Commanding Sia (NCIS Series Book 1)

by Zoe Dawson

  “Sir, there’s something else. Something I didn’t mention when I boarded because I didn't know it was part of this investigation.”

  “Go on.”

  “Special Agent Vargas and I know each other. We had a relationship six years ago when he was stationed aboard the McCloud. He was involved in a mid-air crash that killed my brother, Rafael Soto. We believe he was the intended target of the killer and my brother died as a result of the attempt on his life.”

  “I was briefed on the incident when I took control of this vessel five years ago. I sense you have an agenda here, Commander. Perhaps you should tell me what it is.”

  “Sir, I never meant to harbor any secrets. Until this evidence came to light, I always believed it had been an accident. I also believed my brother was blameless in the matter. But now, with this new evidence, I was hoping you would recommend to SECNAV that my brother’s case get a review, so he has a chance to be cleared of the pilot-error ruling. I want to petition to have him memorialized at the United States Navy Memorial.”

  “You get me a confession and I’ll petition to clear both their names.”

  “I don’t know how Chris feels about it, sir.”

  “You didn’t consult him?”

  “No, our relationship has been strained. I didn’t want to presume too much on his behalf, but I will relay your promise to him.”

  Sia turned to leave. When she reached the door, the captain said, “I’m sorry for your loss, Commander. You’re a fine credit to this Navy. Your brother would have been proud.”

  “Thank you, sir.”

  When she got to the base of the ladder, she could see the bustle of the crew working to get the deck cleared and the jets stowed below in the hangar. As she turned to go inside and head back to her quarters, she spied Chris standing on the deck. He looked forlorn and alone as the wind caught in his dark hair. His face was impassive as he confronted his ghosts, and she had no doubt that’s exactly what he was doing. She watched as he clenched trembling hands.

  Her heart ached for him. He was part of the past she wanted to forget, part of the bitterness and the grief and the pain.

  Chris stood on the windblown deck trying to rein in his emotions. Trying to come to grips with his own loss. It had been more, Rafe, he thought. I lost more than you that day. I lost Sia. I lost a family and I lost my nerve. But I’ve got to finally, finally come to terms with it.

  Once he had known dreams of love and family and the kind of ordinary success that most men strove for, but he’d been shown in no uncertain terms that life had a way of taking you and tossing you around like a rag doll, to lie broken where you fell. That life had blown up in his face, and he had to live with the fact he’d been the one to lay the powder and light the fuse, or so he had thought.

  As he watched the last jet sink onto the deck of the carrier, he reminded himself that what he had rebuilt for himself in the aftermath was simple and basic. The sound of the hydraulic platforms descending into the belly of the deck was snatched away by the wind. It disappeared, and he let his pain go with it, let his guilt and his shame disappear. He clenched his hands into fists as he struggled with the hope that one day Sia could do the same. He didn’t want simple and basic anymore. He wanted the more he had lost.

  With the thought of her, he felt her small hand curl around his fist. He opened his hand and grasped hers. The warmth was welcome as it radiated from his hand to his empty heart.

  “There’s a storm brewing. The captain is restricting crew to quarters for the duration.”

  “That include us?”

  “Yes, but in light of this new information regarding the GHB, I want to re-interview Lieutenants Russell and Monroe. If we can place Susan in the wardroom at the same time as both pilots, that gives us stronger evidence that she had the opportunity to spike both of their drinks. I also have the captain’s permission to work on Susan Cotes and get her to confess. We have the information to present to her. I also asked for my brother’s case to be reopened and considered.”

  He turned to her. “Don’t you think that was premature? We don’t have a confession yet. We don’t have anything that links her to that accident.”

  “We will. We have to. The captain said he would also petition to clear your name.”

  “I don’t need my name cleared. It doesn’t matter anymore. The past is over and done with. I’m moving on.”

  “Surely you can’t mean that. What you did with the Navy means something. It has to. If it doesn’t, then my brother’s death means nothing. I can’t bear that.”

  He turned to her and pulled her close. “I didn’t say that what I did here didn't mean anything, Sia.”

  She wrapped her arms around his neck. “I wish it was as easy for me to let go,” she said.

  “But you can’t.”

  “Not yet. Maybe never. I don’t know.”

  She grasped his hand and pulled him toward the decks below. They went to her quarters and when the door shut behind them, they didn’t pretend.

  His mouth found hers with a keen-edged need that was reciprocated. This time would be different from last night. He wanted to unleash the need he had for her that lurked just beneath the surface.

  The air crackled with the electricity they created. His mouth went in search of hers, and their tongues tangled. He pushed at her clothing until he got it all off her, and she did the same.

  He bent his head to catch her nipple and sucked strongly from her. Her knees buckled in sudden, violent response. Her fingers went to his hair, unconsciously drawing him closer as the sensations crashed over him, one wave after another.

  She cupped his heavy shaft and he surged into her soft hand. It was shockingly arousing to be touched by her, and he knew he would never get enough. He slipped his hand between their bodies, found her warm, wet heat and stroked a finger inside her. She cried out, her fingers tightening around him. His mouth went to the other breast in a dual assault that was engineered to make her unravel fast.

  His voice was ragged, muffled against her skin. “The bunk.”

  Her touch grew more deliberate. “I want you inside me. Now.”

  His breathing ragged, he gave her a long, deep kiss, and began to move her toward the bunk. She apparently had no intention of cooperating. “The bunk,” he panted, his mouth moving to her jaw, her ear, her throat. “Now, Sia.”

  Instead, she went to her knees before him, pressed her lips against his hardness. He shuddered and groaned, throwing his head back at the feel of her soft mouth taking him. She traced her tongue down the length of him, exploring him with lips and tongue until he hauled her to her feet and into his arms.

  Her mouth met his fiercely. Her kiss evoked a violent response in him. He responded to her fierceness with more of the same, demanding an answer. He backed her against the bulkhead, then reached down and lifted her leg over his hip.

  The need in her clear brown eyes aroused him beyond his limits. “Chris.” He pressed his mouth to hers and swallowed the sound while cupping her bottom and lifting her to impale her with one long stroke.

  The sweet velvet slide of his shaft inside her, the delicate pulsations as her body adjusted to his invasion, was almost more than he could bear.

  Surging forward, he heard her moan and went in search of her mouth. Sealing it with his, he positioned his hips, thrusting hard and deep, wringing wild cries from her. Her legs were wrapped around him, her arms clinging to his shoulders. Each savage thrust flattened her breasts against him and the exquisite sensations threatened to send him over the edge.

  Fingers digging into her bottom, he held her steady as he pounded into her, his vision graying, beginning to blur. He dimly felt her heels pressing into his back, her body tensing, then clenching around him. He was blind, deaf to all but this woman.

  When he felt her release, he lunged harder, buried himself inside her to the hilt and followed her into oblivion.

  They made it, eventually, to the bunk. For a few minutes, they lay there. Once the
ir breathing softened and slowed, Sia turned to him. “You look like you came to some kind of closure up there on the flight deck.”

  “Almost. I only need one more thing.”

  “What is that?”

  “You to say that you forgive me, Sia. Say the words.”

  “Give me some more time, Chris. Just a little bit more.”

  He sighed in disappointment, but Sia couldn’t seem to utter the words. She didn’t know why. She should. Chris really didn’t deserve this.

  She had no idea what time it was when her eyes flew open. Nor could she say what had woken her from such a deep sleep. She went to move, then felt the weight of Chris’s arm folded across her back, holding her against him. She didn't want to disturb him, but she was struggling to orient herself and her still-fuzzy brain took a moment or two to remember where she was and what she was doing there.

  With the sudden dipping and rolling of the carrier, Sia felt a dull throb of a headache beginning as she lifted her head. She willed her eyes to adjust to the dark so she could find her bedside clock. It was just past 0930, which was a relief. She had only been asleep for about an hour. It seemed neither one of them had gotten a decent night’s sleep.

  Of course, Navy bunks weren’t exactly meant to be shared by two, yet she felt completely and blissfully sated. She thought about that for a moment, partly because it pushed the return of fear and panic to the edges of her mind for a few more precious seconds, and partly because she couldn’t help but wonder what, in fact, did come next for them. She realized the events currently unfolding could end up robbing her of finding out, but that didn’t stop her from thinking about what she’d want if it was up to her.

  Slowly, cautiously, she slipped out from beneath his arm and gently shifted her weight off the bunk, her eyes adjusting just enough to keep her from stumbling on her way to her toiletry items.

  She hit the shower and the heated water felt good even with the unsteady deck rolling beneath her feet. She was supremely proud her stomach didn’t protest. Seasickness would be absolutely no fun.

  As she exited the head and slipped back inside the stateroom, she thought that her father would have been proud of her. The thought made her smile, and for the first time since he’d died, she was thankful she was able to think of him without the immediate pain that would inevitably follow.

  She snapped on a light near the locker. It was enough to illuminate her clothing and she dressed quickly in her service khaki. After she was dressed, she walked over to Chris, who was still sleeping. She noted the smudges under his eyes. They deserved this small bit of rest. He had kept long hours on this case, not to mention the extra pain and baggage each of them carried.

  Now was the time to get the confession from the woman who was directly responsible for her brother’s death. It was what she hoped for so that she could finally lay him to rest.

  Proof, evidence. Her brain hammered on the words, and she paced away from the bunk. Even with Susan Cotes’s confession, was there a chance for them?

  She suspected that it was up to her.

  “You’re going to wear a hole in the deck.”

  Her head whipped to the bunk. Chris was awake, his sleepy half-lidded eyes watching her. His head was propped on his arm, his biceps a thick bulge of muscle. His shoulders gleamed in the dim light and cast shadows on his broad chest and tapered waist.

  “I was just thinking about our upcoming session with Susan Cotes.”

  “Working out a strategy?” he asked, stretching his tall, muscular body like a big jungle cat.

  “Something like that,” she replied, her brain short-circuiting at the sight of him.

  He smiled. “You must be a hellcat in court.”

  She shook off her fascination and turned away to look for her hat. “If you mean that I get my conviction or garner a good defense, then yes, I’m a hellcat in court.”

  “Come here.”

  His voice was thick and velvety, and she’d be a fool to even get near him in this mood.

  “Chris,” she said, her eyes going over his face again, homing in on his mouth. “That’s not a good idea. I just got dressed and pinned up my hair. I’m not going to get close enough for that stealth move you do to bring it all back down again.”

  He laughed. “Stealth move?”

  “That’s what I call it.”

  “I can’t entice you even a little?” He wagged his eyebrows.

  She laughed but kept herself at a safe distance from him. “It’s tempting.”

  “I guess I’ll have to come to you.” He slipped out of the bunk, all heavy muscle and testosterone, his maleness emphasized by his wide chest and thick thighs.

  She couldn’t take her eyes off him. Rooted to the spot, she was helpless when he reached her and cupped her cheek. His mouth covered hers, the kiss full of banked passion and subtle need.

  When he raised his head, he smiled. “I’ll use your shower, then make a quick trip to my stateroom for clothes.”

  It wasn’t until a full minute after he stepped into her bathroom that she realized her hair was down around her shoulders. With an exasperated, but amused sigh, she went to pin it up again.

  Looking at herself in the mirror, she couldn’t quite meet her own eyes. Maybe she couldn't say it to him now, but she could—had to—admit to herself: She was still in love with him, and it solved absolutely nothing.

  Fifteen minutes later she was sitting next to Chris, trying not to get distracted by the fresh way he smelled and the heat that radiated off his body, a body she had just done such intimate things with two hours ago.

  Lieutenant Russell, Saunders’s wingman, sat in front of her. She smiled at him and asked, “Can you remember who was in the wardroom the day of Saunders’s crash?”

  Lieutenant Russell looked down as he fidgeted with his hat. “There were a couple of other pilots there, Green and Wilson. Also, I remember the LSO, Maria Jackson, was getting coffee and Lieutenant Cotes was there talking to Lieutenant Jackson.”

  Sia nodded her head. “Thank you, Lieutenant. You’ve been a great help.”

  After he left, Lieutenant Monroe was ushered in and he recalled that both Lieutenants Jackson and Cotes were in the wardroom. Lieutenants Cotes and Washington were sniping at each other and giving each other dirty looks. This evidence was the last nail in Susan’s coffin.

  Focus, she told herself as the master-at-arms opened the door and ushered Susan Cotes in. Chris indicated for her to sit at the small table and, with an irritated sigh, she sat down.

  “Do you understand the charges against you?”

  “I understand them, but you’re both off-base. I didn’t kill Lieutenant Washington. I don’t know how many times I have to say it.”

  “The evidence makes you a liar, Lieutenant.”

  Susan’s face blanched and she brought her hands up, the metal cuffs rattling against the table. “What evidence?” she demanded, fear and defiance in her tone.

  “We found your fingerprints on the radar casing from his jet. The one you tampered with, along with the GHB you used to drug him.”

  Susan stood in outrage, her face a mask of shock and disbelief. “I did not! I had nothing to do with it.”

  “The evidence is iron-clad, Lieutenant. We didn’t bring you here so you could deny your guilt. That’s unproductive in the face of the evidence. Both Lieutenants Russell and Monroe place you in the wardroom before each pilot took off.”

  It surprised Sia that Susan was fighting tears and Sia suddenly became uncomfortable. Susan’s behavior seemed wrong somehow. She showed no signs of the sadistic behavior of a serial killer. But the evidence was irrefutable and Sia put away her doubts.

  “Why did you bring me here?”

  “We want to give you a chance to come clean about the other murders.”

  “Other murders? Oh, my God. You two are insane. I haven’t committed any murders.”

  Without speaking, Sia laid out the pictures of the dead pilots. Susan looked down at them with a dul
l and glassy-eyed stare. “I don’t know any of these men.”

  “We think you do.” Sia pointed out her brother. “This is the only man in this array who doesn’t resemble the others. Do you know why?”

  “No,” Susan mumbled and Sia could tell when someone was shutting down.

  “It’s because he was an unintended victim. Chris was your intended target.”

  Susan looked at Chris, then back at Sia, then down to the picture. “This is your brother, isn’t it?”

  “That’s right.”

  She looked at Chris. “He was killed when your plane crashed into his. I remember that report.”

  Chris nodded.

  “Wait a second,” Sia said as she digested Susan’s words. “Report?”

  “That’s right, Commander,” she said smugly. “I wasn’t on the McCloud when Lieutenant Soto died. I was thousands of miles away in Virginia, at Norfolk Naval Airbase at a training center.”

  Sia looked at the computer screen in her quarters, dejected by the news her legalman gave her. “It’s true, Commander. She had orders and it’s documented on her record. She wasn’t on the McCloud the day your brother was killed. I’m sorry.” The picture was fuzzy and jumped often as the storm battered the ship.

  She tried hard to hide her disappointment. “And the other pilots?”

  “Those dates match up to her tour of duty. Her shore leave matched up to the time our dead pilot ended up in that alley.”

  “Thank you, McBride.”

  “You’re welcome, Commander. When are you headed home?”

  “As soon as we dock. We’ll process Cotes and Chris will go back to San Diego and I will hop a plane back to DC. She’s going to be handled by the folks in Miramar.”

  “It’s getting hard to hear you. How is it there?”

  “The storm is pretty intense, but the captain is competent.”

  “Good. Oh, I almost forgot. I finished compiling the list of all the personnel aboard the McCloud the day your brother died. I can send that to you.”

  “Please do.”

  There was a knock at the door and Sia signed off on the two-way.