Commanding Sia (NCIS Series Book 1)

by Zoe Dawson

  “What was her connection to the master chief?”

  “He was sleeping with her?”

  “He was old enough to be her father.”

  “Maybe she’s looking for a father figure. All we know at this point is he tried to protect her. I think that’s why he tried to kill you.”

  “It’s possible. I told him I was going to dig into my brother’s death. That could have been the trigger.”

  “You couldn’t have known he was connected at the time, Sia.”

  “Yes, well, I almost signed my own death warrant.” She looked down at his notebook. “You've got a lot of notes there. Care to share?”

  “All eight pilot murders involve pilots stationed aboard the McCloud,” Chris said.

  Sia was surprised no one had put the pattern together, but more than one agent had handled the deaths.

  “The first death resulted from a fall from an upper deck of the carrier. It had been windy, and storming and the death was ruled accidental. One was during shore leave. The man had been stabbed and left for dead outside a bar in Hawaii. NCIS investigated and classified it as a robbery/homicide. No suspect had ever been found in that crime and it’s now considered a cold case.” He flipped over a page and continued, “The next was a chopper pilot who had crashed into the ocean and drowned. The ruling had been accidental.”

  Sia wondered if the pilot had been drugged.

  “Then your brother was killed, ruled pilot error. Two more pilots had gone down on a routine mission, but their jets and bodies hadn’t ever been recovered.”

  “Then that left Saunders and Washington,” she said, looking over his shoulder.

  “Your aide is very thorough.”

  “That he is. He’ll make a very good lawyer one day.”

  Chris’s phone trilled, and he said, “It’s a text from Math. Get him up on the two-way.”

  When Math popped up on the screen, he said, “You two look as tired as I feel.”

  “What do you have for us?” Sia asked.

  “For you, sweetheart, anything you want.” He wagged his eyebrows.

  “Math,” Chris growled.

  “Oh, right, you have a claim on her.”

  “Shut up and give us the information.”

  “Which is it, man? Shut up or talk?”

  “Math,” Chris said, lower and more menacing.

  “All right. The drug in the bottle is Gamma-Hydroxybutyric Acid, commonly known as GHB.”

  “The date-rape drug?” Sia asked.

  “Yes. GHB is also used in a medical setting as a general anesthetic to treat conditions such as insomnia, clinical depression, narcolepsy and alcoholism, as well as to improve athletic performance.”

  “But it wasn’t prescribed for her. It was in an over-the-counter medication bottle.”

  “That’s correct. We can surmise from that behavior she meant to conceal the drug. So if we can infer that, then we can conclude she used it to drug Washington. It would explain his behavior the night he crashed and his inability to eject.”

  “But there was no evidence Washington had been drugged.”

  “GHB is colorless and odorless and is easily added to drinks that mask the flavor. A urine test is the best way to detect the drug in the system, and that is problematic if you’re not specifically looking for it. The drug leaves the body about eight to twelve hours after ingestion. Quite frankly, the ME could have missed it, since it is sodium-based and occurs naturally in the central nervous system.”

  “Is there a way to detect it after death if you’re specifically looking for it?”

  Math smiled. “You would have made a good forensic scientist, Vargas. As a matter of fact, there is. GHB can be detected in hair for months after ingesting the drug.”

  “And you already tested Lieutenant Washington’s hair?” Chris’s smile was easy and made Sia shiver inside as she became mesmerized by the way his mouth curved.

  “I did. He had enough in his system to cause dizziness and drowsiness. I would say if Lieutenant Washington and your suspect were in the wardroom, she could have easily slipped it into his drink. Since he had coffee in his stomach contents, the strong flavor would have easily masked the taste.”

  “And the tunic?”

  “Well, you’ve really hit the jackpot with this woman. The tunic tested positive for gunpowder residue. She had fired a weapon, but I can’t say for certain if it was at you and the lovely Sia or at the pistol range. If you want me to do any tests on the other pilots who were killed, you’ll have to exhume the bodies. That’s always hell on the families,” Math said, shaking his head.

  “It may be necessary. Their loved ones have a right to know what really happened to them,” Chris said firmly.

  “You let me know, cowboy.”

  “Roger that. Math, thanks as always. I appreciate the effort you made coming all the way from San Diego.”

  “Can I go home now?”

  “Yes…after I get your reports.”

  “Aw, damn, that’ll take me hours. Looks like I’ll have to sleep on the plane.”

  “Well, you better get started.”

  “Screw you, Vargas,” Math said with a chuckle. “Goodbye, pretty Sia.” He blew her a kiss and ended the conversation as the screen winked out.

  “He’s a character,” she said.

  “You have no idea. He’s brilliant, but eccentric. He loves the ladies.”

  She smiled. “I can tell.” Her eyes locked with Chris’s. In this quiet moment, a moment of shared amusement, it was hard to think that six years had passed since she’d seen him. It was as if time hadn’t passed at all. As if they were in some kind of time warp, transporting them back to when her life was full of this man, his kisses, his body, his love.

  She couldn’t forget the past, but right now it seemed to recede some, to give her some solace in this moment.

  Strands of hair slipped from her bun and swung softly against her cheek.

  Chris reached out and brushed at it, letting the long strands filter through his fingers. Her hair was free from the bun by some stealth move he made, and as it cascaded over her shoulders, Chris sighed. “My beautiful Sia.”

  Nerve endings on red alert, Sia held his heavy-lidded gaze, his eyes as gray as smoke. It seemed amazing to her, the way her body came alive and aware of him. Her heart picked up a beat; her breasts grew heavy and tingled, her nipples drawing into hard, beaded knots.

  Chris was tall and rangy, with strong, broad shoulders and slim hips. Sleek skin over heavy muscle. The expression on his lean, tanned face was languid and powerful. He moved closer to her as his hand cupped her face. As he looked deep into her eyes, she remembered easily why she had fallen for Chris so quickly.

  He’d been cocky and brash when she’d first met him. Imbued with that fighter-pilot aura only a man with deep confidence and amazing skill could have and, damn, but he looked good in the uniform. He was first in his class at Top Gun, and at first, she hadn’t wanted to get involved with him. She had plans and he didn’t fit into them. But then she’d see his sensitive side when he would coax her mother out of her depression and make her father laugh with his big whopping fighter pilot stories.

  His moniker had been Streak, like lightning, like pure unadulterated speed. And he liked to move fast.

  Like a flash, he had taken her breath away.

  Moving fast had been in his blood, but it looked like he’d tempered that speed until only the promise of it lay in his dark, soot-smudged eyes.

  He caught her first with the magnetic quality of those eyes, glittering with devilish lights, and then zapped her with that grin. She felt as if he had turned a thousand watts of pure electricity on her.

  His mouth was wide, his lips were sculpted, the sexy dip in his upper lip drew her eye. All she could think about was how he would taste.

  He went to his knees on the bunk and cupped her face in both of his hands. His palms were warm against her skin and she closed her eyes as he ran his thumbs along her cheekbones.
With a quick intake of air, he whispered close to her ear, “You trying to seduce me, babe?”

  She shivered at his warm breath across the sensitive shell of her ear. His fingers delved into her hair, caressing the nape of her neck.

  “Why don’t you take your shirt off for me?”

  She complied, but not before she slid her hands up his sides, up to the heavy muscles of his shoulders. Her buttons felt small compared to all that strength.

  Her shirt off and discarded, Sia opened her eyes. The scent of him filled her nostrils with warm, aroused male, musky and virile.

  That mobile mouth skimmed along her face with teasing kisses; the whisper of his heated lips almost made her beg for more contact. “Now the pants,” he ordered. And Sia knew, in this case, she was at his command.

  She shifted and he shifted with her, as if he couldn’t bear to let her go. She slipped out of her pants and knelt on the bunk in nothing but her bra and panties.

  “Sailor on the outside…” he said as he deftly removed her bra and released her breasts; they ached for his touch. He hooked his fingers around the stretch of lace at her hip, his flesh hot against her skin. “All woman on the inside.”

  He tugged. Slowly. Excruciatingly slowly. She wanted to tip her head back, close her eyes, and just focus on feeling every sensation, every ripple of pleasure. But she couldn’t take her eyes off him. She tried not to tremble so hard, but she couldn’t seem to stop. As he removed her panties, the warm cotton of his pullover barely brushing over her nipples, she cried out.

  “Sia,” he said, his voice strangled. “You’re so beautiful.”

  She watched as he stood and quickly undressed and donned protection. “Lean back and open your knees slightly,” he said, crawling back on the bunk. Sia complied, meeting his eyes in a head-on collision of passion.

  He knelt before her again. This time his hands circled her waist and slid to her lower back. He put slight pressure there and she helplessly arched. He supported her back as his head descended to lick like a flame against her collarbone. A puff of air blown across her nipple was a tease, sending red-hot ripples straight to her groin.

  He licked one nipple, then the other, and Sia groaned softly in her throat, aching for more contact with his hot, wet mouth.

  She reached for him, sliding her hands over his taut, smooth skin, into the silk of his hair. With pressure on the back of his head, she brought his mouth hard against her breast. His mouth closed over it, working the beaded point with his tongue, his five o’clock shadow pleasantly abrading her skin.

  With urging, he clamped his lips over her other breast, suckling her until she thought the pleasure might kill her.

  He slipped a hand between her thighs to find the tight, throbbing knot of nerves. Gently he pushed her back, his mouth still on her breast. When she was flat on her back, he slipped away from her, trailing kisses down her abdomen. As he slowly drew his tongue along her most sensitive flesh, Sia restlessly moved against him. Chris moaned as he continued his dedicated assault on her senses, tying her into sensuous knots. He slipped his fingers inside of her, his tongue never stopping its delicious swirling patterns, which stole her breath. She buried her hands in his hair, gripping it gently. Long moans, one after the other, poured out of her as he lifted her and settled his mouth fully against her.

  Crying out, her mind reeled at the pleasure, at the pure carnal joy. Her hips arched and bucked, twisted for the best angle and optimum contact with his mouth.

  Hot, wild bliss. Mindless ecstasy. Terrifying freedom from the bounds she had to live within. Her pleasure crested abruptly, strongly, wringing unrestrained cries from her.

  Pleasure spiraled through her and she was in his arms, immersed in his embrace, lost in his kiss as that beautiful mouth covered hers. His touch unleashed a host of needs that had lain dormant inside of her for six long, lonely years. Now they leaped and twisted, wild with the prospect of freedom.

  As their eyes met, she saw his glittering and on the edge of control. He entered her in one powerful stroke, filling her, touching off another explosive climax that only fueled him. He wrapped his arms around her and crushed her to him.

  He moved slowly and she could tell by his taut muscles that it cost him. He kissed her softly, tenderly.

  She slid her hands down his back, over the hot, flexing, sweat-slick muscles. Then her fingers stretched over the tight, rounded mounds of his buttocks. She caressed and squeezed, urging him to increase his tempo until he was pumping his hips into her, frantic with the need for release they achieved, one on the heels of the other.

  Afterward, they dozed, exhausted and replete. Chris settled on his side with one leg thrown across Sia. She turned toward him and curled up against him as his arms came around her and pulled her closer. She caressed his face, the sharp cheekbones, ran her thumb across his mouth, loving the texture of his skin.

  “How did this happen?” she asked, running her thumb over the scar.

  “Took a bullet in Brazil when I was kidnapped with a colleague.”

  “Oh, God,” she said, thinking she could have lost him in that moment and none of this would ever have happened. Would she still be in the dark about everything? What would that have done to her heart and mind?

  “I was rescued, survived. I will say that you got me through it, Sia. I remembered everything about you during the whole ordeal.”

  Inside she felt a heaviness settle on her as she met his eyes. There was no satisfaction in them, no triumph, just a deep sadness that connected with her own heavy heart. She tightened her arms around him. “I’m so glad I brought you some comfort.”

  Her brain scrambled to make sense out of the constant flux with the reaction of her body and her heart. It was all such a huge jumble. There was no way she could make a rational judgment. Not with him looking at her like that, and her wanting all sorts of things that were on the verge of impossible.

  Their past still loomed, and with this new information that still had her reeling, she lost her anchor. When she looked away in a vain effort to regroup, he cupped her cheek and returned her gaze to his.

  “Does it help to know?” he whispered in the dark stateroom, a few moments later.

  “Know what?”

  “Who might have been responsible for the death of your brother. She used me like a weapon and killed the wrong man. Does it help?” he asked, never more sincere, real concern outlined in every inch of his handsome face.

  This time her heart didn’t skip; it stopped altogether, then thundered on with such ferocity she felt it might explode from the sudden intensity of it.

  “Don’t,” she said softly, her voice catching. She buried her face in his neck. “Just hold me, Chris. Tighter,” she said. “As if you’ll never let me go.”

  “I remember, Sia. All the time. I remember what it was like to be with you, hold you. I thought I had gotten over you, but it seems that I was wrong. I don’t know what we’re accomplishing with this trip down memory lane, but I can’t say that I wouldn’t do it again. I’ve missed you, babe.”

  Guilt and shame welled up in her—that he could be so generous and that she was unable to get past what had happened. There were going to be more questions for Susan Cotes. But would there be any answers for Sia?

  “Talk to me. Tell me what is in your heart. It’s just a matter of saying the words. I won’t pressure you after this. Just tell me. Does it make a difference?”

  This was killing her, twisting her heart and emotions into painful, complicated knots. Did she still love Chris? Did finding out Rafael’s death had been a result of an attempt on Chris’s life help? Could she turn away from a once-in-a-lifetime relationship again?

  “I don’t know, Chris.” Her voice broke and she buried her face in his neck, her hot tears spilling out against his smooth skin. He tightened his hold, which only made her cry harder. Trapped in her own bitterness and pain, she didn’t deserve his comfort.

  In that moment, she realized with such clarity how she had betr
ayed him, abandoned him. Even now, she couldn’t come to terms with her own actions. It was easier to continue to blame him, take what little time they had together, then part when it was over.

  “I simply just don’t know.”

  Chapter Ten

  Dawn was breaking across a tumble of heavy gray clouds. Sia tucked her hands in her coat pockets and made her way toward the bridge, followed closely by the master-at-arms she’d requested to accompany her. The wind picked up and snatched at her tightly pinned hair beneath her hat.

  She was still trying to make sense of everything that had happened in the last day. But she still had a job to do. When she reached the bridge, she removed her cover and found the captain drinking a cup of coffee as he surveyed information on a clipboard.

  “Good morning, Commander. I’m afraid we have some rough seas ahead of us. There’s a storm between us and the coast. No way to go around it. We’re going to push to land. I’m going to clear the flight deck and restrict all crew to their quarters. Are you aware of safety procedures in the case of an emergency?”

  “Yes, Billy—Commander Stryker went over them with me after I boarded. I’m up to speed.”

  He nodded. “Good work on getting Washington’s killer.”

  “About that, sir.” She pulled out the sheaf of papers she’d brought with her. “We suspect there are more.” She handed him the pages and he shuffled through them, staring at the pictures of all the dead pilots and their resemblance to each other.

  “Son of a bitch,” he said softly.

  “We, Special Agent Vargas and I, believe all these men were her victims. But at this point, we don’t have any proof.”

  “What do you plan to do?”

  “Get a confession. We think the killer has some deep-seated issues regarding pilots. The first guy was probably pushed to his death. He was either lured to the deck, or it was a case of opportunity.”

  “You have my permission to do whatever it takes to get the confession. You’re a lawyer. I don’t have to remind you of the law.”