Sherryl Woods - The Devaney Brothers - Michael and Patrick - Michael's Discovery

His entire identity was tied up with being a Navy SEAL. The danger, the adrenaline rush, the skill, the teamwork—all of it gave him a sense of purpose. With it, he was a hero. Without it, he was just an ordinary guy.

And years ago, abandoned by his parents, separated from his brothers, Michael had made a vow that he would never settle for being ordinary. Ordinary kids got left behind. Ordinary men were a dime a dozen. He’d driven himself to excel from his first day of kindergarten right on through SEAL training. Now these doctors were telling him he’d never excel again, at least not physically. He might not even walk...at least not for a long, long time. As for losing his leg, that was not an option.

With that in mind, he leveled a look first at one man, then the other. “Let’s see to it that doesn’t happen, okay? I’m a mean son of a gun when I’m pissed, and that would really piss me off.”

Nurse Judy chuckled, then bit off the reaction. “Sorry.”

Michael shifted slightly, winced at the pain, then winked at her. “It always pays to keep a man who’s itchy to use a knife aware of the consequences.”

She touched a cool hand to his cheek and studied him with concern. Since she was at least fifty, he had a hunch the gesture was nothing more than a subtle check of his temperature. The woman hadn’t kept her hands to herself since he’d been brought in two days ago with a raging fever from the infection that had spread from his leg wounds throughout his body. She’d been with him when he was rushed straight into surgery to try to repair the damage that had occurred halfway across the world. The doctors in the field hospital had done their best, but there had been little doubt that his injuries would require a higher level of medical skill.

He gave the nurse a pale imitation of his usually devastating smile. She was beginning to show signs of exhaustion, but she hadn’t left his side, unless she’d stolen a catnap while he’d been out of it in the operating room. Obviously she’d been hired by his bosses because she took her private-duty nursing assignments seriously. And given his own level of security clearance, hers was probably just as high in case he started muttering classified information in his sleep.

“How about some pain meds?” she asked. “You’ve been turning me down all morning. This stoic act of yours is beginning to get old. You’ll heal faster in the long run if you’re not in agony.”

“I wanted to be alert for the prognosis,” he reminded her.

“And now?”

“I think I’d better stay alert to make sure those two stay the hell away from my leg.”

Just then there was a flurry of activity at the doorway, a hushed conversation, and then two tall, dark-haired men were pushing their way inside, ignoring the doctors’ protests that no visitors were allowed.

“Why not take that medication, bro? We’re here now. Nothing’s going to happen to your leg on our watch,” the older of the two said, pulling a chair up beside the bed and shooting a warning look at the doctors that would have intimidated an entire fleet of the Navy’s finest.

An image floated through Michael’s hazy memory. He looked again and suddenly a name came to him, a name he hadn’t thought of in years. “Ryan?”

“It’s me, kid,” his oldest brother responded, squeezing Michael’s hand. “Sean’s here, too.”

To his total chagrin, Michael blinked back tears. So many years, but there had been a time when he’d shadowed his two older brothers everywhere they went. They had been his heroes, at least until they had deserted him. To a shaken four-year-old that’s how it had seemed on the day he’d been taken away to live with a different foster family—as if the cornerstones of his world had abandoned him. Coming on the heels of his parents’ vanishing with the twins, it had been too much. He’d pushed all thoughts of the other Devaneys from his mind, kept them locked away in a dark place where the memories couldn’t hurt him.

And now, all these years later, his older brothers at least were back, the timely arrival just as mysterious as the untimely disappearance.

“How did you find me?” he asked, his voice thick with emotion. “Where did you come from?”

“We’ll get into all that later. Right now, you need some sleep,” Ryan soothed.

Michael studied him, then sought out Sean. He would have recognized them anywhere, he thought. It was like looking in the mirror: the same black hair—even if his was military crewcut short—the same blue eyes. They’d all inherited Connor Devaney’s roguish good looks, for better or for worse.

Their father had been a handsome devil, one generation removed from Ireland and with a gift for blarney. An image of him crept into Michael’s head from time to time, always accompanied by deeply entrenched bitterness. If there was a God in heaven, Connor Devaney would rot in hell for taking his wife and their youngest sons and walking away from Michael, Sean and Ryan.

“Lieutenant, how about that pain medication now?” Nurse Judy asked gently.

Michael wanted to protest. He had so many questions he wanted to ask his brothers. But one glance at the way Ryan and Sean had settled in reassured him that they weren’t going anywhere. Nor was any surgeon going to get anywhere near his damaged leg as long as they were around.

“Sure,” he said, finally giving in.

Michael felt the prick of a needle in his arm, the slow retreat of pain and then his eyes drifted shut and for the first time since he’d been flown home to California, he felt safe enough to fall into a deep, untroubled sleep.

1

Six months later, Boston

Michael maneuvered his wheelchair across the floor and set the lock. He eyed the sofa and debated whether its comfort was worth the effort it would take to heave himself out of the chair. Every damn day was filled with such inconsequential challenges. After years of trying to sort through the life-and-death logistics of SEAL missions, it grated on him that the simple decision of where to sit to watch another boring afternoon of television took on such importance.

“You want some help?” Ryan asked, his expression neutral.

Over the past few weeks, when his brother had been popping in and out of California on a regular basis, Michael had learned to recognize that look. It meant that Ryan was feeling sorry for him and was trying not to show it.

The attempt was pretty lame, but Ryan was actually better at it than Sean. Sean’s obvious pity was almost more than Michael could take, which was one reason Ryan had been designated to pick him up at the airport and to help him settle into his new apartment.

Michael had discovered that the grown-up Ryan was a low-key kind of guy. He ran his own Irish pub and had settled into family life with a woman named Maggie who seldom took no for an answer. Michael had already had a few encounters with her on the phone and discovered she masked an iron will with sweet talk.

Sean, however, was a recently married firefighter, an active man who would have chafed at the restrictions on his life, just as Michael did. Maybe that was the reason that Sean couldn’t seem to hide his sympathy each time he saw Michael in this damnable wheelchair. They probably needed to talk about it, but neither one of them had gotten up the nerve. Besides, what was there to say?

“I still don’t know how I let you all talk me into moving back to Boston,” Michael grumbled as he waved off Ryan’s offer of help and struggled to move from the wheelchair to the sofa on his own. “There must be a foot of snow out there. In San Diego, I could be basking in the sunshine beside a pool.”

“But you wouldn’t be,” Ryan said wryly. “The way I hear it, you hadn’t set foot outside since you left the hospital.”