“If that’s all this is…?” Regret that she’d questioned him pushed against the warm-and-fuzzies the painkillers had given her. The drugs had also apparently loosened her tongue, because surely she wouldn’t have said such a thing if she’d been in her right mind.
He shoved a hand through his hair, his blue gaze appearing darker in the dim light. “I needed to know what happened. Why you were in that ready room and how you got injured.”
She nodded, the action making her head throb. Even though she’d already been through this with the military police, she owed Leigh an explanation for different reasons. She took him through the events, from the media room until she stumbled on the masked man. “The last thing I remember is him smashing me face-first into a desk and then pointing a gun at me.”
Leigh winced. “So he’s responsible for your head injury. I’d thought that I—”
He glanced away from her, gaze troubled as he pressed a hand against his mouth.
“You thought that you what?” She reached over to take a sip of water from a cup the nurse had left nearby.
“Nothing, it doesn’t matter.” Leigh muttered a curse. “I chased him to the transit-porter, but he got away. They’re trying to track him now.”
She returned the cup to its spot on the trolley, feeling the weight of his regard. When she’d first opened her eyes after the attack and seen Leigh leaning over her, the relief that had flooded her body had been profound, every instinct telling her she was safe, that Leigh wouldn’t let anything else happen to her.
She’d never been the sort of person who expected others to take care of her, which was partly why she’d taken those extra combat classes. So her weird desire to let Leigh protect her, along with the comfort and sense of safety he created within her, was totally foreign. Which was why it was probably a good thing this incident would see an end to her spot in the program. She couldn’t deny any longer that she was feeling things for him that she shouldn’t.
“This is the end for me, right? Dr. Dalton told me I couldn’t do any thing physical for forty-eight hours after discharge and recommended light physical activity for another day after that. If I can’t participate—”
“We haven’t decided yet.” He dropped his arm to rest on the edge of the mattress, his hand close to hers, but not touching. “We found your datapad in the ready room. It’s smashed, but we still should be able to check the data files to backup your version of events. Ultimately, I could make the decision to cut you from the program, but in these situations, I always take the opinions of my team into account. Lieutenant Brenner, Sub-Lieutenant Rayne, and Sub-Officer Lawler will be deliberating on it tonight and giving me their thoughts tomorrow.”
She nodded, though she didn’t really think this “deliberation” made any difference—simply a stay of execution. She would miss vital training regimes in the coming days, so how could she possibly move forward with the program if she didn’t work as hard as the other recruits?
“Well, thanks for coming to tell me.” She dropped her gaze to the blankets, wishing she had the fortitude to tell him to leave, but not wanting to see him go until she had to, which was totally stupid. The stability of a permanent posting had to be all that mattered.
“I didn’t come here because I wanted discuss your spot in the training program.”
The intensity of his voice brought her gaze back up to him, like trying to resist the gravitational pull of a black hole.
“Then why did you come here?” She folded her arms across her middle, gripping the edge of the blanket as a small swell of apprehension rose within her.
“I need you to swear that what you told me about your attacker and why you were up in the ready room is the full truth, that you really don’t know anything else. This is vitally important, not just to the squadron, but to the entire ship. If you know anything, if you’re hiding something to protect yourself or anyone else—”
“I’m not.” The words rushed out on a spurt of desperation that he would believe her.
Leigh’s expression hardened. “This is the only chance you’re going to get. If it comes out later that you held even the tiniest bit of information back, it will end badly. And I don’t just mean getting sent off the Valiant Knox. I’m talking dismissal from the UEF and prison time.”
This time, her heart pounded for an entirely different reason. Something else was going on here, more than just an intruder on squadron level waving a gun around.
“I’ve told you everything I know.” Her voice came out low. “I wish I had more information. I want this guy found. You think I’m going to feel safe knowing that the person who shot me is walking around the ship?”
He sat forward, his gaze catching hers. “We will find him, Mia. Nothing else is going to happen to you. If you want, I can organize a MP escort for you until he’s apprehended. But there’s nowhere safer you can be than with the FP squad. Just don’t go wandering off on your own again.”
Her pulse skittered at his use of her name, at the way he stared at her with absolute certainty of the fact that she wasn’t in danger as long as she was with the FP squadron. As long as she was with him.
She shook her head. “I don’t need an MP escort. People are already going to be talking without adding a bodyguard to this ridiculous situation.”
His lips kicked up for a second, in what she was coming to learn was the closest he ever got to smiling. “Yeah, if it was me, I wouldn’t want a bodyguard either, but I thought I should offer.”
“Thanks.” The word came out a little awkwardly and then seemed to shift the tension between them. For a long moment there was silence, and she tugged at the edge of the blanket, trying to think of something to say.
“You should get some rest,” he said at last, shifting forward to the edge of the seat.
“Wait.” As he started to stand, she reached out and caught his forearm, stopping him from getting up. “If you all decide to cut me from the FP program, what’s going to happen to me?”
She had to ask, even though she could already guess the answer.
Leigh’s gaze became troubled before he glanced down. But by the time he looked back up, his expression was neutral and impassive.
“There’ll be a position on the ground made available to you.”
“On the battlefront?” Her worst fear, but if she ended up on the front lines, she would go knowing that she’d done everything in her power to avoid it. He didn’t reply, and she took his silence as confirmation. “There’s nothing else I can apply for, no other posting I could get?”
His gaze cut away from her. “Unlikely, here on the Knox. You could take it up with ground command when you get there, talk with Commander Emmanuel or Colonel McAllister about other positions besides the front lines. But nothing has been decided yet, so don’t start thinking the worst.”
“I can’t help it. I like to have a clear path going forward. And if that means I’m going to end up on the ground, then I want to be prepared for that eventuality. I’m not going to avoid thinking about it. I’m going to plan for every possible outcome.”
“We have that in common. I’m always trying to plan things ten steps ahead.” He looked back up at her, his expression a little less tense now. He reached up and covered her hand, where she still held his arm and hadn’t even realized. She tried to pull out of his grasp, a small thread of chagrin slipping through her that she’d been sitting there holding on to him. But his hand tightened around hers, not letting her escape.
“Getting attacked like that, getting shot, it can mess with a person’s head.” His low words washed over her with an intensity that she wanted to ignore.
“You know this from experience?” She tried to make the words light, tried to inject some levity into the moment, because the way he stared at her, she could almost imagine he cared. More than a CO should for a recruit.
Switching grip on her hand, he reached up and flicked open the top catches of his shirt, tugging it aside to show a puckered scar, half
the size of her fist, on his chest. “Third year after joining the squadron. We were providing air support to a unit of ground troops pinned down by a contingent of CSS twice their number. Some lucky bastard took my jet down with a surface-to-air launcher, and I ejected on the wrong side of the lines. A CS Soldier found me while I was still strapped into my parachute. I was literally tied down, couldn’t do anything except lay there and watch him shoot me.”
Though he was obviously fine and sitting here in front of her, the bottom had dropped out of her stomach. “What happened? How did you survive?”
“I was lucky that we’d just inducted a couple of new pilots, including this cowboy rookie, Sebastian Rayne. He landed behind enemy lines, against orders to rescue me, and got there just in time to take the CS Soldier out before he could finish me off. It wasn’t the last time Seb disobeyed orders or saved my life, though I like to think I’ve returned the favor a time or two since.”
“Sounds like you’re lucky to have a friend like him.” She’d never had anyone in her life that would risk themselves to save her. She could only guess what such loyalty and devotion would feel like.
“I’m lucky to have an entire squadron of people like Seb at my back, which is why the FP program is so tough. We need to know that those who join our ranks really want to be there and will do anything for their fellow pilots.”
He lowered his head after he said those words and dragged a hand over his short hair as though something was weighing on him. She pressed her lips together over the urge to ask him if everything was okay. She had no right and knew he wouldn’t tell her even if she did let the words spill out.
He blew out a long breath. “Anyway, if you need to talk, if it starts messing with your head, then I want you to know that you can talk to me. I’m here if you need me.”
Maybe if he hadn’t been holding her hand so tightly, she could have told herself that it was no big deal, and he would offer the same to any of the recruits or pilots in his squadron, because that’s what a good leader did.
“Get some rest, Mia, and I’ll come by to check on you in the morning.”
She nodded as he let go of her hand and slipped out of the room, her chest too tight to form any words.
Maybe she was just seeing what she wanted to see in believing he regarded her as more than just another recruit. Because no matter how hard she tried to fight it, she couldn’t help seeing him as more than just her CO. She could see the man underneath, and he was starting to chip away at the protective defenses around her emotions.
Leigh stood watching the double-shot espresso coffee trickling into his mug. There were only a handful of other extra-early risers on messdeck at this time of morning, and he wouldn’t have been down here himself except after a restless night, he’d finally given up on the idea of getting any sleep.
Every time he’d closed his eyes, the vision of Mia lying bloody on the floor bombarded his mind. He couldn’t work out why the image had imprinted itself on his brain and refused to budge. So instead, he stewed over who in his squadron could be the traitor and what it would mean for him and the rest of the Knox’s crew if the UEF removed Yang from his post.
He dragged a hand down his face, whiskers he hadn’t bothered shaving off abrading his palm. His eyelids felt like they had sandbags sitting on them. He was used to shift work, so the tiredness didn’t bother him as much as the multiple stress factors dragging on his shoulders.
The shooter hadn’t been found yet. The MPs reported that no one had gotten off the transit after it had left squadron level. The only explanation had been that somehow the man had gotten off between stops, and he couldn’t imagine how the guy had managed that without help.
Stanton, the Command Intelligence guy, had put in a request with Yang for deep background checks on all of the pilots in his squadron. He understood the need for a thorough investigation, and the notion had also crossed his mind. Yet he didn’t want someone like Stanton running the checks, someone who didn’t know or care about the squad.
Yang said he could stall Stanton, but not stop him altogether. The investigation would go ahead eventually, but Leigh planned to find the traitor before then. His squad didn’t deserve to have their privacy invaded by CI just because they had one rotten pilot in their rank. Of course, he’d only managed to add more work to his already full schedule, because he didn’t trust anyone else to run the checks. Not that he had much beyond the most basic skills to use when it came to this sort of thing. But he’d push through and hopefully find some clue as to who the mole, or moles, might be.
The coffee finished dripping and he reached out to wrap a hand around the hot mug, enjoying the sting of the burn for a moment before grabbing it by the handle and taking a quick sip. The dark, bitter brew hit the back of his throat and started waking him up, as if his body had decided to perk up now that a caffeine hit was imminent. He turned around and almost ran into Commander Yang.
“Another early start Alpha?” Yang reached by him to set his own mug under the coffee spout. Yang’s posture was tight, his expression tense. The guy was all but tapping his foot as the coffee started pouring out.
“Honestly? Couldn’t sleep. What about you?”
Yang snatched a quick glance around the near-deserted messdeck. “I’ve been down in the brig for the last hour. One of Stanton’s agents uncovered another CSS mole on board.”
A surge of shock mixed with anticipation rushed through him and shifted everything into hyperawareness like the caffeine hit he’d been looking for moments ago.
“Is it the guy who attacked Recruit Wolfe?”
Yang shook his head. “He is a she. Kerrin Hershel, one of the launch-deck maintenance crew.”
“Goddamn it.” Hearing a name was like taking a jab in the guts. He didn’t know Kerrin all that well, but he did know her, had worked alongside her on his jet a time or two. “I want to talk to her.”
Yang shook his head and reached down to take the coffee out of the machine.
“Sorry, Alpha, we’re trying to keep this contained for the time being. Something like this can cause a close-knit crew to turn on each other. With my command already under the microscope, the last thing we need is everyone on board this ship suspecting their friends and making unfounded accusations.”
“I’m not going to tell anyone, sir, but I need to know if she can reveal the identity of the mole in my squadron.”
“Believe me, it’s on our list of questions, but so far, she’s not talking.” Yang rubbed the back of his neck, tension lines bracketing his eyes and mouth.
“Maybe you just need a new face in there. Someone she’s worked with. If Stanton is the one leading the questioning, you’re not going to get anywhere. The guy’s an uptight douche.”
Yang’s lips quirked in a small smile. “I can’t disagree with you.”
“So give me five minutes with her. If she’s not talking now, and still not talking when I leave, then you haven’t lost anything. But if I can get her to spill even some tiny detail—”
“All right.” Yang held up a hand to stop him. “Stanton is not going to be impressed about this.”
He sent the commander a grin. “All the more reason to do it.”
Yang sent him an unimpressed look, but he could see the amusement in the CO’s gaze. “Come on then.”
They left the messdeck and headed down two levels, and then to the far, narrow end of the Knox. The entire end of the ship had been designed to detach and reattach to other battleships for easy and foolproof transportation of high-risk prisoners, all without them ever needing to leave their cells.
Yang led him to one of the interview rooms, where Stanton stood outside, arms crossed and a seriously peeved expression on his face.
“You told Captain Alphin?” If Stanton could have knocked him down with a glare, he’d be flat on the deck by now.
“Yes, Stanton. He’s one of my most trusted officers, and considering you told us there’s probably a mole in the FP squadron, he has a right
to know what’s going on here.”
“What’s going on is that the CSS will get their wish and we’ll end up destroying ourselves from the inside out if word gets out about Hershel.”
“Alpha knows the cost. He won’t tell anyone.”
Yang sent him a nod, so he stepped past Stanton and entered the interview room. He didn’t know what he’d been expecting, but shock cut through him at the sight of Kerrin slumped in a corner and chained to the wall, face bloodied and bruised. Even from here, he could tell she was unconscious. Had Stanton worked her over? Sick bastard. She might be the enemy, and she might have betrayed them, but no one deserved to be tortured.
He ducked his head back out of the hatchway. “Can I get a bottle of water and some cloths in here?”
“No.” Stanton replied shortly.
Yang shot the agent a glare and stepped forward. “Why—”
He looked into the room, fury tightening his expression as he rounded back toward Stanton. “What the hell is this? I wasn’t even gone for twenty minutes.”
Stanton stared at him, cold and emotionless. “We weren’t getting the answers we needed.”
Yang threw a hand out in the direction of the interview room. “And what, torturing her did?”
“Yes, actually. I got far more out of her in the last five minutes than I did in the entire hour before that.”
Yang took an angry step forward. “This is my ship, and I will not have people on board tortured, no matter who they are.”
Stanton’s expression took on an almost bored edge. “I might be on your ship, Yang, but I don’t answer to you. I answer to Command Intelligence. And they’ve instructed me to use any means necessary to find every single CS Soldier hiding in the UEF ranks. Orders that came to CI from your superior officers, I might add.”
“If we lower ourselves to their level, then what are we really fighting for?” Yang’s voice came out slightly uneven over the words.
“Your judgment in this matter is quite obviously compromised. Isn’t that why the UEF sent in Lieutenant Prescott?”
The anger already stewing over Stanton’s treatment of Kerrin snapped Leigh into fury at the agent’s taunt. He lunged, but Yang caught him and shoved him back.
Damage Control (Valiant Knox) Page 10
