CHAPTER ELEVEN

"Vica!" Wyatt screamed from inside the truck. He unbuckled his belt, but was too pinned in by the crunched door against the tree and the airbag.

"Dad! What is that?" Jake asked. "That sounds like gunshots."

Yeah, that's exactly what that was. Someone was fucking shooting at them, and he was helpless to protect his kids or Vica.

"Vica!" he called again. "Vica!" he shouted for the third time, panic rising to new levels in his body

More gunshots.

"Boys! Get down. Now! Heads between your legs if you can."

They both did as they were told.

Terror whipped through him like a hard winter storm, mixing with a hot rage at how useless he was. How wrong all of this was. Someone was shooting at Vica. This was targeted. This was planned. Somehow, they knew she was off the island for the day, and they were lying in wait. Did they know his children were in the vehicle? Did they even fucking care?

"Vica!" he shouted again, just as Griffon's door flew open and she appeared, out of breath.

"I'm here. I'm here. Someone is shooting at us." She leaned away and yelled, "There are children in this truck! You are shooting at children! "

A moment later, the sound of a vehicle peeling away hastily infiltrated the otherwise quiet night.

There were no more gunshots.

When he was driving, he removed his phone from his back pocket, so he reached forward into the spot below the big screen to grab it. Then he called Clint.

His brother didn't even have a chance to say "hello" before Wyatt told him what happened.

"Fuck," Clint breathed. "I'll call the cops and get Justine to come with us."

"Okay. Thanks."

The call ended, and Wyatt leaned back against the headrest. "You boys still okay?"

"Do we still need to have our head between our legs?" Griffon asked.

"I think whoever was shooting at us has gone," he said. "You can sit up."

His youngest son sat up and unbuckled his belt, then launched himself out of his seat and into Vica's arms. "We didn't die in a car like our mom."

Wyatt's heart officially ripped in two.

"No, sweet boy, you didn't," she said softly, cradling him against her. Wyatt could hear her kissing Griffon's head.

"Jake, you okay?" Wyatt asked.

"Yeah," Jake whispered.

No, he wasn't.

None of them were.

This was so fucked up, even though he was trying his best not to let the fury take over, all Wyatt wanted to do was run home, unlock his sniper rifle from its case, and go hunting. Someone shot at them. Shot at his children, and they didn't deserve to live to see the sunrise.

It was less than five minutes before his brothers arrived. Dom made Jagger stay with Silas, and Brooke stayed with Talia, Emme, and Aya. So it was Dom, Clint, Justine, and Bennett who all came. A moment later, the police arrived, and Wyatt could see Vica tense up in his side mirror.

"It's Myla and Everett," Justine said, as she offered him a small smile from the passenger door. "How are you holding up?"

"Oh, you know, this is exactly the way I wanted to spend my wedding night."

She chuckled. "Well, at least your sense of humor is still intact."

"I called Shawn," Myla said, joining Justine. "He's on his way with his tow truck."

"I'd like to get out of here before that," Wyatt said.

"Yeah, we've got the boys coming with the firetruck too," Myla added. "Just need to sit a little longer."

Jake and Griffon were already out of the truck and with Vica somewhere. "How are the boys?" he asked Justine.

"Grayson is checking them out now. But I'm here to put this C-collar on you for now. Okay?" Justine climbed into the truck and onto the passenger seat, leaning over and wrapping a protective collar around his neck in the event he had a spinal injury. It didn't feel like he did, but they were just playing it safe. He understood, but he didn't like it.

It had to be terrifying for the boys, knowing their father was still in the truck, pinned inside. Even though Wyatt was alive, the fact that Sheila had died in a motor vehicle accident and now Wyatt was stuck inside the truck after an accident, had to be fucking with his kids big time. All he wanted to do was go to them. To take them in his arms and show them that he was okay.

The sounds of the fire engine pulling up echoed around them and the flashing red and white lights reflected in the side and rearview mirrors.

"Jesus Christ," came the familiar, deep baritone of Hawke Taylor, one of the local volunteer firefighters. He also ran a hostel and campsite on the west side of the island. "What the fuck happened here?"

"Are those bullet holes?" That had to be Ansel Gregor, another volunteer firefighter. He worked as a fishing guide, and also ran Zodiac Whale Watching Tours .

"Pretty fucked up, right?" said Clint. "And judging by the tire marks on the road, and in the gravel and dirt here, this was all premeditated. Someone deliberately rammed into them and drove them off the road. See how the gravel is all spewed across the asphalt? That doesn't happen in an accident. Not to mention that when Vica got out, they started shooting at her."

Leave it to Clint, the mystery buff, to start looking for clues and going all Sherlock Holmes on the situation.

"No fucking way," Ansel said. "Who the fuck would do that?"

"I have a few wild guesses," Wyatt said to Justine, who met him with a very serious gaze.

"This is getting scary," she said, doing a few tests on him. She made him track her finger, then she took his pulse, his blood pressure, and finally, reached down into the footwell and touched his ankles. "Can you feel this?"

"Yes," he said.

She sat back up. "Good. We'll get you to the hospital for an x-ray though, just to be sure."

"Shawn's here," someone announced.

"Thank fuck," Wyatt said. "I want to get the hell out of here."

"I know. The boys are doing great though. They're both sitting on Vica's lap and … they're okay, Wyatt." She rested her hand on his shoulder gently. "You're all okay."

His throat grew tight. "Thanks."

"They need you out of there before they pull the truck free," Myla said to Justine. "But we need to hook the truck up just enough for the guys to get in there and remove the door."

Justine nodded, gave Wyatt's shoulder one final squeeze, then climbed out.

"You okay for another minute or two?" Myla asked him.

"Do I have a choice?"

"Not really."

"Well then, I'm okay for another minute or two. Anything after two minutes though, and I'm charging you double."

Myla chuckled. "Sounds good."

It was definitely more than two minutes, but eventually, they hauled the truck out of the ditch and from against the tree enough that the firefighters could get in there. Next, it was Hawke and Ansel's turn to shine with the jaws of life. They opened up the truck door. Then, along with Grayson and Justine, they got Wyatt out of the truck and onto a spine board.

"I don't want the boys to see me like this," he said, as Ansel and Hawke carried him up to the road.

"They need to see that you're okay," Justine said, her brown eyes boring into his through the harsh glare of all the headlights. "Even if it's on a spine board, they need to see you."

She was right. "Okay."

"Dad!" Griffon shouted, jumping off Vica's lap, where they sat on the tailgate of Clint's truck. Jake was right there with him.

"Hey," he said, reaching for their hands. "Crappy ending to an otherwise great day, huh?"

Griffon had tears in his eyes. "I'm glad you didn't die the way Mom did."

Fuck, his throat was getting tight again. "Me, too, buddy."

He glanced at Jake. "Jake, I'm okay. Justine checked me out. I can feel my toes. It's going to be okay."

His oldest son was trying so hard to be stoic, but his bottom lip wobbled as he nodded.

"You guys stay with Vica and your uncles."

"Where are you going?" Griffon asked in a panic.

"We're going to take him to the hospital quick and check him out there, but he should be home later tonight," Justine said. "The hospital just has all the right equipment."

"I don't want to leave you," Griffon said. "Can we come too?"

"No— "

"Yes," Vica said, sliding off the tailgate. Dom was beside her. "We will go. You shouldn't be away from your father right now." Her eyes met his with a pleading look, driving home the fact that his sons were terrified of losing another parent and the last thing they needed right now was to be separated from him.

He nodded. "Okay, pal. You guys can come too."

Relief creased his sons' exhausted faces.

Ansel and Hawke loaded him into the back of the firetruck aid car, and there was enough room for Justine, Vica, and the boys too.

"We'll meet you there," Clint said as he, Dom, and Bennett climbed into Clint's truck.

"I'll probably be fine," Wyatt said, unable to actually really see his brother since the C-collar kept him from being able to move his neck. "Go home."

"Fuck that," Dom said. "Maybe give him a CAT scan too. He's clearly lost his mind."

Wyatt chuckled. "Okay, fine. See you there."

The truck doors closed and a moment later, they were rumbling down the road toward the hospital.

"It's weird that we were just in a vehicle that crashed and now we're in another one," Jake said.

"Do you think this one will crash too?" Griffon asked.

Wyatt met Vica's eyes.

She pulled Griffon onto her lap. "I don't think so, buddy. The firefighters are going to drive extra safe because they know how precious their cargo is."

"You mean Dad?" he asked.

"Well, not just your dad, but you guys too. All of us."

"That was really scary," Griffon said, burying into Vica. "I don't think I ever want to get into a car or truck again."

Jake snorted. "You going to walk everywhere?"

Griffon gave his brother a sharp glare. "Or ride my bike."

It didn't take long for them to arrive at the hospital. Justine jumped out and held open the door so they could wheel Wyatt in. Grayson arrived a moment later and they brought him into a room for some x-rays.

"Can we come in too?" Griffon asked.

"We'll just be a minute, Griff," Justine said. "But I'm here with your dad. I won't leave his side. I promise." She gave him a reassuring smile and he seemed to relax, settling back onto Vica's lap in a small waiting room.

Once they wheeled Wyatt out of earshot of his kids, he met Justine's gaze. "Give it to me straight, Doc. Am I going to live?"

She snorted and rolled her eyes. "And they say women are the dramatic ones."

He smirked as they moved him onto the x-ray table. "Is it going to hurt? Will I ever play the flute again?"

Justine pinched his shoulder.

"Ow!"

"Good to know you still have feeling there. Now, shut up and hold still."

He did as he was told.

Humor was, of course, a defense mechanism. Deep down, he was terrified. What if there actually was something wrong with his spine? What if he could never walk again? He wiggled his toes—or at least he thought he was wiggling his toes. It always perplexed him on television shows and in movies when a character had a spinal injury and they couldn't tell that they weren't wiggling their toes.

Grayson studied the scans on the screen, his brown eyes squinting. Justine glanced at them over his shoulder, but neither of them said anything.

"The suspense is killing me, guys. What's the verdict?"

Justine hit the button for the table after a couple more minutes and Wyatt slid back out to face them. "The verdict is, you will play the flute again. You will also walk, talk, and chew gum—all at the same time too."

Her light-brown eyes twinkled as she smiled.

Relief filled Wyatt down to the toes he wiggled with glee.

Grayson removed Wyatt's C-collar and helped him sit up. "Easy does it," the doctor said with his deep voice. "Just because you might not be in pain now, doesn't mean you won't be. You're still in shock."

Wyatt met his friend's concerned gaze. Grayson was normally all big white smiles, but he wasn't smiling right now. "It was really fucking scary, man," Wyatt said almost under his breath as the magnitude of what his family just went through started to hit him and make his whole body shake.

Grayson nodded. "I know. But you're all okay. We've got you. Just … try to relax."

Wyatt nodded, but in no way was he relaxed.

He wasn't sure he'd ever be able to relax again.

They did another quick assessment, getting him to track a finger with his eyes. They took his blood pressure and his pulse, but everything seemed normal.

"Did you assess Vica too? She was on the side that received the initial impact," he asked, the desperation to see his kids and wife eating away at him like acid in his gut.

Justine's head bobbed. "I was thinking I'd like to give her a second checkup just in case. Why don't you head out and trade spots with her? I'm sure your boys will be happy to hear their flutist-father will once again be able to regale them with his breathy tune."

"Wyatt plays the flute?" Grayson asked as Wyatt slowly headed for the door.

"No. He just covers up his fear with humor," Justine said dryly.

Wyatt didn't turn around or acknowledge their conversation, even though Justine was bang on, as per usual. Just before he rounded the corner into the waiting room, he plastered on a big, fake smile. They didn't need to see his fear. Not right now. "Are these stinky little kids bothering you?" he asked Vica as he greeted them all.

"Dad!" the boys both shouted, leaping off of Vica's lap and running full tilt at Wyatt. He was a little stiff, but otherwise felt right as rain, and crouched down to take his boys in his arms. Nothing felt so good. The backs of his eyes burned, but he wasn't going to cry. Not right now. They needed someone to be their lighthouse in this storm, and it was absolutely going to be him .

Vica was right there behind them, tears in her eyes. She smiled. "You're okay."

Standing up, he nodded. "I'm okay." Then he reached for her and the four of them hugged. "Justine wants to double-check you though. She asked for me to send you back."

"What? Why? I'm fine."

"I know, but you did experience the initial impact. So they just want to be safe."

Her brows furrowed for a moment before she shrugged and left Wyatt and the boys in the waiting room. Neither of his kids would let go of his hand, and based on how tight Jake's grip was, Wyatt wasn't sure his oldest son would ever let go. They would soon fuse together.

Fine by him. He never wanted to let go of his kids either.

They found a couch in the staff room and he got them all some water.

"That was really scary, Dad," Griffon said, accepting the paper cup of water. "Why were there gunshots? Were they shooting at us?"

"I don't have an answer for you, pal," Wyatt said. "But you're right, it was really scary."

"Clean bill of health?" came a familiar, friendly female voice. Myla Bruce walked into the staff room. "Everett is still at the scene with Shawn. It's tough to discern anything in the dark, but we'll head back there in the daylight and see if we can find any clues about the other vehicle." She pressed her lips together. "I'm guessing because it was dark out, you didn't see the color, make, or model?"

Wyatt shook his head. "Nothing. Didn't even see the headlights before it was too late. But I'm sure you'll see the paint of the other vehicle on my truck."

She nodded. "That's what we're hoping for." Her emerald-green gaze shifted to the boys. She wanted to speak with Wyatt, but not with the boys in earshot.

Wyatt dug into his wallet and pulled out some cash. "I saw a vending machine in the lobby. Why don't you guys go get something to eat, hmm?"

Never ones to say no to processed food from a machine, neither kid balked, and they took the cash and left .

"Some shady shit is going down," Myla said. "This was totally targeted. Someone knew Vica left the island and they knew when she was back. They were lying in wait."

"And fully prepared to take me out too?"

"It's getting serious, if that's the case." Her eyes widened. "I mean it's serious even if they're just after Vica, but to now not care if they take you—and the kids—out too, is really fucking crazy and dangerous."

"I don't think they knew the kids were in the truck. Vica called out, ‘There are children in the vehicle.' Then a moment later, they sped away."

Her brows furrowed. "Interesting."

The slap-slap of children running down the hallway grew louder, and a moment later Griffon and Jake reemerged in the doorway, each of them carrying a different bag of chips.

"I think we need security," Myla said. "We need protective detail on Vica."

"She's safe on the property and at the house. Nobody can hurt her when I'm there."

She didn't have to say it for Wyatt to know Myla was thinking, "She nearly got killed on your watch tonight."

"Tonight was a one-off and fucked up," he said. "It won't happen again. We'll keep her on the property. She can work in the kitchen at the pub and be at the house. And if she needs to leave, then we can have security escort her. I'm not against having security detail posted at the gate, but I don't want one in my home."

"And I don't want to leave Wyatt's home," Vica said, entering the staff room with Justine behind her. "We just got married so that I don't get deported."

"Maybe we shouldn't be telling a cop that?" Wyatt said, mostly in jest.

Myla rolled her eyes. "I'm chill. You know that."

"I feel safe and comfortable there," Vica went on. "With Wyatt. I don't want to leave." But worry filled her eyes. "Unless you think I am bringing danger to the door. "

Myla shook her head. "Wyatt says that when you called out that there were children in the car, the vehicle that hit you sped away and the gunshots stopped. I don't think whoever is after you intends to hurt the children."

"It has to be Wyndham Croft, or those guys who came to bully me into a settlement," Vica said. "Who else could it be?"

Voices and footsteps down the hall indicated Dom, Bennett, and Clint. They arrived in the staff room a second later. "Everyone good?" Clint asked.

Wyatt and Vica nodded.

"I just want to go home," Wyatt said.

"Me too," Griffon mumbled through a mouthful of Zesty Nacho Doritos. His fingertips were bright orange to match the dust around his mouth.

Vica's lips twisted for a moment before she turned to Clint. "Can you take Wyatt and the boys home with you?" Then she addressed Myla. "And can I get a ride home with you?"

Clint nodded. Myla nodded as well. Nobody needed to ask Vica for her reasoning. She was worried—and rightfully so—that if they were all in a vehicle with her, they could be targeted again. Wyatt hated that it came to this, but he understood, and he appreciated how thoughtful she was being about it all.

They exited the hospital, waving and thanking Grayson on their way out. Justine and Bennett rode with Myla and Vica, since there wasn't enough room for everyone in Clint's truck.

"You'll all probably be sore tomorrow," Clint said as they drove back to the property. He deliberately took the longer route, so they didn't have to drive past the crash site. Wyatt appreciated his brother's thoughtfulness. "Probably best to take the day off work."

Wyatt grunted, but nodded. He'd been in a few minor car accidents in his twenties and even though he walked away with only bumps and bruises, he was always very sore the next day. You don't realize how much impact your muscles take, particularly when adrenaline and shock kick in.

They pulled up to the security gate, but Clint waited until Myla was behind him before he punched in the code for the gate to swing open.

"Do I have to have a shower tonight?" Griffon asked as they climbed out of Clint's truck. "I'm tired." He was also still caked in orange Dorito dust.

"You should at least do a wash with a warm cloth. You look like a dusty pumpkin," Wyatt said to his youngest.

Myla pulled the cruiser up beside Clint's truck and Vica, Bennett, and Justine all piled out. Jagger and Brooke met them all out in the driveway and immediately swept them into hugs.

"Fucking Christ," Jagger said as he hugged Wyatt tight, "been going damn near insane waiting to hear if you were okay."

They broke their embrace. "Wait, nobody let you know?" He glanced at Bennett, Clint, Dom, and Justine.

"Don't look at me. I was dealing with my patients," Justine said.

Clint, Bennett, and Dom all managed to look a little guilty.

"We were caught up in the chaos," Clint finally said, earning him a swat to the shoulder from Brooke. "Sorry."

"We're okay," Vica said, running an affectionate hand over the back of Jake's head. "The boys have been so brave. They've kept my brain from going out of control."

"I'll be back in the morning to check on things and get more information," Myla said. "For now, I'm going to let you all rest." Her eyes landed on Wyatt's. "I'll have security posted tomorrow too, see if I can get someone here on the first ferry."

"Appreciate it," Wyatt said with a nod as the cop got back into her cruiser.

"I'll see her to the gate," Dom said, walking briskly as Myla drove slowly toward the closed gate.

"I'm going to come back over tomorrow too and check on everyone," Justine said. "In the meantime, ibuprofen for aches and pains, but not on an empty stomach."

Vica and Wyatt nodded .

After a few more hugs all around, Vica, Wyatt, and the boys headed into the house. He'd never been so freaking happy to be home in all his life. However, the thought of having to sleep on an air mattress sat uncomfortably at the back of his mind.

"Even though Griffon doesn't have to shower, I certainly want one," Vica said with a yawn. Her gaze landed on Wyatt's. "You've been through a lot."

"So have you."

"Yes, but …" Her lips twisted. "You should have your bed. I do not want you sleeping on that inflatable mattress with how sore you will be tomorrow."

It's like she could read his mind. This woman was so incredibly sweet, it was unbelievable.

He shook his head even though his body tried to argue with his brain. "I'll be okay. I can always go crash on the couch."

"No, Wyatt," she said, her voice holding some authority to it that he quite liked. "I won't take no for an answer. I will sleep on the couch. You take your bed. Please. We are in this mess because of me, it is the least I can do. Take your bed. Even if you don't, I will sleep on the couch anyway." She crossed her arms over her chest and gave him the most adorable, stubborn little glare.

He chuckled. "Go shower, Vica."

"Then, I will come and sleep on the couch."

"Not if I'm sleeping there first."

The whole time the boys were standing there watching them, their eyes bouncing between Vica and Wyatt like they were watching a tennis match.

"Well, I want to shower," Jake finally said.

"You go first, Jake. I can wait," Vica encouraged.

Jake nodded and headed upstairs with Griffon hot on his heels. "I just want a cloth and the sink," Griffon said, his fingertips bright orange.

"Need to hose that child off," Wyatt murmured.

The kids got busy doing what they needed to do upstairs, which just left Vica and Wyatt standing in the living room. He reached for her, needing to touch her, and thankfully, she went to him without hesitation. Wrapping his arms around her, he pressed his nose to the top of her head.

"I'm so sorry," she whispered against his chest, and that's when he realized she was crying. Her body gently trembled and her words came out as choked sobs. "I never meant for any of this to happen. The boys … you …"

He took her by the shoulders and held her away from him just enough that she could look him in the eye. "Listen to me, this is not your fault. You got that? You are a victim. And now, we all are. There are some bad people trying to get away with some really bad shit and they're getting desperate. But we're not going to stop trying to bring them down. You were right not to take the settlement. We need to fight this. And now that you're my wife, I'm going to do everything in my power to protect you. Understand?"

Her throat moved on a swallow, and she blinked spiked lashes at him.

But she didn't nod.

He shook her a little. "Tell me you understand that this is not your fault, Vica. That nobody here blames you for what happened tonight."

Her bottom lip trembled, and all he wanted to do was capture it between his teeth and tell her to knock it off. To stop feeling guilty.

After a moment and a gentle shudder, she nodded. "Okay."

That was enough for him and he hauled her back against him, wrapping his arms tight around her body. "When I heard those gunshots …"

Her cry was muffled in his shirt.

"You're not giving up the bed," he said, pressing his lips to the top of her head. "I won't let you."

"You're not the boss of me," she argued.

That made him laugh and a moment later she joined in.

The shower upstairs shut off, so reluctantly, he let her go. "Your turn."

Her eyes were red-rimmed and puffy, but she was still the most beautiful woman he'd ever seen. "Go take some medicine, Wyatt."

"Go wash away the chaos of the evening, Vica. "

She started to climb the stairs, but stopped on the third step. "Thank you for marrying me."

He winked at her. "Anytime."