The Baby Favor

by Chance Carter

  "Jack," I said. I had an open door policy with most of the officers directly below me.

  "Lieutenant," he replied, and saluted. It felt mocking, somehow. He didn't meet my eye. "How are you this afternoon, Sir?"

  "I'm well, thank you. How are you, Petty Officer Whitmore?"

  "I've been better. Mind if I shut the door?" Shutting the door meant he'd drop the formal act, so hell yeah, he could shut the damn door. We were humans, not soldier robots, for fuck's sake.

  "Go ahead."

  Whitmore shut it, then moved to the chair in front of my desk. He tugged it back, and it scraped along the linoleum with an ear-splitting squeak. He sat down, didn't say a word.

  "Jack?"

  "I couldn't help overhearing your conversation on the phone," he said. "I was about to knock before it started. I - uh, yeah."

  That was a vast invasion of privacy, but Jack's expression said there was more to it than that. "What's on your mind?"

  "I also saw Colleen sending a fax earlier."

  "Okay."

  "You're going to bring that chick up here. The one you banged."

  My brow wrinkled up. "That's inappropriate."

  "Exactly."

  "No, I mean what you just said is inappropriate. And what you're implying."

  Jack folded his arms, biceps straining at his uniform. He would've been a threat to another man. That shit didn't bother me. My friendship with this asshole had started after a fight in training. We almost got kicked out of the SEALs for it.

  I'd whooped his ass. Pity, I couldn't do it again. Oh, how the times had changed.

  "You've lost touch," Jack said. "I was right about you. I mean, I heard whispers around the base that you'd gone soft, but you seemed fine to me. Hard as fucking nails, right? But now this. How am I supposed to take this, Ryan?"

  "You're not supposed to take anything, anyway, because it's above your fucking pay grade, you whelp."

  "That's how it is?" Jack shook his head. 'Man, you've got pussy on the brain. You really think this little bitch is going to come up here and transform the base into fucking Graceland? You'll be the laughing stock when this falls through. I wouldn't be surprised if you got a dishonorable discharge."

  "You'd like that, wouldn't you?" I asked, because he'd brought my blood to a boil.

  "This isn't about me. I'm trying to warn you before shit goes south, understand?" Jack squeaked forward in that chair, mock concern painting his features into a picture of 'lie.' "You bring that woman up here and the others are going to start talking. You say you're worried about morale? Watch what happens when this little ho appears."

  "Call her that one more time," I said, and raised my finger. "And I'll have you transferred from this fucking base."

  'You don't have the balls or the power." Jack hesitated, swallowed. His Adam's apple bobbed up and down again. "I'm not trying to fuck with you, bro. I'm warning you. That's all. This doesn't look good."

  I didn't care how it looked to him. And I didn't believe for a second that he was really concerned about me. We'd been friends, sure, but he'd always had a competitive streak which bordered on self-destructive. It had to eat at him that I was higher rank. That I had a purple heart I didn't even want.

  "This is your last chance, Ryan. You realize that, right?" Jack thumbed the underside of his nose. "You mess this up and you're out on your ass. You already killed your men once, they won't take kindly to it if you cause a mass exodus of soldiers from this base."

  And just like that he'd crossed the damn line. "Get out," I said. "You're dismissed."

  Quiet, and then Jack threw up his arms. "Fine," he said. "Fine. But don't say I didn't warn you. Don't say that I don't look out for you when shit goes down. And it will. It will go down."

  "Is that a threat, Whitmore?" What a fucking cock. How had I tolerated this sleaze bag all these years? Thank God, he hadn't been deployed to Iraq with me. I would've cracked under pressure and throttled him.

  Jack got up and moved to the exit. "Good afternoon, Sir," he said, dripping acid. He let himself out into the hall and slammed the door shut behind himself.

  "Fucking asshole," I muttered. Insubordination at its finest, but Jack thought he could take chances with me because of our old friendship. Perhaps, I'd been too lenient with him. Perhaps, it was time to put him in his place. Stick him in the mess hall kitchens cleaning up after the chef.

  I massaged my temples and considered his 'warning.' Did it have any weight? Yes, Chanel and I had slept together, and yes, I was drawn to her, but that wasn't what this was about. She was the only one in Meek Springs who could fix the gray and steel nightmare around here.

  I picked up the phone again and called Information Services.

  "Yeah, I'd like the number for Scott's Interiors?" I copied it down, then hung up and stared at the digits for a while. If I made this call, there was no turning back.

  Chanel would come out here, and I didn't doubt she'd succeed in creating a design that would impress Shepherd. She oozed confidence while speaking about what she did for a living. And her out here, damn, that would be a challenge for me.

  I didn't want emotional involvement with anyone, and fraternizing with her would be out of bounds. Could I handle the tension if she ended up on base for an extended period of time? This wasn't a one-night stand - I'd never been big on those - and she wasn't a regular woman.

  "Do the right thing," I muttered. That was the mantra I lived by. It was the same one that'd failed me in Iraq. Rather, I failed it.

  The right thing. I picked up the receiver again, and dialed her number.

  Chapter 9

  Chanel

  "You don't need to wait out on the porch," my mother said. "If he's a soldier he'll know to come in and greet me before you leave. You're acting like you're going away for a month, not an afternoon"

  I held my leather case in both hands in front of my body and stayed put. "It's not a meet and greet, mom. I've got work to do. The sooner I get out to the base to assess the place, the better." This was the first discussion we'd had since I told her about Ryan's decision to bring me out there.

  Our mother-daughter relationship had taken a serious knock. She'd called Paula to double check with her about my 'story' as she called it, and thankfully, Paula backed me up - I'd gone back to her house that afternoon to collect my cell and filled her in.

  "I don't like this, Chanel. You don't know that this Baker character is on the level. What if he wants to kidnap you?"

  I'd let him. "He's a Navy SEAL, mother. It doesn’t get more on the level than that."

  My mother harrumphed but finally settled down. She couldn't argue with that fact. She loved my dad, God knew what he'd seen in her apart from her looks, and she'd remain faithful to him until the day she died.

  A military truck turned the corner and roared up the road. Curtains shifted in the house opposite ours. Nosy Miss Kerrington out for the next big gossip scoop. Mom's cheeks colored at the sight of the vehicle.

  It parked in front of the house and Ryan got out of the driver's side. I worked to keep a straight face at the sight of him, but heat pooled between my legs, right away.

  His walk, the somber expression on his face. God, it drove me crazy. He didn't have swagger. He wasn't cheap. He was in constant control, like a restrained lion. But the lion wasn't a brute, it was noble, dangerous - oh God, what was I even thinking?

  Ryan halted at the bottom of the stairs. "Good morning, ma'am," he said, "are you Mrs. Scott."

  "That's correct," mom said. "And you are?"

  "Lieutenant Commander Baker, ma'am. It's a pleasure to meet you. I've come to collect Miss Scott," he said.

  This felt weird - like a hand-off between my mother and the man who made me moan. I shuddered. "It's nice to see you again, Lieutenant Commander. Shall we?"

  "After you, ma'am," he said, then gestured to the vehicle. "Mrs. Scott." He nodded once, then followed me down the paving stones to the Jeep.

  "Smooth," I whispered, onc
e we were far enough away that she couldn't hear us.

  "I have no idea what you're talking about," he replied, but the corners of his lips twitched. He had to know how impressive he was, rocking up at my front door in the army vehicle and full uniform.

  I had a pretty good read on my mother, and she was impressed despite her best efforts to pretend otherwise.

  Ryan opened the passenger side door for me and helped me into the cab. He shut it again, then circled around and clambered in himself. He started up the engine and curtains all up and down the road twitched. Everyone in Meek Springs would know about this before the hour was out.

  I could almost hear the phones ringing already.

  "Have you got everything you need?" Ryan asked. "Do you need me to stop at the store on our way out?"

  "No, I've got everything," I said, and patted my suitcase. "Thanks."

  He drove off and I spared my mother a quick wave, more to placate her than anything else. She didn't return the greeting, but remained there, resolute, her hands tucked into the front pocket of her apron.

  We streaked through the town, Baker's hands sure on the wheel as they had been on my body. I bit my lip and crossed my legs, focused on keeping this about the job, not what was in his pants.

  I'd never had this reaction to anyone before. I wasn't hard up for attention, and my existence certainly didn't revolve around sex. I'd always been more set on studies or work or the future. Or the prospect for adventure.

  Maybe, that was what made Ryan so attractive to me. He was adventure made flesh. Oh, yeah, and he was damn fine.

  "Are you all right? Going too fast for you?"

  "I'm good," I said, as he put on his indicator and glided onto the road that led out of town and to the infamous base. "It's nice to see you again."

  He broke into a full smile, then. "It's nice to see you too," he said. "Real nice."

  I let my hand wander across the space between us, and laid it on his upper thigh, not too close to the 'goods.' It was meant to be a warm gesture. A show of affection, but it fell flat. His hands slipped on the wheel, he swerved and I sucked in a gasp and withdrew.

  "Sorry," I said.

  "No need to apologize," he replied, briskly. “It would probably be better if we didn't, uh, you - uh."

  "Yeah, I know what you mean." It would be better if we didn't fraternize in public. His men would lose respect for him, and I certainly didn't want anyone thinking I'd gained this position by sleeping with the proverbial boss.

  I hadn't. Though, it might've helped a little. I fanned myself and looked out at the approaching mountains, solid, stark, yet picturesque.

  My mom had chosen this place after dad passed because it was what they planned initially. He was set to retire and live life with his little family, in a little house in the middle of an even smaller town.

  Except that didn’t happened. My dad's paradise had become my prison.

  "Once we're there, I'll introduce you to a few of my commanding officers and they can help you pinpoint the problem areas on base," Ryan said. "We'll rendezvous in my office after you've completed your initial scan of the facilities."

  "All right."

  "How long will it take you to come up with proposed design plans? The sooner I have them, the sooner I can get them approved by my Commander."

  "It depends on what I'm working with. I'll need the night, most likely," I said. Shoot, even the word 'night' had weird connotations for me, now.

  "That's all?"

  "As I said, it depends on how big of a problem we're looking at here."

  "Substantial."

  We fell into another uneasy silence and I used it to consider the project instead of the tension building between us. I had a job to perform, or I'd let Ryan down and that was the last thing I wanted to do.

  I had my selfish escape motivation going on, but that didn't mean I'd do a crappy job at making that base pleasing on the eye. I cared about this. Given half the chance, I'd take my experience and set up shop outside of Meek Springs.

  I'd probably never have that chance.

  Ryan stopped in front of a beam and a sentry house. A soldier ran out to greet us, clipboard tucked under one arm. He halted beside the window and Ryan rolled it down. "Morning, private."

  "Morning, Lieutenant Commander," the soldier replied, and saluted. He handed over the clipboard. "I'll need your passenger to sign in, as well, Sir."

  "No problem," I said, and did I was told.

  A half hour drive up the side of the mountain and we crested a plateau that held a compact base. It wasn't tiny, but it certainly wasn't like the ones I'd seen when my father was in the SEALs.

  It took us two more check-ins with security before we parked in a designated spot. Ryan rushed around to my side of the Jeep, then clunked the door open for me. He held out his hand.

  I accepted it, tried and failed to ignore the rush, and got out of the vehicle beside him. The air was crisp up there, and much colder. I shivered and rubbed my arms, though I'd worn a relatively thick coat for this excursion.

  "You need another jacket?" He asked.

  "I'm fine," I said. "Lead the way."

  We moved inside the facility and into a mass of linoleum and gray and blegh. It was just the worst aesthetic imaginable. It reminded me of a mixture between a morgue and a hospital. A hospital morgue? No, even they had a little color.

  "Whoever decorated this place had to have been color blind," I said.

  Ryan lead me down the hall, past a single wilting, potted plant, and into a conference room. Faces peered at me from around a long table - gray, as well, of course.

  "Let me make the introductions," Ryan said. "Officers, this is Chanel Scott. She'll be working on sprucing up the base and helping us increase morale around here."

  I recognized one face out of the bunch. Jack Whitmore. The same guy who'd given Ryan cheek back in the Meek Springs Motel. He didn't look all that happy to see me. The feeling was mutual.

  "Chanel, this is Petty Officer Whitmore," he said, and pointed to Jack. "This is Officer Jameson." That was a young woman in uniform. She offered a gap-toothed smile. I instantly liked her - she had an open face, and less of an attitude than any of the others at the table.

  "In the back is Petty Officer Hudson," Ryan said, and pointed to a young, handsome black man. Ryan rattled off a couple more names, but I lost most of them in the rush.

  I'd grossly underestimated the amount of work it would take to get this place looking remotely pleasing on the eye. I'd have a rough idea by the end of the day, but actual plans would take much longer. I'd need broader access to the base. Time here to make sure things were laid out properly, and help. A lot of help putting things together.

  Excitement and fear combined in my gut. This was a once in a lifetime project, and a great opportunity to get away from home.

  “- necessary?" Jack asked.

  I tuned back into the conversation. "Sorry, could you repeat that?"

  Everyone stared me. Clearly, his question wasn’t directed at me.

  "I was just pointing out that redecorating the entire base might not be necessary. We have bigger concerns than potted plants and flowers."

  "Really?" I asked. "You don't say." I'd always had a sarcastic streak. My mother wasn’t able to lecture it out of me. "I struggle to believe that, actually."

  Ryan stared at me as if I'd sprouted an extra head. Possibly, of the demon dog variety.

  "Why's that, ma'am?" Officer Hudson asked, elbows planted on the table and one eyebrow raised.

  "I fail to see how anything could be more important than morale at a military base. If your soldiers aren't happy, they won't concentrate. They won't train properly. They won't eat properly."

  Ryan gave a nod. It was the same sentiment I'd used to convince him I belonged out here.

  "Yeah, sure," Jack said. "But I don't see how flowers are the way to do that."

  "The only person who mentioned flowers is you, Officer Whitmore," I said. "I'm beginning t
o believe you have an affinity for them. I'd be happy to order a bouquet of Azaleas for your office."

  Laughter burst from the others at the table.

  "It's Petty Officer Whitmore," he said. "First Class."

  "My mistake." I touched a finger to the side of my nose. "Thank you for the introductions, Lieutenant Commander. I'll need an escort around the facility."

  "I'll take you, Miss Scott," Officer Jameson said, and put up her hand.

  Thank heavens for that. The last thing I needed was sour First Class prick Jack escorting me around the base.

  "Excellent," Ryan said. "Rendezvous in my office in an hour. If you need anything else just holler, Miss Scott."

  "Will do." I brushed past Ryan on the way out and for a second, it seemed he wanted to say something more. The moment passed quickly.

  I had work to do.

  Chapter 10

  Ryan

  I tried not to think about her the entire day, but she was on the base now, and thoughts about what’d happened between us were unavoidable. A heady mix of pleasure and guilt. Images of her body beneath mine, the scrape of her nails down my back, ruined by the thuds of shame in the pit of my stomach.

  Had I taken advantage of her? Had I ruined everything?

  Chanel couldn’t understand the amount of responsibility I had or the life I had to live. I was a traveler. I was a man under command. If Shepherd ordered me to abandon the base tomorrow, shit, within the next hour, I’d have to do it.

  I’d leave her behind, even though thoughts of her would haunt me. I’d do whatever it took to find absolution in service to my country.

  A knock at my office door brought me back down to earth. “Come in,” I said.

  The knob turned and Chanel entered the room, a tiny frown wrinkling her brow. She fluffed her hair and the appetizing scent that was unequivocally her drifted toward me.

  “Problem?”

  “No,” she said. “Well, yes, I guess you could say that. But that’s not why I’m here. It’s the rendezvous time.” She tapped her watch and smiled at me. The frown didn’t disappear though.