by Johnson, Liz
“Want to talk about it?”
“About what?”
She pulled out an open pint of chocolate-covered cherry ice cream and grabbed a spoon from the drawer before settling into one of the stools across the counter from him. Scooping a spoonful of pink cream into her mouth, she sighed. “You have good ice cream.”
“Thanks.”
“I mean it. My sister only has that low-fat, low-sugar, low-taste stuff.” She sighed, staring into the tub. “And try getting real ice cream in Lybania.”
“You want a bowl for that?”
She shook her head. “Nope. I think I’ll finish it off.”
“What if I wanted some, too?” He didn’t really, but her response would be telling.
“Get a spoon. And you’ll have to hurry.”
He laughed, shaking his head. “I guess I’ll live without it.”
She smiled. “Good. Now tell me what’s going on.”
He wasn’t the one who’d broken down into tears when he’d paid her a compliment at the hospital. He had his stuff together. He knew what he was doing and trusted that they’d have everything in place to stop the man bent on destroying the new carrier and injuring hundreds. What he wanted to know was what was wrong with her. “I’m good. You?”
Staring into the bottom of her pint, she shrugged before digging out another scoop. “I’m okay.”
“You sure? Because you looked kind of upset before at the hospital.” He was walking on a rotting bridge. One misstep and he’d be in hot water. The problem was he couldn’t tell which steps were the worst.
Her ears turned pink, a muscle in her neck jumping. “I’ve been thinking.”
“About the ceremony and the attack?”
“No.” She set down the spoon and scratched her neck. “I think it would be best for us to go our separate ways. After Wednesday, after he’s captured… I know we haven’t talked about this or anything, but I just think it would be better not to see each other again.”
Her words were a kick to his shins, sharp pain exploding up his legs, and he sagged against the counter. Of course, they hadn’t talked about what would happen after everything went down. He’d been focused on just getting through it.
This came out of left field, and he couldn’t get his mind around it fast enough to respond.
“I don’t understand.” As he said the words, his stomach rolled, his head pounding with the reality. He tried to tell himself that this was for the best—that this was the smartest course of action for them to take, but for once, he couldn’t make himself believe it. All he could think of was that this was the only girl he’d dared to think about a future with since Phoebe, and she didn’t want any of it.
She blinked and licked her lips, still staring at the countertop and the empty carton next to her hand. He willed her to look into his eyes, to help him understand her words, but she didn’t. “A clean break is best for both of us, I think. So let’s just say our goodbyes now so it’s not awkward later.” She stood and walked toward the doorway, while he couldn’t get his tongue to speak. Halfway into the darkness of the living room, she turned back, the tight lines around the corner of her mouth pained. “I appreciate everything you’ve done for me. I won’t forget, and I’ll always be grateful. But let’s make fresh starts after this. All right?”
She didn’t wait for him to agree. He wouldn’t have.
Instead she turned and walked into the living room and up the stairs.
He leaned over the counter, resting his head in his hands. He felt like he’d just been run over by an inflatable boat.
He didn’t want to lose her. But he didn’t have a future to offer her, either.
Moving forward and sharing his life meant trusting that she would be okay when he couldn’t be there. Because there would absolutely be days when he couldn’t be at her side.
Could he trust that God would protect her when he couldn’t?
*
On Wednesday morning, Staci awoke with a knot the size of the Titanic in her stomach. Whether it was from apprehension for the day ahead or the fact that she and Tristan hadn’t said more than a dozen words to each other since she blurted out her thoughts two nights before, she didn’t know.
The seasick feeling accompanying the knot suggested a combination of both was to blame. But somehow she could only focus on the latter.
She had been terrible. She had seen the confusion and hurt in his eyes, but in her rush to reestablish that barrier between them—the one she hoped would keep her from being hurt—she’d wounded him instead. That barrier from past rejection had made it safe for her to spend so much time with him. But it had vanished somewhere between the hours in the gym and a long slow kiss outside the hospital on the night of Jasper’s birth.
She couldn’t give him what he deserved—a family of his own. Despite her own attraction to him— Oh, who was she kidding? Despite that she’d fallen in love with him, she couldn’t give him what he wanted. As sure as the tides rolled in from the ocean, she would be the one hurt when he lost interest in her after discovering the truth.
It had seemed so much easier to put up that blockade before the pain could go any deeper.
What a stupid plan. She’d meant to keep them both from thinking there was hope for more. But it was all she could dwell on now.
“God, help me to let him go.” She whispered the words into her pillow just as a knock sounded on her door.
“We’ve got to roll in twenty. Be ready.”
She pinched her eyes closed, knowing he was standing on the other side of the door waiting for her reply. “All right.”
Immediately his boots clomped down the stairs, and she flipped back the covers, hurrying to get ready.
When they were in his truck and driving toward the base he finally addressed her. “You’re going to stay with Captain Earley’s assistant today.” Never taking his eyes off the road, he continued. “He’s the commanding officer of the base, and he has a private office. We’ll lock you inside until the whole thing’s over. Got it?”
She nodded. “I guess. What will you do?”
“I’m going to find the man who sold out his country and tried to kill you, and then I’m going to make sure he never hurts anyone again.”
He sounded calm and confident and she knew that she should find his words reassuring. But instead, all she felt was a new dose of dread. He was ready to wrap this up—ready to complete the mission.
Ready to say goodbye to her for good.
SIXTEEN
“Petty Officer Damaris Dominguez, I’d like you to meet Staci Hayes.” Tristan pointed in Staci’s direction, and the petty officer, second class, reached out to shake hands with her new ward.
“Nice to meet you, ma’am.”
Dominguez didn’t look old enough to have graduated college, let alone old enough to watch over his Staci. But there wasn’t time to question his decision or second-guess the plan. Staci needed a safe place to stay, and the CO’s office was as good as any on the base. Of course, the CO was seeing to his official responsibilities for the commissioning. He was schmoozing senators and other distinguished guests, so there should be no one to bother Staci and Dominguez. They could stay behind the locked door until he gave the all-clear.
Somehow that wasn’t helping to soothe the pounding in his chest.
“You have your orders?” he asked. “No one but my team in or out of this office until we give the all-clear.”
“Yes, sir.”
He turned to Staci, whose eyes were marked by a shadow. “Will you be careful?” she asked.
“I’m always careful.”
She smoothed the cotton of his shirt, her eyes never making it north of his collar. “I’m serious. We still don’t know what’s out there, or who’s involved.”
“We have every contingency plan in place.” He cupped her cheek, desperate to push through the barrier that had separated them since the night of Jasper’s birth. “There are Feds, agency and SEAL personnel swarming over this base
. We won’t let anyone get hurt.”
Her smile wavered and she dropped her hands to her sides. He missed her touch immediately. “I’m not worried about just anyone. I’m— Well, just be careful. All right.”
She’d been about to say that she was worried about him. He was sure of it.
That definitely didn’t slow down his pulse. To do his job well, he had to leave her side. And that wasn’t going to change on another mission. He was always going to have to leave. But it tore him open to even think of not having her to come back to each time. Could they make it work?
Taking a deep breath through his nose, he held on to her shoulders, keeping her at arm’s length. “I’ll be back. Just don’t do anything crazy while I’m gone. All right?”
Her smile cut through him, and he had to physically hold himself back. If Dominguez had been anywhere else, he’d have hauled off and kissed her again. At least once.
Probably more than that.
He closed the door behind him before he thought about scrapping the whole operation, clearing the base and letting the ship sink.
But he hadn’t invested years in training and service to the navy and his country to give up because of a girl. He wasn’t that man.
Even if he did love her.
He’d just have to keep her safe long enough to make sure the base was secure and no one would ever threaten Staci again. Then he’d tell her he didn’t like her idea about fresh starts.
He didn’t like it at all.
“You ready?” Matt fell into step beside him as he exited the administrative office building.
Tristan let out a long breath between tight lips. Any other op, and he’d have agreed wholeheartedly. But not this time. This was different. “How do you do it every time?”
Matt frowned and gave a small shake of his head. “What?”
“How do you leave Ashley—and now Jasper—at home every time you’re on an operation? Doesn’t that eat you up?”
“Man, you’ve got to realize that she’s not yours to take care of anyway. Never was.” Matt popped Tristan on the chest with the back of his hand. “We’re not promised any moment beyond this one, no matter what our line of work or hers.”
“Sure. I know. I just— Sometimes I wonder, what if I had been here?”
Matt stopped walking as they reached their rendezvous point, his head cocked to the side. “You talking about Phoebe?”
Tristan fit his earpiece and lip mic into place before responding. “Those carjackers targeted her because she was alone. If I’d been in town—”
“You would have done what? Refused to let her drive to and from work by herself, the same way she did all the time? You really think you could have changed the outcome of that day?”
Pain shot through his temple. He didn’t like that question. “Maybe.”
“Maybes’ll kill your peace. You’re either going to trust that God will protect her or you’ll drive yourself crazy. You’re not in control.”
“Is that how you make it through ops and deployments?”
Matt’s eyes turned soft, and he was clearly thinking about Ashley. “You better believe that I’ll do everything in my power to protect my wife and son. But what’s not in my power is so much more than what is. You know that. You see it on every mission.” He flicked his mic on and the rest of his words came through Tristan’s earpiece. “You’ve got to trust her to someone who can handle that ‘so much more.’”
Matt was right.
But could he do it? Could he give up the role of protector to the true Protector?
Willie G., Zig and River joined them, each wearing their BDUs and armed with minimal visible weapons. They clipped their earpieces into place, all performing a quick test of the equipment.
“All right, L.T. What’s the plan?” Willie’s shoulders shook as if he were eager to get to work.
“Rock and I are going to check on the carrier. We’ve got guards standing at every entrance, but we’ll confirm that no one has entered or exited the ship today. Zig, Willie and River, you’ll be scanning the crowd, mingling and keeping your eyes and ears open. The FBI says that the target is certainly the Rockefeller, so we’re keeping the public far from it. But as far as the crowd knows, you all are basic MPs. Got it?”
“Yes, sir.” Three voices in unison sounded through the bud in his ear.
“Keep your eyes open for anything out of the ordinary. And remember that he could be one of us.”
“One of the five of us?” Willie’s voice rose in surprise.
“No. You guys were all with me the whole day that we broke Staci out of that jail.”
“Right.”
River leaned forward, always the last to speak, but usually the most thoughtful. “What about the outside of the ship? What if an explosive was attached under the waterline? Wouldn’t be visible, but it sure could do damage.”
“Yes. Paisley’s boat crew is in the water, checking for something like that.” Tristan swallowed, forcing himself to say the rest. “But I have a feeling he’ll want to put it in place himself to make sure nothing goes wrong. We know he has a trident tattoo and a good knowledge of the harbor, so if he isn’t stationed here now, he probably was once. He’ll know how to blend in with a crowd, just like you do. So go blend and look for someone who could be you.
“And if you see anything, radio it in. We’ve got FBI surveillance working the gate entrance and in the MPs office. Identify and subdue him. Easy as that. Any questions?”
“No, sir.”
“All right. Let’s do this. And Willie, try not to scare any kids.”
Amidst Willie’s blustering and the others’ guffaws, they split, going to their assignments. Tristan took the lead as he and Matt jogged toward the enormous ship. At the gangway, he stopped to speak with the petty officer, third class, stationed on the pier. The young man snapped his salute, and Tristan quickly returned the gesture.
“Petty Officer Trainor, has anyone entered or exited the ship today?”
“Yes, sir.”
Tristan’s heart picked up speed. “Were you not given orders that no one was to enter or exit this vessel?”
The kid’s eyes grew wide at the strained tone of Tristan’s words. “Yes, sir. But the captain requested to come aboard. He was delivering a package of personal items. He dropped it off just an hour ago.”
He glanced at Matt, whose eyes reflected the same adrenaline rush. “Captain who?”
“Captain Crawford, the XO.” The kid wasn’t much over twenty, and his eyes swept back and forth nervously between the two SEALs. “He said he had permission, showed me his documentation.”
Tristan’s chest hurt, his lungs suddenly refusing to work. A dagger jabbed into his temple, and his ears rang, Crawford’s face swimming before his eyes. His stomach rolled at the very idea that the base’s XO could be a traitor. He had the respect of an entire naval base, and he’d thrown it away. For what?
Whatever the Lybanian terrorists had given him, it wouldn’t be worth it when Tristan found him. He had stood right next to Crawford at the ball, chatting about Staci as if she were just another pretty girl.
Well, she wasn’t just any pretty girl.
She was his pretty girl, and he wasn’t about to let Crawford lay another hand on her.
There was no time to explain to the kid the error of his ways. Instead Tristan said, “Is he still on there? Or did he leave?”
“Yes, sir. He left, sir.”
Tristan didn’t wait for more, instead barreling past Trainor, Matt at his six.
At the top of the gangway, he motioned to Matt. “You like him for a bomb guy or is he just a delivery boy?”
Matt nodded. “If he left that pipe for Staci that you told me about, building the bombs himself is probably where he’s most comfortable. He was an active SEAL, right?”
Tristan spoke into his mic. “Salano, you there?”
“Right here, L.T. What do you have?”
“Captain Crawford. I think he’s our guy
.” Several men on the channel hissed in shock, although no one said anything. “Everyone keep your eyes out for him. Salano, can you check his background for me? I need to know his specialty. I’m guessing explosives and demo, but I need to know everything you’ve got.”
“On it. Give us a few minutes.”
“I’m not sure how much time we have.” Tristan flipped off his mic. “You think it’s got a timer?”
Matt shook his head as he took off running. “I have no idea. Until I see it, I won’t know.”
“If it were your device?”
“Yeah, I’d have a timer.” He paused. “And I’d have a backup.”
Blood roared through Tristan’s ears, and he took a deep breath. He had to keep his head until they could find it. Push out everything but the facts in front of him.
At least he didn’t have to worry about Staci’s safety.
Matt paused on the deck, straight across from the six-story tower adorned with communication and radar antenna known as the island. It was the command center of the ship, the location of the bridge and the controls. Without it, the vessel was little more than a hunk of floating metal. “If his explosive was small enough to carry on, he’s probably not trying to sink the ship. He’s looking to seriously disable it and set off a fireworks show. Only one place to do that on a carrier.”
Their boots thudded across the pristine flight deck as they raced into the narrow confines of the first floor, the flight deck control.
They ducked below every counter, peering into every crevice, hunting for the package that Crawford had delivered. Their flashlights did little in the cramped, windowless confines of the lowest level of the island.
The first two floors were empty, and even though they had the light through the windows to aid the search of the third level, they were still stumped. It wasn’t until they reached the bridge—the level second from the top—that they found a telltale box. Right beneath the captain’s leather chair.
“L.T., we found something on Crawford.” Salano’s voice came into his ear. “When he was an active SEAL twenty years ago, he was known for his creative explosive devices. Including nearly invisible trip wires. Watch yourself.”
*
