Heart's Desire

by Ellie Masters

  “Take cover!” Collins skidded around the rocks.

  Miles was hot on his heels. “What the fuck? Where’s our support?”

  At least her hearing had returned.

  Gunshots splattered the night. They’d been far too close, like the high-pitched cries spoken in the local tongue that followed.

  “They’re at the top of the ridge!” Miles reached for his belt and withdrew his Beretta M9.

  As medical personnel, they were considered noncombatants and forbidden to engage in a firefight unless one of two things occurred: their lives or the lives of their patients were at risk. Those lines blurred at times, but one thing was certain; they could only defend, not attack. That meant, whoever walked over that ridge had to shoot first. She didn’t like that. Not one bit.

  Miles peeked over the boulder. A bullet ricocheted off the rock not two feet from his head.

  “Get down!” Collins shouted.

  If the shooters hadn’t known where her team was, they knew now.

  Miles crouched beside them, placing his back to the rock. “What do we do?” Fear tinged his voice, and his finger stroked the trigger of his gun.

  The ass was likely to shoot himself or one of the team if he didn’t calm the fuck down.

  Collins shrugged out of his pack. There was no need for the encumbrance now. Warren gave her a look; steel determination girded his eyes. He shrugged out of his pack and gripped his M9 tight. With a flick of his eyes, he indicated she should do the same. Collins placed a finger over his lips, and they listened for the tread of approaching feet. Gunfire continued to be exchanged on the other side of the embankment, picking up in intensity as barrage after barrage volleyed between opposing forces.

  Miles gripped his weapon and lifted again to peek over the top of the rock. Tia cursed and leaped up to yank him down. Two shots ripped through the night, and then unbearable pain, hot and sharp, slammed into her shoulder and stole her breath. Miles’s body crumpled to the ground, taking her with it.

  “Holy shit!” Warren rolled Miles’s lifeless body off her while she struggled to breathe.

  The ass had taken a bullet right between the eyes. She’d taken a hit to the chest, right where her body armor gaped.

  “We need to move,” Collins said, his expression grim.

  Only there was nowhere to go. Agony tore into her as she gripped her gun. She took the safety off her weapon while several more shots fired in the darkness, much closer than before.

  Gravel crunched behind their barricade of rock. Collins, Warren, Drummond, and Marks all had guns out, safeties off and aimed into the impenetrable dark.

  A heavy weight stole her senses, making it difficult to piece together what was happening.

  Dizziness gripped her, and the world spun. Her stomach clenched. Then, her thoughts slowed, and her brain turned sluggish. Somewhere in the distance, gunfire ricocheted in the night. A steady beat sounded nearby, but it was slowing down. Its rhythm becoming muted and weak.

  Was that her heartbeat?

  Darkness crept in, and silence smothered all sound. She blinked and blinked again, fighting to push the nothingness back. The last thing she saw before the world disappeared was a tiny pebble pressing against Miles’s cheek and his dead eyes staring back.

  Chapter Forty

  Loss

  Ryker

  Ryker yanked at the roots of his hair.

  Shot!

  Tia had been shot.

  He was in motion, racing toward the hospital and picking up speed with each pump of his powerful legs.

  Get to her. Now!

  She’d been brought in less than an hour ago. An hour! He’d never felt this powerless. He’d been disconnected from his team, and now, his worst nightmare had come to life.

  Bent and Forest jogged beside him. Bash, Spike, and Noodles kept pace less than ten feet behind. Ash held Skye’s hand in his and pulled his wife along, bringing up the rear.

  Ryker raced, arms swinging, and used his stride to chew up the distance.

  Hold it together!

  His jaw ached from clenching, but he didn’t care. His chest constricted, and a pang of agony sliced through him. What was he going to find when he saw her? He was only now realizing how deeply she’d crawled inside his heart, filling in all the cracks.

  Would she be awake? Would she be in surgery? Was she in pain?

  Warren’s message had been terse and devoid of details.

  He both cursed and loved the men of Angel Fire. They were the reason he hadn’t been with Tia, yet upon hearing the news, they’d rallied around him, racing with him to her side. He hadn’t asked. It’d just happened, their support freely given, and to be honest, he was happy to have them.

  Bent dropped back as breath tugged in and out of his lungs. The cast around Bent’s arm weighed him down, but Forest kept pace with Ryker, no sign of exertion showing despite the fast pace. A few minutes later, Ryker slowed at the hospital entrance.

  How many times had he brought wounded here? Men torn to pieces, extremities ripped and shredded, or worse. Not once had he thought one of his team would be counted among the wounded. Never had he thought it would be Tia.

  He ripped open the door and barreled inside, no thought given to those following behind him. Overly familiar with the layout, he headed straight to the operating rooms. There, he grabbed a technician and asked after Tia. A quick check revealed she’d been moved to one of the many wards. That gave him solace. Warren had said she was in surgery. For her to have already moved past the post-op anesthesia care unit, where post-operative patients recovered from anesthesia, to the wards meant her wound wasn’t life-threatening. His breath eased into his lungs, but he was off again.

  He ran into Collins first, who placed a hand on his chest. His former commander looked him in the eye and then pulled him in for a hug.

  “She’s okay,” Collins said. “Still groggy from anesthesia, but she’s going to be fine.”

  Ryker’s heart hammered away in his chest, and his pulse pounded past his ears. “What happened?”

  “Their reinforcements arrived before ours. Our position was compromised, and insurgents came at the team.” Darkness clouded Collins’s eyes, telling Ryker there was more to this story.

  While he wanted nothing other than to rush to Tia’s side, he waited for Collins to continue.

  Collins took in a deep breath. “We lost Miles.”

  Ryker staggered with the news. Their team raced into danger to save lives. It was a part of the job, but they’d never lost anyone before.

  “I’m sorry,” he said.

  Collins shook his head. “It’s my fault.”

  “Fuck that.”

  But Collins would take responsibility for Miles’s death and Tia’s injury; he was a man of impeccable character.

  “No way could you have prevented it.” Ryker placed a hand on Collins’s shoulder. “It wasn’t your fault. Shit happens.”

  “Not to my team,” Collins said. “Not to my team.” He shifted, turning his body to allow Ryker into Tia’s room. “She’s been asking for you.”

  With no need for further encouragement, Ryker slipped past Collins and navigated around the privacy curtains, only to pull up short. Her normally sun-kissed skin matched the pale white of the starched hospital linens. He approached the side of the bed and pulled her hand into his. It was cold and limp, and he couldn’t help but feel for a pulse. It took a moment, but he found the slow, steady beat beneath her skin. Bending over the bed, he cupped her hand in his and kissed her knuckles.

  “Tia,” he soothed, “don’t do this to me. Don’t die.”

  If she didn’t make it, his world would come to a screeching halt.

  IV bags hung beside her bed. Tubing tracked down to infusion pumps where tiny motors filled her veins at a measured pace. Blood, too. A bright crimson rope snaked from a bag of packed red blood cells into an IV in her other arm.

  “I have no intention of dying,” she said softly.

  He lift
ed his head and tried to hug her without causing her pain. Sheets covered up to her shoulders, but the outline of a bandage over her chest was clearly visible.

  She glanced down. “It looks worse than it is.”

  “What happened?”

  Her lips thinned into a line. “Maybe we can talk about that later.”

  There would be much to talk about, but he was fine with holding her in his arms. “I wish I’d been there.”

  “No, you don’t,” she said. “You needed to be right where you were.”

  “You’re wrong about that. I belong by your side.”

  The barest hint of a smile curled at the corners of her mouth. “I love that about you.”

  He kissed the crown of her head and breathed her in. Then, his lips traveled down, brushed against her forehead, whispered past her nose, and landed lightly on her lips. His kiss was tender but firm.

  She wrapped her arm around his shoulders and fluttered her fingers at his neck, letting them twist in the short lengths of his hair.

  A throat cleared behind him, and he broke off the kiss.

  “Major Meyers,” an all-too familiar voice said, “may I have a word?”

  Tia’s eyes widened, and her already pale complexion faded to a sicklier shade of ghostly white. Then, she closed her eyes, and a look of defeat spread across her features.

  Ryker straightened and turned to find Colonel Vane standing in the doorway.

  Chapter Forty-One

  Choice

  Tia

  Tia’s recovery progressed quickly. The wound in her chest healed with little residual effect. Initially, there had been concerns about nerve damage to her shoulder and arm, but aggressive physical therapy helped her avoid long-term disability. Standing at rigid attention before the judge caused only mild discomfort.

  Not that it mattered. Her career was in shambles. She faced Colonel Martin, the judge presiding over whether to proceed with a court-martial for fraternization, with a grim set to her jaw, a ramrod posture, and as much courage as she could muster.

  She was doing this alone.

  Ryker wasn’t here.

  Vane had forced Ryker to fulfill his temporary-duty obligations, playing with Angel Fire on their USO tour. In the days following her hospitalization and the weeks before this hearing, Ryker had traveled to Ramstein Air Base in Germany, RAF Lakenheath in England, and other bases scattered around Europe. At each base, he’d sent pictures of him with the band, playing onstage, and signing pictures with a growing fan base.

  In every picture, a smile lit his face, laughter brightened his eyes, and his expression filled with adrenaline. She loved how he could bring such intensity to every moment. In his emails, he imbued his words with love, hope, and a profound loss at not having her by his side. There was anger there, too, over what Vane had done. Ryker tried to hide it, but he missed her and hated that she was facing this trial alone, but his presence would have only strengthened the case against her. He understood this, too.

  Collins tried to protect her against Vane’s crusade as best he could, but there had been several witnesses to that kiss, the most damning being Vane himself. Unlike her wound, the damage done from that single kiss would have repercussions for the rest of her life.

  Colonel Martin read from a stack of papers that held her future. “Major Meyers…”

  The lack of emotion in his voice brought a shiver to her spine. There would be no leniency in this courtroom. Her good friends, Skye and Forest, had flown in for her trial and sat on the stiff benches behind her. Skye had brought letters from Ryker, things he didn’t feel safe placing in an email that could be used against her in the court proceedings. Forest had brought his indomitable presence. He’d rescued her in her youth, and in the years that followed, he had been a solid presence of support and strength. She leaned on her friends now, knowing, no matter what happened, Forest and Skye would be there to help her pick up the pieces.

  Collins was at her side, and Warren sat behind Forest and Skye. His hug prior to the proceedings filled her with strength. Collins’s steadfast support lifted her spirits. She was surrounded by those who cared for her, even if Ryker couldn’t be present.

  Colonel Martin cleared his throat and continued reading from his official report. “The Air Force places high value on the professional relationships within its ranks. This is vital to the functional effectiveness of our units. Our missions involve great challenge and hardship, and unit cohesion is vital for mission success. Anything that might interfere with the interests of the Air Force is grounds for censure.”

  She rolled her shoulders and stiffened her spine. This wasn’t censorship. It was a witch hunt.

  “Professional relations are consistent with the Air Force values of integrity first, service before self, and excellence in all we do.” Martin read directly from his brief, barely glancing up. “It’s incumbent on all our military members to understand that the needs of the Air Force will sometimes outweigh personal desires.”

  She hated this waiting, wanting only to get to the end, to the part where she found out if she would face a court-martial with the potential for jail time or be offered an alternative. His speech was a part of the process, and he continued to read from his legal brief while she stood at attention.

  “Major Meyers, as you are aware, professional relationships are encouraged, as this fosters communication between members, boosts morale, and focuses on the mission at hand. Professional relationships preserve respect for authority. However, personal relationships can become a problem. When this affects the functioning of the unit, it ceases to be personal and becomes an official concern.”

  Her instinct to reply with a, Yes, sir, had her biting her tongue. Her role was to receive judgment with dignity. Later, when alone, she could fall apart.

  Collins had given his testimony and argued in favor of leniency. The support he’d shown during the proceedings warmed her heart and only deepened her respect for him as not only a leader, but also a man of character.

  Colonel Martin’s monotone droned through the silence. “The Air Force frowns on personal relationships between officers and enlisted, and those engaging in fraternization can be brought up on Uniform Code of Military Justice charges. Fraternization violates our core values, places good order and discipline at risk, and discredits the armed services. It disgraces the officer involved and compromises an officer’s good standing.”

  She knew all about the rules against fraternization. Officers couldn’t lend or borrow money from an enlisted member. Participating in personal business enterprises was also prohibited. They weren’t allowed to engage in sexual relations or date enlisted members. They couldn’t even share living accommodations with enlisted members unless required by military operations. Marriage wasn’t necessarily forbidden, but the officer could still be brought up on charges if the relationship began while both members were in the military.

  Nothing about what had happened between her and Ryker followed the tenets of appropriate behavior between an officer and enlisted. She’d known this from the very beginning. It hadn’t mattered then, so why did it hurt so much to have this stranger chastise her from behind the power of his bench?

  Each word struck like a hammer, slamming her with disgrace and shame. Her heart rattled around inside her chest, thudding like a jackhammer one moment and then fading into stunned quiescence the next. Her palms slicked with sweat, and her throat closed up. Heat pricked at the corners of her eyes, but she refused to cry. Tears were for later.

  Colonel Martin leaned back and placed his papers on the table. “Two options face us today. Colonel Collins has been a fierce supporter during these proceedings, and I am inclined to accept his testimony. You’re facing one count of fraternization and one count of making a false official statement. If convicted, these carry a maximum sentence of seven years. Do you understand?”

  “Yes, sir,” she said, surprised by how steady her voice sounded as it rang through the room.

  “There is pre
cedent for not proceeding with a court-martial. As you are aware, a felony conviction carries jail time. In addition, not proceeding with a trial will spare the Air Force the embarrassing spectacle of prosecuting an officer for what the civilian population sees as nothing more than a crime of the heart. They don’t understand the duress of our job, the missions we face, or why unit cohesion is vital to success. Also, there is the public relations disaster that would follow if the Air Force prosecuted one of the very few special ops females in its ranks.”

  He wasn’t done speaking, but already, the tight band constricting her chest eased. No court-martial? There was hope.

  “If you desire to defend yourself and face trial, we will proceed, but you might opt for a general discharge instead.”

  “And this avoids trial?” She listened for any weakness in her voice. Still none, but it vibrated in her core, and she didn’t know how much longer she could maintain this facade of strength.

  “Yes,” he said.

  “Sir,” Collins interjected, “is there no way to dismiss the charges? Major Meyers is an exemplary officer. She has much to contribute to her country. Aren’t there other more favorable, constructive solutions to this case? It seems inappropriate she must choose between resignation and a felony. Where’s the middle ground?”

  She would rather stay in the military. A general discharge would make it more difficult to find employment. For a health care provider, a general discharge virtually assured she would be a pariah to future employers.

  “Unfortunately, no.” Colonel Martin’s pronouncement sealed her fate.

  “What about allowing her to resign her commission with an honorable discharge?” Collins pressed.

  “That isn’t possible. A general discharge is appropriate when significant negative aspects of the member’s conduct outweigh the positive aspects of their performance. I can offer Major Meyers this choice, but this is the only choice she will be given.”