by Zoe Dawson
“Are you saying you had something to do with my brother’s death?”
He set the bottle down with secrets in his eyes. “Nope. Not admitting a thing. Where you’re going, what I have to say doesn’t matter.”
“Then there is no reason not to tell me. Tell me,” she screamed.
He rose and jerked her up by her arm with a painful grip. He pushed her to the edge of the sponson, a platform hanging on the side of the carrier, just below the flight deck. It was a sheer drop to the ocean. The plunge would kill her instantly.
“How did you get me up here with no one seeing?” she asked breathlessly as the ocean churned below her.
He laughed. “I know this ship like no one else. I have my ways. Enough talking. Say hello to Rafael for me.”
Sia didn’t give the man a chance to push her over. She lashed back with her booted foot and caught Walker right in the kneecap. She heard the bottle roll away against the bulkhead. Walker howled, but the wind whipped the words away. No amount of yelling would bring anyone up here.
He tried to backhand her, but Sia was ready, balancing on the balls of her feet. She ducked, came up with her bound hands and jabbed him in the sternum. He swung widely, sending him off balance. Sia dodged out of the way, and Walker’s momentum took him over the rail, his scream of rage and fear drowned out by the wind and the ocean.
The soft breeze off the ocean touched her face as she heard the screen door open and close. Remnants of her celebratory graduation party fluttered in the breeze on the table situated on the patio.
As she glanced over, she expected to see her father, but instead, a tall, dark-haired man carved out a piece of her cake and sat down.
Sia studied the strong line of his jaw, the width of his broad shoulders encased in Navy Khaki. Drawn to him, she sauntered over, and he looked up, capturing her with gray eyes as elusive and intriguing as smoke. She said nothing as she straddled his lap, the sun warm on her shoulders, the texture of his uniform stimulating on her fingertips. He smiled, a tantalizing hint of frosting on his lips. Her head dipped down and covered his mouth, the sweet taste of the frosting and him sending her mind into a free fall.
Warmth filtered through her, his groan soft and uncontrollable as he pressed his body against her. His mouth was hot, the press of flesh erotic and needy. If only she could get closer, hang on to the sensation, maybe she could forget what he had done. Forget—
“Miss?”
Sia tried to swim up from the dream, the memory of his mouth on hers.
“Miss? Are you all right?”
The flight attendant’s worried face peered down at Sia.
“I’m fine,” Sia said, but then she moved and the sore muscles of her arms, face and right shoulder reminded her she wasn’t.
“Would you like some water? You were whimpering in your sleep.”
Sia closed her eyes to hide her embarrassment. She looked around. Right, she was on the flight back to Washington, DC. Feeling muddled from the pain medication she’d taken, Sia gingerly touched the huge shiner that ringed her eye, flinching at the pain. She’d looked at it in the washroom mirror before she’d fallen asleep. “Yes, thank you.”
The flight attendant left to get the water. It seemed Sia could not get away from the man who haunted her even in her sleep. One minute she felt closer to him than anyone on earth, then it was gone in a matter of minutes. She didn’t want to think about him. What they had shared was over in the time it took for a fighter jet to break apart and plummet to earth.
The flight attendant returned with the water. Forcing her thoughts back to the USS James McCloud and the now-deceased Master Chief Steven Walker, Sia took a sip of the cool liquid. Sia’s investigation had ended when Walker went over the side of the sponson, but she hadn’t been able to find the bottle and the ME still hadn’t finished the autopsy on Lieutenant Saunders. She’d climbed down from the sponson, her hands still bound, until she found a crewman who had assisted her to the sickbay.
But she was left with unanswered questions in both accidents. Additional statements from the crew confirmed a volatile relationship between the pilot and the master chief. Case closed.
Except Walker’s words wouldn’t stop eating at her. Nope. Not admitting anything. Admitting as in confessing? Did he have something to do with the accident that had taken her brother’s life, or was he simply cruel? And what was he talking about when he cited duty as his reason for killing her?
She landed at Reagan International at 1700 and intended to go home, take a long soak in the tub and sleep for twelve hours straight. But just as she pulled up to her apartment, her cell chimed, and she was ordered to report to the JAG Region Legal Service Naval District Washington, often referred to as RLSO NDW, on 10th Street. The crisp November sky—an intense cobalt blue—and the barren trees hinting at a spring that was only weeks away did nothing to invigorate her.
At headquarters, the day was just ending. She was greeted by departing coworkers who were first concerned about her injuries, then ribbed her about going the wrong way. As she made her way down the hallway, she saw one of her closest friends approaching. Lieutenant Cora York, one of JAG’s finest members, was tough, smart and beautiful. The smile on her face changed to deep concern as they met.
“What in the hell happened to you?” Cora asked as she took in Sia’s bruises and arm in a sling.
“It’s a long story, one that will take several glasses of wine to tell.” Evidently, the situation on the carrier wasn’t common knowledge yet, and Cora didn’t know anything about her family or her brother’s death. It was time Sia confided in her.
“Well, I hope the other guy got what was coming to him.” Cora sent her fist into her palm.
Sia shuddered at the memory of how close she had come to death and nodded. “He did, but he left more questions than answers.”
“Sounds like a thoroughly dangerous and frustrating TAD.” Cora touched her good shoulder, giving her a squeeze.
“It was. Hence the need for wine.”
Cora laughed, but her eyes were still serious. She gave Sia a sympathetic and solemn look and said softly, “I’m so glad you’re okay.”
Sia nodded and smiled at her friend. “You don’t look like you’re done for the day.”
Cora rubbed at her tired-looking face. Her dark, curly hair was more messy than usual. “A dead seaman and the guy we caught who did it. Just tying up some loose ends. I’m heading home in about thirty. Why aren’t you?”
Sia smiled wryly. “Boss calls and I answer like a dutiful soldier against injustice.”
Cora laughed. “When can we get those glasses of wine and catch up?”
“I’ll give you a call when I’m finished here. Good?”
“Yes. That will give me a chance to go home, shower and change. Been on this case too long and I’m starting to uh…get…rank.”
Waving goodbye to Cora, Sia entered the office space where all the junior grade and clerical staff sat. Around them were the offices of the JAG team. She stopped at the desk of her aide, Legalman First Class Gabriel McBride, a young petty officer from Seattle.
“Commander Soto, welcome back. I’ve already printed out the report you sent me, and it’s ready for the captain’s review.” He handed her a folder.
“McBride, you are a wonder.”
He studied her face and winced. “Ouch on the shiner. Are you all right?”
“You should see the other guy. He took a header off the carrier. So I feel lucky to be alive.”
“I’m sure glad you are, ma’am. It would be hard to train up a new boss.”
She smiled. “Thanks for your concern.”
He smiled back and nodded.
“McBride, I need for you to do some research for me on Master Chief Steven Walker. I want to know where he was stationed. Cross-reference his stations with any pilot accidents at the time he was serving those stations.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
After leaving her legalman, she made her way directly
to her CO’s office, receiving a wave through by his aide. Entering, she saw Captain Mark Snyder was on the phone behind his desk. The look on his face was less than welcoming, but still, he motioned her forward. He finished the conversation with clipped tones and hung up the phone.
Captain Snyder was a tall man, which was evident even when he was seated, as he was now. African American with close-cropped hair, a wide nose, and dark, piercing eyes, he cut an impressive figure in his blue coat and white shirt. As a commanding officer, he was fair but tough and often liked to debate with her. “That was the skipper on the USS James McCloud.”
Sia came to attention in front of his desk. When he nodded, she stood at ease, reached forward and placed the report on his desk. “Here’s the final report on Walker…”
“This particular conversation doesn’t have anything to do with the master chief.” His voice was low and urgent.
“No?”
“They just had a pilot crash into the deck of the carrier.”
“Oh, my God.” Sia’s heart lurched in her chest, and she could see from the captain’s grave look there was more. He motioned for her to sit and she sank into the nearest chair.
“Yes, Soto. It’s even worse than that. He’s Senator Mark Washington’s son.”
Her commander stared grimly at her, and Sia tried not to flinch. Her boss didn’t assign blame. He wasn’t petty and he treated her with respect. But at this moment, she saw the unmistakable truth in his eyes. He thought, somehow, she had let him down. A sick feeling churned in her stomach and squirmed up her spine.
“Send me back to the McCloud and I’ll make sure I get to the bottom of this.”
“It’s not that easy, Lieutenant Commander Soto.” He leaned back in his chair and said, “You are under investigation.”
“Yes, it’s a matter of routine. I understand, sir. But I can still perform my duties and cooperate with any type of inquiry.”
“I have no doubt of that. You are a meticulous investigator and litigator. But, this time, it’s required you have help.”
“Help? I don’t need help. I can do my job.”
Just then the door opened, and her boss smiled. “Too late. He’s already here.”
She twisted around to take a look at the person who was going to accompany her on this assignment.
The pressure in the office changed, condensed. The man was six feet of raw energy in a tightly muscled package. He wore black pants that fit snugly against hard-packed thighs and a trim waist. A gray sweater stretched across his broad chest, with the edge of a plain white T-shirt at his strong throat. Over the sweater, he wore a black leather jacket. Clipped to his belt was his gold NCIS badge. The telltale bulge on the other side indicated he was carrying a sidearm. His thick black hair covered his forehead, errant tendrils curling along the nape of his neck.
Sia gasped as she looked into steady, beautiful dark gray eyes, eyes that had gazed into hers full of a smoky passion that only made them darken.
Oh, damn.
Christophe Vargas…Chris.
Her brother’s wingman.
The very pilot who had been directly responsible for her brother’s death.
Chapter Two
Sia looked from her commanding officer to Chris, dumbfounded. It couldn’t be. She was suddenly thrust back in time and all the longing, the desire and the need for this man came crashing into her.
It had been the wildest time of her life. He’d been a great fantasy, all hormones and hazard, and she’d been so crazy about him. He had been the only man her father had approved of, saying Chris was a first-rate pilot and the kind of man her father could trust.
Her father’s approval had been important. With her father’s consent came admiration. A man who could gain the trust and high regard of her father was worth her time.
Captain Snyder cleared his throat.
“Lieutenant Commander Ambrosia Soto, meet NCIS Special Agent Chris Vargas.”
For a moment Sia’s vocal cords wouldn’t work, but she was saved from a response by Chris.
“Lieutenant Commander Soto and I are acquainted.”
There were layers of meaning in his voice, a tone that touched her deep down and squeezed her heart. So much regret, pain and apology. Her eyes didn’t just meet Chris’s—they connected like two live wires throwing off sparks. She could see by the look on his face that he was studying her bruises and his mouth hardened. Her first thought was it was a good thing Master Chief Walker was dead. Chris’s eyes, like polished steel, narrowed.
“Special Agent Vargas comes highly recommended from the Director of NCIS out of the Office of Special Operations,” Captain Snyder said. “We’re damn lucky to have him.”
“Aye, sir,” Sia responded. Chris never did anything halfway. Sia had no idea he’d left the Navy and gone into law enforcement. She assumed he was still flying.
The way Captain Snyder looked at her, Sia felt adrenaline release into her bloodstream. The message was loud and clear. Cooperate. Don’t make waves.
“Special Agent Vargas will take point on this, Commander.”
“But it’s my case. I’m the one—”
At the look from Captain Snyder, Sia closed her mouth on the words she was going to say. First off, he wouldn’t be pleased if she in any way said she’d made a mistake. JAG didn’t make mistakes. Second, she’d be usurping his authority. She was often able to get away with it because she was very good at verbal debate. But this time she saw he would yank her off this case in a heartbeat, and she would never get the answers she sought.
She stepped back and came to attention next to Chris. The first scent of him brought back memories of hot skin and heated kisses. She violently pushed those memories away, a resentment building.
Captain Snyder set the folder aside and addressed them both. “You’re going back to the USS James McCloud, Lieutenant Commander Soto, and Special Agent Vargas will accompany you. You will look into the death of Senator Washington’s son. Special Agent Vargas will be in charge.”
“We need to get on a plane as soon as possible, sir,” Chris said.
The captain picked up the phone. “That’s taken care of. I suggest you get yourselves ready to go. I want daily reports.”
“Captain, may I have a word with you? In private?” She glanced over at Chris and he smiled wryly. The protesting tone of her voice made her wince inside. She regretted her blunder immediately.
Captain Snyder said, “You’re dismissed, Special Agent Vargas.”
Chris gave her a sidelong look but said nothing as he turned and left the office.
When the door was fully closed, Captain Snyder asked, “Problem, Soto?”
“I have a history with Special Agent Vargas. It’s complicated.”
“Uncomplicate it and get the job done. Personal problems don’t interest me. Results do. Although you are forcing me to rethink my decision to send you back to the McCloud.”
“I can handle this assignment,” she said quickly, immediately concerned the tenuous connection between Walker and her brother could snap if she wasn’t given an opportunity to continue the investigation. “I don’t need an NCIS agent breathing down my neck, dredging up old memories.” Damn, she hadn’t meant to say that. “I’m fully capable.”
His eyes cooled. “I know you are capable, but protocol requires it and I’m not going to take a misstep here with the senator’s son. You are still under investigation yourself.”
“It’s a routine investigation.” She added, “sir” when his eyes went glacial.
“I’m sure you wouldn’t want this mishap to mar your record. This is going to be media fodder. I want it put to bed quickly.”
Sia clenched her teeth. “Aye, sir.”
Exiting the captain’s office, Sia looked for Chris and found him a few feet away. She walked up to him, grabbed him by his jacket and pulled him into an empty conference room. “You could have given me some kind of warning.”
“I didn’t know you were stationed here.
Not until I walked into the captain’s office.”
She didn’t deserve this twist of fate. Of all the places he could have ended up, it had to be DC. “I don’t think it’s a good idea we work together.”
He shrugged. “It’s easy. Work with me or Captain Snyder will assign someone else. Sounds like an easy choice to me.”
Sia stared at Chris for several seconds, caught completely off guard again by his presence. After that debacle at her brother’s gravesite six years ago, she hadn’t expected to see Chris ever again. So, she’d had no chance to prepare herself to speak to him, much less work with him. She had strategies filed away in her brain for every kind of courtroom situation, but she had no strategies for dealing with Chris and their short-lived, mind-blowing relationship.
“I don’t want to work with you. You know perfectly well why.” She wanted—no, needed him to go away. She desperately needed to sort out her thoughts, and she couldn’t do that with him standing less than five feet away, pinning her with that intent gaze of his. Maybe it was better not to confront him so directly. After all, it had been a while since she’d seen him. “Listen,” she went on trying to sound conciliatory, “I don’t mean to sound like a bitch, really, I don’t. It’s just…it’s been a very long day, and I’m not really prepared to deal with this or you at the moment.”
Given her continued, rather visceral reaction to him, even after all these years, perhaps she never would be ready to deal with him.
“I’m sure it has been a long day and, yes, I know perfectly well why. Doesn’t change a damn thing. Still your choice.”
