by Zoe Dawson
“I can’t walk away from this. I want you to.”
He shook his head, his gaze resolute. “Not going to happen. I don’t answer to you or Captain Snyder. And I sure as hell don’t answer to the Navy anymore. This is about Lieutenant Eli Washington.”
“Don’t lecture me. I know what it’s about.”
His eyes flared at her terse tone. “Just assign someone else.”
“I can’t!” She clenched her fists, her outburst startling even her.
“Yes, you can. You just want to strong-arm me. It’s always about your precious control. Well, I’m on this case, so get used to it.”
It certainly had everything to do with control now. She’d given up her control to him six years ago. Fallen into such passion and heat, she’d barely been able to remember her name. Now standing so close to him, she felt the same damn pull, so overwhelming, so uncontrollable. He looked like the jets he used to fly: sleek, fast and dangerous.
He smelled way too good, musky and male, a combination as potent as a stiff belt of whiskey straight into the bloodstream. But she couldn’t back away now or show any weakness. Chris would know he had the upper hand and that wouldn’t be a good thing.
She laid it out bluntly, not seeing any reason to sugarcoat anything. “You’re being stubborn because of what happened in our past. Is this payback, Chris?”
His face hardened. “Either do your job or pass it on to someone else, Lieutenant Commander Soto.”
He hadn’t taken the bait and Sia realized she wasn’t going to make him angry enough to walk away from the investigation. “I intend to do my job. Just without you involved.”
He laughed then, without mirth. “It would be in your best interest to let someone else handle it.”
She stiffened at his chiding tone. “You’re alluding to the investigation into Master Chief Steven Walker’s death?”
He folded his arms across his chest, the movement tightening up his chest muscles and arms, pulling the jacket away from the gun clipped to his waist. “The Navy doesn’t just casually investigate someone. You’re the one who is under scrutiny.”
“At the time I handled the investigation, I did it as thoroughly and diligently as I normally do.” But in the back of her mind doubts assailed her. What if she had been too distracted by past memories and the fresh mourning of her brother’s death? What if she had missed something?
“Is that where you got those bruises? Why your arm is in a sling?”
“Yes. Walker tried to kill me.”
He shook his head. “Stupid man. What happened?”
“He took a header over the sponson and died from the fall. They fished his body up just after he went over.”
“Really, in that vast of an ocean late at night?”
“He was wearing a life vest. A vest he denied me because I was supposed to be the one dead.”
“Let me guess. They didn’t find any evidence you helped him over?”
Weary from the day’s events, she walked to the conference table and settled into one of the chairs. “No, because I dodged his attempt to throw me over. My hands were tied. It’s the biggest indication the events happened exactly as I said they did. I didn’t tie my own hands or wrench my own shoulder or give myself this black eye. The investigation is really just routine and to close the loop.” She thrust out her good hand and showed him the bruises on her wrist.
He walked over and set his backside on the conference table. Taking her hand gently in his, he studied the black-and-blue marks. “That may be true, but it’s the difference between us now. You have to follow the Navy’s rules. I don’t.”
His hand was warm, his palm smooth. Her heart fluttering, she pulled her hand from his hold. “Surely in your job you’re required to follow rules.”
He smiled. “When it suits me, but as a civilian investigator, I have a lot more leeway than you do.”
The smile lighting up his eyes made her remember the potency he wielded with his irresistible charm, all the more reason not to work with him. The other big reason was he had been directly responsible for her brother’s death and the destruction of her family.
It was as if he’d been waiting for her to think that very thought. His eyes changed, got a little harder, a little darker. “I didn’t come here to dredge up the past.”
“It doesn’t matter whether you talk about it or not. Just seeing you brings it all back.”
His mouth tightened and he looked away from her. “I’m sorry for that.”
“You said you were sorry six years ago when they handed my mother his flag. It doesn’t help.”
He closed his eyes, but not before she saw the flash of pain and suddenly, she felt sick for the way everything had ended.
She felt the distinct tug on her heart but refused to examine it too closely. Yet, she did finally give in to the urge to reach out and touch his arm, needing that physical contact in a soul-deep way. The leather was warm from his body, the muscles beneath taut and corded. “I can’t help the way I feel about it, Chris.”
“I know you can’t, but that doesn’t make it any easier to forget what we had. What we shared.” He covered her hand with his, the warmth comforting.
“What we have to deal with now is the present. We can’t change the past.”
“No, we can’t,” he whispered. “There’s no place for us to go at all.”
“Don’t,” she protested.
The warning was diluted to nothing but the sadness in his face. His mouth twisted into a half smile that was cynical and weary. His dark eyes looked a hundred years old.
Even surrounded by family and friends, she’d been so alone when her brother had died. All she’d wanted, longed for, was to have Chris hold her. But the grief of her brother’s death tripled when she found out Chris had caused the accident. He would never hold her again.
Dangerous—her longing and his proximity.
A quick knock on the door made her sit up straight and release him. She rose, walked to the door and opened it. Her aide was on the other side.
“Excuse me, Commander Soto. Captain Snyder’s aide pointed me in this direction. I was able to get you and Agent Vargas on a flight to Hawaii via LA. The McCloud is currently docked at Pearl for repairs to the flight deck. Your flight leaves in three hours. He handed her a folder, giving Chris the once over. “Your E-tickets are in there.”
“Thank you, McBride.”
He seemed reluctant to leave her alone. Her legalman eyed Chris and his gaze returned to Sia. “Can I escort you to your car?”
“No, that won’t be necessary. Goodnight, McBride.”
Chris smiled wryly as the petty officer deliberately left the door open. “He’s looking at me like I’m a psycho serial killer.”
“You look formidable, that’s all. McBride doesn’t know you.”
“No, he doesn’t.”
She sighed. “You’re not going to change your mind.”
“Hell, no.” He made his way to the open door and passed her. “Why don’t you let this investigation go, Sia?”
“I might have missed something. Something important!” Her voice was loud in the small room. Softer, she said, “I have to fix it or make sure my conclusions were sound. If I neglected to fully handle this investigation and I caused a man’s death...”
He stepped up to her until he was close. “I hear you’re expected to get over that too,” he said softly.
Her throat ached with the pain in his voice.
“We have to work together. I’ll accept that but don’t expect anything else from me,” she said, delivering the ultimatum with a tone that said she had accepted her defeat.
Even as the words left her mouth, she knew she was even more than ten times a fool if she believed either of them could forget the fire between them whenever they touched, or looked at each other, or were in the same damn room.
Chris said absolutely nothing. Out of everything that had happened to her in the past twenty-four hours, silence was more nerve-wrac
king than waiting for a verdict. His silence was downright ominous.
She was in trouble. Oh, man, was she in trouble, but she wasn’t going to give in to panic. Later she could panic. But now, while she was standing in front of him, she needed her wits.
Dredging up old memories wasn’t conducive to this situation. But it seemed wits and good sense deserted her when he turned those dark eyes on her, when he looked at her as if she were the most desirable, most important woman on earth. She tried to break the spell by thinking Chris probably looked at every woman he wanted that way, but the thought seemed to slip out of her mind like smoke.
Finally, he spoke. “I don’t have any expectations where you are concerned. I learned that valuable lesson six years ago.” His tone was accusing, and his eyes brooked no disagreement. It was clear he was disgusted with her lack of support at the gravesite. She was smart enough to keep quiet about that.
His face was too close to hers, and she couldn’t stop herself from thinking about him kissing her. And her mouth ached, waiting a beat, then two, the tension drawing as tight as a wire. Finally, he pulled away, turned on his heel and exited the conference room, closing the door behind him.
It was a while before Sia could make her limbs move.
Oh, yes, she was in deep trouble.
Finally, her training slammed into place and she was able to get herself under control. She needed to get a grip on her emotions—a highly unlikely occurrence when she was still using everything she had not to remember how it was to melt into Chris’s arms.
The temptation of him whispered across her exposed skin. These feelings and sensations only made her more resolved not to give in. Her brother was no longer alive because of Chris. She had to remember that information, use it to keep her own emotions from eating her alive.
A little doubt wiggled its way in when she remembered the words of the master chief. Could he have done something to Chris and caused the accident that killed her brother? If he had, then maybe Chris would be exonerated right along with her brother.
And if Chris wasn’t guilty of causing the accident that killed her brother, then maybe...
She was jumping the gun here. That was a big if. At this point, she had to keep her distance. She had an investigation to handle. Her baggage with Chris couldn’t get in the way of that. Straightening her uniform jacket, she shoved the conference room door open and exited, trying to push away the feeling that disaster loomed right around the corner.
Chris stalked out of JAG. Immediately a woman pushed a microphone into his face.
“Agent Vargas. Can you give us any information regarding the death of Senator Washington’s son?”
“It’s Special Agent Vargas and no. No comment,” he growled and ignored the attempts of the other reporters to get his attention. He pushed the button on his key ring to unlock his car. When he got inside, he slammed the door. Even after all these years, it felt as if they had never been apart.
His upper chest on his left side twinged, not fully healed from the bullet he’d taken in Brazil when he and his colleague Paige Wilder had been kidnapped by Vero and Valero Cortez, drug lord and gun runner as leverage to spring their twin brothers, Vincent and Victor from federal prison where they were serving life sentences for murdering an NCIS and a DEA agent. The bruises, cuts and contusions healed, but his memory of the ordeal he’d experienced with Paige still haunted his nightmares.
Shutting out the loud calls of the reporters around the driver’s side of his car, his thoughts went back to Sia. He had thought he knew what he would say to Sia when he saw her again. Remembering the day of the crash, and her face when they told her Rafael was dead, his eyes burned. He’d never forget the way she looked at him. It was shortly afterward that the trembling started every time he sat in a cockpit. It was that look that ultimately forced him to hang up his wings. He’d survived. By sheer luck, he was still standing, but inside he was dying.
After completing his Top Gun training, Chris had been assigned to the USS James McCloud and there met his new wingman, Lieutenant Rafael Soto. Chris was high on his success, his ability to make it to the top of his class. He had his afterburner on, and he was flying right into the sun, pulling Gs.
He’d shown his father he wasn’t good for nothing. Then everything came crashing down.
A sharp rap on the window brought him back to himself. He started his car and drove away without even a glance at the reporters.
Chris had worked with Rafael for two years before he met Sia. The USS James McCloud had docked in Norfolk, and Raphael had invited Chris to a family gathering. Rafael had been like the brother Chris never had. He was an ace in the air, his knowledge and abilities impressive. He made Chris want to work harder to keep up.
The night he’d met Sia, Chris was cocky and full of himself as only a pilot can be. Feeling he was finally slipping into a family situation he’d always dreamed of, he thought Sia would make a fine sister. Then he’d seen her, and any brotherly feelings dissipated in the wake of her sheer effect on him.
Long, coffee-rich hair, dark sensual eyes, and a no-holds-barred attitude only made him want to subdue her in the most carnal way. He took one look at her and knew what would happen between them was inevitable.
She had a knockout, head-turning shape that made the blood in his veins sizzle. But more than her physical appearance attracted him. The minute she opened her mouth and began to spar with him verbally, well, that was the kicker.
Whenever he was stressed, he would revert back to those days when he was on top of the world and seducing Sia had been as natural as breathing. Their first time together still burned in his brain and remained imprinted on his heart. Sia got him through the kidnapping when he wasn’t sure he and Paige would make it out alive.
Chris reached his hotel room and was soon out of his car. Pulling a suitcase from the suitcase rack, he started packing.
When it became obvious that the crash and Rafael’s death had changed him, he knew that flying jets was not going to be a long-term career. He resigned his commission and landed a job at NCIS. Getting out of the cockpit, training for a new job, and the challenges of being an NCIS agent had sustained him through the loss of Rafael. But underlying that grief was the agony of losing Sia. Nothing and no one could alleviate that gut-wrenching pain. No one but Sia. He guessed that wasn’t the top priority on her list of things to do.
He was on his own, as he’d been most of his life—a reality that had become painfully clear to him after Rafael had died.
Suddenly he stopped packing and straightened, swallowing hard at the memories that flooded over him.
He and Sia had been wrapped up in each other that summer. With her diploma from Yale, she had easily snagged a prestigious job at a law firm in New York City. Her job was slated to begin in the fall, but they had made plans to be together. Sia was going to break the news to her father that she couldn’t go to New York. She loved Chris and wanted to stay in DC.
They had planned a life together and Sia had been so in love with him...until...the accident.
That’s when everything had changed. Sia had abandoned him when he needed her the most. She sided with her family and cut him out of her life as if he meant nothing. For him, it had been the ultimate betrayal.
And Chris had lost everything that mattered.
Cora removed Sia’s uniforms from the dryer and walked to her kitchen table, setting them down.
“Here I thought we’d be chugging wine, not doing domestic chores.”
“I’m sorry, but I’ve got to get back on a plane in two hours and then on to Pearl. I appreciate you helping me. This shoulder is still pretty sore, and I’m supposed to rest it for a day or two at least.”
“Ah, the glamorous life of a JAG officer.”
Sia snorted. “Right.”
Cora gave her a sidelong glance. “What’s wrong? You look…unsettled.
“You know what? To hell with it.” Sia walked to her kitchen cabinet and pulled out two wine glasse
s. Cora smiled, stopped fussing with Sia’s uniforms and walked over. “I neglected to tell you about someone from my past.”
“Oh, does this someone have to do with that unsettled look I mentioned?”
Sia pulled the bottle of Riesling out of the fridge and popped the cork, pouring a generous amount into each glass. “He does. I have to work with him, and I have to take orders from him.”
“Really? Anyone I know?” Cora took a sip of her wine.
“Probably not. He’s in San Diego now with NCIS, their Office of Special Operations.”
“What’s his name?”
“Special Agent Chris Vargas.”
“No, doesn’t ring a bell.” Her eyes widened. “That guy from NCIS? You were once up close and personal with him? Oh my, he is a hottie. All the females at the office were drooling over him.”
“Including you?”
“Well, come on, he’s gorgeous and I’m female.”
Sia took a sip of her wine, her emotions ragged. “We have a painful past, Cora, and I’m not sure how I’m going to work with him.”
“Oh, sweetie, I’m sorry to trivialize your feelings.” She took Sia’s arm and led her over to the table. Settling in her seat, Cora sat her wine glass down and reached for a uniform shirt and a hanger. “Okay, spill.”
Sia told Cora everything. Afterward, Cora was quiet for a moment, then in one swallow, she finished off her wine. “I can only respond in one way. Sounds like Chris was a decent guy and he’s obviously a top-notch agent or NCIS wouldn’t have assigned him this case. You couldn’t have a better partner out there watching your back.”
After Cora left and Sia was driving to the airport, she felt even more uncomfortable with the situation. Sia trusted Cora, and her observations of people were always accurate. It unsettled Sia to think that all those years ago, she might have been so mired in her grief that she’d unfairly judged Chris.
Chapter Three
It was easy to pick Sia out of a crowd. It was true that being in Navy service khaki helped her to stand out, and it was also true she had her arm in a sling and had a very dark black eye, compliments of a dead master chief. But it wasn’t any of those things that made her easy to find.