He’d been absolutely adamant yesterday that despite the fact they’d be working in close quarters while uncovering the mole in the squadron, nothing more personal would develop between them. But apparently he wasn’t as strong as he’d thought and that resolve had failed in less than twenty-four hours, because goddamn did he want to kiss her again. Not just for a stolen, rushed moment like yesterday afternoon. He wanted to devour her. And take his time doing it.
“Mia—” he started, but had no idea what he wanted to tell her. It should have been something along the lines of all the reasons why they couldn’t, because apparently he at least needed a reminder. But the words got lost in translation somewhere between his brain and his mouth.
She tilted her head, and he could all but see her mind working behind those expressive dark eyes. Maybe he didn’t know her that well, but he got the feeling she never did anything without considering every angle first. Right now, she was definitely turning something over in her mind, something he probably didn’t want to know about if they were going to get out of this transit without crossing a big fat line or two.
Shifting onto her knees, she got closer to him, that damn inquisitive glint in her gaze almost his undoing. He set his palms flat against the cool floor, the only way to stop himself from reaching out and yanking her against him.
But if she could see the struggle going on within him, she seemingly wasn’t going to give him any quarter. She leaned in, and the next breath he took was nothing but her and that nutty-vanilla scent she favored. On her hair or skin, he couldn’t tell, but whatever it was, it’d started driving him crazy, so damn mouthwatering—
Her lips touched his, the contact almost featherlight, but it echoed through his entire body. His hands contracted into fists against the floor, every muscle catching fire with an intensity that left him fighting for air.
She increased the pressure of her mouth, her hand coming up to cup his jaw. It was too much, so far past the line. But hell, it wasn’t anywhere near what he wanted. He brought a hand up, only as far as her lower back, and pressed her closer, even as he deepened the kiss, maybe taking a little more than what she’d initially offered. But God, she had him so wound up. If anything, he’d only encouraged her into further recklessness as she knelt up and hooked a leg over his, then settled in his lap.
Oh yeah, that was a problem. And somehow his hands had ended up on her ass. Hell, he was so screwed. But he didn’t care, not when she was all over him like nobody’s business.
The transit jolted and Mia gasped, breaking the kiss, but grabbed onto his shoulders. The lights flickered again, but then returned to full strength. Leaning over, Mia retrieved the datapad where she’d left it on the floor.
“I’ve got a connection, but the control files are all screwed up. There are entire packets of data missing.”
“What does that mean?” He shifted his hands to her hips, which was probably only marginally better than having them on her ass. He probably should take his hands off her altogether, but since she was still sitting on top of him, he was just going to go with it.
“It means some of the control icons either won’t work, or they’ll do something completely different. So if you put in one destination, you might end up somewhere else. Or trying to open the doors might make the lights go out again.”
“But despite that, you can get us out of here?”
“It’s more likely now, yes.” She slipped off his lap, attention riveted on the screen of the datapad.
Leigh stood, taking a moment to adjust his pants since he had some swelling issues that had left him more than a little uncomfortable. He went over to the screen of the transit.
“Don’t even think about touching that screen,” Mia said as she stood. “It’ll just confuse things that are already messed as hell.”
He fought a grin at her ordering him around, but she didn’t notice. The doors clunked, and he glanced over to see them start to open, only to slam shut again. But from the glimpse of outside he’d gotten, it looked like they were just beneath a floor.
“Can you get the transit to move, Mia? We’re just below the lowest apartment level. At least that’s what it looked like.”
She shook her head. “I tried that first, but it doesn’t seem like this thing is going anywhere. If I can get the doors to stay open, do you think we can climb out?”
He hadn’t gotten a clear enough look, but between the two of them, he didn’t see any reason why not. “Sure. Get the doors open and I’ll give you a boost.”
The doors clunked two more times before opening and stopping halfway. There was only just enough room for him to get his shoulders in.
“I think that’s the best I can do.” She glanced upward, brow creased as though she really wasn’t impressed with her own effort.
“Come on then. If we hurry, we might make the beginning of the session before any of the recruits start wondering why the CAFF is so late for class.”
“And what about me?” she asked as she stepped closer.
“You’re going to arrive fifteen minutes late, and I’m going to dress you down in front of the entire class. I haven’t made anyone cry today. Maybe you could shed a few tears.”
She glared at him as he bent his knees, bringing him down to her level and then linking his fingers palms-up to provide her a foothold.
“You know, I’m starting to think this situation is much more beneficial to you than me.” She set a foot in his hands and hoisted herself up, catching the edge of the floor above them.
As she pulled up, he gave her a push, helping her scramble out. Once she’d cleared the opening, he backed up as far as he could, then took a run up at the door and leaped at the last second. He only just managed to grab the lip, but it was enough. He took a moment, drawing in a breath before tensing his muscles and hauling his body weight up to get his forearms on the edge of the floor. After that, it was easier to heave himself the rest of the way up.
He took a second to catch his breath and then stood. “Guess I won’t need to go to the gym today after that little acrobatic routine.”
But Mia wasn’t paying him any attention, instead staring down the passageway. “I think someone’s coming.”
He glanced over his shoulder, and sure enough, could hear voices somewhere farther down the hallway. “Come on, there’s another transit on the starboard side of this level.”
She nodded, setting off in the opposite direction. He checked his watch to find the afternoon session had started exactly three and a half minutes ago. He’d never been late to a single session or meeting in his life. Hopefully Bren wouldn’t question him too closely about it, despite the fact it was so far out of character for him. In the past few days, he’d come to realize there was a lot of truth in the old saying “first time for everything.”
The following evening, Leigh stepped through the doorway into Harley’s, the bar on commerce level favored by most of the military staff for after-shift drinks. When he’d first earned his wings, he’d spent a fair bit of time here with his fellow pilots, blowing off steam and generally having a good time. But in the last few years, since becoming the CAFF, the occasional after-shift tradition had become less and less frequent.
Truthfully, considering the day he’d had—no make that the week he’d had—he could definitely use an hour or two in this bar tonight taking the edge off. He’d just never expected the invitation to do so would come from Commander Yang.
As he let the low lights, raucous conversations, and underlying, near indiscernible rhythm of a song he couldn’t identify wash over him, he forced some of the tension from his shoulders. He felt like he’d been walking around with a bowstring yanking his neck and shoulder blades tight ever since he’d escorted the damaged troop transport onto the Knox’s deck a week ago.
But sneaking around with Mia and getting stuck in that damn transit yesterday had really jacked him up. Admittedly, he’d had no patience to deal with the recruits today, not when the need to find the traitor
was slowly but effectively eating away at his control. And riding him even worse had been the fact that he’d gotten Mia involved in this situation as well. She’d fallen a little behind in class and was clearly tired. He should never have pressured her to participate, putting her spot in the FP program in jeopardy, but he’d seen an opportunity and taken it, ignoring the risk of collateral damage. Now they were too far in. If the traitor didn’t already know they were after him, he might soon figure it out. The only way to keep Mia safe was to let her work up those profiles and find the mole.
He scanned the shifting crowd, finding Yang sitting in a far booth across from another man. As he got closer and found a clear view, he recognized Cam slouching in the opposite corner.
He slid in next to the colonel, where they’d already ordered him a beer.
“Seriously, McAllister, if you love being on the Knox so much, why don’t you just ask Yang to find you a posting?” He slid the beer a short way across the table toward himself, using a napkin to wipe at some of the condensation before he picked it up and took a long swallow.
Cam sent him a flat look. “Like I told you, I prefer to keep my boots firmly planted in the dirt. Though, I have to admit, you guys have better beer up here.”
He saluted with his half-empty glass, then took a gulp.
“So is that your reason for this visit, our superior beverages?”
Cam nodded toward the commander. “Yang got me back up here, ask him.”
He glanced over at the CO, who was nursing his own glass, looking like he’d taken less than a sip of the beer.
“There are things I wanted to discuss with the two of you.”
“And it couldn’t be done in your wardroom during office hours?” He took another quick sip of beer, the ice-cold bitter beverage going down smooth. He’d definitely need a second pretty soon. “Not that I’m really complaining about the venue choice.”
An annoyed expression flitted across Yang’s face. “No actually, it couldn’t be discussed in my wardroom, not unless we wanted every word recorded and analyzed by Lieutenant Caleb Prescott.”
“The guy they sent to review your command?” he asked as Cam muttered a few choice insults.
Yang nodded. “He’s being very thorough, I’ll give him that.”
“Its just more bureaucratic bullshit,” Cam put in. “They’re not going to pull the deck from under you, not without some serious backlash. You’re a war hero, people aren’t going to like hearing they gave you back command of the Knox, only to change their minds.”
Yang glanced down at his glass, his expression mostly blank, but Leigh caught the shadows of doubt in the CO’s gaze.
“We’re not here to talk about that.” Yang focused on them, features now set into stern lines. “I want to keep you both in the loop about the CSS infiltrations. You two are the only ones I fully trust right now—my direct link to what’s going on in the ranks. I need full disclosure, no matter if you think your suspicions might be groundless, or that the truth might be worse when it’s revealed. The whole thing is obviously bigger than just the Knox, but this ship and the people on it are my first priority. No matter what UEF or CI mechanisms might be going on around us, my only concern is the welfare of those who serve under my command.”
A smolder in Leigh’s chest blazed with every breath he took over the secrets he held. For the first time in his entire career, his loyalties tore him in two different directions: protect Mia or offer the full disclosure Commander Yang expected and deserved.
The only thing that kept him from blurting out the truth was that coming clean would give Yang one more complication to bear on his already strained shoulders.
“Have there been further developments from Stanton?” His voice came out a little rough, so he took another swallow from his beer to wash down the remaining tension.
“Stanton hides as much as he reveals. I’m not sure he’s telling me anything of real value, anything that can really help us. He sent me a dossier of information, most of it pertaining to things I’d missed in the past year and a half as a POW. Things like the Pontifex becoming increasingly reclusive. In fact, he hasn’t been seen in public for several months.”
The Pontifex was the man who acted as a figurehead to the CSS. Everyone knew him. Ronald Martin, once UEF Governor of the Brannon System until he’d declared the three planets under his jurisdiction a sovereign state and made himself Pontifex—religious leader of the CSS—which started the war that had spanned two decades.
“Well, he had to slow down eventually. The guy must be in his seventies by now.” Leigh couldn’t remember clearly.
“Sixty-eight, according to the intelligence report Stanton gave me,” Yang answered.
“Anything else?” Cam finished his beer and set the empty glass down, then tapped on the screen inset in the tabletop to order another.
Yang shook his head, expression annoyed. “Nothing. A lot of the reports are contradictory, so it’s hard to know what’s factual and what’s misinformation.”
“How so?” The tension crept back into his neck, brought on by the fact that this subterfuge stuff was beyond his patience. Give him an enemy to face in the open, something to aim his jet at. Sneaking around for crumbs of information in the shadowy corners of this war wasn’t his thing.
“Like despite the fact that the CSS are seemingly ramping up the scale and intensity of their attacks, they’re running out of skilled pilots and experienced soldiers.”
“This war could have been over with in a matter of months if we’d gone in hard from the first,” Cam muttered.
“We all know the deal, even if we don’t agree with it.” Yang’s expression became shuttered. As commander, he couldn’t be too vocal if his opinion didn’t fall into line with what the UEF mandated. “The UEC still have to answer to the Galactic Alliance for Health Treaty Organization, and they can only get away with spending so much money, and delegating a certain percentage of the UEF resources to this war, all in the name of GAHTO protecting the citizens. This is technically classed as a peacekeeping effort, after all.”
Cam crossed his arms. “Yeah, and what has two decades of war brought them? I wouldn’t think too many of Ilari’s citizens feel like they’re being protected.”
Leigh said, “But where does the CSS infiltration of our ranks come into it? Their actions in recent months defy all patterns of the previous two decades.”
Yang inclined his head. “That’s the question I have no answer for.”
A waitress walked over and set a couple more beers on the table. Leigh finished up the one he’d been holding, and handed the empty glass off to her. No server-droids in Harley’s. That was one of the things people loved about it—old-fashioned service from an actual person.
Leigh took the second beer and passed a glance between the two guys sitting at the table with him, both looking pensive. Between the bombing on the Ilari base a few weeks back, the CSS infiltration of their ranks, and the UEF breathing down Yang’s neck, he felt like he was hearing a whole lot of noise but couldn’t see where it was coming from. As though he’d been shut in a dark room with the volume turned way up.
Whatever the case, there were a number of outside factors coming at them like meteorites. The only thing he knew for sure? The Valiant Knox was smack-bang in the middle of the impact zone.
Chapter Fourteen
Mia hummed along to the music swelling in her ears, tapping her finger against her knee in time to the beat as the datapad in her lap ran a search, building a profile on one of the fighter pilots in the squadron. This was the fourth she’d done and had almost gotten used to the fact that she was prying into every facet of these people’s lives to see if they had any possible connection to the CSS. It seemed so wrong, but this was important to Leigh. The other reason—which probably should have been a bigger concern, considering she’d gotten stuck in a transit yesterday—was that they needed to find the traitor before someone got killed, especially Leigh or her.
She g
lanced up at the time display in the corner to see it just creeping past midnight. Letting the datapad rest in her lap, she stretched her arms toward the dark controls in front of her, gaze running over the cockpit of the fighter jet she was sitting in. A few days ago, she never would have considered sneaking up to alpha level launch deck after hours, but compared with all the illegal things she’d done in the past couple of days, this infraction seemed small.
Maybe she’d promised not to wander around the ship by herself, but she’d needed somewhere quiet to work, somewhere she wouldn’t be interrupted.
The profiles mostly built themselves, so she’d also run checks on the Knox’s systems one by one, beginning with the transit system, to see if she could pick up any anomalies or signs of tampering. She needed to know if what had happened in the transit really had been a coincidence, or if it had been some kind of ambush.
But what exactly would a traitor hope to achieve by trapping them?
Not being able to solve that particular puzzle had definitely made her moody, and the last thing she’d felt like doing after evening messdeck tonight was socializing with the group in her dorm.
Besides, since Leigh was her every-other-thought at the moment, she’d developed this nearly debilitating fear that she was going to let something slip in front of Kayla or one of her other fellow recruits and give away exactly how far beyond inappropriate her relationship with him had gone.
God, she couldn’t believe she’d been so brazen. She’d definitely initiated the kiss this time, no question about it. And she’d climbed on top of him like a total hussy. Maybe the oxygen levels had gotten far lower than she’d realized and it had affected her judgment. That was the excuse she’d decided to go with.
Damage Control (Valiant Knox) Page 15