” I toasted Ben from my lounge chair.

“Yeah, had to stop and grab some more so we could watch you puke your guts out later.” Ben teased with a small laugh.

James nudged me with his arm. “Just because Aiden can’t hold his liquor—”

“Hey!” I interrupted his zinger with a scowl and gave James the finger.

James glared back. “Dude, you fucking know you can’t. You’ve never been able to in all the damn years we’ve known you.”

Fucker was right. I didn’t have to like it though. And it was too ingrained in me to push the needle further, to prove that I could handle anything life tossed my way.

“You never know. One of these days, I will.” I gulped more beer, ready for the oblivion of passing the fuck out.

“And then we’ll be at your fucking wake,” Wyatt interjected with his back to us. He didn’t turn from the barbecue pit to address us. But that was Wyatt, a man of few words.

“Like what you’ve done back here, Wyatt,” Ben told him while he added the cases of beer to the cooler. He grabbed one and took a seat on one of the unoccupied lounge chairs.

“Appreciate it,” Wyatt said flipping the steaks on the grill.

“So what’s this package Evan sent us? And did he send it before?” James asked and then grimaced as if he’d swallowed sour milk.

“Of course he sent it before he put a bullet in his brain. Do you really think he sent it afterwards?” Lucas shook his head with an eye roll.

“I know. That’s not what I meant. Shit.” James chugged his beer before studying the can as if it held the secrets of the universe.

Glad someone brought the topic up. We waited for Wyatt to answer. But he’d answer when he was good and ready.

Wyatt finally said, “We’ll open it after we eat and find out together what the dude was thinking. It’s the only proper way to do it, I’m thinking.”

“And when’s that going to be? I’m starved,” Lucas dramatically sighed as if he was dying of hunger.

Fucker was always hungry. Then again, between the five of us we’ve been known to polish off a metric ton of food in one sitting.

On a day like today, with as much as we’d be drinking, we would likely raid Wyatt’s pantry in addition to ordering some grub.

“The steaks are almost done. If one of you Nancy’s wants to grab the potatoes out of the oven, we can eat in five.” Wyatt informed us.

My stomach growled at the prospect of food.

“I’ll get it.” Ben rose and headed inside.

He was hurting something fierce. But he and Evan were best friends. We were all tight, but Ben and Evan were each other’s ride or die. My heart bled for Ben because I could tell he was struggling to come to grips with the loss.

Ben carted the potatoes out to the outdoor table. There was already butter, sour cream, and salt and pepper on the table, with plates, forks, and steak knives.

Wyatt brought the pan of steaks over to the table. “Get ‘em while they’re hot boys.”

He didn’t have to tell me twice. I was at the table, grabbing my steak and potato and adding all the fixings.

We chowed down on steak and potatoes. Ribald stories flew around the table, courtesy of me and James.

But I struggled with the box sitting dead center of the table.

The one Evan sent before he killed himself.

“You’re staring,” Wyatt said to Ben with a nod toward the box, before taking another bite of steak.

We all were, but Ben wasn’t trying to hide his morbid curiosity.

“I want to get on with it. We’ve waited. I want to know why—just fucking open the damn thing already,” Ben snarled, his emotions raw.

Conversation halted around the table. All heads turned in his direction.

Wyatt studied Ben, then glanced my way and at the rest of the table. We were the last of our squad still serving. All the others either died or retired or had been reassigned and were scattered across the globe.

Wyatt shook his head with a hearty sigh. “Still no patience.”

“Still controlling everything. Just open the fucker,” Ben demanded. Dude appeared ready to snatch the package off the table and rip into it with his bare hands.

With an agitated sigh, Wyatt moved his empty plate and put the box in front of him. Then removed his pocketknife from his back pocket and cut through the tape. From inside the box, he withdrew a thick stack of envelopes. On top was something he started reading quietly to himself.

“No. Do not read it quietly.” Ben growled.

Wyatt handed the stack over to Ben, understanding written all over his face. “You read it out loud then.”

Ben snatched the envelopes from his hands. Then glanced down, a mixture of emotions sped across his features. I thought he was going to break down and lose it.

Instead, he cleared his throat and read.

Hey motherfuckers,

We’ve had quite a ride. And I wish that I could stay, but after everything that happened, I just can’t. My story, my life, was always going to end in flames. I’ve seen too much. I’ve done too much. And I can’t stay.

I know it’s going to piss you fuckers off. But get over it. It’s my life and my death we’re talking about.

I can’t go on with the burden we carry. By the time you read this, I’ll be worm food. And I’m good with it. I’ve made my peace with it.

But I’m going to ask you all to do one final thing for me. It’s my last command. I’ve included five letters. The names and addresses are on the envelopes. Hand deliver them for me and make sure they each read them.

I don’t know that they will be happy to see you. Most likely they won’t want to take the letter nor read it. But make them. For me. I need them to know my failures where never about them and make amends from beyond the grave.

As for you fuckers, take care of each other. I consider you all my family. I know this is gonna piss you off and hurt you. And for that, I’m sorry. But we each have to go on our own way.

Serving with you was the best thing I ever did. Know that I will be waiting on the other side to greet you.

See you in hell, boys. Your friend always,

Evan Ryder

Hooyah, bitches!

Ben glanced at the group finally with tears in his eyes. “Let’s look at where he wanted us to go. Anyone who doesn’t want to go—”

“Like we’re backing out of this mission.

We’ve all got the leave time. Just tell us where we’re fucking going,” Lucas stated and earned a round of agreement from James and me.

No way I was backing out of this mission.

If Evan wanted these envelopes hand delivered, then that’s what I could fucking do.

When the envelopes reached me, I flipped through them.

Moira Kelly.

Rory Ryder.

Beth Ryder.

Paige Ryder.

And Nora Ryder.

Jesus. I would see Beth again. Pleasure zinged through me and on its heels was shame. Evan was hardly cold in the ground, and I was excited about seeing Beth again. What was I going to do, break another vow to Evan?

Never. I would see this mission through to the end if it killed me. When I saw Beth, it would just be as her brother’s friend and comrade, nothing more.

I took another swig of my beer even as I recognized it for the lie that it was.

“So we each take one and deliver it,” Ben asked with a raised brow.

“Did you not hear what he asked of us?” I asked him. Fucker hadn’t listened to what Evan wrote. He wanted our unit to complete this mission together. One last ride before we dispersed.

“Yeah, to hand deliver them,” Ben responded with a scowl.

“No, fool. He wanted us to go together, as a crew, one last time,” Lucas stated with determination. I knew him well enough. He was all in on the mission.

“I’ve only got a month leave before I start my new assignment.” Ben studied us.

I glanced up from the stack of letters I’d been thumbing through. “We’ve all got the time to take. I say we do it. I’m ready.”

James shrugged and rose from the table to retrieve another beer from one of the coolers. “We can do it in chunks, if necessary, between deployments and assignments.”

Wyatt scowled fiercely. “Speak for yourself, numb nuts. My life is my own in three months’ time. But I’m up for some government paid leave.”

“Okay, so the five of us are going to do this?” Ben asked, his excitement palpable at the prospect of the five of us, our Harleys, and the open road.

I had to admit, it sounded like the best fucking idea.

“Yeah, we travel light. Take the bikes. And hand deliver each one. We can leave tomorrow,” Lucas said all fired up.

Wyatt eyed us with suspicion. “Y’all sure you want to do this? I can take them once I’m retired in three months. I don’t mind.”

“No offense but shut the fuck up. We’re all going,” Ben firmly stated and held up his beer. “For Evan.”

James, Lucas, and I lifted our beers in salute. “For Evan.”

We glanced at Wyatt, consternation written on his face, until he finally sighed and said, “Fuck it. For Evan.” Then he toasted us with his beer.

We were doing it. One final ride—for Evan.