by Nina Bruhns
Gail was breathing hard, pressed against the bunk as she listed to the squeak of the faucet and the water spilling through the pipes. Then the faucet squeaked off. A moment later, Mary-Jo returned to the bunkroom. She didn’t look any calmer.
“Humph. You just remember what I said, and if I was you, Miss Gail, I would drop it and start doin’ the job you’re supposed to do and keep your nose out of the captain’s business.”
The angrier Mary-Jo got, the more pronounced her southern accent became. It wasn’t something Gail had seen often, but she had heard it once or twice whenever some young sailor had made a backhanded comment. Mary-Jo swept her gaze past each of them, clenching her fists, and suddenly smacked Gail on the back of the head. “What’s wrong with you, trying to cause trouble? And what’s wrong with you girls, sittin’ here listening to this? Shame on you.” She gave each of them a final dark glare before heading for the door of the bunkroom. “If you even think about causing trouble and I hear about it, I’ll go straight to the Cap’n. I won’t stand by and take it, and I won’t do it sneaky like the coward you are. I will be in your face and wipe the floor with you.” She leaned in to Gail’s face, and for a moment Gail thought she’d spit on her, but then she turned and left the bunkroom.
The remaining women gazed at each other before one of them said, “She’s right. Just let it go.”
But no, there was something inside Gail that hated being humiliated or having one of her ideas squashed by some darky piece of trash. The way the other women were turned away from her now, after she knew she’d almost convinced them—no, she’d find a way. She had to. After all, Captain Eric Hamilton had pissed off the wrong woman and needed to be taught a lesson. Instead of sulking away, she plopped into one of the chairs by the TV, earning a pitying glance from Jennifer, who had her long brown hair pinned up. She absolutely loathed that feeling, when someone turned the tables on her, and at this moment she hated all of them for making her feel this low.
Saved: Chapter Eight
Eric sat behind his big desk, considering the officers in the room. Joe was still sitting in the chair by the sofa, where they had just held their daily department head meeting. The meetings were, as a rule, held in the morning, but with the sudden arrival of Abby and the ensuing commotion, they’d rescheduled it for 1900. He acknowledged each officer as they passed by his desk. “Captain,” each said before leaving. Eric downed the last of his bitter coffee in one gulp and reread the orders clutched in his hand: Undetermined extension of existing orders to remain in the Persian Gulf, conducting operations in support of multinational forces in Iraq and maritime security operations in the Gulf in order to set conditions for security and stability in the region.
“Stability in the region, that really sums everything up,” Eric said. He didn’t look at Joe, but he could feel his friend watching him.
When the USS Larsen pulled out of their homeport six months earlier as part of the battle group now stationed in the gulf under Operation Iraqi Freedom, emotions had been high. The thrill of being back on the open sea was the biggest adrenaline rush he had ever experienced. He lived and breathed the Navy. It was a part of him. Among the crew, just about each one of them had it in their blood. Most had left behind wives, children, and families; some had even become new fathers while out at sea. But that was what happened when you chose a life in the military. Your spouse had to look after the home front, and if something happened at home, there wasn’t a damn thing a sailor could do. Many didn’t get the messages until whatever the trouble was had been resolved.
When Eric announced the orders of their extended stay, he’d seen the disappointment in the eyes of his officers. They were ready to go home, to see their families. Johnson, a redheaded, blue-eyed officer, had a young wife pregnant with their first, and she was due to deliver when he was supposed to be home. That was all anyone had heard from him the last few weeks, that he was going to be in the delivery room when his baby was born. When Eric looked into the distress on Johnson’s face, even though the officer had tried to hide it, well, he felt lower than dirt, and he apologized to him. He felt guilty and horrible, because when he read the order, he’d been happy beyond words. He had no ties to shore, only a cheap rented apartment in Portsmouth, furnished second-hand. He had no emotional ties, and he never gave a second thought to the shore. No, this was Eric’s true home, his lady love, the sea, the only place he truly felt alive.
He sighed and placed the orders back in the folder. Then he dropped it neatly to the side of his desk. An order was an order, and he wasn’t about to coddle his crew. They all needed to suck it up, especially with the new task force that had just been created because of the escalating tension and increase in danger in the area. The task force was scheduled for dispatch later in the week.
Eric had been hesitant about bringing up the subject of Abby, but he knew there was no way around it. He had to say something to his men. They knew she was here, so all he’d said was that they wouldn’t be moving her, and, for the time being, she would remain in sickbay, off limits to the crew. Of course, he wasn’t surprised by the response and the way they looked at each other as if wondering why she was still here. This included Joe, but Joe, being his right hand, steered the discussion in a different direction. Eric knew all too well that behind closed doors, alone, he’d be hearing from him. Before the meeting, Eric had spoken with Vice Admiral James, who was the commander of the US Navy and Marine Forces in the Gulf. They addressed the fact that the Brits were still very much in the area. In fact, they’d spotted one of the British Class Sheffield Destroyers on the horizon to the north.
The fact was that Eric was stalling, and that was something he didn’t do. He was, though, concerned with how the admiral would react toward Abby and the reason she was remaining on board. When he brought up the matter, he’d met a heart-pounding silence in which he could hear a pen clicking on the other end of the line, but then the admiral had said, “I will leave it to your better judgment.” Eric didn’t know when he’d decided to keep Abby on board. He’d just known, for some reason, and because of what had happened to her, that he wanted her to stay under his protection right now.
Eric didn’t glance up until the door clicked closed behind the last officer. That left him alone with Joe. “Sorry about the extension. I know you miss Mary-Margaret and the kids.”
Joe tightened his mouth and glanced away. “Thanks, Eric. Yeah, I miss them.”
Eric watched his friend struggling with his emotions before he cleared his throat roughly.
“So what did the admiral have to say about Abby?” Joe asked.
This was the part he didn’t want to address, because Joe was like a dog with a bone sometimes and read him very well. So he turned away and jabbed his fingers through his short dark hair. “He said he’d leave when and if she’s moved up to me.”
“What do you mean if she’s moved?”
“Abby was quite upset about the guard. You know, she thought she was a prisoner. She misunderstood my intentions.”
Joe was still watching him, still waiting for Eric to answer him, and Eric knew that hard look from those deep blue eyes. It was one Joe gave Eric when he knew he was blowing him off. Any other time, Joe would keep digging until he answered, but Eric didn’t want to talk to anyone, even Joe, about why he felt the need to keep Abby here for now.
Instead, he said, “I’m looking for some information—any information—on this Seyed Hossein, the guy who ‘bought’ Abby, who did this to her.”
“Turns out there’s not much available,” Joe answered. “Not even a hundred percent sure the guy exists.” He picked up the files, then sat across from Eric. He tossed the file on the desk and added, “You know that the French police report that every year, at least several thousand girls are reported missing from Paris? The police believe these girls have been abducted for prostitution in Arab countries. What’s really sick is that even Intel has information that there are auctions in Africa where these abducted white women
are sold to Arab customers, and blond women like Abby are like platinum.”
Eric touched his forehead, trying to still the boiling rage that was ripping through him. He couldn’t stomach what he was picturing, and Abby had lived it.
“These women disappear, never to be seen again. For what it’s worth, Abby is one of the lucky ones.” Joe held up a manila file folder. “I believe this Hossein is responsible.” He slid the file across the desk to Eric.
His stomach burned, and the bile threatened to climb up and close his throat. He had to swallow hard a couple times before he could speak. “They can be quite the sick, perverted bastards, can’t they?” He leaned back as the leather hissed, propping his feet up on the desk.
Joe cleared his throat. “I’m not sure I should mention this, but I overheard some talk on board of how Abby might be some sort of terrorist.”
Eric slammed his feet on the ground, standing up so fast he sent the chair crashing into the wall. He braced his arms on the desk and leaned down, feeling the predator in him clawing to be set free, and he wondered, by the look on Joe’s face, whether his friend thought he’d tear this ship apart.
“Whoa, calm down and don’t head out that door to kill anyone just yet. I did put an end to the rumors.”
“Who started them?”
Joe gave him a look as if Eric should know better. “Kind of hard to tell, you know, especially on a ship where the crew lives for whatever tale someone can tell. If I didn’t know better, I’d think you were a little taken with this girl.”
“Look, I’m concerned about her. I mean, how many of these girls who are taken are ever found?” He shrugged because he felt something for her, but he was sure it was because he had found her. He had saved her. “Joe, I think we should get Intel on to this Seyed Hossein. My gut tells me there is more to this guy and situation than we know about. I mean, why does he have her on a boat in the middle of the night out here, alone?”
Sitting down, he squeezed the back of his neck. His mind was going faster with ideas and reasons, and he liked none of them. There was a feeling he got whenever something didn’t click, didn’t settle, because he knew there was more, and that was the feeling he had about this elusive Seyed Hossein. He still couldn’t figure out what Abby’s role was to be, because he knew deep in his bones that she hadn’t been along for a pleasure cruise. Guys like Seyed were dangerous animals. Nothing they did was without an agenda. He’d have to talk to Abby again. He hated upsetting her, making her relive this horrible thing over and over, but it couldn’t be helped.
“Captain, did you hear me?”
Eric blinked a couple times. “Sorry, was just thinking.”
“I said there are a number of boats, particularly fishing boats, sailboats, that have been reported as suspicious. Their activities are being monitored.”
“Really. That’s quite interesting. So anything about Seyed and one of these boats?”
“Apparently two nights ago a sailboat that was overdue was returned under rather suspicious circumstances at a sports club on Kish Island. The club manager, who was on duty at the time, filed a report of a missing dinghy. The lone occupant was noted as being rather disgruntled and uncooperative, saying the dinghy had been lost at sea, and he wasn’t willing to elaborate on the details.”
“That sounds like our guy, does it not?”
“The details are sketchy, but I think you’re right. I don’t have to remind you that this information is unofficial, and it came from a friend of mine at Intel,” Joe said.
Eric shook his head and laughed. “So who exactly is this friend of yours?”
The wide smile flashed a row of perfect white teeth. “Do you remember Edwin Harley?”
Eric frowned, trying to remember where he had heard that name before.
“Edwin is with the Marines, a lieutenant commander. He’s been doing some recon work with the Special Forces for the last eighteen months. We grew up together; his dad and mine are good friends. Remember Christmas dinner six years ago at my house? He was there with that young bombshell wife, Carlie.”
A sudden shiver ripped up his spine as he swallowed a groan. “God, how could I forget? Shit, she was all over me when I came out of the bathroom. Her husband in the next room, unbelievable.” He leveled Joe with a sheepish look. “I couldn’t help feeling sorry for that poor guy. I couldn’t even look him in the eye. A woman like that, gives you a bad taste.”
“Yeah, well, as my wife said, she always did go after all the hunks—she just didn’t like the same ones all the time. Anyway, she’s gone now. Took off with some guy to LA.”
Eric closed his eyes for just a second and then shared a pitying look with Joe for the guy’s misfortune. “When did you talk to him?”
“I put a call in to him after Abby showed up on board. I thought we could use his contacts.”
For some reason, Eric felt the thread holding his temper unravel, and Joe must have seen something in his face.
“I told him this was unofficial as well as confidential. He clearly understood that we didn’t have a conversation.”
“Just be careful what you say, Joe.”
“I always am.”
Joe had more friends and contacts in the military than Eric had ever seen. But then again, Joe was a Navy brat coming from a military family. He was charming, tall, with a dimpled smile and looks that kind of snuck up on you and sucker punched you, as he’d heard from the women when they didn’t think he was listening. The men all wanted him around because he was fun, dependable, reliable and, to Eric, the best friend he could ask for.
Eric remembered well how Joe always included him in family gatherings, Christmas and holidays, always dragging him along even when Eric said no. When Joe married his wife, Mary-Margaret, a short, cute, bubbly woman, she had never once judged Eric. She accepted all of him, including his chauvinistic views of women, and she was always teasing him and trying to fix him up with one of her friends, telling him that he was so damn good looking, so strong, with a body that every woman dreamed of. It was a shame to waste, and he grimaced every time she tried to take charge of his love life and fix him up on one blind date after another. But he loved her as Joe’s wife and didn’t have the heart to tell her to stop. She was a treasure, and on more than one occasion, Eric had told Joe how lucky he was. He envied Joe for having found Mary-Margaret, a woman fiercely devoted to her family, and it showed with the close, loving relationship she and Joe still shared after eleven years of marriage and three kids.
“Listen, is there anything else you were able to get out of Edwin?”
Joe frowned. “Not much else, I’m afraid. He’s going to do some checking, see if he can track this guy, find out what he’s up to. He asked to be kept apprised of any other information that you get out of Abby, anything else she may remember. She may know something more of what this guy was really up to.” Joe crossed his legs before continuing. “As you know, we won’t be privy to whatever information he may have, but he will unofficially find out and let me know.”
“Thanks, Joe. But for now let’s just keep this between you and me. I need to decide the best way to handle this.”
Joe didn’t sit around and wait for Eric to dismiss him. He took his leave, carrying on with his duties. Eric remained in his chair long after Joe left. He was treading on shaky ground keeping Abby on board, but for some reason he couldn’t explain, he wanted to keep her close. He really didn’t want to over analyze it, because he didn’t get involved with women. He didn’t want to care for them, and protect them, and plan futures with them. Not him, a child who’d been abandoned in an alley when he was a kid by his own junkie of a mother. He’d never had a loving, honest relationship with any woman.
He swiped his weary eyes and glanced at his watch: 2200. No wonder he was tired. He stuffed the file Joe had left in his top drawer and eased to his feet, stuffing the keys in his pants pocket. He headed off to bed, making a mental note to speak with Abby first thing in the morning.
Sa
ved: Chapter Nine
“Taylor, any trouble, anyone trying to sneak in?” the captain asked the guard posted outside sickbay.
“No, sir. The doc just returned. Just Carruthers inside with the patient,” the young sailor replied.
Eric pushed open the door, and the first thing he saw was an empty bed. The doc was rummaging through the cabinets.
“Where is she?” Eric asked.
“Bathroom.” Larry gestured across the room just as the door swung open and a very pregnant Abby hobbled out with a crutch under one arm. Her hair was brushed, her face a colorful palette as the bruises healed. She was beautiful under all that in a simple sort of way.
She stopped and stared off to the side at a set of lockers, then frowned. Eric stepped closer to see what had put that frown on her face, and he spotted Gail Carruthers shoving a clipboard in a locker. Her cheeks were pink, and she turned her back on Abby.
When Eric glanced back at Abby, she was watching him with startled eyes, a heavenly blue that reached across the room and hit him in the gut. This time, she didn’t lower her eyes, but he could tell she was taking all her courage not to hide herself. Her hand was trembling as she tucked her long bed hair behind her ears and then tried to smooth it down a second time.
