Not even a little.
“I don’t know the details.”
“But you’ve already made up your mind, haven’t you?” She kept her voice low and calm, but the slightest waver gave me pause.
“I . . .” I didn’t have an answer. Not one that would’ve gone down easily, anyway.
“Stop the car.”
“What?”
“Just stop. I’ll get a cab to medical.”
“I didn’t say I didn’t believe you, MA3.” But you don’t, do you? “I—”
“Stop the fucking car,” she hissed.
What else could I do?
I pulled the patrol car up to the curb. “MA3, listen. We—”
But she was gone.
Fuck. Gutiérrez would have my head on a stake if this got back to him.
And if she really had been assaulted, then . . .
Damn it.
She was right: I didn’t believe her.
But . . .
I had nothing to base my disbelief on except her reputation, which would mean buying into the nauseating motto some of the guys on my last deployment had lived by: You can’t rape the willing.
But how could I assume she had been willing? Eagerly fucking ten men in a row didn’t mean she was obligated to fuck the eleventh, or that it wasn’t rape if he fucked her anyway.
And I’d sworn that no matter how much some of the pretty girls drove me insane, I’d take every sexual assault report seriously. From any woman. Any man, too. Any cop gave them grief, I’d have them hemmed up so fast their heads would spin. I, of all people, had no business sandbagging a woman who’d worked up the courage to report an assault. Especially against a superior.
And now . . . this?
My mouth went dry as she strode farther away.
Every cop needed a sixth sense about these things, and Alejandro’s was better than any I’d ever known. His gut had told him this situation was off enough to warrant bringing in a woman to offer her some support, so maybe he’d caught onto something I’d missed.
Whatever the case, what right did I have to decide if Lockhoff had or hadn’t been raped?
There was no legitimate reason for her to be storming off alone in the blistering heat after Alejandro had tasked me with making sure she was all right.
Jesus Christ. What did I just do?
I quickly shifted into drive and peeled away from the curb. As I pulled up beside her, I slowed down again and called out the window, “MA3, wait.”
She didn’t stop.
“Please, just get in the car.”
She spun on her heel and faced me, and I hit the brake. She leaned on the open window and glared at me. “Why? So you can—”
I put up my hand. “Listen, I’m sorry. I . . . Can we please go sit down somewhere and talk?”
Her eyes narrowed. “Why don’t you just pull rank and order me?”
I gritted my teeth. “Get in the car, MA3.”
She muttered something under her breath, probably something that amounted to gross insubordination, but I let it go. I deserved it.
And at least she got back in the car.
MA2 Marion drove us onto Camp Courtney, and we walked into the tiny food court near the gate. She waited in line to order us a couple of bottles of water from the Burger King while I snagged a corner table.
As I watched her, my stomach was still doing somersaults. I didn’t trust anyone at this command. It shouldn’t have surprised me that I didn’t have an ally in her. Hell, the first moment I’d set foot in the precinct, she’d looked me up and down, and she hadn’t quite turned her head before she’d rolled her eyes in that Oh Lord, she’s one of those kind of way.
I wanted to like her. Hell, I’d had a crush on her from the start—bitch or not, she was gorgeous. And more than that, she was a take-no-shit cop and a squared-away Sailor. Exactly the kind of cop and Sailor I wanted to be. My first thought, after noticing how her uniform fit, was that I wanted her as a mentor, but she obviously didn’t like me. I wasn’t sure if she liked anyone, actually. MA1 Gutiérrez, maybe, since they obviously had something going on. Otherwise, Marion pretty much kept to herself and didn’t speak unless spoken to.
It didn’t surprise me when I’d heard she’d been over to Afghanistan and maybe Iraq. A lot of people came back from the Sandbox with a distinct look about them. Like part of them was still over there, and the part that had come back had . . . dimmed.
But I’d thought if there was anyone in the command who I could tip my hand to, it was her. She was a woman, after all. Every woman in the military knew the risk we took just by enlisting. The other female in our command worked nights, so we never crossed paths, plus she was also barely out of boot camp. She had almost no experience being out of high school, never mind with some of the harsher realities of military life—I hoped, anyway. For her own sake.
MA2 Marion had been in for several years, though, and she’d been to a couple of war zones, so she had to know how often this shit happened.
Yet her first instinct had been skepticism. Hostile skepticism. Even if she hadn’t said it out loud, I’d seen it in the way her jaw had tightened and her eyes had narrowed.
I tore my gaze away and stared down at the table, wringing my sweaty hands. I didn’t have to ask what was going through her mind. She and everyone else on this island thought the same thing about girls like me. That was why I’d never reported it to begin with. Why I probably still wouldn’t. Why I was desperately searching for a reason to avoid going to medical like MA1 Gutiérrez had ordered me to.
My heart sank, and I sagged back against the cold metal chair. I didn’t have many options, did I? And either way, even if I reported it, I was still pregnant. For now, at least.
“Just get it done.”
I shuddered.
“You all right?”
Marion’s voice startled me. I looked up as she joined me at the table with two water bottles in hand.
“I’m fine.” I took one of the bottles she’d offered. “Thanks.”
“Don’t mention it.” She avoided my eyes for a moment, then cleared her throat as she unscrewed the cap on her bottle. “Look, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean—”
“If you don’t believe me, you don’t believe me.”
“It’s not that simple.”
“You didn’t believe me in the car.”
MA2 Marion’s shoulders fell. “I . . . Listen, I just wasn’t expecting it, that’s all. I’m sorry.”
I chewed my lip. “Most women would err on the side of finding out what the fuck happened before they pass judgment.”
“You’re absolutely right. And I’ve been kicking myself ever since.” She finally met my eyes, and her expression was softer than I’d ever seen it. “I meant it when I apologized, and I mean it when I tell you this stays between you and me, I promise. Just tell me what happened.”
“I . . .” Of course my subconscious chose that moment to kick in and remind me of the gleaming gold shield on her uniform. My gaze shifted to the badge, and my heart dropped.
Anyone else on this island could listen to me in confidence.
But not her. Not a mandated reporter.
I exhaled. “It can’t stay between us. You’re a cop. I’m a cop. If I tell you something happened, then you have to report it.”
Marion swallowed. “Except you’ve already basically told me that something happened.”
“But I haven’t said what.”
She held my gaze. Yeah, she knew. Of course she did. But woman’s intuition wasn’t evidence.
Marion swore and sat back. “Fuck . . .”
I played with the cap on my water bottle. Even if her first instinct had been to disbelieve me, and even if she was a mandated reporter, who else could I talk to? Of course, I could tell her and ask her to keep it quiet, but then if it came out later that she knew, she’d be screwed.
She drummed her fingers beside her water bottle. “Do you want me to take you over to see the SARC?”
“This is his job, though. If you can’t trust the SARC, then . . .” She sighed and lowered her gaze. “I get it. I do. Commands like this are so incestuous, it’s hard to know who to trust.” Through her teeth, she added, “Assuming there’s anyone you can trust.”
I swallowed, not sure if I was relieved that she didn’t think I was crazy or if I wanted to cry because she’d confirmed one of my biggest fears. Probably a little of both.
I took a drink just to wet my mouth. Then, “I don’t know if I’m going to report anything or not. I . . . I need to think on it.”
“MA3, if he . . .” She chewed her lip. “If something happened, you need to report it or nothing can be done.”
“And what do you think can be done?” I narrowed my eyes. “You really think an E4 who the whole command thinks is a slut is going to convince anybody of anything?”
She dropped her gaze, and my stomach twisted into knots. Nothing like having more of my worst fears—and that asshole’s threats—confirmed. By another woman, no less.
“You still need to go to medical.” She continued avoiding my eyes. “So they can confirm, um . . . Well, so they can get you a light duty chit, for one thing.”
I cringed. So she knew, too. Then again, I supposed most people knew by now, especially cops who were trained to be observant. Shifting me to light duty wouldn’t help with the rumors flying around. But of course, unless I did what Stanton had ordered me to, I wouldn’t be able to hide this much longer. Sooner or later, I’d have to break down and switch to a maternity uniform, but I wasn’t ready to announce anything to the universe. Especially not to all the assholes who’d been taking bets on who’d knock me up first.
Watching Marion shift uncomfortably, I wondered if she’d won or lost money in that betting pool.
She sat up straighter and folded her arms on the table. “Listen, let’s get you over to medical. Make sure you’re taken care of.” She met my eyes. “If you decide you want to make a statement, or you need someone to go to the SARC with you, let me know.”
I nodded. “If I go to medical, they’re automatically going to give me a light duty chit, aren’t they?”
“Probably, yeah.”
“Shit.”
Marion furrowed her brow. “Why?”
“Where do they send most MAs on light duty? Either Pass & ID, training, or dispatch.” I swallowed hard to keep what was left in my stomach where it belonged. “Training or dispatch means working in the same building as Stanton.”
“Oh. Shit.” She grimaced. “Well, I’m sure Gutiérrez could pull some strings.”
“And if he can’t?”
She broke eye contact and slowly shook her head. “I don’t know.”
“Maybe I should wait.” I took a deep breath. “At least sleep on it.”
She met my gaze again.
“Please,” I whispered, cursing the pitiful sound of my own voice. “I’m not ready to be penned up in the same building with him. And my shift’s almost over today anyway. It’s not like I’ll be out on any calls.”
“But tomorrow . . .”
“I’ll figure it out. Just . . . not now.”
“But you’re . . .” She held my gaze and then sighed. “Okay. It’s your call. But when you’re ready, let me know.”
“I will. Thanks.”
“And . . .” She bit her lip, dropping her gaze for a second. “I’m sorry. For not . . .”
I capped my water bottle. “Don’t worry about. We, uh . . .” I glanced at the clock on the wall. “We should get back to White Beach since we’re not going to medical.”
She nodded. “Okay. Let’s go.”
“Hey, Lockhoff.” Barkley gestured over his shoulder on his way into the front office the next morning. “Stanton wants to see you.”
I shuddered hard, my toes curling inside my boots. It had been less than twenty-four hours since the last time I’d stepped into Stanton’s office. My stomach and I were nowhere near ready for another face-to-face with him, but the sooner I got it over with, the sooner I could go puke in peace.
“Thanks.” I closed the logbook and got up from the desk. There was no point in trying to prepare myself because there was no preparing to face that bastard. Once I was sure my breakfast would stay down long enough for me to get to the end of the hall, I went straight to his office and knocked.
He didn’t greet me at the door this time, and the terse “It’s open” made my stomach turn. I took a deep breath and let myself in.
He didn’t look up. “Close the door.”
I hesitated. Privacy was fine and good, but I wasn’t sure how I felt about being confined in a room with him again. Blood pounded in my ears as I toed the door shut.
I stood between the desk and doorway, not quite at attention or parade rest, but still rigid and straight with my hands behind my back. For a long, unnerving moment, Stanton didn’t even look at me. He continued whatever he’d been working on, perusing some forms and paperwork, signing a couple of things, and shuffling them around like business as usual.
I forced myself to keep my face as neutral as I could. Whatever head game this was—You’re lower on my priority list than this paperwork. Everything we do is at my whim. Your presence doesn’t fuck with me like I know mine fucks with you—I wasn’t playing it. Instead, I concentrated on not locking my knees and not vomiting on his paperwork.
Finally, he closed the file folder. In what seemed like a deliberately slow motion, he capped his pen and set it in the brass cup on his desk. Then and only then, he lifted his gaze.
The clock above the door behind me marked time with quiet clicks that seemed to echo in the otherwise silent office. He stared up at me. I stared down at him. Was he trying to intimidate me? Fuck with me? Too bad, asshole.
Instead of trying to guess his next move, I searched his face for some scrap of the man who’d charmed me out of that party and into his car. Nowhere in those stony features did I see Call me Joel this time. I’d seen flickers of this side of him before, though. That night, the stark light from the streetlamps had made the shadows deeper, sharpened every angle and darkened his eyes. I couldn’t put my finger on exactly how his expression had changed, only that there had been a moment when I’d been staring up at him, and between his fierce grip on my arms and that look, the message had come through loud and clear:
This is happening. The only choice you have right now is how much it hurts.
Even now, in the softer fluorescent light, his face was enough to make me want to recoil.
I swallowed hard, forcing the contents of my stomach to stay where they were, and then cleared my throat. “You wanted to see me, Sir?”
Stanton smiled thinly, and the unspoken threat still lingered in his eyes. Slowly, he stood. As he came around the desk, I was tempted to make a run for the door, but I planted my feet. He wasn’t going to hurt me. Not here. There were people around. One scream, and this office would be full of cops. And we both knew I was trained to use the Taser, pepper spray, baton, and nine-millimeter on my belt.
No, I was not afraid of him.
Not at all.
Stanton stopped directly in front of me so we were toe-to-toe. The smile was gone, and he lifted his chin as he glared down at me.
I gulped and managed to repeat, “You wanted to see me, Sir?”
“I haven’t seen a leave chit.” He folded his arms across his chest, ribbons and insignia crunching quietly beneath them. “And don’t tell me it’s on MA1 Gutiérrez’s desk or that Chief Wolcott has it. I’ve already checked.”
My blood turned cold. He checked with them? How much did they know? Besides the fact that he had suddenly taken an interest in a third-class petty officer’s leave chit?
I took a deep breath. “I haven’t routed the chit, Sir.”
“Why not?”
“Because I don’t know what I’m going to do yet.”
“You don’t—” His eyes narrowed, and ice formed along my veins as he growled, “What do you mean, you don’t know? Get it done, MA3.”
“With all due respect,” I hissed, “this isn’t your decision to make.” I clenched my teeth.“Sir.”
He leaned in closer, his face just inches from mine. “On the contrary, MA3. I’m in this situation as much as—”
“You chose to put us both in this situation.”
His eyebrows jumped. “Took two to tango, my dear.”
“You raped me.” I was genuinely stunned when the floor didn’t fall out from under us after the words came out. After I looked him straight in the eye and said them. But it didn’t, and we were still standing there, and the rage burning in his eyes was quickly reducing me to the girl who’d let herself be fucked in the passenger seat of his car. There wasn’t a weapon on my belt that could shield me from his fury.
“Raped you?” he snarled. “The hell I did. We both know you wanted it just as much as—”
“The hell I did.”
He laughed dryly. “You think you’re going to convince a jury? Because I can bring in a dozen character witnesses who’ll testify as to what kind of woman you are, MA3, and how much you’d had to drink that night.” He cupped my chin roughly, forcing me to look him in the eyes. “And just in case you have any ideas about pressing charges like a goddamned idiot, I promise you that when I’m found not guilty, which I will be, I’ll expect to be able to see my kid.”
“What?” I managed a humorless laugh because it was that or a terrified sob. “One second you want me to abort this baby. The next you want visitation?”
“No, I don’t want visitation. I don’t want anything to do with this kid because I want you to do the smart fucking thing and get rid of it. But if you’re going to be fucking stupid, then let me spell this out for you.” He loomed over me. “If you don’t get the abortion and you press charges against me, then you’re admitting I’m the father of your kid.”
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