by Johnson, Liz
Staci tried again to start up a conversation with Damaris, but had no luck. She was sure that the other woman had some insight as to what was happening outside the confines of the office. She just wasn’t sharing it. After pacing every wall, inspecting every plaque, Staci needed news from beyond.
“Did L.T. tell you when he would be in touch?”
“No, ma’am. I expect you’ll know as soon as I do.”
Staci cringed at the formal moniker. She wasn’t a ma’am yet. She probably wasn’t even much older than the petty officer. But the infuriatingly calm sailor kept her seat in one of the two plush chairs in front of the enormous oak desk.
“Do you have a way to connect with them? A radio signal we could listen to or something like that?”
“No, ma’am.”
She wrung her hands, anything to keep them busy. Tristan could be anywhere out there, facing who knew what. What if he came face-to-face with the man she’d seen?
She wanted to pray for his safety. She wanted that sense of peace she knew came from heaven above. She wanted to wrap her arms around Tristan, knowing that she could be everything he ever wanted.
As regrets for the unchangeable past and fear for the uncertain present mixed, her hands began to shake, and she turned her back on Damaris, folding her hands and leaning against the wall next to the coat closet. Oh, Lord, keep Tristan safe. They were the only words that would form, and she repeated them over and over again.
Until three rapid thumps on the door jerked both women’s attention to the door.
The knob unlocked, then turned and the captain with the salt-and-pepper hair that she’d met at the ball poked his head inside the room.
Damaris jumped to her feet and saluted the senior officer. “Sir.”
He waved a quick salute that set Damaris back to normal and offered an apologetic smile. “Excuse me, ladies. Lieutenant Sawyer has been detained, but he’d like to speak with you, Petty Officer.”
Apprehension fluttered in the pit of her stomach. Staci shot a questioning glance at Damaris, who also wore furrowed brows and a frown.
“I’m sorry, sir. Lieutenant Sawyer asked me to stay here until he returned. I’m not to leave her side.”
“Oh.” The captain frowned and looked at his watch. “Well, I suppose I could stay with her while you go see to L.T.’s request.”
Staci pressed a hand over her quivering middle when he gave her a smooth grin. She shook her head at Damaris. Something was wrong. Tristan had said that he or someone from his team would come. And she’d barely met this man.
But Damaris’s face had relaxed and she nodded. “All right. I’ll be right back.” She sailed out of the room, not even looking back when the captain closed and locked the door behind her. Staci noticed four angry scratches that marred the back of his hand. They were too wide to be from animal claws.
They looked more like they had come from human fingernails. Her fingernails.
Her eyes flew open, and she screamed as loud as her suddenly breathless lungs would allow. “Back off! Tristan is going to be here any minute.”
She held up her fists like Tristan had showed her, making her stance as offensive and intimidating as she could. But the captain—Crawford—just smirked and strolled toward her as though she were as intimidating as a puppy.
She backed away until she hit the wall, her heart thudding painfully beneath her ribs. He just kept following her steps.
“Come now, Ms. Hayes. We’re practically old friends at this point. No need to put up such defenses.”
“You attacked me. You’re trying to blow up the Rockefeller.” She despised the weakness in her words. They were hardly more than a breath, and she gasped to replace the air they’d expelled.
He stepped toward her, and then set his hat down on the desk, smoothing down the sleeves of his white uniform, looking as if he were preparing for a casual walk across the base, not trying to sabotage the newest vessel in the U.S. Navy.
If he could be calm, maybe she could be, too. Tristan would come for her. She had no doubt. After all, he’d worked too hard to rescue her from this man and his cohorts once. Tristan wouldn’t let them win the second go-around.
She just had to keep Crawford cool and talking until the SEAL Team FIFTEEN cavalry arrived.
Forcing her fists to her sides, she spread her fingers wide. “What do you want from me?”
Smacking his tongue, he shook his head. “It’s not what I want from you. It’s what you know that you shouldn’t.”
“Really?” She stepped into the corner of the desk, cringing as her hip bounced off it. “I don’t think I know as much as you assume I do. I mean, I didn’t even recognize your voice when we danced.” Her skin crawled at the memory. She’d let him hold her hand and wrap an arm around her back.
“You know more than you let on. You know the faces of the men I met with. You took at least one piece of paper—a map, I think. And as long as you’re around, you can always point the finger at me.” He lunged toward her, and she scampered between the chairs, keeping as much furniture between them as possible. He was going to kill her. As sure as he stood across from her, he was going to get rid of her and any evidence he thought she had.
Fear began to work its ice-cold fingers through her brain once more, and she had to fight to form a response. “But—but I—I’m not the only one. Damaris knows that you’re here with me. If you—” She couldn’t say the words aloud. Squeezing her hands back into fists, she pressed on. “If something happens to me, she’ll tell the authorities.”
“And I’ll tell them exactly what happened. When I turned my back, you ran, and no one has seen you since. Maybe you were less prisoner and more conspirator in Lybania.”
“But there are security cameras and guards at the gate.” She grasped for anything that might keep her sane, anything that would help her hang on to hope.
His sinister cackle filled the room so much louder than his following words. “It’s good to be the XO.”
He took three steps in her direction. She knew she should edge away, but paralysis had set in, her body numb, and she couldn’t move.
“But why? Why give up your career and country?”
“You have no idea what kind of money and connections these people have.” He leaned in enough that she could feel his breath and smell his cologne. “I can retire to a beach on Fiji if I want. What did the navy ever give me but a few scars and three divorces?”
Bile rose in her throat. Tristan wasn’t going to make it in time, but she was not going to give in to Crawford without a fight.
Her breath hitched in her throat, his chest so close as he leered above her. What would Tristan say? Tell him to back off, push him away and run. Anything to escape. Just get free and get help. She didn’t have to get far. Just outside. Then she could raise enough of a ruckus to attract help. Now was the time. He thought she was passive and wouldn’t fight back.
He was wrong.
God, help me.
With all her might, she shoved her hands against his chest. He cursed and stumbled, but she had eyes only for the door, clawing at the locked knob. She almost had it undone when he grabbed her arm, wrenching her to the floor.
Her scream was part pain but more anger as she shot her fingers toward his eyes. Eyes. Groin. Shins. She repeated the words over and over, kicking and scratching.
Tristan had said not to waste her energy, but every movement kept him from easily pinning her down. Somehow, she knew if he had her fully pinned, she’d never get back up.
*
“L.T.”
“I’m here.”
“I’ve got a Petty Officer Dominguez here.” Salano’s voice crackled through his earpiece.
Tristan’s stomach nosedived. “She’s supposed to be with Staci. Where’s Staci?”
“I don’t know.”
Before he consciously moved, he was running, flying down the gangway, nearly oblivious to the second set of bootsteps directly behind him. “Ask her. Ask Dominguez. Is Staci stil
l in the CO’s office?”
“Yes. Dominguez just left Staci there about two minutes ago.”
He didn’t need to ask who was with her. The pain in the very depth of his chest told him that Crawford had found his mark. Tristan had failed to protect her again. He hadn’t been where she needed him to be, and he couldn’t get there fast enough.
He had only one choice.
God, I can’t protect her. Will You?
SEVENTEEN
“Let me go.” Staci writhed under her attacker, twisting and turning to loosen his grip on her arm, but his fingers burrowed into the same place he had bruised her the night at Belmont Park. She cried out, and he slapped her face, again striking the spot still tender from their last brawl.
“Shut up.” He swore, anger affecting his tone, and in that moment she recognized exactly the voice that she’d heard so many weeks before. Rage boiled in his eyes as he slammed her head against the floor, kneeling on her stomach. Stars flashed before her eyes for an instant. Dazed and starved for oxygen, she still flailed and fought him.
Just keep going until Tristan got back. She just had to keep going until then.
Her nails scraped at his face, and he yelped. Clawing like a cornered bobcat, she tried to suck in another breath only to choke on a sob she hadn’t even known was there.
“Stop fighting. You’re only making it hurt more.”
“No.”
The sound of a boot splintering the door frame accented her cry, and from the floor, she glanced over just as the heavy door swung in and Tristan thundered across the room, knocking Crawford to the floor and landing a punch that made her stomach roll.
Oh, sweet oxygen.
She could breathe again. Without the captain’s weight pressing into her middle, she could finally grasp air.
Suddenly hands were on her, moving her to the wall. They didn’t belong to Tristan, who was off to her left and had Crawford by the neck in a hold that would snap a smaller man in two. She swatted at the hands scooping her up, but a warm voice spoke in her ear.
“It’s okay, ma’am. It’s Willie.”
She looked into the man’s clear, calm eyes and rested her aching head against his shoulder. “Is Tristan all right?” The words sounded like they came from someone else, her voice was so husky and damaged.
“L.T.?” If Willie was surprised, he didn’t hover on it. “Yes. He’s fine. Crawford, on the other hand. He’s going to be in a world of hurt when he wakes up.”
“Wakes up?”
As he set her in one of the chairs, a second set of hands clasped hers. The entire room tilted, and she squeezed her eyes closed against the pain shooting along her temples.
“Staci? Can you hear me?”
She knew that voice and slumped toward it with a sigh. “Tristan.”
Her eyelids suddenly weighed fifty pounds, and she fought to lift them enough to see his face. His lips were tight, his eyes narrow as he tucked her disheveled hair behind her ear. “Did you hit your head?”
She nodded slowly, stopping as soon as the fire lit up her scalp again. “Yes. On the back.” Gentle fingers prodded the sore spot, and she jerked away from them.
“All right. You need to get to a hospital, right now. I can’t come with you, but—”
His muscles turned tense, even the grip of his hand tightening. “You’re sure? You got it?”
He didn’t seem to be talking to her, but the way her head spun, she couldn’t be sure of anything beyond her own name.
“And you checked to make sure there’s not another one hidden somewhere else on the island?…Good man. I’m at the admin building with Staci. She needs an ambulance right away….Got it.”
“Who—who are you talking to?”
He smoothed her hair down and gave her a soft smile. Years later, she could take out the memory of that smile and hold it close. She’d hang on to it forever, even if she couldn’t hang on to him. “That was Matt. We got the bomb. It’s all clear.”
“Crawford?”
He glanced to a spot on the floor a few feet away. “When he comes to, he’ll face a court marshal like he can’t imagine.”
“I’m sorry. I should have pushed him away harder.” The thudding that circled her head called for a relief that only sleep could bring, and she let her eyes slide closed.
“You did great. You were incredible. Just stay with me, Hayes.” He held her hand to his chest over the galloping motion of his heart. “Don’t go to sleep. You hit your head pretty hard. Stay with me.”
“You said that before.” Clouded by sleep, her tongue stumbled on the words.
“When? Said what?” He paused for a long moment. Was she supposed to say something? “Staci?”
“In the jail. When you broke me out. Said I should stay with you.” Her head lolled to the side, her neck no longer able to support its weight. “I did.”
“Yes. You were great.”
And then there were people everywhere in blue uniforms. Firm hands scooped her onto a flat bed, pressing a cushion around her neck until she couldn’t move. And Tristan never let go of her hand.
“I have to stay here for now.” He lifted her palm and kissed it gently.
Then she was gone, whisked out of the room and quite likely out of his life forever. He didn’t need her anymore. The threat was gone.
And she couldn’t give him what he wanted no matter how much she still needed him.
*
“The doctor said he’ll discharge you in a couple hours when he comes through on rounds.”
Staci rubbed one burning eye and tried to smile at the nurse. “Thank you.” Her words barely a croak, she grabbed the plastic cup at her bedside table and sucked on the straw.
“Your head looks good, and your larynx is just bruised. It’ll heal on its own. Just try not to use it too much.”
She nodded, taking the admonition to heart. She didn’t feel much like talking anyway. Not when the only thing waiting for her on the other side of the hospital doors was an empty house without the joy and noise that Tristan brought to it every day. Her life was going to feel doubly empty after sharing a roof with both him and Ashley for almost two weeks. But this was what she’d told him she wanted.
Maybe she’d start looking for a way to do aid work again. There were safer countries where she wouldn’t be threatened by terrorists. There were lots of places in need of volunteers, in need of someone to care for children.
But none of those places had Tristan.
A shadow in the doorway caught her attention, and she swung toward it, her pulse picking up speed. When she recognized it was Tristan, her heart tripled its pace.
“Morning, Hayes. Up for a couple gentlemen visitors?” He held out the perfectly bound blue bundle in his arms. “They let me take Jasper for a walk. You know uncles have a lot of responsibility when it comes to helping little guys become men.”
“Lucky guy.” Again, her words were little more than a croak, but she tried to paste on a grin wide enough to cover the joy and pain that warred in her chest. When every time she saw him could be her last, she couldn’t find happiness in the moment. Why had he shown up, anyway? She’d said they needed a clean break. Maybe she should just give him a hint that it was all right to fall back. “I didn’t expect to see you.” Again.
He leaned a hip onto her mattress, crowding her space, and she pulled the lapels of her robe farther together over her hospital gown. He smelled of soap and spicy aftershave, which was wonderful after a night of inhaling only the cleaning fumes of the hospital.
“Where else was I going to be today?”
“I thought we agreed to make fresh starts.”
As if she hadn’t spoken, he continued. “I’m sorry I didn’t make it in last night. By the time we had everything at the base cleaned up, the nurse wouldn’t let me up to see you. She was harping on about visiting hours.” He looked into Jasper’s sweet face, a slow smile crawling across Tristan’s mouth. “I thought about going stealth, but then I th
ought you might be resting, and I didn’t want to wake you up after everything that happened yesterday.”
His gaze lifted to meet hers, and a flicker of something unrecognizable lit in his eyes. “I had to stick around to see with my own eyes that Crawford was taken care of. He’ll try for a plea bargain, but the JAG won’t let him off the hook. He’s going away for a long time, and he won’t be able to ever hurt you again. I won’t let him.”
“Thank you.” Her smile quivered under the pressure of her shaking chin, and she pinched her eyes closed against the tears threatening to spill down her cheeks. Why did he have to say things like that? Things that made it sound as if he wanted to be part of her life? Taking a deep breath, she sighed its release. “It’s okay. You’re off the hook. You don’t have to watch me anymore.”
The corner of his mouth rose slowly. “I kind of like being on the hook when it comes to you.”
Like a band around her heart had snapped, she grabbed her chest. If only that could be true. If only he knew the truth and could still feel that way.
Cradling his nephew in one arm, he reached out to run his fingers through her curls, which were probably a mess. Perfect. This would be his last memory of her, and she sounded like she’d swallowed a frog and probably looked like she’d been run over by a camel.
“Since Phoebe, I haven’t really let a woman into my life. I tried with Robin, but I just couldn’t let her in. It’s why she eventually gave up on me. I just didn’t think that I could live with myself if something happened to her while I was deployed. So I kept her, and every other woman, at bay, never letting anything get serious beyond a certain point. And then you showed up in my life.”
She wanted to cling to his words, but she couldn’t. Not when he didn’t know the whole truth.
“And I wanted to be there for you, to protect you every step of the way. You were supposed to be just an extension of the mission, but all of a sudden you were the woman I couldn’t wait to come home to at the end of the day. The woman who unapologetically stole my ice cream and faced down her worst fears to protect my sister. All of a sudden you were the woman I fell in—”
“No. D-don’t say it.” Her voice cracked, whether on a sob or just from the strain, she didn’t know. It wasn’t the only thing cracking, as the sound of her torn heart rang in her ears.