At His Command

by Karen Anders

  After stowing his own gear, Chris settled himself into his seat. Buckling his seat belt, he glanced over at her. She stared resolutely ahead and it irked him. Surely they couldn’t sit in silence for the whole flight. He knew that would suit her, but it didn’t suit him. “How did you end up at JAG?”

  She turned to look at him, taking another sip of her coffee. He accepted her cool look with one of his own. Although she was as impeccably groomed as ever, there was a hint of strain around her mouth that had only intensified since he’d last seen her. The thought occurred to him she worked too hard, but then he did, too. It was mandatory to keep the ghosts at bay. It was certainly better than drinking himself to death. After Rafael died and Sia withdrew from him, he’d tried that route and discarded it as a coward’s way out.

  “I applied shortly after Rafael was killed.” Her tone was clipped and didn’t invite him to ask any more questions, but of course that wasn’t going to stop him.

  “Why?”

  “Why?” she repeated through clenched teeth.

  “Yes. Why did you join JAG?”

  She huffed out a breath. “It was a way to carry on what he had wanted to do in the Navy—serve his country. I’m not a pilot so I served in the only capacity I knew—the law.”

  “Did they send you to Newport?”

  She turned to look at him with a steady gaze. “Are we playing twenty questions? That could work both ways.”

  “I’m only trying to find out what happened to you after we parted. I’m curious.”

  As a cop he was adept at reading body language. He noticed she didn’t turn hers toward him as one would do in an intimate conversation. Sia was setting the boundaries, and it seemed they were impenetrable.

  “Yes, I went to Newport, Rhode Island, and completed Naval Justice School after I finished Officer Development School.”

  “You sound like you’re reciting your name, rank and serial number. I’m not the enemy.”

  “We may be on the same side, but that is as far as it goes. You refused to cooperate with me and you are in charge of an investigation that should have been mine. So excuse me for thinking of you as the enemy. Besides, I’m only relating the information you wanted, Special Agent Vargas.”

  “And you got to pick where you wanted to go?”

  She sighed, but when he made it clear by his look he wasn’t going to give up, she answered. “Yes, I did.”

  He smiled now.

  Sia frowned. “What’s so funny?”

  “You’re just answering the question.”

  Her eyes, steamed to a volatile brown, regarded him with pique. “Isn’t that what I’m supposed to do?” When she spoke, her tone gave no indication of how she felt about his unwanted questions. Still the cool cucumber. With her dark hair pulled back, not so much as a dab of makeup enhancing her smooth-as-silk skin, and her crisp and unwrinkled uniform ruthlessly fit to her small frame, she was every inch the woman in control.

  He ran his fingers through his longish hair. He should have had it cut weeks ago, but his caseload had been brutal. It was a mechanism to keep himself from reaching for her to see if he could muss up that too-perfect control a little. “You’re being deliberately obtuse and you know it.”

  “Oh. You want me to elaborate like we’re old friends,” she said, but her casual tone was belied by a quick swallow, and the way her hands flexed in her lap. “We’re not old friends.”

  “I know that. But I thought since we’re going to be together for a while it might be a good idea to get reacquainted.”

  “I think I made myself clear yesterday. We’re working together because you forced the issue. Doesn’t mean I have to cooperate or make small talk.”

  “No, it doesn’t, but I want you to indulge me.”

  “If I don’t, will you make a report of it to Captain Snyder in the vein of, ‘Commander Soto is a competent investigator but she won’t indulge me in small talk’? Oh, no. I’ll have that on my record. How will I live it down?”

  She frustrated him to the extreme—in ways he remembered and, surprisingly, cherished. All she had to do was look at him in a certain way and there it was. It was why he reacted to her in this crazy way when there was even a hint of banter.

  He should have given in to her request to let someone else at NCIS accompany her to the carrier. Handling his caseload was enough without this long-term temporary assignment. Chasing Navy and Marine Corps killers, thieves and criminals was a full-time job and then some, but it was preferable to dealing with all this inner turmoil. He’d spent the last six years trying to forget Sia. It should be telling he hadn’t been able to do it and he was right back where he started.

  She wasn’t looking at him, and her tone was flat and hard. But he saw the tremor in her jaw, the vein standing out in stark relief along the side of her creamy neck, and the white knuckles as she gripped the armrest of her seat.

  “I know how you feel about me being here, but you better suck it up like a good sailor. I’m going to lead this investigation and make sure it’s done right. I have the experience and I have the authority. Hell, you should be grateful for my help and a second pair of eyes on this whole mess.”

  Her cheeks drained of color and she swallowed hard.

  “You almost died the last time you were on the McCloud, and I will do everything in my power to see you’re never put in that position again. So, stop being so damn stubborn and release your backbone a bit.”

  Her chest rose and fell more quickly.

  “Look at me.”

  Her throat worked.

  “Sia.”

  She swung her gaze to his, and there was no mistaking the fatigue, the wariness and the healthy dose of anger he saw there. “What?”

  “To be perfectly honest, I believe if not for these whacked-out circumstances, we would have never set eyes on each other again. But we have. That may give us a chance to finally put the past behind us and move on. Seeing you again has stirred up a bunch of stuff I thought I was long done with.”

  She looked away, blinking rapidly.

  He dropped his gaze, the emotion building in his chest. Oh, damn, please don’t let her cry.

  He felt her gaze flicker to his and looked up in time to catch it, hold it. He saw her overcome her emotions and get herself under control. Ah, yes, Sia was certainly made of sterner stuff. If she let herself go, just once, maybe she could learn it was okay to be vulnerable, to lean.

  “I think you are mistaken, Agent Vargas. I have put you and what happened in the past. I think you’re the one who needs something more. I suggest you get over it because I have no interest in dredging it up. What we had got destroyed.”

  “Did it?” He held her gaze for a few heartbeats as the color seeped back into her cheeks. “That remains to be seen.”

  “You didn’t let me finish. It got destroyed by you. Now you can suck it up.” She rose. “Excuse me. I have to go to the head.”

  He stood so she could pass, her body contacting with his all the way from his chest to his knees. The plane hit some turbulence and Sia was thrown against him. He held on to her instinctively so she wouldn’t fall onto her injured shoulder. The interior of the plane was dark; only the small overhead light on their panel was on. Most of the passengers had decided to sleep since the red-eye flight wouldn’t get into L.A. until early morning.

  Once the turbulence passed, he didn’t let her go. They stared at each other, her face close to his, her mouth soft and damp, glistening in the dimness. Their silence expanded in a way that lent texture to the very air between them. In the close quarters, the air was warm, with little ventilation. Her face was in shadows, but the dim light only outlined her beautiful bone structure, her startled eyes that had green and gold flecks in the deep brown.

  “Thank you for not letting me fall,” she said softly, her voice cracking, showing how unsettled she was.

  He let her go as she pushed at him with her good arm. As she disappeared down the passageway, he had a hard time tamping d
own his own roiling emotions.

  No matter what she said, her feelings weren’t in the past. Far from it.

  He didn’t let himself hope. That would have been foolish, but he did crack the door to perhaps let in hope, if it was so inclined to sneak in when he wasn’t looking.

  * * *

  Sia leaned against the head’s door. With a soft sound of protest she sank down onto the seat. She turned her head and looked at herself in the mirror. She squeezed her eyes shut, but it only made the images in her head starker, clearer.

  Chris was potent at a distance, but close up…he was lethal. She felt the power in his hands as he’d gently supported her through the turbulence. His eyes were a window into his soul, straightforward, sincere and tough. He was all those things and more. How could she have forgotten how much he stirred her blood, how easily she could fall into those fathomless eyes, like descending into a mist that cast a magic spell over her.

  She scrubbed at her face with her free hand. Her shoulder throbbed and her eye looked especially ugly with the purple-green-and-black bruise standing out starkly against her white skin.

  All of her feelings for him rushed back and she couldn’t control them. The pain at her memories of him, of making love to him, of being with him and living with him were more than precious to her, more than sacred. But she had to be smart. The memory of how she’d felt when she’d learned about her brother’s death and Chris’s pilot error that had allowed him to eject and her brother to die also came rushing back, warring with her need and regard for him.

  She couldn’t dredge this up, couldn’t allow this to color her life or mess with her head. She had to stay focused and do the job she’d been sent to do and do it right.

  “This time, I have to make sure it’s right,” she whispered, her voice breaking. “I have to.”

  Her shoulders slumped a tiny bit as she tried hard to fight off the inevitable reality check.

  It didn’t help that she was exhausted. She hadn’t slept in twenty-four hours and now she was headed back to the carrier where she’d almost lost her life. Where the master chief had died trying to kill her.

  She only wished she had thought to ask him the burning question that was now troubling her. Why? Why had he tried to kill her? What had she gotten close to or stumbled on to or would have stumbled on to if she’d been given the opportunity to question him and bring him up on charges? Had she taken a misstep and been blinded by her own emotions? Was she responsible for Lieutenant Washington’s death? Could she even make this right at all?

  All the answers were aboard the U.S.S. James McCloud, the ship of memories.

  When she got back to her seat, she slipped past Chris as quickly and impersonally as she could. He didn’t say anything and that suited her fine. She reached down for her purse and fumbled inside trying to find her painkiller, but with one hand it was awkward.

  Chris took her purse from her and reached inside and found the bottle. He popped open the top and handed her the tablets. Motioning for the flight attendant, he requested water for her.

  Sia took the medication and leaned back in her seat.

  “Get some rest,” Chris whispered, reaching up to turn off the panel light. Sia closed her eyes and sighed as the medication started to do its work.

  How was she supposed to shore up her defenses, resume her steely-eyed distance from a guy like Chris? Half of her wanted to fall into his lap right now.

  She needed to get back to the no-nonsense woman she’d made herself into or she wouldn’t have any hope of surviving the next few weeks with him and keeping her heart intact.

  A prayer was on her tongue as she fell asleep, but she wasn’t sure exactly what she was praying for.

  The sound of the captain’s voice and the dim lighting of the plane woke her with a start. She sighed dreamily and snuggled deeper against the firm pillow, her hand reaching around a trim waist to come up against hard metal.

  She opened her eyes to find her face pillowed against Chris’s hard, muscled chest. His sleepy eyes regarded her with interest and something a drowsy Chris couldn’t conceal. She jerked back and groaned softly at the pain in her shoulder and that look disappeared from his eyes. It made her feel almost sad about it, but knew it was better for her own equilibrium.

  “Steady,” he said softly. “No harm in resting comfortably and God knows that’s tough to do on a plane.”

  Her awareness of him was as finely tuned as her senses were in the courtroom. Except with him, there was all that sexual energy jacking things up. She cleared her throat, maybe squared her shoulders a little, and then made the mistake of looking back at him before reaching for her purse.

  Something about the morning beard shadowing his jaw, the way his dark hair was all mussed up, made his smoky eyes darker, and enhanced how impossibly thick his eyelashes were. His mouth looked way too sexy and kissable in the dim light.

  She turned away and raised the shade on the window and saw LAX below her as they lined up with the runway to set down. The captain came back on the speaker to let everyone know the temperature and that they would be at the gate shortly.

  As soon as the plane stopped, passengers were up reaching for their stowed luggage.

  Chris rose, too, and Sia tried not to stare at the way his muscles flexed and elongated beneath his clothes as he reached up for their luggage. How his sweater went tight over his biceps or the way it made his shoulders look wider.

  He dipped down and eyed her. “Are you ready? Do you need help?”

  “No,” she said quickly, not sure how she would handle having those powerful hands on her again. Let him think she was just a bit stiff and sleepy. More the better for her if Chris never knew the level of fascination she’d had for him. Still had, apparently. Dammit.

  She reached down and grabbed her purse and briefcase. Rising, she moved out from the seats and slipped into the space in front of him.

  She tried her best to appear unaffected and coolly in control as they deplaned. But Chris’s long-legged stride kept him right at her back. And she could feel him there, just behind her, in a rather primal way that had the power to skew her internal equilibrium.

  Chris took her arm when she headed for the escalator and directed her toward the elevator. He reached past her and pressed the button. When he stepped in after her, she felt a bit claustrophobic, as if he was suddenly taking up too much space, using up way too much of her precious air. And yet he was standing a respectable distance from her, not so much as looking at her. Which did nothing to stop her from thinking how satisfying it would be to push the emergency stop and caress his face, kiss that sexy mouth, watch his eyes heat.

  It only made her mood swing to the nasty. “Afraid you wouldn’t be able to hold my hand on the escalator like my mommy?”

  “Yes,” he simply said.

  It only made her fume.

  Then her stomach growled so loud it was audible above the din outside the slowly descending elevator.

  “Sounds like you need something to eat, little girl.”

  She let his dig go with a perfectly sweet smile.

  “Let’s get some breakfast, then. We have two hours before our flight leaves.”

  “I can’t hide the fact that I’m starving.”

  “When was the last time you ate?”

  “I don’t remember.”

  After breakfast, it was a short walk to the gate, then on to the flight. It wasn’t long before they were touching down at the Honolulu airport, where they were picked up by a Navy car to take them to the U.S.S. James McCloud. A large crowd of reporters were only able to get in a few questions before Sia and Chris were tucked inside the vehicle.

  At the sight of the ship and the sponson in particular, a chill ran over Sia’s skin. She could see where part of the flight deck had been scorched and that crews were working on the damaged area of the vessel.

  The U.S.S. James McCloud was only one of a large fleet of carriers in the Navy. The flight deck, angled at nine degrees, whic
h allowed aircraft to be launched and recovered simultaneously, took up the majority of the available space on the ship. The ship carried a full wing of 12/14 F/A-18F Super Hornets as strike fighters, another two squadrons of 10-12 F/A-18C Hornets, as well as early-warning aircraft, a helicopter and antisubmarine squadron. Each carrier-based aircraft used a tailhook bolted to an eight-foot bar that extended from the craft to catch one of four cables on the deck of the carrier. The cables were engineered to stop any aircraft at exactly the same spot on the deck no matter the size or weight of the craft.

  The prominent bridge was situated to starboard, which Sia learned early on in her career was the right side of a ship.

  Once on board, they were directed to the NCIS agent a-float, Clarissa Weston.

  “Ahoy,” she called out as they entered her office. “Chris! It’s good to see you. I got word you and Commander Soto were coming aboard to investigate this tragedy. My office is at your command.”

  “Thanks, Clarissa. It’s good to see you again. What do you have so far?”

  “I’m sure you’ll want to do your own investigations, Chris, but so far all I’ve done is make sure no one has left the ship. That went over big. Most of these people have been cooped up on this vessel for three months, but this port stop isn’t for fun. It’s to get repairs to the flight deck Lieutenant Washington tore up when he crash-landed.” She turned to Sia. “It’s good to see you again, ma’am. Wow, that’s a nasty shiner. I sure hope you’re healing okay.”

  “I’m doing fine, Clarissa. Thank you for asking.”

  “The legal office is also at your disposal, Chris, ma’am. Commander Stryker is expecting you.”

  “Thank you,” Chris said.

  “The captain asked that you report to him as soon as you were aboard. He’s at Pri-Fly, the Primary Flight Control center. I’ll take you to him now.”

  Sia was now familiar with the carrier after spending time on the ship during her investigation. They headed toward what was called the “island”—the command center for flight-deck operation as well as the ship as a whole. The island was about one hundred and fifty feet tall, but only twenty feet wide, so it wouldn’t take up too much space on the flight deck.