At His Command

by Karen Anders

  Suddenly the rain diminished and Sia faced fury of another kind.

  “Do you know why I brought you up here?”

  “No, but I’m guessing it has to do with the master chief.”

  “It does.”

  “Were you lovers?”

  Maria tossed her head back and laughed. “God, no. He was too close to me for that. Or should I say too close to my mother.”

  “He was your father?”

  “My stepfather.”

  “We were estranged for quite some time. Even when I was assigned to this ship, he didn’t recognize me until I told him who I was. He was speechless and told me he wanted to make amends. As if he could. He left us, just like all men do. But—” her voice softened “—he did try to protect me. He took my GHB bottle and tried to kill you. He got scared when you said you were going to get the Navy to reopen your brother’s case.”

  “So it wasn’t his duty in the Navy that he tried to kill me. It was his duty to you as a father.”

  She shrugged. “It came to him later in life, when I was grown up, but I guess it counts for something.”

  “You’re not going to get away with this.”

  “Yes, I will.” With that she pulled aside a black tarp and Sia could see Lieutenant Cotes’s dead eyes staring up at a night sky she would never see again. “It was supremely easy to spring her from jail. The master-at-arms was stupid enough to allow me a few moments with my friend. As soon as he turned his back, I grabbed his gun, forced him to unlock the door. I made him go inside and take off his pants. Then I shot him at point-blank range with his own gun. The look on his face was priceless. I wish I could have captured it on film.”

  “You made it look like he was going to…”

  “That’s right. No one would be surprised. Men are pigs.” Maria pulled the tarp all the way off Susan’s body. “She was a fighter, too. I had to be careful not to mark her.”

  Sia saw the blood on Susan’s temple and the hole the bullet had left. “She didn’t know she was rooming with a serial killer.”

  “It’s not that black and white, but people like you need a classification. So you’ll think what you want. She trusted me. Her mistake. She didn’t know I was methodically framing her for Washington’s murder. I even typed her suicide note on her computer and printed it out on her printer. It’s beneath her body right now. It is bad luck Chris had his accident when she wasn’t on board. Then everything would have gone to plan.”

  “You’re a monster!”

  Maria laughed. “No, I’m not. I just need closure. You know all about that. That’s what you’ve been searching for. That’s what all the arguments were about with your boyfriend.”

  “I was searching for justice for my brother.”

  “Whatever your motives were, maybe now you can forgive your boyfriend. Oh, wait, no, that won’t be possible. You’ll be dead and he’ll never know how you felt.”

  Her eyes hardened and Sia knew she was at the end of the line.

  “Jump. There’s no escape. At least it’s more of a choice than you gave my stepfather.”

  Sia had only one chance and it was a very slim one. Her head jerked toward Susan’s corpse. “Is she still breathing?”

  Maria swung around to look at the body. Head down, Sia lunged for Maria, planting a shoulder hard in the woman’s chest. The two of them landed on the hard steel, inches from Susan’s dead face, and began wresting for control of the gun. Sia grabbed hold of Maria’s arm and slammed it hard against the landing, but before she could shake the pistol loose, a white-hot pain sliced into her right side, momentarily shorting out all thought and strength.

  Howling with pain and rage, she twisted around to find the source. The knife had penetrated the thick jacket and opened up a gash just below her rib cage.

  Before Sia could react, Maria swung the gun up and slammed it into her temple.

  * * *

  Chris swore again and dropped his phone.

  He knew where Sia had been taken at gunpoint—with his gun.

  He raced out of the stateroom and swore under his breath as he wasted precious time opening the hatch and closing it behind him. He took a risk as he ran across the slippery, pitching deck only to lose his balance and slide to the edge, catching a spinning, stomach-dropping view of the ocean. He was able to stop his momentum by catching the rail. Breathing hard, rain sluicing down his face and soaked to the skin by the icy rain, he pulled himself up and made a beeline for the ladder. Reaching it, he descended frantically, his heart pounding with dread and fear for Sia. If he lost her…he couldn’t complete the thought. Wouldn’t accept she was already dead.

  He reached the sponson and was just in time to see Maria push Sia’s limp body over the edge.

  Chapter 12

  “Sia!” Chris screamed her name, and it snapped her out of the fog the blow to her head had caused. With her last ounce of strength, Sia snagged the rail with the crook of her elbow and struggled to hold on. The arm on her injured side was also weak from the shoulder injury, but she ignored the dull ache. Her feet dangled in empty air.

  She panicked for a moment, and then realized she had to keep calm. She could hear Chris’s roar of anger and the sound of battle above her. And she understood the cunning of the woman who had wanted him dead six years ago. It was ironic Jackson was now wrestling with the man who resembled the very fiancé who had walked away from her, just as Sia wrestled with her past. Her former fiancé was one smart, lucky guy, it seemed.

  Her head cleared some more. Chris didn’t know Maria had a knife.

  Through sheer brute force and determination, Sia was able to get her body partially on the lip of the sponson. She could see a tangle of bodies as they struggled. Chris was intent on getting her to release the gun; he still didn’t see the knife.

  “Chris, she has a knife!” Sia screamed as loud as she could above the roar of the ocean and the storm.

  He jerked away from her as she struck, the knife hitting empty air. Maria cursed as she looked at Sia and brought the gun up. Chris grabbed her gun hand and then also had to stop the momentum of her knife hand. He rose and pinned her, his knee on her chest.

  Sia heard bones break and Maria cried out as she dropped the knife. It clattered to the deck and Chris dropped her hand to knock it away.

  With an inhuman howl, Maria hit Chris in the face with a vicious blow. He was knocked to the side but his momentum stripped the gun out of her hand and it slid to the solid wall of the carrier with a ringing metallic sound.

  Sia’s arms were going numb and she was beginning to lose her grip. She couldn’t hold on much longer. A huge, violent wave struck the ship and rolled over the flight deck, stinging her eyes. She lost her grip and slipped, crying out. Chris, distracted by the sound of her distress, looked her way, giving Maria the time she needed to go after the gun.

  Chris yelled, “Hold on!” and scrambled after Maria a split second later. If he didn’t end the fight soon, Sia was going to fall. Panic made her try to get better purchase on the rail, but the rain-slicked metal made it almost impossible.

  Her head spun from the blow, her stomach lurched with nausea and her heart beat in time to her frantic breathing.

  She looked up in time to see Chris catch Maria and deliver a powerful punch to her jaw. The woman flew back and landed heavily on Susan’s body. Maria remained motionless, finally, thankfully, unconscious.

  But it was too late for Sia. Her grip loosened and Chris was too far away. And her regrets piled up one on top of the other. She would never get the chance to tell him what was in her heart.

  Her sight dimmed to gray and she started to fall away from the ship. Suddenly, without warning, her wrist was snagged with a warm hand and Chris’s face was just above her. “Hang on, sweetheart, I got you.”

  Bracing his feet against the rail, he strained against her dead weight. With her head injury, she could barely help him at all. With a mighty heave of his powerful shoulders, he pulled her up and over the rail. She
heard voices as men swarmed down the ladder and onto the sponson. Chris cradled her in his arms. She looked up at him wordlessly, her eyes shining with gratitude. But she couldn’t maintain eye contact, couldn’t utter a sound as her world turned to black.

  * * *

  Standing in sick bay, dripping water all over the immaculate deck, he watched as Sia was set on a gurney and wheeled away from him into a separate room. A crewman handed him a towel and gave a pointed look at it and the deck. Chris wiped his face and neck.

  “Go get into some dry clothes,” the captain said.

  Chris didn’t move.

  “Go, Vargas. She’ll be in there for a while. We have a very competent doctor.”

  Chris went back to his stateroom and showered off the rainwater and Sia’s blood. He placed his clothes in evidence bags and zipped them shut. After dressing, he automatically reached for his firearm, but then remembered he’d had to turn it over to the Navy as evidence.

  He went down to the brig and found Maria had regained consciousness. She didn’t hold back and her sullen face only emphasized her cold and emotionless eyes as she confessed to everything. She’d be transferred from the ship and sent to Miramar, California, where she’d be then incarcerated at the Navy Consolidated Brig, or NAVCONBRIG.

  His phone rang just as he was done and he headed back to sick bay. His boss asked him for an update, and Chris filled him in on all the details, leaving nothing out. He listened while his boss told him about a mission that required his expertise. He needed to leave the carrier right away. There would be a flight waiting for him in San Diego headed for Afghanistan.

  He tried to protest, but his boss was firm. The McCloud case was wrapped up, he insisted. All that needed to be done was the paperwork.

  Chris went back to his stateroom and packed. In one of the pockets of his suitcase, he pulled out his wings. He carried them wherever he went. Making his way back to sick bay, he found Sia in one of the bay’s beds, still unconscious. She looked pale and so frail lying there. She had fought like a lion and he was so proud of her.

  His throat was full as he stood there hoping for some sign she would wake up. After several minutes, he could wait no longer. He didn’t want to leave her like this, but he had no choice.

  “Are you ready, Vargas?” the captain asked.

  * * *

  Sia came awake slowly. She could feel warm fingers stroking her face. Then at the material at her neckline, a rustling and then when the cloth was smoothed back a heaviness that hadn’t been there before along with metal against her skin.

  She struggled to come fully awake as she heard Chris’s voice as he spoke in low tones to someone.

  “No, I’ll just be a few more minutes.”

  Sia wanted to open her eyes, wanted to make her mouth move, but she couldn’t seem to throw off the lethargy. “That’s for you, Sia. I’ve put the past behind me and no longer need them. Maybe my wings will let you soar and you will remember me from time to time.”

  He was leaving? No, she had something important to tell him. He couldn’t go.

  “How is she?”

  That was the captain’s voice.

  “She’s stable. I stitched up her side and she has a severe concussion. With rest, she should be fine.” That unfamiliar voice must be the ship’s doctor.

  “And you, Vargas?”

  “No worse for wear, sir. I appreciate the quick transportation. I have a case in Afghanistan that needs my attention. I just got the call from my superior. They have a transport waiting for me in San Diego.”

  “We’ll be docking in about two hours, but the chopper is waiting for you.”

  She felt the stare of two men. “It’s a good thing you arrived in time to save her. And her legalman should be commended for having the presence of mind to call the ship and alert me to the danger.”

  “Yes, sir. I’ve got to be going.”

  “Take care of yourself, Vargas.”

  “Thank you, sir.”

  Sia stirred and opened her eyes. No one was with her as she sat up, her side protesting. She was in a gown, lying in sick bay, an IV in her arm. Her head spun and she wondered how long it had been since Chris had left.

  Without thinking, she pulled the IV out and swung her legs to the floor. Her knees buckled, but she pulled herself upright. Pain sliced into her side and her world spun, a terrible throbbing exploding in her head. She felt a heaviness at her neck and looked down. Chris had pinned his wings to her hospital gown and tears gathered in her eyes. She had to catch Chris. She had to talk to him. Now, in person.

  She held on to the bulkhead as she made her way to the door and out into the gangway. She picked up speed as she headed for the flight deck. Sailors gaped at her as she passed in her hospital gown and bare feet, but she didn’t care if her backside was hanging out.

  She had to talk to Chris.

  She reached the deck as her strength was waning. And saw him. She screamed his name, but all that she could get out was a croak. She ran a short distance to the deck, but Chris opened the helicopter door and set his bag inside. He followed it without looking back.

  Sorrow filled her along with a healthy dose of shame and regret. “Chris,” she said softly on a sob, clutching the wings in her hand, the edges biting into her palm. “Don’t go.” But as the doctor reached her, berating her for getting out of bed, Sia watched the chopper take off. She resisted as the doctor tried to get her back to sick bay. Watched until the chopper disappeared from her sight and Chris from her life.

  She resisted the doctor’s attempts to move her while time slipped away as she sat there questioning, remembering, hurting, mourning. She released all the tears she had held for Rafael, all the pain she had been so afraid to feel at his loss. It all came pouring out in a deluge, in a storm that shook her and drained her. She grieved alone. Just the way her brother had died. And on the deck of the carrier where he’d lived his last moments, she let go.

  * * *

  Chris faced forward, going on sheer determination. He was exhausted in the aftermath of apprehending Maria Jackson. She had confessed everything in a monotone voice, looking at him with accusing eyes as if she knew him.

  In the end, just like her former fiancé, Chris had ruined everything.

  He delivered the confession to the captain, who promised he would contact SECNAV and take care of expunging Chris’s record of the pilot-error ruling.

  Chris had told him not to bother, but he could see the captain wasn’t going to heed his request. Chris agreed with the captain that it was important to clear Rafael’s record.

  It was the last thing he could do for Sia.

  He turned his face away from the pilot as his eyes filled. Blinking away the tears was much easier than trying to clear the pain from his heart. He knew where Sia stood and it was clear from their last conversation she could never forgive him. Regardless of who was responsible for Rafael’s death, his jet had caused the accident. He felt raw at the thought that it was easier to forgive him when she thought he wasn’t responsible for his actions that day. For him, it was too little, too late. He couldn’t be with a woman who didn’t fully believe in him and support him no matter what.

  He loved her, but it was too late for them.

  As the chopper zoomed through the now bright blue sky, Chris closed his eyes and let sleep take him. When he got to Afghanistan he would have to hit the ground running. Best to get the rest he needed now.

  As he drifted into sleep, he couldn’t help the memory of Sia’s beautiful face from being the last thing he thought about before he succumbed to his fatigue.

  * * *

  Washington, D.C., in the spring was beautiful. A late spring had pushed the peak of the cherry blossoms to mid-May. Sia decided to walk from her hotel to Pennsylvania Avenue where the ceremony for her brother would be held. The sidewalk was packed with people celebrating Memorial Day.

  Two months had passed since Sia had left the U.S.S. James McCloud and she was due back in San Diego in two
months to testify at Lieutenant Maria Jackson’s court-martial. There was really no need for a trial, since the woman had confessed. But testimony would be taken to strip the woman of her rank and insignia for the acts she’d committed against Navy personnel, along with the destruction of millions of dollars’ worth of Navy property.

  Sia felt that was wholly justified, as her side twinged from the knife cut that had almost fully healed.

  She had made several inquiries into finding Chris, but NCIS was tight-lipped about where he was and had been uncooperative in granting her access to either his contact number or email. She had to wonder if that was because he had explicitly told them to keep his number private from her. She was shut out and would just have to wait until he returned from his mission.

  The need to talk to him burned in her gut as she rounded a corner and saw the Navy Memorial across the street.

  Stepping off the curb, she checked for traffic and crossed. She approached the rotunda that featured a granite sea map of the world, tall masts displaying signal flags, surrounded by fountain pools and waterfalls.

  She approached the statue of The Lone Sailor and stood in front of it for a moment, remembering her brother, remembering his courage and his dedication to defending his country. She remembered his bright blue eyes and dark hair, his handsome, smiling face.

  She remembered how she had striven to get him what he was due. A place where she could remember him for all times. A tangible place.

  But the satisfaction of reaching her goal dimmed in the wake of what had happened between her and Chris aboard the McCloud.

  She left the memorial and entered the exhibit area; another statue greeted her—a family embracing their loved one, home from the sea. Tears welled in Sia’s eyes as she realized she would only be welcoming her brother home in spirit. For the first time, it was enough.

  She located the room where the ceremony would take place and slipped in to take a seat in the second row. There was quite a crowd, all chattering as they settled in.