by Zoe Dawson
Chris shrugged, avoiding the penetrating stare she turned on him. “What does it matter, Sia? I’m no longer part of the Navy and I’ll never fly a fighter jet again.” His voice was low and smoky like his eyes, laced with old bitterness.
She crossed her arms and scowled at him. “I care. I want my brother’s name cleared.”
“Your voice is like a loaded gun, Sia.” Chris’s gaze melted over her, lingering on her mouth. She just realized he had boxed her in.
“Take it any way you want,” she said flatly, and pointedly extricated herself from the tight space he’d cornered her into. “But I would think you would jump at the chance.” She was all crisp business and haughty demeanor now. It helped to hide the hurt and disappointment that shouldn’t be as crushing as they were. “My brother didn’t have a chance to defend himself. He didn’t have a voice in the matter. I will be that voice for him.” She moved back into the main part of the cabin with a deliberate calm that cost her more than he’d ever realize.
“I’ll do what I can.”
Sia’s jaw tightened fractionally. There was still the thread of disappointment that he hadn’t been more supportive of her plan. He hadn’t been there when the master chief had told her he knew something but wasn’t telling her anything. That he expected her to go to her grave knowing the two men she loved most in the world hadn’t been responsible for the accident. She wanted to grab his shoulders and shake him and make him question every aspect, every memory of that day. But he seemed resigned to his fate and hadn’t even considered something else could have been at fault. And, as irrational as it might be, that hurt.
“That’s all I can ask,” she said grudgingly.
“I think we should focus our attention fully on the case we’re investigating right now, Sia. Saunders and Washington deserve that.”
Sia nodded. “They do.”
“Do we have Saunders’s autopsy yet?”
Sia shifted her eyes away from his and hedged. She hadn’t meant to lie to him, but unless he directly asked Billy about when she received the report, he would never know she had it in her briefcase. She was just being contrary, and she knew it. Being under his thumb for her every move on this case rankled. “I’m not sure. Once the case closed and I was sent home, I really didn’t have a chance to follow up.” All true.
“Well, that needs to be one of our priorities. NCIS agents always follow up.”
She nodded. “Agreed. I could look into that right now. I’ve just got to find Billy.”
“Sia, he’s probably turned in. It’s late.”
“It is?”
“Yes, and you’re dead on your feet. Let’s put this on hold until tomorrow when we’ll both be rested. We need to organize how we’re going to tackle and untangle this mess. If Walker is responsible for all three deaths, then we need to figure that out. If not, we need to either confirm the pilot-error ruling or negate it. There’s more at stake here than proving innocence or guilt.”
“What is that?”
“There are families involved. People who want to know what happened to their loved ones. They need to have answers to put them completely to rest,” he said gently.
He opened the cabin door and Sia stepped out. He followed and secured the door. He turned and headed down the corridor and she followed.
It must have been the weariness leeching at her body. His words caused a storm of emotions to rise in her: the remembered pain of her brother’s death and shame that it had been deemed his fault, never knowing the real answers, not being able to forgive or forget Chris’s part in his death. The tantalizing clue from Walker that he had the real answer but had no intention of giving her that peace. Her eyes filled and she stumbled on the ladder, which was just what the Navy called the metal stairway that led to the various decks of the ship.
With lightning-quick reflexes, Chris caught her, and the movement jostled her sore shoulder. She cried out at the painful twinge. Chris responded by steadying her and swinging her up into his arms. Against her protests, he carried her the rest of the way to her quarters.
The memories whirled around her and intertwined, mixing in a braid of pain and longing that had pulled at her for six long years. To feel his touch again was torture. To have his arms around her again confused her but was still wonderful.
He was sorely testing her sense of balance. Seeing him again was both unexpected and unwanted. At least on her end. She was going to have to endure working with him—she didn’t have a real choice, but she could ill afford to let herself rekindle any of the feelings she’d had for him. She couldn’t risk it. Besides, their forced contact was temporary, so there was no point, not to mention he was now living on the West Coast and she on the East Coast, locked into her service with the Navy. All she had to do was resist the temptation—the very potent temptation.
“Put me down,” she demanded for the third time.
Defiantly, he held her against his warm, muscular body.
“It is unnecessary.”
“You’re dead on your feet and this is faster.”
His voice had gone rough, like whiskey and smoke with a touch of black satin sheets. Sia’s body responded swiftly and automatically to those softly uttered words, nonsensical as they were. He might have said anything in that voice, and she feared her response would have been the same—an instantaneous quickening, a flash of warmth, reduced lung capacity. His breath was warm against her cheek. “I don’t need you to rescue me.” She clenched her teeth at the breathless quality to her voice.
“You were always fiercely independent.” A wicked gleam sparkled in his eyes, curling the corners of his delectable mouth. He leaned close as he easily held her in his strong arms, his thumb rubbing against the exposed skin between her sleeve and the sling. The feel of his skin against her sent a shower of sparks through her.
“Damn straight,” she said as his gaze intensified and there was more fire in his eyes than smoke. With little effort, he caught her gaze, held her prisoner.
“And stubborn,” he breathed, leaning closer still, his lips just brushing the shell of her ear.
She gave him a look that made better men back off, and she ground her teeth when he only smiled at her. She wiggled against him and he sighed deep in his chest. Finally, he let her go with a slow slide down his body. For far too long, he kept one arm wrapped around her, as if he couldn’t quite bear to let her go.
He had often accused her of being obstinate, and those words brought a rush of bittersweet emotion so strong Sia had to take a moment to compose herself. She was finding it almost as difficult to move out of his embrace.
“My independence has served me well,” she said.
“I have no doubt.”
He fell silent again, and maybe it was her own mounting tension over the swelling emotional war she was playing with herself that made the air between them seem to crackle. But, at least from her perspective, the awareness and anxiety were operating on another level as well.
He turned as if to go and she risked a quick sideways glance at him then; she couldn’t help it. His profile was solemn, his jaw hard and set. His gaze was fixed on a point at the end of the passageway. The emotions she felt could be totally one-sided. Chances were, he didn’t want or desire anything from her other than her collaboration on this case.
She was thankful no one had witnessed her momentary breakdown. She leaned against the door frame and tried to tell herself all the reasons why being disappointed with that probable reality was a really dangerous way to feel.
“Sia, there’s no shame in accepting help.”
It was a struggle to find her composure. He was far too close, and every facet of her equilibrium was threatened—physically, emotionally, intellectually. “There is when I’m an officer in the Navy and in an official capacity aboard an aircraft carrier. I didn’t need to defend my professionalism before you showed up at JAG and hijacked my case.”
“I didn’t hijack your case.”
“Yes, you did. When yo
u hijacked it, you wouldn’t back down or reassign someone else. You refused. Now we have this…”
She trailed off.
“This?”
“Never mind. I’m going to bed.” She turned her back to him and grabbed the handle to open the stateroom door. She felt shame at the need to escape.
“No, wait a minute. You can’t leave it hanging like that.”
“Chris, I don’t want to rehash old news or old feelings. It’s been too long and we both know what we had ended when my brother died. That’s the end of the story.”
There was that palpable danger again. His hand slipped over hers on the doorknob. She could feel how close he was to her, her back tingling with his nearness, the heat of him. The situations between them were spiraling out of control. All the more reason to get the investigations back on track. She’d think everything through later, figure out what to do about it. When he was far, far away and not looking at her the way he had looked at her. Like he still wanted to consume her.
And, damn her memories, she knew what it would be like to let him.
“Is it? I think you still feel something, Sia.”
“No.” But her protest was low and breathless.
And if Chris himself wasn’t dangerous, then what she felt when he was this near surely was. She couldn’t fall for him, not for his body or his tarnished soul or his allure of the forbidden. There was no room in her life for this man. She couldn’t have her heart broken again; she was still trying to glue the pieces back together from the last time she had come apart.
But she couldn’t seem to remove her hand. It seemed a lifeline, an anchor that bolstered her as the memories, good and bad, flashed over her like an uncontrollable fire.
He grasped her hand and turned her toward him, and she was powerless to resist.
Holding her breath, she counted the beats of her heart, her eyes on his, wondering why she didn’t take her own advice and let go. Walk away.
His hand squeezed hers and his eyes softened. “Sia,” he said, his voice low and textured like raw silk—rough and smooth at once, beckoning a woman to reach out and touch him, tempting her, luring her closer.
Her eyes met his and she was lost in the dark gray depths, so lost. It was as if the world and their problems melted in the heat of their eyes. She trembled with the longing she had buried for six years while she immersed herself in her work to forget. She didn’t know if it was her near-death experience, the medications, or her deep-seated longing for him. She swayed forward, into him.
His arms slipped around her, taking her mouth without preamble, his lips sizzling against hers. For the first time in Sia’s life, she found herself losing control when she very much needed to maintain control, needed to keep her distance. But she lost her train of thought as her good arm slipped up around his neck, her fingers tangling through his hair. He opened his mouth wider, taking more of her. She knew a single kiss wasn’t going to be enough.
His mouth was made for love, for kissing and making love, so soft and lush and captivating. She moved against him, her breasts pressing against his chest, her mouth angling over his and creating a brief moment of suction, and as quickly as that, heat shot through every single inch of her body. She felt her control slip, a quick jerk of it out from under her.
Sia was drowning. Drowning in desire and confusion—and desire won, every second, every heartbeat. She wasn’t proud of it. She should be made of sterner stuff.
She had to stop. But she couldn’t remember why. It was more than a kiss, more than any kiss he’d ever given her. And her mind focused on that one thought—shamelessly. The feel of him in her mouth, the taste of him, was intoxicating, compulsive. He set her on fire with his kiss, made her gasp, and every inch of her wanted more. It was wild. Wild and hot and utterly sexual in a way she’d thought she would never know except in her fantasies—but the reality of it, damn, the reality of it was so much more intense. The silkiness of his hair sliding through her fingers, the rough edge of his jaw beneath her palm, the strength of his arms wrapped around her. Fantasies were perfect because they were so safe. She was in control. Chris epitomized the loss of control. There was no safety in those dark eyes. The pure physical energy of him was a force to be reckoned with. He was powerful, dangerous and unpredictably seductive.
And she’d be a fool if she thought they could ever have what they’d lost. With a soft cry, she pulled away.
“I can’t!” Her eyes filled. She hadn’t meant to cry, but her barriers were frayed, and she was so tired.
“Why?”
Tears spilled out and ran down her cheeks. “You know why.” She reached for anything that would put distance between them. “Because of your error, the United States Navy Memorial committee has refused to honor my brother. He was a hero and he’s never going to get the recognition he deserved.”
Chris stood there, taking her words like physical blows. His dark eyes were haunted and filled with the guilt she knew he felt, and she regretted her words. Bashing him wouldn’t change anything. Rafael was dead. Her parents were dead. Everyone she loved had been taken from her. If she could find any connection, anything at all to the fact it might have been murder, then she could exonerate her brother. And, in turn, Chris.
Standing there stoically and taking what she had to say right on the chin only made her realize how strong and brave he was. He didn’t flinch or get angry, he just stood there and let her vent. She didn’t know what to say. She could only feel—feel her heart break, feel her mind try to find a way to reconcile her emotions.
But she couldn’t move that immovable wall. She couldn’t seem to step forward past it. It remained, lingering, holding her hostage. Nowhere to go.
Nowhere to run.
He reached out gently and wiped at the tears on her cheek with his thumb, then abruptly he pulled her hard against him. His hand disrupted her bun and sent her hair cascading down her back. He buried his face in her shoulder. “Do me a favor, Sia?”
Her voice, clogged with emotion, was muffled against his shoulder. “What?”
“Keep an open mind?”
She took a deep breath. “Keep an open mind?”
“Yes. Can you do that?” he asked, his voice a shade rougher.
“I’ll try,” she responded, her voice breaking. “I’ll try.”
He released her and walked away, his broad back disappearing down the passageway. For one moment, she let herself dream they had a chance, but she knew it was a lie. If he hadn’t been so stubborn and had just assigned someone else to this case, it would have been so much easier for both of them. Anger mixed in with the desire and longing.
Slipping into her quarters, she burst into tears, her throat tight, her chest heavy. In the darkness, she let herself cry for the loss, for the memories and for the love she once had for a man who could no longer comfort her.
Chapter Five
He hadn’t meant to watch her. He’d only come up to the flight deck to run off some of his disappointment and the desire that had caught him off guard last night, and Sia was already there. Of course, that kiss shouldn’t have had him tossing and turning, but it had.
He’d been craving the taste of her since last night. He’d convinced himself he must have exaggerated the hell out of what it had been like to kiss her, because a kiss was just a kiss, right? No way could one kiss be so special, so addicting, so enthralling…so intense.
As it turned out, he had forgotten the impact. In a big way.
Her lips had been so soft, and the way her breath hitched in the back of her throat, accompanied by that small, rough moan, immediately made him go rock-hard. It was all he could do not to plaster her back against the bulkhead and take and give until they were both sated.
She’d taken off the sling and was easily moving across the flight deck as if she hadn’t been almost murdered two days ago. Her dark, curly hair was caught up in a ponytail, streaming out behind her like dark ribbons as her legs, encased in black Lycra, fueled her quick strides.<
br />
The bruise still stood out starkly on her soft, deep-golden skin, but it was beginning to fade somewhat.
“You going to run, sir, or lollygag?” a flight deck sailor asked good-naturedly as he walked past. “Although it’s a very nice view.” He smiled and returned back inside the carrier, no doubt on some task that needed completing. The work on a ship as large as this one never ceased.
Chris stretched and took off. It wasn’t long before he caught up with her. “Are you sure you should be running? You almost got up close and personal with the ocean just a few days ago.”
“Yeah, swimming with the fishes isn’t my idea of fun.” She turned to look at him, not at all shy about what had happened last night. He remembered that was something he had always liked about Sia. Her straightforward manner and her lack of game playing had attracted him from the moment he’d met her. Her acerbic wit and quick comebacks made him admire her even more. It was as if six years had melted away.
They were quiet for a few paces and then Sia spoke. “I have a couple of things I need to confess.”
She glanced over at him, but there was no apology in her eyes. Instead, he saw a flash of anger. He suspected she had no intention of sharing with him what she was up to, but somehow had changed her mind. He wondered why.
“Well, get the torpedoes in the water then.”
She laughed without mirth. “Nothing as explosive or dangerous as that. But I want you to know.”
“So it doesn’t come back to bite you on the butt?”
“Something like that. Even though you hijacked my case, I guess I can be magnanimous in sharing with you some of my suspicions. After all, we’re really on the same mission.”
“We are. We just have a lot of baggage to jettison.”
She chose not to respond to the personal tensions between them. He could feel it even now as they started another lap on the deck. He was sweating freely now, but his body was warming up to the exercise, his muscles loosening.
“After my run-in with Walker and his intriguing statements, I told my legalman to do some research on the deaths aboard the McCloud and other ships in the fleet to see if there are any correlations. It might give us a baseline and data to see if we have a consistent MO. It will also tell us if Walker was in the vicinity of any other accidents.”
