At His Command

by Karen Anders

  He turned to her. “Don’t you think that was premature? We don’t have a confession yet. We don’t have anything that links her to that accident.”

  “We will. We have to. The captain said he would also petition to clear your name.”

  “I don’t need my name cleared. It doesn’t matter anymore. The past is over and done with. I’m moving on.”

  “Surely you can’t mean that. What you did with the Navy means something. It has to. If it doesn’t, then my brother’s death means nothing. I can’t bear that.”

  He turned to her and pulled her close. “I didn’t say that what I did here didn’t mean anything, Sia.”

  She wrapped her arms around his neck. “I wish it was as easy for me to let go,” she said.

  “But you can’t.”

  “Not yet. Maybe never. I don’t know.”

  She grasped his hand and pulled him toward the decks below. They went to her quarters and when the door shut behind them, they didn’t pretend.

  His mouth found hers with evidence of a keen-edged need that was reciprocated. This time would be different from last night. He wanted to unleash the need he had for her that lurked just beneath the surface.

  The air crackled with the electricity they created. His mouth went in search of hers, and their tongues tangled. He pushed at her clothing until he got it all off her, and she did the same.

  He bent his head to catch her nipple in his lips and sucked strongly from her. Her knees buckled in sudden violent response. Her fingers went to his hair, unconsciously drawing him closer as the sensations crashed over him, one wave after another.

  She cupped his heavy shaft and he surged into her soft hand. It was shockingly arousing to be touched by her and he knew he would never get enough. He slipped his hand between their bodies, found her warm, wet heat and stroked a finger inside her. She cried out, her fingers tightening around him. His mouth went to her other breast in a dual assault that was engineered to make her unravel fast.

  His voice was ragged, muffled against her skin. “The bunk.”

  Her touch grew more deliberate. “I want you inside me. Now.”

  His breathing ragged, he gave her a long, deep kiss, and began to move her toward the bunk. She apparently had no intention of cooperating. “The bunk,” he panted, his mouth moving to her jaw, her ear, her throat. “Now, Sia.”

  Instead she went to her knees before him, pressed her lips against his hardness. He shuddered and groaned, throwing his head back at the feel of her soft mouth taking him. She traced her tongue down the length of him, exploring him with lips and tongue, until he hauled her to her feet and into his arms.

  Her mouth met his fiercely. Her kiss evoked a violent response in him. He responded to her violence with more of the same, demanding an answer. He backed her against the bulkhead, then reached down and lifted her leg over his hip.

  The need in her clear brown eyes aroused him beyond his limits. “Chris.” He pressed his mouth to hers and swallowed the sound while cupping her bottom and lifting her to impale her with one long stroke.

  The sweet velvet slide of his shaft inside her, the delicate pulsations as her body adjusted to his invasion, was almost more than he could bear.

  Surging forward, he heard her moan and went in search of her mouth. Sealing it with his, he positioned his hips, thrusting hard and deep, wringing wild cries from her. Her legs were wrapped around him, her arms clinging to his shoulders. Each savage thrust flattened her breasts against him and the exquisite sensations threatened to send him over the edge.

  Fingers digging into her bottom, he held her steady as he pounded into her, his vision graying, beginning to blur. He dimly felt her heels pressing into his back, her body tensing, then clenching around him. He was blind, deaf to all but this woman.

  When he felt her release, he lunged harder, buried himself inside her to the hilt and followed her into oblivion.

  They made it, eventually, to the bunk. For a few minutes they lay there. Once their breathing softened and slowed, Sia turned to him. “You look like you came to some kind of closure up there on the flight deck.”

  “Almost. I only need one more thing.”

  “What is that?”

  “You to say that you forgive me, Sia. Say the words.”

  “Give me some more time, Chris. Just a little bit more.”

  He sighed in disappointment, but Sia couldn’t seem to utter the words. She didn’t know why. She should. Chris really didn’t deserve this.

  * * *

  She had no idea what time it was when her eyes flew open. Nor could she say what had woken her from such a deep sleep. She went to move, then felt the weight of Chris’s arm folded across her back, holding her against him. She didn’t want to disturb him, but she was struggling to orient herself and her still-fuzzy brain took a moment or two to remember where she was and what she was doing there.

  With the sudden dipping and rolling of the carrier, Sia felt a dull throb of a headache beginning as she lifted her head, willing her eyes to adjust to the dark so she could find her bedside clock. It was just past 0930, which was a relief. She had only been asleep for about an hour. It seemed neither one of them had gotten a decent night’s sleep.

  Of course, Navy bunks weren’t exactly meant to be shared by two, yet she felt completely and blissfully sated. She thought about that for a moment, partly because it pushed the return of fear and panic to the edges of her mind for a few more precious seconds, and partly because she couldn’t help but wonder what, in fact, did come next for them. She realized the events currently unfolding could end up robbing her of finding out, but that didn’t stop her from thinking about what she’d want if it was up to her.

  Slowly, cautiously, she slipped out from beneath his arm and gently shifted her weight off the bunk, her eyes adjusting just enough to keep her from stumbling on her way to her toiletry items.

  She hit the shower and the heated water felt good even with the unsteady deck rolling beneath her feet. She was supremely proud her stomach didn’t protest. Seasickness would be absolutely no fun.

  Her father would have been proud of her, she thought as she exited the head and slipped back inside the stateroom. The thought made her smile and for the first time since he’d died, she was thankful she was able to think of him without the immediate pain that would inevitably follow.

  She snapped on a light near the locker. It was enough to illuminate her clothing and she dressed quickly in her service khaki. After she was dressed, she walked over to Chris, who was still sleeping. She noted the smudges under his eyes. They deserved this small bit of rest. He had kept long hours on this case, not to mention the extra pain and baggage each of them carried.

  Now was the time to get the confession from the woman who was directly responsible for her brother’s death. It was what she hoped for so that she could finally lay him to rest.

  Proof, evidence. Her brain hammered on the words, and she paced away from the bunk. Even with Susan Cotes’s confession, was there a chance for them?

  She suspected that it was up to her.

  “You’re going to wear a hole in the deck.”

  Her head whipped to the bunk. Chris was awake, his sleepy half-lidded eyes watching her. His head was propped on his arm, his biceps a thick bulge of muscle. His shoulders gleamed in the dim light and cast shadows on his broad chest and tapered waist.

  “I was just thinking about our upcoming session with Susan Cotes.”

  “Working out a strategy?” he asked, stretching his tall, muscular body like a big jungle cat.

  “Something like that,” she replied, her brain short-circuiting at the sight of him.

  He smiled. “You must be a hellcat in court.”

  She shook off her fascination and turned away to look for her hat. “If you mean that I get my convictions or garner a good defense, then yes, I’m a hellcat in court.”

  “Come here.”

  His voice was thick and velvety and she’d be a fool to even get n
ear him in this mood.

  “Chris,” she said, her eyes going over his face again, homing in on his mouth. “That’s not a good idea. I just got dressed and pinned up my hair. I’m not going to get close enough for that stealth move you do to bring it all back down again.”

  He laughed. “Stealth move?”

  “That’s what I call it.”

  “I can’t entice you even a little?” He wagged his eyebrows.

  She laughed, but kept herself at a safe distance from him. “It’s tempting.”

  “I guess I’ll have to come to you.” He slipped out of the bunk, all heavy muscle and testosterone, his maleness emphasized by his wide chest and thick thighs.

  She couldn’t take her eyes off him. Rooted to the spot, she was helpless when he reached her and cupped her cheek. His mouth covered hers, the kiss full of banked passion and subtle need.

  When he raised his head, he smiled. “I’ll use your shower, then make a quick trip to my stateroom for clothes.”

  It wasn’t until a full minute after he stepped into her bathroom that she realized her hair was down around her shoulders. With an exasperated, but amused sigh, she went to pin it up again.

  Looking at herself in the mirror, she couldn’t quite meet her own eyes. Maybe she couldn’t say it to him now, but she could—had to—admit it to herself. She was still in love with him, and it solved absolutely nothing.

  * * *

  Fifteen minutes later she was sitting next to Chris, trying not to get distracted by the fresh way he smelled and the heat that radiated off his body, a body she had just done such intimate things with less than an hour ago.

  Lieutenant Russell, Saunders’s wingman, sat in front of her. She smiled at him and said, “Can you remember who was in the wardroom the day of Saunders’s crash?”

  Lieutenant Russell looked down as he fidgeted with his hat. “There were a couple of other pilots there, Green and Wilson. Also, I remember the LSO, Maria Jackson, was getting coffee and Lieutenant Cotes was there talking to Lieutenant Jackson.”

  Sia nodded her head. “Thank you, Lieutenant. You’ve been a great help.”

  After he left, Lieutenant Monroe was ushered in and he recalled that both Lieutenant Jackson and Cotes were in the wardroom. Lieutenant Cotes and Washington were sniping at each other and giving each other dirty looks. This evidence was the last nail in Susan’s coffin.

  Focus, she told herself as the master-at-arms opened the door and ushered Susan Cotes in. Chris indicated for her to sit at the small table and, with an irritated sigh, she sat down.

  “Do you understand the charges against you?”

  “I understand them, but you’re both off base. I didn’t kill Lieutenant Washington. I don’t know how many times I have to say it.”

  “The evidence makes you a liar, Lieutenant.”

  Susan’s face blanched and she brought her hands up, the metal cuffs rattling against the table. “What evidence?” she demanded, fear and defiance in her tone.

  “We found your fingerprints on the radar casing from his jet. The one you tampered with, along with the GHB you used to drug him.”

  Susan stood in outrage, her face a mask of shock and disbelief. “I did not! I had nothing to do with it.”

  “The evidence is iron-clad, Lieutenant. We didn’t bring you here so you could deny your guilt. That’s unproductive in the face of the evidence. Both lieutenant Russell and Monroe place you in the wardroom before each pilot took off.”

  It surprised Sia that Susan was fighting tears and she suddenly became uncomfortable. Susan’s behavior seemed wrong, somehow. She showed no signs of the sadistic behavior of a serial killer. But the evidence was irrefutable and Sia put away her doubts.

  “Why did you bring me here?”

  “We want to give you a chance to come clean about the other murders.”

  “Other murders? Oh, my God. You two are insane. I haven’t committed any murders.”

  Without speaking, Sia laid out the pictures of the dead pilots. Susan looked down at them with a dull and glassy-eyed stare. “I don’t know any of these men.”

  “We think you do.” Sia pointed out her brother. “This is the only man in this array who doesn’t resemble the others. Do you know why?”

  “No,” Susan mumbled and Sia could tell when someone was shutting down.

  “It’s because he was an unintended victim. Chris was your intended target.”

  Susan looked at Chris, then back at Sia, then down to the picture. “This is your brother, isn’t it?”

  “That’s right.”

  She looked at Chris. “He was killed when your plane crashed into his. I remember that report.”

  Chris nodded.

  “Wait a second,” Sia said as she digested Susan’s words. “Report?”

  “That’s right, Commander,” she said smugly. “I wasn’t on the McCloud when Lieutenant Soto died. I was thousands of miles away in Virginia, at Norfolk Naval Airbase at a training center.”

  * * *

  Sia looked at the computer screen in her quarters, dejected by the news her legalman gave her. “It’s true, Commander. She had orders and it’s documented on her record. She wasn’t on the McCloud the day your brother was killed. I’m sorry.” The picture was fuzzy and jumped often as the storm battered the ship.

  She tried hard to hide her disappointment. “And the other pilots?”

  “Those dates match up to her tour of duty. Her shore leave matches up to the time our dead pilot ended up in that alley.”

  “Thank you, McBride.”

  “You’re welcome, Commander. When are you headed home?”

  “As soon as we dock. We’ll process Cotes and Chris and I will hop a plane back to Norfolk. She’s going to be handled by the folks in Miramar.”

  “It’s getting hard to hear you. How is it there?”

  “The storm is pretty intense, but the captain is competent.”

  “Good. Oh, I almost forgot. I finished compiling the list of all the personnel aboard the McCloud the day your brother died. I can send that to you.”

  “Please do.”

  There was a knock at the door and Sia signed off on the two-way.

  When she opened it, Chris stood on the other side. “How are you doing?”

  “I’m angry and disappointed. How do you think I feel?” She moved away from him, afraid he would try to soothe her. She didn’t want that.

  “That would be my guess. I warned you not to get your hopes up too high,” Chris said.

  “Yes, you did, and now that you’ve delivered your message, you can go,” Sia snapped.

  “Sia, what is it you’re looking for?” Chris began on a long, bone-weary sigh. “What do you need?”

  “I want my brother’s life to have had meaning. The Navy Memorial is something tangible. Something that people will remember. Oh, never mind. You don’t understand.”

  His big shoulders rose, absorbing the weight of the accusation. “Yes, I do. I understand too well. Do you think that blaming someone, anyone, will somehow give your brother’s death meaning?”

  “Yes!” she said, slamming the heel of her hand against the bulkhead. “It wasn’t his fault he died. He’s not to blame.”

  “No, he’s not. I am. There’s no hiding it now. There’s nobody out there left to blame but me. You can’t give me the forgiveness I need because you need to hold on to that blame. It’s ruled your life for so long you can’t seem to let it go.”

  “Leave me alone.” He was right and she didn’t want to hear it. She couldn’t let go until she’d attained her goal. She couldn’t let her brother down as she had somehow let her parents down.

  “Maybe you don’t want to let go,” Chris said relentlessly, grabbing her shoulders so she would look into his face, into his eyes.

  “Leave,” she shouted, her lips trembling, her anger getting the best of her. “Now!” She struggled out of his grasp, her eyes on fire and her throat full.

  He turned toward the door. “May
be it would have been easier for you if I had died that day, too. Maybe then you could have moved on.”

  She didn’t answer him. She couldn’t. In her disappointment and grief, she was unable to make any sense out of what had happened. And she could get no justice for her brother or for Chris. But she did know one single truth about this whole business. Her world would have been so bleak if Chris had died. The thought of being in a world without him caused her more pain than she could bear.

  The door closed behind him and she knew if there had ever been a chance, there no longer was. She’d ruined it by being unable to make that simple concession.

  She heard her email ding. It looked as if Gabriel had stayed overtime to get her what she needed. She was sorry she wasted his time. They had their killer and Susan couldn’t have been the person who had tried to kill Chris. It was baffling. Sia had been so sure. All the other men looked like him, to the point of eeriness.

  Unless Susan was telling the truth and she hadn’t killed Lieutenant Washington. Did they have the wrong woman? The thought left her feeling dizzy and weak. She stood there for a moment pushing all her pain and disappointment away.

  The fingerprints were damning evidence, though. The fingerprints were perfect. Perfect…maybe. Sia sat down at her computer and pulled up the internet browser. She typed in “faking fingerprints.” Numerous hits came up and she chose a website. It was possible and, furthermore, the fingerprints that were faked were usually flawless.

  She quickly pulled up the file of personnel and started to go through the list. She found the master chief’s name, and Susan Cotes’s. She scanned the list until her breath caught and her senses heightened. The only other familiar name on the list was still aboard the ship. With trembling hands she pulled up the person’s file. Not only had the person been on the ship at the time of all the deaths, but that person had also been on the ship at the time of Rafael’s death.

  A knock sounded on the door and Sia rose to answer, still intent on her discovery. Chris had come back. She should have known he couldn’t leave her alone in her state, and she was grateful to him. The ship pitched violently, and Sia held on to the doorjamb before she reached for the knob.