Accidental Shield (Marriage Mistake #6)(6)

I’ll self-resolve you, asshole, I think to myself.

But Cash isn’t done. I’m not that lucky. He takes another slurp off his coffee and holds up a finger, the only warning I get before he goes into professor-mode.

“Listen, bucko, even in famous cases of transient global amnesia, about eighty percent of patients simply...”

I grind my teeth together as he starts rattling off statistics. He’s done his homework, sure, I’ll give him that, even if this is far from his specialty.

He’s a fine doctor. A damn good one.

I’ve personally seen him work miracles, saving the lives of men who never would’ve made it home without him during our time in the service together. I’ve watched him shed tears over the guys he hadn’t been able to save because they were too far gone before he got to them.

Yes, he’s cocky. Yes, he has a really fucked up sense of humor. Yes, he’s a royal pain in my ass so often it’s a wonder why we’re friends.

But one thing Cash Ivers isn’t is a quack.

In my mind, if he’d gotten to the men who didn’t make it sooner, they would’ve lived. He would’ve made them. And that woman in Bali, if we’d just been a few minutes sooner...

Valerie’s amnesia crap, though? I shake my head.

He’s a field surgeon turned general practitioner. Not a neurologist.

His lecture finally tapers off, and he takes another swig of coffee. “She can’t go home, Flint. Her condition aside, you know the risk. We don’t know if her troubles have legs to follow.”

“Then take her to your house,” I snap.

“I can’t. You know I live in a condo, and with my nosy neighbors—”

“And I have a son to look after,” I remind him.

“Right. A plucky little boy who isn’t here right now. He’s with his grandmother.”

“Who’ll be bringing him home in two days,” I snarl back. “This isn’t gonna work.”

My mother took Bryce on their annual week-long trip to Aulani, the big resort on the other side of the island. Having turned twelve earlier this year, I thought Bryce might buck going this year, but he hadn’t.

Instead, as soon as she’d arrived, he’d rattled on about how they were going to ace the scavenger hunt in record time this year. He’s a good kid at heart. He doesn’t need to come home and find a strange woman living here who thinks she’s my goddamn wife.

My gaze flicks to Cash, still mighty pissed at him for that little joke.

“We might not need more than two days.” Cash sets his cup on the counter. “They tried killing her, Flint. I saw it.” He opens the fridge and takes out an egg carton. “And I saw Cornaro men scouring the shore for her body this morning.”

The muscles in my neck tense when he mentions that name.

Bad fuckin’ news.

Hornet sting to the eyeball kind of bad.

The Cornaro Outfit has been a leader in high crimes and smuggling ops across the Pacific for decades. Now led by Joel Cornaro, the syndicate has taken over legitimate businesses on all eight major islands, especially anything that makes it easier for them to haul illicit cargo around the South Pacific.

Every asshole who wants to do dirty deals halfway across the world can depend on them to play mule.

Everything from guns to drugs to human trafficking, Cornaro gets it done.

“I know you want to catch the bastard as bad as I do,” Cash says, still pulling more stuff from the fridge.

“That was a long time ago, Cash. We’re not SEALs anymore and we both retired from the security racket,” I tell him. “Don’t tell me you’ve lost your memory, too? It’s not our job to go gallivanting around for the government, taking out the trash.”

The fact that it’s even a question also pisses me off. But Cornaro money runs deep, both locally and all the way to Washington DC, Manila, Tokyo, Jakarta, Singapore. He’s got a whole heaping lot of assholes willing to help cover his dirt. It’d probably take a multinational effort to bring them down.

“Technically, you’re right. We’re no longer paid to put our lives on the line.” Cash shuts the fridge door and turns around, facing me again. “But you’re also wrong. Once a SEAL, always a SEAL. You see what kind of damage Cornaro does every time your back is turned and you’ve got a mirror, Flint. And that didn’t happen while you were a SEAL.”

Not in the mood for a bitter stroll down memory lane, I spear him with my eyes. “We have other commitments now. You have a private medical practice and I—”

“You’re bored,” he interrupts. “Bored out of your skull.”

I blink, my fists tightening.

He waves a hand around the massive kitchen. “Now that you’ve finished crafting this lovely island penthouse, you don’t have a fucking thing to do all day except run around with Bryce, and that’s driving you crazy.”

I glare hot death at him. Even though it’s only been a few months, I know he’s right.

Damn!

Worse, I’m just in time for another lecture, this time on me.

“Don’t give me that look. Ever since you sold your patent to the government, for more money than the GDP of some small countries, you’ve been bored. Let’s not pretend you haven’t been. Building this place took time, but now what?” He points to the hall, the one that leads through the house to the master bedroom. “Your answer’s waiting.”