Over the Edge

by Suzanne Brockmann

  He could maybe even count himself among their number.

  And then there they were. Teri Howe and Lieutenant Commander Hogan. In the parking lot. Standing much too close.

  Except Teri was turned away from Hogan, as if she were trying to unlock the door of her truck.

  Trying to get away.

  Hogan leaned closer, his voice too low for Stan to make out the words.

  Teri’s answer was easier to hear. “I said, back off.”

  Stan moved toward them, picking up his pace. He wasn’t sure if he was rushing to her rescue or merely moving closer to get a better view for when she kneed the asshole in the balls.

  She’d managed to get the door unlocked, but she couldn’t open it. Not without pressing up against Hogan. He was pinning her in place, one hand on either side of her, against the roof of the car.

  “I told you before I’m not interested,” Stan heard her say. “What part of that don’t you understand?”

  Hogan laughed, as if she’d made some kind of joke.

  “The ice princess thing is a nice touch as far as your career goes, but come on, Teri. This is me you’re talking to. We both know the real truth. How about I come over to your place tonight?” Hogan asked. “How about we—”

  “Please.”

  Hogan was laughing, the asshole, like this was some kind of game. “You know you want me.”

  Her voice shook with anger. “What I want is for you to take your little pencil of a penis and keep it far away from me.”

  Stan wanted to laugh out loud, but the truth was, Teri Howe had made a serious mistake. When it came to assholes like Joel Hogan, you didn’t insult their manhood, and you certainly didn’t use the word little when talking about their personal package. She’d given him a direct invitation to prove her wrong.

  And the bastard did. Or at least he tried to.

  “You must be confusing me with someone else.” From his angle Stan couldn’t quite see everything, but he knew from the look on Teri’s face that Hogan was touching her. Not with his hands—they were still on the car. But the son of a bitch had leaned even closer and was rubbing himself up against her.

  And now he was going to die. She was going to elbow him in the ribs, maybe scrape the heel of her boot down his shin. Either way, it was going to hurt. Stan crossed his arms, settling in to watch.

  But Teri didn’t move, and Stan realized with a jolt of shock that she was frozen. That hadn’t been anger making her voice shake. That had been fear. Damn, for some reason—and he didn’t want to think why, the possibilities were too unpleasant—she was unable to move away or defend herself from this asshole.

  Stan didn’t hear what Hogan said to her, didn’t hear what she said in reply, because he’d gone back around the corner, completely out of their sight.

  “Excuse me, Lieutenant Howe,” he called out, even before they could see him, pretending he’d just arrived.

  And Hogan instantly backed off.

  The look on Teri’s face was one Stan would remember for the rest of his life. For the briefest instant, she looked at him as if he’d saved her, her eyes filled with relief, with echoes of fear and pure dread. But then she hid it all behind an almost expressionless perfunctory smile.

  Hogan wasn’t so smooth. Anger glittered in his eyes. He was pissed at Teri, and pissed at Stan, too, for interrupting them.

  Although really, what was there left to say to a woman after she used those particular words to describe you?

  Stan would’ve simply walked away, secure in his knowledge that she was misinformed. But maybe Hogan wasn’t quite as emotionally well-endowed.

  Stan kept his face as expressionless as Teri’s, his own eyes devoid of emotion. He was just the enlisted messenger. The officers’servant. He knew that in Hogan’s eyes, as a senior chief he was one step up from the butler. “Lieutenant Paoletti wanted me to go over a few points with you before this afternoon’s training exercise,” he said to Teri.

  “We’ll finish this conversation later,” Hogan said.

  Oh, yeah? How would he bring it up? Say, Teri, about that pencil of a penis thing . . .

  “No need to bother,” she told Hogan politely, in a voice that still wobbled a little. “I think we’ve covered all the ground necessary, sir.”

  “No,” Hogan said. “I’ll call you. At home.” He turned his back on her protests and walked swiftly toward the administration building, nodding curtly to Stan as he passed.

  “I know this is supposed to be your lunch break, ma’am,” Stan told Teri, “so if you have some errands to run downtown, we could meet in my office at 1300.”

  “Oh,” she said. “Yeah. That . . . That’s a good idea.” He knew she was far more shaken up than she was willing to let on. She was wearing a jacket, but she held her arms as if she were cold. Or as if her hands were shaking and she didn’t want him to see. “Thank you, Senior Chief.”

  Enough already.

  “Teri, I lied,” Stan told her bluntly. “L.T. didn’t ask me to talk to you. I saw you and Hogan. I heard you and Hogan.”

  She lifted her chin, finally met his gaze dead on. “I know.” Her voice shook slightly. “Thank you, Senior Chief.”

  Ah, crap. Now she was forcing a smile, but with her eyes so huge in her thin face, she looked about twelve years old, and about as defenseless. Stan wanted to go find Hogan and beat him senseless.

  He wanted to pull her into his arms and give her a reassuring embrace. But, Christ! That was the last thing she needed from him right now. Another man who wanted to touch her. No, she needed him to be cool and distant and professional.

  She needed him to nod and walk away. To give her space to regain her equilibrium.

  He couldn’t do it.

  “I couldn’t help but notice that you seem to be having a problem, Lieutenant.” He called her by her rank to cancel out the fact that he’d slipped and called her Teri a few moments earlier.

  She didn’t say anything, but she didn’t run away either, so he kept going, choosing his words carefully.

  “I’m not sure what’s going on here.” Much better, certainly more polite than flatly asking what the fuck was happening. “And I know that under normal circumstances, I’m probably—technically—the dead last person you should go to with a problem, but . . . I get the feeling that these are not normal circumstances.”

  She had been staring down at the ground, but now her gaze flicked up to his face, to his eyes, and then away.

  “Look, I don’t mean to embarrass you,” Stan told her as gently as he could. The men he’d yelled at for being lazy sons of bitches during this morning’s run would’ve been amazed. “I just want you to know that a problem that might seem insurmountable to you might not seem that way to someone like me.”

  He twisted his mouth up into what he hoped was a reassuring smile as she glanced up at him again.

  “I’m here,” he said as honestly as he possibly could, holding her gaze, hoping she understood that he meant what he said. It was probably wrong, he could probably get hammered even just for offering, but . . . “If you decide you want some help, Teri, I’m here. Okay?”

  Oh, damn, her eyes filled with a sudden rush of tears.

  And that wasn’t even the biggest surprise. The biggest surprise was when she threw herself forward, into his arms.

  Yes, the biggest surprise of the day, week, month, and possibly even the year was that he was standing in the parking lot, getting hugged by Teri Howe.

  Stan’s body reacted more quickly than his brain, and he was hugging her back before he had time to consider what exactly he should do in this particular circumstance.

  But holy shit, she was an armful. Both soft and strong, she was warm and female—all soft breasts against his chest, and god damn, her hair smelled great. He buried his nose in it before he realized that probably wasn’t such a good idea.

  And then, almost before he registered the fact that, Christ, she was trembling, it was over. She pulled back, away from him, lo
oking as surprised at herself as he was.

  “I’m sorry,” she said, hanging on to herself again as if she might explode into a thousand pieces. “God, I’m—”

  Stan adjusted his face, wiping away the incredulous expression he knew he must’ve been wearing. “Did he hurt you?” he couldn’t keep himself from asking. “Hogan,” he added. “If he did, I’ll—” Fucking kill him. He stopped himself from saying that in the nick of time.

  “No,” she said, glancing around, no doubt checking to see who’d witnessed her hugging SEAL Team Sixteen’s senior chief. The parking lot was still empty, she was safe. She backed away. “No, it’s not . . . I’m sorry.” She turned and practically ran away. “Thank you, Senior Chief,” she called back to him.

  “No problem,” he said, though she couldn’t possibly hear him. “Teri.”

  Teri. Yeah, right. One weird hug, and she’s permanently Teri in his head.

  Okay, Mr. Fix Everything. Now what?

  Teri—who would henceforth be thought of only as Lieutenant Howe—clearly was having some kind of problem—probably one of a sexual harassment nature—with Lieutenant Commander Hogan, who would henceforth be thought of as that asshole.

  Stan had made it clear to Lieutenant Howe that if she wanted help, he was available. But he couldn’t force her to tell him what the problem was. Confronting that asshole—as much as he was itching to do so—was not one of Stan’s options right now.

  Teri Howe was a big girl. If she wanted Stan’s help, she would ask. Until then, the best he could do was sit tight. And keep an eye on her.

  If Hogan was going to mess with Teri Howe again, well, damn, it wasn’t going to happen on Stan’s watch.

  And that was for fucking sure.

  Two

  Teri hesitated outside the door, double-checking the address.

  No, this was definitely it, 23 Hillside. Who would’ve guessed? Senior Chief Stan Wolchonok lived in a 1920s-era bungalow.

  It was cute, it was small, and it was pristine, with what had to be the original leaded glass windows, a neatly kept yard, and one heck of an ocean view.

  Living there would be kind of like having a portal to a different time. You could come home from work, close the door—and shut out most of the twentieth and twenty-first centuries.

  Provided no one dropped by unannounced.

  She should have called before coming over. What was she thinking, to drop in on the senior chief when he was off duty and relaxing, as if they were friends or something?

  Truth was, she didn’t want to go home. If Joel was waiting for her there, like yesterday . . .

  Teri squared her shoulders and rang the bell.

  Nothing.

  A truck that looked like something the senior chief might own was parked in the driveway. He was home. He had to be home. She didn’t think she would ever find the nerve to come back at another time if he wasn’t home now.

  She rang the bell again—just as the door swung open.

  “Sorry,” she said. Oh, that was a brilliant start. She tried to smile. “Hi.” Even better.

  Complete surprise crossed Senior Chief Wolchonok’s face as he looked at her. It didn’t last long. It was just an almost imperceptible flash before he assumed the neutral expression she recognized as his parade rest face. It made him look completely inscrutable.

  “I’m sorry,” she said again. “This is probably a bad time.”

  She’d woken him up. That much was obvious. He wore a pair of shorts and a T-shirt, but his hair was a mess. It stuck straight up in places, and his feet were bare.

  She turned to run away, but he stopped her. “No. I was— Are you all right?”

  “Yeah, I’m . . .” Honest. She had to be completely honest with this man. It was the only way she could do this. She forced herself to look right into his eyes. They were blue—a fact she’d discovered to her surprise two days ago, when he’d followed her and Joel into the parking lot, when he was so impossibly kind to her.

  She’d never dared to get close enough to the senior chief to really look into his eyes before.

  “No, I’m not all right—I mean physically, I’m all right. Really,” she quickly added as he started to react, “but . . .” She took a deep breath. “I’m taking you up on your offer of help, Senior Chief. That is, if it still stands.”

  “Of course.” He didn’t hesitate. “I just didn’t expect . . . Um . . .”

  She knew it. She shouldn’t have come here, to his home. This was a mistake.

  “I’m sorry. I wasn’t comfortable with the idea of going to your office,” she admitted, “and I wasn’t even sure I was really going to come here at all until I came here and . . .” Her voice shook, dammit, but he saved her dignity by pretending he didn’t notice.

  “It’s not a problem.” He opened the door wider, stepping back. “Come in. Please. I’m not exactly dressed for visitors, and the house isn’t really . . .” He tried to smile at her. “But now’s a fine time. I am glad you came, Lieutenant. And it’s absolutely fine for us to talk here. It is.”

  If he said fine one more time, she was going to turn and run.

  But his entryway smelled like freshly brewed coffee, and she went inside instead. Teri had expected more of a men’s locker room ambiance from the senior’s house—old socks and dirty laundry—but not only was that coffee she smelled, it was good coffee.

  And the interior of the bungalow was as perfect as the outside. The woodwork gleamed. The entryway wasn’t an entryway, she realized, but rather a cozy living room. It had a fireplace made with huge smooth stones like giant, rounded beach pebbles. It was beautiful. The entire place was remarkable.

  “Come on into the kitchen,” he said. “Are you hungry?”

  There was, however, no furniture in the room.

  Only a mirror on the wall, and as the senior chief passed it, he caught sight of himself and quickly tried to fix his hair.

  “God damn,” she heard him mutter.

  “You’ll have to excuse me,” he said more loudly. “I was up early this morning—I went out for a run. I have to go over to the base, but not for another few hours, so I was just kind of vegging out on the porch when you buzzed. Dreaming about breakfast. You caught me in scumball mode—I haven’t even showered—so make sure you don’t stand downwind. Coffee?”

  “Thanks.” The kitchen was right out of an old black-and-white movie starring Katharine Hepburn and Cary Grant. Big gas stove with a griddle. Rounded refrigerator. Separate pantry. There was a table in here, but it had only one chair.

  As Teri watched, Stan took a pair of mugs from the pantry shelf and poured two steaming cups of coffee.

  “I hope you like it black,” he said. “I ran out of sugar and milk about two years ago.” He set one of the mugs on the table beside her. “That’s why I usually have to settle for dreams of breakfast—I’m too lazy to shop for anything but coffee. And I only buy that because I’m addicted.” He toasted her with his mug and a smile.

  He had a lovely smile. It completely transformed his face, and Teri found herself smiling tentatively back at him.

  She knew what he was doing. He was talking to fill the potentially uncomfortable silence. He was trying to soothe her with his easygoing, quietly matter-of-fact, one-sided conversation, to make her feel less on edge. He was being impossibly nice—again—especially considering the way she’d barged in on his Sunday morning.

  “Hmmm.” He was looking at the single chair now, frowning at it as if it were at fault for not being two chairs. “Maybe we should go out onto the porch. Go ahead, Lieutenant, right through the back door there.”

  Holding her coffee, she obediently stepped outside onto a concrete terrace. It was surrounded by a low, rimmed concrete wall, with an overhang providing shade from the second floor of the house and two sturdy pillars in each corner.

  There was only one chair out here, too, a beach style lounge chair. But Stan brought the kitchen chair with him in one hand, mug of coffee in the other.
>
  He seemed to know that she’d prefer sitting in the kitchen chair. And instead of lying back in the recliner, he sat on the wall, facing her.

  “So.” He got down to business. “You want to tell me what’s going on with you and Joel Hogan?”

  Teri carefully set her mug down on the terrace, relieved he’d opened up the topic for her. “I’m not sure exactly where to begin.”

  “Why don’t we start by agreeing that whatever you say here today doesn’t leave this room.” He looked around at the lack of walls and made a face. “You know what I mean.”

  She nodded. She did know. And she trusted him. She wouldn’t have been here if she didn’t. “Thank you.”

  “Why don’t you get me up to speed on the ways Hogan’s been harassing you. I know he’s been touching you and making inappropriate comments. I witnessed that myself last week.” His eyes were so kind and warm, it seemed crazy that she’d ever thought he was scary looking. “Anything else you think I need to know?”

  God, there was a lot he needed to know, most of it embarrassing things she didn’t want to remember, let alone share with anyone. And there were things he couldn’t know, things she’d never told a soul. Things he’d probably wonder about, anyway.

  If he asked her, point-blank, would she tell him the truth?

  She honestly didn’t know.

  She started with the easy stuff. “Last night Joel was waiting for me, on the porch of my apartment, when I got home.”

  “God damn it. What the f—” Stan took a deep breath. “Excuse me, please. I hear that, and I just don’t know what this . . . guy is thinking.”

  Teri knew that there would never be a better time to say it. “He’s probably thinking, ‘Gee, I don’t know what the problem is. She seemed to like having sex with me nine years ago.’ ”

  She closed her eyes so she wouldn’t have to see his reaction. But she heard him sigh heavily as she rubbed her forehead, her elbow on the arm of the chair.

  “Okay,” he said. “Yeah, I can see how a past relationship would complicate things.”