by Nina Bruhns
Even so, she couldn’t imagine leaving Ostrov without saying good-bye to him. Without seeing him one last time. Without holding him in her arms and telling him how much she’d grown to like him over the past few days.
How much she’d grown to love him.
She sighed. Okay, maybe not that last part.
But perhaps there was one other thing she should tell him before she left—the secret James Thurman had confided about his mother.
Her loyalties whispered she shouldn’t go against her boss’s orders. But her heart told her she must. Nikolai had a right to know about his own family. She would want to know if it were her mother . . . or father.
Resolved, Julie climbed up the ladder, ducked through the watertight door, and walked into the central post. Because of the departure of the scientists, the usual watch section of duty officers and ratings was considerably thinner than usual. It always surprised her how few people it actually took to run a submarine on the surface. Now, only the helmsman, a warrant officer, and the JOOD were manning the controls here in the central post. The rest of the watch must be up in the conning tower manning the flying bridge and up in the cockpit on lookout duty.
“Kapitan Romanov?” she asked the JOOD, whom she recognized from yesterday—she had an indelible vision of him drinking beer while being held upside down by his ankles at the party last night. He gestured to the ladder up to the bridge.
She climbed to the landing halfway up the conning tower. Past the trio of metal periscope and radar columns she could see several men crowded into the small flying bridge compartment, all glued to the view of Attu Island beyond the open windows.
But no Nikolai. He must be up in the cockpit.
She was about to grab the ladder and continue up when she heard her name in a low, muffled call.
“Julie. I’m in here.” The muted voice came from the other side of the open steel door leading to the stern side of the landing deck, where the wet storerooms were located.
The most private spot on the boat, other than their stateroom.
She smiled wistfully. She must have been wrong. Nikolai must want to see her off for the day in a place where prying eyes couldn’t watch.
He just didn’t know yet that this good-bye would be forever.
Steeling herself to keep her wavering emotions in check, and her tears firmly behind her eyelids, she pushed open the door. “Nikolai?”
“Back here.”
She stepped in, eased the door closed, and walked around a corner into a hidden space behind a metal storage unit. “Gee, do you think this is—”
But she never got the chance to finish.
A blinding pain exploded in the back of her head.
Everything went very cold.
And she sank into a void of blackness.
23
Nikolai strode into the central post.
“Captain on deck,” the OOD, Praporshchik Zubkin, announced loudly.
“I have the conn,” Nikolai returned. It was time to take command so they could get going on the planned deep-dive evolution. It would be good to have his mind on something other than Julie. Last night and this morning he’d thought of nothing else but rushing down to the stateroom and pulling her into his arms, kissing her to within an inch of her life, and begging her forgiveness for breaking things off so abruptly.
But he couldn’t do that.
It wasn’t going to work between them. How could it? So he had to be strong.
For both their sakes.
At Nikolai’s order, the OOD and the watch section engineer acknowledged the shift of command. “Captain has the conn,” they echoed.
“Are all the passengers safely ashore?” he asked the starpom.
“Aye, Kapitan,” Stefan Mikhailovich said. “Lyeĭtenant Petrov received word a few minutes ago letting us know all three transports had arrived at Pyramid Cove on Attu in good order.”
“Very good.”
As he gave the crew orders to secure the boat and make ready to get under way, weighing anchor and directing Ostrov away from the shallow waters around the island, Nikolai had to work hard to keep his disappointment at bay.
Julie had not come to find him before leaving, as he’d hoped she would. Just before the passengers’ departure he’d been with Yasha in engineering, making sure no other mechanical problems had come to light that might disrupt the morning’s exercise. When he and his chief engineer had finished going over everything, Nikolai had gone to search for her. Too late he’d learned from Borovsky that the women had been the first to be helped onto the three small motorboats heading for shore, and Julie was gone. Not that he blamed her.
He knew he had no right to be aggravated that she’d left without so much as a word, let alone a kiss good-bye. Or two, or three. After all, he’d been the one to walk away and stay away from her last night.
Still, it hurt. Just a little.
He’d hoped she might fight him on his unilateral decision. Just a little . . .
But apparently she agreed they had no business being together.
Or perhaps she had decided to abandon him in favor of Clint Walker. He decided he didn’t want to ponder that possibility.
But thinking of the scientists going ashore reminded him vividly of another worry. In spite of his frustration over their personal relationship, he was concerned about Julie’s safety on this jaunt. Especially being on her own on the island. Correction: being with Walker.
Would the other man protect her if it came right down to it?
And who would protect her from Walker?
Hell, the enemy saboteur could be anyone, including the UUV pilot or one of the scientists. Julie had pooh-poohed that whole idea when he’d brought it up yesterday during their après-sex conversation, saying the team members had all been vetted for political and terrorist agendas before being accepted to the expedition. It couldn’t be one of them.
To which he’d blithely replied that she’d gotten on board, hadn’t she?
She hadn’t had a comeback for that.
Nevertheless, when he found out she’d already gone ashore, he’d pulled aside the skinny Canadian genius who kept ogling him and asked if he would keep an eye on her. To which Dr. Stedman had replied he’d be happy to do so. The kid had then made moon eyes at him and said he was even nicer than he was good-looking, and if he ever wanted to take a walk on the wild side to let him know. Which might have annoyed Nikolai even more, except that now he knew he had one less thing to worry about with Julie out of his sight.
Too bad Clint Walker wasn’t gay, too.
Nikolai’s attention was jerked back to the present by a loud, metallic clang reverberating through the central post. Probably an especially large chunk of drift ice hitting the hull. Although he could swear it had sounded like it came from above, not from the waterline. A couple of the other men were glancing upward, also.
“Deck officer, are all hatches secure?” Nikolai asked, though he’d just gotten the report that they were.
“Yes, sir,” Zubkin promptly repeated. “I checked the conning tower trunk hatch myself, sir. Topside is rigged for dive, last man down, and all hatches secure. Watches all present and on post.”
“Very well,” Nikolai said and put it from his mind. By now they’d run on the surface several miles out to sea to get beyond the shallow reefs. It was time to submerge and see what Ostrov was really made of. He crossed his arms over his chest and looked in turn at each man on the central post watch, gauging their mettle for the upcoming drill. Today he planned to separate the men from the boys.
“So,” he announced somberly, “are we ready to put this tin can through her paces, and take her down so deep her rivets start to pop?”
“Yes, sir!” they all responded in loud unison. He could feel their excitement mount, the air of anticipation grabbing hold of every member of the crew. These were men used to action, not leisurely scientific patrols. They might be outlaws in the eyes of the brass, but they loved being submariners�
��and the adrenaline rush of danger that went with that job.
Just as he did.
Nikolai pulled off his well-worn cap and tugged it back on so it sat securely on his head. This could be a bumpy ride.
“Okay, men!” he declared. “Let’s see what she can do! Submerge the boat, Mr. Zubkin, and take us to oh-three-zero meters. Steady on course zero-two-seven, and increase speed to—”
Just then another muffled clang interrupted him, vibrating through the central post, yanking everyone’s attention like a cry of “fire!” in the relative silence of listening to his orders.
какого чёpтa бля!
“What the fucking hell is that?” he demanded hotly. Good God, was the damn submarine already falling apart? They weren’t even submerged yet! “Belay those orders and find out!”
Zubkin snapped an order and a rating scurried up the ladder to check the bridge trunk hatch yet again. “All secure, sir!” he yelled down.
Immediately, there was another clang, this one even louder.
“Sir, one of the conning tower door latches must have come loose,” the rating called down. “Shall I go up and secure it, sir?”
For the love of— “Yes!” Nikolai yelled back up, and he waited impatiently for the man to return so they could proceed.
But instead, a few seconds later the rating gave a cry of surprise. “Kapitan! Come quickly!”
Now what? “What is it, man?” Nikolai asked, heading in irritation for the ladder.
“It’s . . . it’s the woman reporter! She’s hurt!” came the man’s dismayed reply.
“What?” Nikolai roared, instantly launching himself up, climbing two rungs at a time. Julie? How the hell had she gotten up there? She was supposed to be—
He burst through the flapping metal door. “Where? Where is she?”
“Here!” The rating was crouched on the floor, his eyes wide and frightened. He was cradling Julie’s head and shoulders in his arms. There was blood on the floor and caked on the side of her head. Her eyes were closed.
Nikolai’s heart stalled.
He dropped to his knees next to her. Fear knifed through him, razor sharp. “Is she breathing?” he asked, resisting the urge to grab her away from the man and cradle her in his own arms.
“Yes,” the rating said. “She was awake when I found her. I think she just fainted.”
By now several other men had rushed up to join them in the small space. They gathered around, muttering in shocked speculation over how she could have gotten there and what might have happened had they started to submerge.
Nikolai wanted to kill someone. One thing was for damn certain. When he found out who’d done this, he would kill the bastard. And damn the consequences!
With terrified fingers, Nikolai felt carefully over her head wound. She moaned and her eyes fluttered open.
When she saw him bending over her, a profound light of relief went through them. “Nikolai. Oh, thank God.” Her whisper was strangled as she threw her arms around his neck.
He didn’t care what he’d said last night. Didn’t care if the whole damn crew saw the way he felt about her. He was so shaken he needed to hold her and feel for himself that she was alive and breathing.
“It’s okay,” he soothed, drawing her up into his arms and embracing her as tightly as he dared without knowing the extent of her injuries. “You’re safe now. I have you.”
He rocked her against his chest for an intense moment, absorbing her fear and the trembling of her body into his. When she’d calmed a little, he tried to pull back to look at her.
She clung to him even harder. “Don’t let go. Not yet. Please.”
At her plea, he turned to kiss her temple. And saw the bloodstains on her face up close. He almost came apart at the seams. “Who did this to you, Liesha? Tell me!”
She shook her head, her hair tickling his jaw. “I don’t know.”
He could feel deep tremors working up and down her body. His rage threatened to boil over. “How did it happen?”
The men around them shifted closer to hear.
“I don’t know,” she said, her tone hoarse with residual shock. “Whoever it was hit me from behind. At first I thought it was . . .” Her words halted abruptly and she swallowed. “I’m sorry. I didn’t see who it was.”
He hadn’t missed the swift left turn in her statement.
“Who did you think it was?” he demanded, ready to tear the man limb from limb. When her eyes glided away from him and she didn’t answer right away, he almost lost it. “Me? By God! You thought it was me?” he exclaimed. “Why the hell would you think—”
“Your voice . . .” she said.
He scowled fiercely. “What about my voice?”
“I thought you were on the bridge, so I came up to see you before I disembarked. To . . . say good-bye.”
“And?” he asked, mentally kicking himself up one side and down the other for not seeking her out himself, but putting her in danger with his damn stubbornness.
“Someone called to me, from in here. By name. It sounded like you.”
Distress raced through him. “I was in engineering, with Yasha, seeing to the—”
“Oh, Nikolai, I believe you. It was just for a second that I thought . . .” She buried her face against his chest. “I know you’d never hurt me. Truly I do.”
A murmur went through the men as their conversation was translated. Several of them made noises of assent and support for their commander.
Nikolai jetted out a breath. And glanced up at the circle of faces above him. These were men that, until now, he would have sworn he could trust with his very life, as well as with the lives of the other crew and passengers.
Had one of his own men done this horrible thing to Julie? And was now berating himself for not getting the job done properly?
Nikolai’s stomach knotted. Maybe. Maybe not. The small group of men watching them was just a handful of his crew. The culprit could be anyone, here observing, or still belowdecks.
Or ashore, among the scientists, he reminded himself.
How could he possibly figure out who was guilty? He was a sub driver, not a damn police detective!
He gently set Julie away from him, and this time she didn’t resist. “We’ll return immediately to the island,” he said. “You need to see a doctor, and Professor Sundesvall is a licensed—”
“No!” Julie said quickly, gingerly touching her blood-matted hair with still-shaking fingers. “Please don’t do that. I’m okay. Really.”
He gaped at her, incredulous. She didn’t look okay. Far from it. She was still white as a sheet, and he could see her struggling to keep her teeth from chattering.
“You can’t mean that. Leisha, someone just tried to kill you!”
She swiped a trembling hand over her brow. “Believe me, I get that. But the blow only knocked me out for a few minutes. Just now when I passed out? It was from pure relief at being found in time.” She grimaced at the fresh blood that now covered her fingers. “Scalp wounds always look a lot worse than they are. I’ll be fine.”
He shook his head. The blow must have knocked the sense out of her. “Even if I accept that—which I don’t—attempted murder is a serious crime. We must contact the closest authorities to investigate.”
She blinked up at him. “Nikolai, stop for a minute and think.” She shook her head, then winced at the motion. “We’re in U.S. waters and the closest authorities are American. Ostrov is a Russian submarine. There are passengers on board from five other countries. What happens to the scientific expedition? What if the press gets hold of this? Or rather, when it does? Can you imagine the political fallout from all of that?”
Inwardly he steeled himself against a flood of bitterness. Yes, as a matter of fact, he could very well imagine the fallout. In fact, he was intimately acquainted with the entire Technicolor spectrum of shit that would descend upon him. Again. But just as last time, he was willing to deal with it, and the consequences. It was the ri
ght thing to do.
“I don’t care,” he said. “I need to get you off this boat and away from—”
“No!” she said more vehemently, her voice getting stronger. “I’m okay. And I am not letting this monster, whoever it is, win. I have a job to do on this expedition, and I intend to finish it, come hell or high water.” She made a sound of consternation at the unintended but very apt pun.
He scowled down at her, his heart pounding with fear for her safety. But the stubborn look in her eyes told him if he wanted her off this boat, he’d have to physically overpower her, tie her up, and carry her off himself.
Which he would go ahead and do, if he had half a brain.
But as his actions over the past year, and especially during the past few days, proved, the jury was still out as to whether he actually did have half a brain.
His men were smiling grimly and nodding as her words were translated, admiration for her pluck shining in their eyes.
Nikolai ground his jaw. “Fine. You can stay aboard. But you will do exactly as I say. And until this bastard is caught, you don’t leave my sight. Ever. Agreed?”
She nodded somberly. “Agreed.”
Suddenly one of the men gave a shout from behind a storage bin. It was Danya Petrov.
“Kapitan! Look what I found!” He came forward and stretched out his hand. Lying on his outstretched palm was an ivory charm in the shape of a bear claw.
The one from Clint Walker’s leather bracelet.
“Well,” Nikolai said in a deadly growl, “I guess we now know who’s the saboteur.”
And why was he not surprised?
24
Nikolai wanted to carry Julie down the ladder himself, but she insisted on descending back into the interior of the submarine under her own steam. He had to hand it to her, she was being a lot braver than he’d have given her credit for.
And a lot more foolish.
“This proves nothing,” she insisted upon seeing the ivory bear claw. “It could have been planted.”
“Sure it could,” he said agreeably, while silently planning Clint Walker’s painful demise.