by Tina Beckett
“It’s not the same. He’ll have a bone to pick with that shark. You mark my words.”
“So, would you?”
“Would I what?” Thorne asked, not looking at her.
“Go after the person or animal that ruined your career.”
Thorne cleared his throat. “I did.”
There was something in his tone which made her shudder, like she was in danger, but probably not in the same kind of danger as the shark.
This was something different. This kind of danger made her heart beat a bit faster, made her skin hot and made her feel like she was already the cornered prey animal with its throat exposed, waiting for the predator to make its kill. She didn’t think Thorne wanted to kill her, far from it—but what he wanted from her, she didn’t know.
Get revenge on her? Bring her to her knees?
She had no idea.
It was the kind of danger which excited her and terrified her.
It was the kind of danger she didn’t run from. It was the kind she stood up to and she was ready for whatever was to come.
* * *
Thorne watched Erica as she checked on Corporal Ryder’s vitals. Ryder had developed a post-op fever and had been in the ICU since he’d come out of surgery. He hadn’t even fully come out of the anesthetic.
“My leg. My leg. Oh, God. Please, no!”
That was what Ryder had been screaming as they’d pulled him from the water. He’d been screaming at the top of his lungs. Even though they’d all assured Ryder that his leg was still there, that it was attached and could be saved, it was like the young man had made up his mind that it wasn’t going to happen.
Thorne had seen that before—when the spirit just wanted to give up and no amount of modern medicine would help that patient recover. It was like the soul was already trying to escape.
“Hold on, Liam. Just hold on.”
“I can’t, Thorne. Let me go.”
“Why did you step in front of the IED for me?”
Thorne had read his own records, the ones which had been taken by his commanding officer from the USNV. He’d developed a post-op fever, no doubt from the virulent infection coursing through his body.
In his brief memories, when he could recall that moment, he remembered the feeling of slipping away, but something pulling him back.
An angel.
Erica.
Seeing her face hovering above him had grounded him.
Sometimes when the pain was bad, when it felt like the amputated leg was still there and he couldn’t take it any longer, he hated Erica for saving his life.
Then again, after he’d been shot and they’d spent those days holed up in the sewers, he hadn’t thought he was going to get out of there. He’d thought he was going to die in the sewer, which would’ve been better.
One less body in a casket for his mother to weep over.
No, don’t let those memories in.
He didn’t want to think about his twin’s funeral, because when he thought of Liam he inevitably thought about how he’d tried to save his life.
“You’re crushing me, Thorne.”
“I’m applying pressure. I’m the medic, you’re the hero. Remember?”
Liam had smiled weakly. “I’m past that point. Let me go.”
That moment of clarity, when you felt no pain and your body was just tired of struggling on. You weren’t afraid of death any longer. Death meant rest.
Thorne glanced back at the ICU. He saw that look of resolution on Corporal Ryder’s face and he hoped the young man would fight.
Ryder still had his leg.
Thorne didn’t and if he hadn’t been in the medical corps of the Navy, if he hadn’t had so many commendations and something to fall back on, he would’ve been discharged.
Ryder has to live.
Thorne clenched his fists to ease the anger he was feeling, because if he marched in there now to do his own assessment of the situation, to ease the guilt and anguish he was feeling over Corporal Ryder, he was likely to take it out on Erica.
The surgeon who had taken his leg. Only, she’d tried to save it. He’d seen the reports. It was the infection from the dirty water he’d been forced to live in.
There was nothing to be done at that point. There had been no one to blame but himself. He was the one who’d decided to step in front of that bullet to protect Tyler.
He didn’t blame Erica—only, maybe, for saving his life.
He’d thought about her countless times, about kissing those lips, touching her face. Of course, those had been fantasies as he’d recovered. He thought those feelings of lust would disappear when he met her in person.
Thorne was positive that he’d built her up in his head. That it was the drugs which had obscured his memories.
No one could be that beautiful.
He was wrong. Even though his memory had been slightly fuzzy, his fantasies about her didn’t do her justice.
When she’d rushed into the fray to give Corporal Ryder first aid on the beach, he knew why she was one of the top trauma surgeons in the medical corps.
The real woman was so much more than his fantasy one. Which was dangerous, because he felt something more than just attraction…
It was dangerous, because he did feel something more than just attraction toward her. He wanted to get to know her, open his heart to her, and that was something he couldn’t do.
He wasn’t going to let in any one else.
There was no room to love. He wouldn’t risk his heart, and if something happened to him, well, he wasn’t going to put any woman through that. He’d seen what had happened to his brother’s wife and children when Liam had died. And, make no mistake, it was his fault Liam had died.
Thorne couldn’t do that to anyone else.
So these emotions Erica was stirring in him scared him.
He’d been alone almost a decade and managed. What he needed to do was get control of himself. Then he could work with her.
No problem.
Yeah. Right.
He headed into the ICU, sliding the isolation door shut behind him. Erica glanced up at him briefly as she continued to write in Ryder’s chart.
“Captain,” she said offhandedly, greeting him.
“Commander,” Thorne acknowledged, moving to the far side of the bed to put a distance between them. “How’s he doing?”
“Stable.” She said the word in a way that made Thorne think being stable was sufficient and in some cases—especially this one, where it wasn’t even as serious as other wounds—stable should’ve been enough.
“Any sign of infection?”
“No.” Her cheeks flushed briefly.
“Well, that’s good. If the wound becomes infected and he doesn’t respond to antibiotics we’ll have to amputate.”
She looked at him. “You have an obsession with amputation.”
“Can you blame me?” And even though he knew he shouldn’t, and even though he knew she already knew his leg was gone, he bent over and rolled up his scrub leg. “Titanium.”
Their gazes locked and his pulse was pounding in his ears. He waited to see if she would admit to it. On one hand, he hoped she would and on the other hand, he hoped she wouldn’t, but how long could they keep up this facade?
“I know,” she said quietly without batting an eyelash, before she turned to her chart.
Thorne was stunned she admitted to it. When they’d first met again here in Okinawa she’d acted like she didn’t remember him, just as he’d pretended he didn’t recall her.
He smoothed down the scrubs over his prosthetic leg and then straightened up. The tension in the room was palpable. Usually, tension never bothered him and he thrived in high-stress situations, but this was different.
Against his better judgment, and under the guise that he wanted to see Corporal Ryder’s charts, he moved behind her. Which was a mistake. Her hair smelled faintly like coconuts. He was so close he could reach out and touch her, run his fingers through
her short honey-colored hair. He resisted and instead took the chart from her, flipping through it.
“Just a fever, then?”
“Y-yes,” she stuttered. “Yes, a fever. There shouldn’t be a reason why his vitals are just stable, because they were just that. One small change…”
Thorne stepped away from her. “I understand. As long as there isn’t infection.”
He didn’t look at her, but he got the sense she wanted to say more, and he wanted her to say more.
“You know,” she whispered, her voice shaking a bit with frustration.
Good. He wanted her to hate him. It would be easier.
Hate me.
“Yes.” He handed her back the chart. Thorne knew she was annoyed. It was good that she was, maybe then she’d avoid him. If she hated him, then he’d be less tempted to want her. There would be little chance of them ever being together, which was for the best.
Yeah. Tell yourself another lie, why don’t you?
“Looks good, Commander Griffin. Keep me updated on any changes in the corporal’s status.” He turned and left the ICU, trying to put a safe distance between the two of them.
The hiss of the isolation room’s door behind him let him know she was following him. Why did he think she wouldn’t follow him? From the little he knew of Commander Erica Griffin, he knew she wasn’t the kind of officer to take anything lying down.
He was in for a fight.
She grabbed his arm to stop him. “I don’t think we’re done talking, Captain Wilder.”
They were standing right in front of the busy nurses’ station, where a few nurses stopped what they were doing. Even though they weren’t looking their way, he could tell they were listening in earnest.
Not many officers stood up to him.
“Commander, I don’t think this is the time or the place to bring it up.”
“Oh, it’s the time and place.” She glared at some of the nurses and then grabbed him by his arm and dragged him into an on-call room, shutting the door behind her, locking it.
“Commander, what’s the meaning of this?” he asked, trying to keep his voice firm. He didn’t like the idea of being locked in a dark on-call room with her.
Especially when his blood was still thrumming with wanting her.
“I think you know exactly the meaning of this. Why did you pretend you didn’t remember me?”
“You did the same.”
Her eyes narrowed. “Only because I thought you didn’t remember me for the last two weeks.”
He cocked an eyebrow. “So that justifies lying to me?”
She snorted. “I never lied to you. However, you lied to me.”
“Why didn’t you say anything to me?” He took a step toward her, though he knew very well he should keep his distance.
“Why would I? If you weren’t going to mention the traumatic experience, I wasn’t about to bring it up again.”
“Perhaps you felt guilty.” He was baiting her, pushing her buttons.
Hate me. Loathe me.
She advanced toward him. “I don’t feel guilty for saving your life. I did what had to be done. You would’ve died if I hadn’t taken your leg. You’re a doctor, and I’m sure you’ve had access to the chart which magically disappeared off the ship when you were taken, so you know I had no choice—I don’t regret what I did. Given the choice again, if it meant saving a life and having someone hate me for the choice I made, I would cut off your leg to save your life.”
Thorne took a step back, impressed with her, but also annoyed that he was even more drawn to her and her strength.
He didn’t know how to reply to that.
Didn’t know what to say.
Suddenly there was someone pounding on the door.
“Commander Griffin, it’s Corporal Ryder… He’s crashing.”
Suddenly there was nothing left to say. Erica flung open the door and both of them sped toward the ICU, the sound of a flatline becoming deafening, and everything else was forgotten.
CHAPTER FIVE
ERICA FLIPPED THE tooth over, like it was a poker chip, staring at it morosely as she sat at a bar, which reminded her of Gilligan’s Island, complete with bamboo huts, tikis and coconut shells. It was like a throwback to something from the sixties.
Normally, she wouldn’t occupy a bar or pub, but tonight she needed company.
She needed a drink and this was the closest place to her quarters.
Besides, she’d never had a whiskey and cola adorned with a pink umbrella and glittery streamers before. Her drink reminded her of her first bike, which had had the same streamers. At least her drink didn’t have spokey-dokes. The Bar Painappurufeisu, which she believed translated to “Pineapple Face,” served alcohol and that was all that mattered at the moment.
“Scooby, hit me again,” she called to the barkeep.
Scooby nodded and smiled, probably not really understanding what she was saying, and said, “No problem,” before heading down to the other end of the bar.
Erica giggled again.
She definitely needed to lay off the liquor. She rarely indulged and this was what she got for that. She was a lightweight and laughing at everything.
At least if she was laughing she wasn’t thinking about what had happened to Corporal Ryder. Then she glanced down at the shark’s tooth in her palm and slammed it against the counter.
“To hell with it, Scooby. I need another drink.”
“No problem,” Scooby answered from the end of the bar.
“Don’t you think you’ve had enough?”
Erica glanced over and saw that Thorne had sat down beside her.
Just what she needed. Someone else whose life she’d ruined. She wasn’t a surgeon—she was apparently no better than the grim reaper.
“Scooby will let me know when I’ve had enough.”
A smile twitched on Thorne’s face. “The only English Scooby knows is what kind of drink you want, monetary value and ‘no problem’.”
Scooby looked up and gave a thumbs-up. “No problem.”
Erica moaned and rubbed her forehead. “Great. I’ve been rattling off to him about various things.”
Thorne shrugged. “He’s a good listener. It’s his job. Although, he was a fisherman before the base sprung up.”
“I thought most Okinawans knew English.”
“Most do. Scooby doesn’t; he only learned what he needed to know.”
Erica narrowed her eyes. She didn’t believe a word Thorne was saying, though that could be the liquor talking.
“You don’t believe me?” he asked, his eyes twinkling.
“Why should I? Since I arrived you’ve questioned me, lied to me and generally have been a pain in my butt. No offense, Captain.”
“None taken, Commander.”
Erica turned back to her drink, playing with the many glittery decorations. Her body tensed, being so close to Thorne. It wasn’t because he was her commanding officer; that didn’t bother her in the least. It wasn’t because she’d taken his leg; she knew she’d made the right medical decision. It was because she was drawn to him and she shouldn’t be. Captain Wilder was off-limits and it annoyed her that she was allowing herself to feel this way. That he affected her so.
Especially today.
“What do you have there?” Thorne asked, though she had a feeling he already knew.
She set it down on the countertop anyway: the shark tooth, gleaming and polished under the tiki lighting.
“Why do you have that?” he asked.
“I didn’t think it should go to medical waste. I know we were saving it for…” She couldn’t even finish her sentence. She was a doctor, a surgeon and she was used to death. People did die, and had died on her, but usually only when they were too far gone.
Thorne had been worse, yet he was here, beside her. Alive.
Corporal Ryder’s death shook her because his death shouldn’t have happened. It boggled her mind. She cupped the shark tooth in her palm again, fe
eling its jagged edge against her skin.
Thorne reached over, opened her fingers, exposing her palm, and took the shark tooth from her.
His touch made her blood ignite. A spark of electricity zipped through her veins.
Pull your hand away.
Only, she liked the touch. She needed it at this moment.
“Let me see that,” he said gently. Erica watched him, watched his expression as he looked over the tooth carefully. “Can I keep it?”
“Why?” she asked.
“I knew him—he has a younger brother. Perhaps I’ll send it to him if he wants it.”
“Sure.” She picked at the paper napkin under her drink. It was soaked with condensation and came apart easily. “Did you get a hold of Corporal Ryder’s family?”
Thorne nodded slowly. “I did.”
“I don’t have any siblings.” Erica wasn’t sure why she was telling him that.
“That’s too bad.”
She nodded at the tooth again. “Do you think that’s something his family would want? I mean…under the circumstances.”
“I think so. Though, the flag at his state burial will mean more.”
Erica sighed sadly. “There was no reason for him to die.”
“He was attacked by a shark.”
“It was a simple wound. It didn’t even sever the artery.”
“You know as well as I do that sometimes there are things beyond our control as physicians. If he gave up the will to live… I’ve seen it so many times. Even if you fight so hard to save a life, if that person has decided that they’re going to die there’s nothing you can do.”
Erica nodded.
It was true. She knew it. She’d seen it herself so many times, but Ryder’s death was so senseless. He would’ve made a full recovery. Sure, he wouldn’t have been able to continue his training to become an elite member of the SEALs, but he also wouldn’t have been discharged from the Navy.
Was that worth dying over? Was that what had driven Ryder just to give up?
Was that why Dad just gave up? How much pain had he been in?
She sighed, thinking about him. Her father had had a loving family; he’d often told Erica she was the light in his life. Yet it hadn’t been enough.
She hadn’t been enough.