“There are going to be a lot of questions asked before this mess dies down,” Billie said as she turned off the motor and stood alongside Rebecca.
Rebecca sighed as she took in the sight before them. “I’ll answer any question they ask, so long as my brother gets the honors burial he deserves.”
With that, she limped around the pilot’s chair and descended the steps to the main deck. John and Gabe had already climbed aboard to tie the boat to the dock, the former stepping up to Billie without hesitation and wrapping his arms around her, holding her tightly like a drowning man clung to a life raft, like someone who had lost and regained something very precious…
He held her like he never wanted to let her go.
“I was so afraid I might lose you,” he said hoarsely, his voice thick with emotion.
Billie returned the tight embrace even as Virginia State Police officers began to swarm the boat. She held onto him because she knew how he felt. “I was afraid you would be killed trying to save me,” she replied.
After a moment she let him go, turning her head at the shouts issued by the officers who’d climbed to the top—the flybridge it was apparently called, based on what someone nearby had just said. They’d found the general. More shouts came out of the main cabin, where someone had apparently just discovered Stan and Malone. With a look shared between them, Billie and John turned in tandem and climbed over the railing onto the dock. Wayne, Darren, and a strangely wet Teddy awaited her there—Gabe was already helping Rebecca hobble toward the shore, where medics were waiting.
Billie nodded at Wayne. “Good to see you up and about, Professor,” she said. “I’m kinda sorry I didn’t get to see you in action.”
Wayne stepped forward and hugged her warmly. “I could say the same, She-Devil.”
“No doubt you kicked ass as usual,” Darren said as he took his turn.
When he released her, she turned briefly to John and punched him in the shoulder. “Ow! What was that for?” he asked, rubbing the place where she’d hit him.
“That was for bringing my baby brother into an ambush and putting his life in danger,” she said with a slight scowl.
Teddy socked her gently in the arm before dragging her to his damp chest. “Can’t blame your boyfriend for that one, sis,” he said. “I answered the call, remember? No way was I going to stick around at the hospital after hearing you’d been driven off the bridge.”
“All right, you’re forgiven, so long as you didn’t get hurt. You didn’t—did you?” Billie asked, stepping back to take a closer look at him.
Her brother shook his shaggy, wet hair. “Nah, I just took a little dip and knocked out an asshole or two.”
As a group they started walking along the dock, headed for shore. Billie soon became aware of no less than three men in suits who appeared to be in a rather heated discussion with a female full-bird colonel in a Marine service uniform over in the closest parking area. A young male captain—probably the colonel’s aide, she mused—stood to the woman’s right, slightly behind her, with a briefcase most likely belonging to his boss in his hand. The captain looked over and noted their approach, then stepped up and spoke to the colonel, pointing toward them. The suits looked as she did and all five started their way.
“Oh, I forgot to tell you… There are some people not real happy about what happened here today,” John said slowly. “My boss is kinda pissed at me for getting Presley shot during an unauthorized operation.”
“Agent Presley’s going to be all right, I hope?” Billie wondered.
John nodded. “He’ll be fine—bullet didn’t hit any major arteries, just the meaty part of his shoulder.”
“Glad to hear it. Do you know what hospital he was taken to? I’d like to pay him a visit and thank him for his help.”
“First, She-Devil, I think you’re going to have to pay the piper,” Wayne noted as the Marines and the agency officials drew closer. “A brigadier general is dead and two of his subordinates are in police custody. The Pentagon is going to be just as pissed as the CIA is, if not more so.”
“That’s all right,” Billie replied, reaching into her shirt and plucking the flash drive from between her breasts. “I’ve got a get-out-of-jail-free card right here.”
It had taken nearly a week, mostly due to the need to wait for the flash drive to dry so its contents could be read. Part of it was also Billie’s and the team’s steadfast (stubborn and hardheaded, some called them) refusal to accept anything less than what they believed their fallen comrade deserved—full honors.
When the story broke just a few days after Wainright’s demise, the newspaper headlines had read Training Mishap Takes Life of Decorated Marine, with a subheading of DoD doctor and medic also lost in tragic accident. The precise details were kept to a minimum as it was agreed that the truth about IQ-56 needed to be kept out of the hands of U.S. enemies—if they knew about it, it was reasoned, they might well want to use it in the same manner as Wainright had planned to.
Immigration and Customs Enforcement had actually been gracious about the break in their ongoing investigation provided by the files on the flash drive. They now had a detailed list of more missing girls and women than they’d started with, and some of the photos were very recent. Their optimism in regard to being able to find the missing had risen from bleak to hopeful. Wainright’s family, naturally, had been devastated by the revelation of his criminal activities, and had gone into hiding in order to escape the paparazzi blitz that followed one particularly sensational headline: Marine Brigadier General Linked to Human Trafficking; Stripped of Honors.
That was something else Billie and the team had fought for—not so much for having the general’s reputation torn to shreds, but for his being held accountable for his actions, rather than having them swept under the rug. Too many times, Billie had said, terrible crimes were covered up for the sake of “the greater good”, and she’d been determined not to let that happen in this case. Some of the top officers at the Pentagon—thoroughly embarrassed by having the wool pulled so perfectly over their eyes by so high-ranking an official—had wanted to keep it quiet, to allow his family to bury him in peace, but despite sympathizing with their shock and sense of betrayal, she simply hadn’t been able to accept anything less than a public acknowledgement of what Wainright had done.
Malone and Stan had both lawyered up as soon as they were conscious, and though it made all involved sick to think of it, they all knew the two former privates were likely to get commuted sentences so long as they spilled everything. On that matter, Billie had said, “Some justice is better than none at all, I suppose.”
And now, at last, they were at Arlington National Cemetery laying one of the best friends she’d ever had to rest. When Rebecca had finally been given the okay to tell their mother about Eddie’s death, Maureen Stevens had been crushed, but from his vantage point across the casket, John noted, she was holding up fairly well. Of course, given how shaken Billie had reported her being, her current stiff-backed posture was likely due to having her daughter sitting stoically on one side and her husband of 25 years sitting on the other, an arm protectively draped about her shoulders.
The seven-gun salute had been fired and Taps had been played. The U.S. flag that had been draped across the oak casket was now crisply folded. Billie, decked out like every other Marine present in her Class A Dress Blues, turned sharply and marched over toward the family, the triangle of blue-backed stars clasped firmly between her white-gloved hands. She stopped in front of Mrs. Stevens and dropped slowly to one knee, holding the flag out to her as she said the words no Marine family ever wanted to hear.
“Mrs. Stevens… On behalf of the President of the United States, the Commandant of the Marine Corps, and a grateful nation, please accept this flag as a symbol of our appreciation for Eddie’s honorable and faithful service to Country and Corps.”
John’s gut tightened when he heard her voice break slightly. Billie had wanted so much t
o get through the short speech without her emotions getting in the way, though from what he had learned of her in their short acquaintance, showing her own pain was but a matter of time. She had loved Eddie Lamacek as a brother, she felt guilty for not being there for him when he had needed her this past year, and she missed him fiercely. His mother broke down in sobs as soon as her hands touched the folded flag, and she clutched it tightly to her chest as her husband drew her gently to his. Billie then stood and brought her hand up in a sharp salute, turned right-face, and marched to join the flag’s folders—three of whom were the remaining members of her team.
John knew he wasn’t the only one to notice the tears on her face as she walked.
Billie’s father had graciously offered to host the after-services at his home, and it was there that, after waiting an hour for her to visit with friends and family of Eddie’s, John took her aside for their first private conversation since the culmination of events at the marina—so many questions had been asked by so many different law enforcement agencies that they simply hadn’t had a chance to be alone together. He’d been perfectly okay with that, understanding the need to not only fulfill legal obligations, but familial ones as well, to her own family and to Eddie’s. But damn it, he’d been missing her. He needed to see her, speak to her…
…and if she would let him, touch her.
As they had done the day of the barbecue, Billie walked with him toward the back end of the yard. Though this time she did not lean against it, she stopped again under the tree where they’d spoken before, her hat—cover, the military called it—in her hands.
“How are you doing?” he asked softly.
She looked up at him. “Believe it or not, I’m doing a hell of a lot better now that this mess is over,” she replied.
“I hope you’ll forgive me saying so given the circumstances, but you look killer in that uniform.”
A slight grin broke through her somber expression. “Thanks. I thought when I insisted on being the presenter—which meant I’d have to don my uniform—that Col. Harmon would blow a gasket. You know, being that I’m not an active Marine and all that bullshit. But I pressed the point that Eddie and I had served together and that I had been honorably discharged, so there was no reason I shouldn’t be able to wear my blues to his funeral, let alone take part in the military service.”
“Harmon… Remind me, she’s the colonel we met that day at the marina, right?” John asked.
Billie nodded. “She’s a hard-ass, too. A by-the-book, straight-laced, ball-busting career Marine with her eye on earning a couple of stars for her epaulets before she retires.”
He chuckled. “Sounds a lot like you,” he observed.
She grinned fully now. “Yeah, I actually kinda like her—though I imagine my desire to stay in the field would have stalled my upward mobility at where she is now, perhaps even at lieutenant colonel.”
Billie sighed and looked toward the house. John watched her for a moment, his own brow creasing with concern as a number of different emotions flitted across her face, one exchanging places with another almost before each had fully settled. Just as he was about to reach out a hand to her chin to make her face him again she did it on her own. The expression she wore as she regarded him now was knowing…and regretful.
“John, you don’t have to tell me how you feel about me,” she began. “God only knows why, considering how much of a bitch I was at times, but I know you care about me.”
He nodded solemnly. “I do, Billie. Sometimes I don’t get it either, and not just because you were…emotional…a time or two. But I have strong feelings for you, and I’d like to be with you if there’s even the remotest chance of it.”
She bit her bottom lip then, and he knew she was about to deliver bad news. His chest tightened in preparation for the inevitable letdown—he’d suspected it was coming, but he had foolishly hoped anyway.
“John, I care about you, too,” she surprised him by saying. “For the longest time I thought myself incapable of feeling anything for anyone after losing Travis the way I did. I thought I was too broken to feel again, and because of how utterly destroyed I was by his death, I’ve been afraid to take the risk of getting hurt again.”
Billie reached for his hand, and he clasped hers in return with a gentle yet almost desperate grip. Here she had confessed to returning his affection, but she was pulling away from him anyhow. John had known her rejection would hurt, but his imagination hadn’t done the feeling justice—in reality it felt much like heart attack victims claimed to feel when in the midst of an arrest: unable to breathe because an elephant had taken up residence on his chest.
“But then you came barreling into my life, and somehow you managed to put a crack in the proverbial wall around my heart,” she went on. “Whatever the future holds for me, I will be forever grateful to you for helping me begin to heal. That’s just the thing, though—I have no idea where my future lies. I walked away from real life for a year, John, and there are repercussions to that. I have many relationships that need to be repaired before I can embark on a new one. And I have to figure out just what the hell I’m going to do with my life from this point forward.”
She released his hand then, raising hers to cup his cheek. “I don’t like that I’m hurting you, but I hope you understand why. I need time to really put myself back together, to rebuild my shattered foundation, before I can be the partner in life that you deserve.”
When she would have pulled her hand away, John took hold of it and held it pressed to his face a moment longer, his eyes closed as he breathed in the perfume she had dabbed on her wrist. Then with a heavy sigh, he nodded, lowering their hands and holding onto hers as he said, “I do understand, Billie. And I am going to give you all the time that you need. Just do me one favor, will you?”
“Anything,” Billie said.
He stepped closer, lowering his head as he said, “When you are ready, come find me. I’ll be waiting.”
Then he touched his lips to hers, the contact brief and bittersweet, before he turned and walked away.
About the Author:
After working on her first novel during NaNoWriMo 2010 and editing and revising the story throughout the next year, Christina made her professional debut in January of 2012 with the paranormal romance Chasing Shadows, followed by an erotic short story entitled The Beauty in the Black Room and the romantic suspense novel Fire Born, both also published in 2012. Currently she resides in Ohio, where she has lived all her life.
When not allowing the characters in her imagination use her to tell their stories, she enjoys a great movie, good times with family and friends, and being “hu-mom” to two Chihuahuas and two Siberian Huskies. Christina always keeps a notebook handy to jot down ideas for future stories and is currently working on her fifth novel.
A note from Christina:
I would very much like to hear from my readers! Your opinions are very important to me, so if you’d like to share your thoughts about this book, please feel free to send me a note on my Facebook page via private message or by posting on my wall—I will definitely reply! Also, I hope you will consider writing a review and posting it on the book’s product page where you purchased it, or on Goodreads. Reader reviews are incredibly helpful, and very encouraging to us writers. They inspire us to keep writing!
Other works by Christina Moore:
Available from Black Room Press -
The Shadow Chronicles
Chasing Shadows
From the Shadows
Firehouse 343
Fire Born
Connect with Christina!
You can follow her via her blog at:
http://diaryofanindieauthor.blogspot.com/
And her Facebook page:
https://www.facebook.com/ChristinaMoore.Author
And on Twitter:
https://twitter.com/Writergirl79
Turn the page for a sneak peek at the first chapter of the next adventure…
ONE
>
Looking upon it now, this one was even better looking than the last one. Kevin’s firm had done a remarkable job on their first “overseas” construction project—and now, the Crabana stood proudly once again on the sands of Flamingo Bay.
When she had announced her intention to return to St. Thomas, her family had been thrown. “I’m officially reminding you that you said never to let you run away to the Caribbean again,” Andy had told her.
“I’m not running away again,” she had replied. “But given how abruptly I left and the circumstances surrounding Georgia Ross’s disappearance, there are a lot more questions to be answered. If I’m going to give my life the kick in the ass it needs, I have to start there.”
The problem was, Billie had known she couldn’t just breeze into the city like nothing had happened. The police in St. Thomas had indeed had a mountain of questions for her, starting with where she’d been. What had really happened the night the Crabana had exploded? Why had she been the target of an apparent assassination attempt that had resulted in several injuries and the death of a teenage girl?
She told them the truth, and brought newspaper clippings from nationally recognized newspapers to back up her story. The chief of police had still made a few phone calls to verify her claims, of course, but in the end the matter had been laid to rest. Afterward, she had visited the site where Georgia Ross had once worked as a barmaid, staring into the crater still lined with police caution tape, and was suddenly reminded of how much Sergei had loved that bar.
Two Evils Page 35
