FOR HIS EYES ONLY

by Candace Irvin

  He didn't wait for an answer as he turned and sauntered down the passageway. He snapped the door to Medical shut behind him and concentrated on accommodating for the pitch and roll of the ship as he headed back to Jade's shops, struggling all the way to catalog the information he'd just gleaned.

  The plan was working!

  He grinned and practically laughed aloud as he headed down the midships ladder. In fact, it was working better than he'd dared to hope if that score was any indication. A twenty, huh?

  His grin faded as he reached the bottom of the ladder. Who the hell was Jeff? And what had he done to her? Had he given that necklace to Jade? If so, why was she still wearing it? The only reason that came to mind stopped him cold. Nope, that particular reason did not bode well for his plans.

  Not well at all.

  * * *

  "Steaming course one-eight-zero for the rest of the night, speed—fifteen knots. Winds at zero-two-zero, no contacts visible on the horizon, steering drills to be conducted during the watch at my discretion." Jade nodded as she finished repeating the spiel to the off-going Officer of the Deck and saluted. "Very well, Lieutenant Shale, I have the Deck."

  The lieutenant returned her salute and announced the changing of the watch to the bridge in general. "Attention on Deck. This is Lieutenant Shale. Lieutenant Parker has the Deck."

  She completed the turnover as Shale headed for the chart table to sign the ship's log, "This is Lieutenant Parker, I have the Deck."

  The navigator passed the ship's log to Greg for his signature and glanced over. "Quartermaster, aye."

  "Boatswain's mate, aye."

  Jacobs looked up from the ship's wheel. "Helmsman, aye. Steering one-eight-zero."

  "Very well." Jade motioned Reese over from the back of the bridge. She slung the strap to her binoculars around her neck and sighed as the familiar weight dropped to her chest.

  Reese cocked a brow as he approached. "Heavy?"

  She shook her head, smiling. "More like heaven."

  For the first time in a week, he looked truly baffled.

  She snagged an extra pair of binoculars off the chart table and held them out, laughing as he stared at them as if she held a spoonful of cough syrup. "Come on, they don't bite." She pointed to the open watertight door off their right. "Head out on the starboard bridge wing. I'll meet you in a couple of minutes."

  He finally took them, looping them around his neck as he passed through the skin of the ship.

  Jade turned back to the bridge, verifying the Baddager's course and speed and glancing at the radar before she headed out onto the port bridge wing. She sighed as she lifted her binoculars to study the horizon. On a clear day, you could see over twenty deep blue miles in every direction. Today was clear—warm, too.

  She pulled off her cover, tucking the bill into her waistband at the small of her back as she embraced the salty air. This was what being a sailor was all about. The sun in your face, the sea in your lungs, the waves crashing in your ears. Land two hundred miles astern and more than a thousand ahead. All you had to do was stand still, feel the deck roll beneath your feet and look around to know the one absolute truth in life.

  God was a sailor.

  She drew another deep breath, filling her lungs to the brim, and then sighed. Yeah, this was heaven all right. And the best part was heaven knew no rank. It was here for anyone who wanted it—captain, lieutenant, chief, right down to the most junior seaman aboard. Even civilians.

  But would Reese?

  And would he understand? Could he move past all the electronics, the computers and the weapons to feel the true call of the sea? Would he embrace it? Would he feel it down in his soul? Because only then would he have a chance at conveying a real sailor on some TV show.

  Jade donned her ball cap and turned back to the bridge, suddenly anxious to find out. She stopped in the center of the row of windows spanning the eighty-foot width, checking the radar and scanning the darkening horizon again before she joined Reese.

  He was against the rail, his back to her as he stared off at the sunset beyond.

  "How's the arm?" She sucked in her breath, gripping the binoculars tightly as he turned and smiled, the blue in his eyes somewhere between the sky and the darker ocean below.

  "Fine."

  "I am sorry."

  He glanced at the bandage covering his stitches. "Don't be. Doesn't even hurt anymore."

  She doubted that, but returned his smile, anyway. "Not the gash—though I did speak to Vega about taking better care of you." She sighed, forcing her way past the lump of shame in her throat. "I'm sorry for treating you the way I did. I know—we agreed to let it drop. I just want you to know I'm doing it right this time." She lifted the binoculars to study this side of the horizon.

  Yes! Reese grinned as victory flooded him. He'd done it. He'd finally managed to bridge Jade's trust. Yes, she'd made the same promise in her stateroom. But that one was coerced—this one was not.

  And that made all the difference.

  By next week, those keys would be his. He could feel it. He closed his fist, almost feeling them. All he had to do now was find a way to get the codes off Lieutenant Coffey. And even that might not be as difficult as it seemed. If he was lucky, he'd get another crack at that keypad when they picked up the mutilated dummy for Jade's birthday. If not? Well, then it was back to courting her favor.

  And frankly, that wasn't such a bad place to be—even if it was on a damn ship. His gut tightened in wholehearted agreement as he watched her stare out at the ocean. The sun was setting behind her now, the fiery sky defining her profile in colors more vivid than the scarlet cap on her head.

  The tightening in his gut moved lower, turning painful as she dropped the binoculars to her chest, tipping her face into the breeze, inhaling slowly, deeply—her sigh more at home in a coil of steamy, tangled sheets than on the deck of some blasted ship.

  He almost groaned as she turned to him, sighing again. Oh, God, that smile definitely belonged in a bed—his bed. He wrapped his fingers around the ship's safety rail, holding on for dear life as he ripped the image from his mind.

  The means to an end, buddy.

  "I need to make rounds and talk to the Boatswain Mate. Back in a few."

  Reese stared after her as she entered the bridge and checked the radars, losing sight of her as she exited the opposite side, no doubt to scan the horizon. It was his turn to sigh as he leaned over the rail of the bridge wing, staring into the bottomless water below, hating it.

  The ocean.

  He wasn't fooled by the beauty beneath him. It was nothing more than a watery mirage. One that masked more than barren emptiness—it masked a monster. A cold, heartless creature that clawed its way into a man's heart, hooking into him so tightly he never knew it until it was too late.

  He turned his gaze away, staring at the swaths of gold, orange and red as the sun slipped down to the horizon, wondering if Jade had already been snared. Wondering if there was still time to save her.

  "You know, if you're very quiet and the sea is very calm, you can hear the sun sizzle as it touches the water and sinks below."

  Reese turned his head and froze—unable to move, unable to speak.

  Unable to breathe.

  And not from that husky voice. It wasn't even the slender hand resting on his arm. It was the hair. Her hair.

  It was bare.

  Yes, it was still twisted into that thick braid, the long tail still tucked under at the base of her neck. But what he could see was shimmering in the receding light, the final rays of day catching it, igniting the blue flame within. He dug his fingers into the rail as the breeze picked up, swirling the wispy bangs into her eyes. He stared at her fingers, hypnotized as she caught and smoothed them back.

  And then he nearly screamed as she brought that damn red hat up from behind and butchered his view.

  He turned away sharply, hiding the breath that came out in a blistering rush. The means to an end.

  He took
a shallow breath and turned back. "So tell me why you joined the Navy."

  There.

  That should do it. If any topic could bring his raging desire to heel, that one would. He took another breath, praying she wouldn't give him the answer he dreaded. Praying like crazy the only thing she had in common with his insidious ghost was the uniform.

  She blinked—and then shook her head as she smiled. "You of all people should know the answer to that."

  For a split second, he thought she'd read his mind and he panicked. Then he calmed as she lifted her palms and turned slowly around.

  "Look around you, Macbeth. What do you see?"

  Water. And a helluva lot of it. More than he cared to see in this lifetime, anyway.

  She completed her circle and pointed up. "Now, look at the sky. Pretty soon it will be black—pitch-black. I'm talking so dark and pollution-free you could count every star and pluck them with your bare hands if you had the time. Do you know how many people pay to be where you and I are, right here and right now?"

  Her blinding smile lowered the tip of the stake until it pierced his chest. But it was her next words that drove it home. "I didn't choose the Navy, Reese—it chose me." She sighed. "Can you understand that?"

  Yeah, he understood. More than she knew. Thirty years of frustration and abandonment clamored for restitution as yet another disciple prostrated herself before that damn, selfish idol. He understood all right.

  His father had made sure of it.

  He shifted slightly, escaping her gaze as he glared out at the sea. The Navy had provided dear old Dad with all this grandeur as well—and more. But look what it demanded in return.

  His soul.

  Oh, it started out slowly enough. So slowly, the man never saw it coming. A promotion here, another ship there. By the time he'd figured it out, he no longer seemed to care. Or maybe he'd just forgotten he even had a life off the boat. Because he certainly couldn't remember he had a home. A wife.

  Kids.

  He turned back to Jade, more determined than ever to solve the case and get off the ship as quickly as he could. Because there was no way in hell he was starring in a remake of that particular nightmare. And he was prepared to do what it took to make sure of it.

  Whatever it took.

  * * *

  "DCA! Number two fire pump is off-line—firemain is ninety-five psi and falling!"

  Reese glanced over the heads of the ten-odd sailors separating him from Jade, trying to gauge her reaction to the stress in the kid's voice. He caught a glimpse of the back of her steel helmet, marked DCA, just before another sailor off her right cupped a hand to his sound-powered earphones and called out another update.

  "Repair Three reports the fire in Lieutenant Wynne's stateroom has spread to the adjacent space."

  And then another voice joined the fray. "Electrical power has been secured in the machine shop. Repair Five fire teams are preparing to access the space."

  Jade finally stepped back from the set of huge shipwide schematics attached to the far wall of Damage Control Central. Still staring at the charts, she fired off a round of acknowledgments. "Very well. Decker, have Engineering bring number three fire pump on-line. Advise me when firemain is up and rising. Sanders, tell Repair Five not to crack the seal on that watertight door until firemain is above 125 psi. Smith, get Dannon down to pump room two and fix that pump."

  "Aye, aye, ma'am." The three Petty Officers responded in unison and turned to carry out her orders.

  "DCA, Captain's on line two."

  Jade nodded and held out a hand. "Thanks, Smith. Sanders, inform Repair Two I'm shifting my assets. I want their primary hose team sent to Repair Three."

  A couple of sailors played pass-the-phone until the receiver reached her. "DCA here. Captain, I need the Officer of the Deck to alter course. Topside scouts report our present one is trapping smoke inside the ship." She paused, apparently listening to the other end.

  "DCA, number three fire pump is on-line. Fireman's at 132 psi."

  Jade sent a thumbs-up over her shoulder, then turned and caught Reese's eye, waving him to her side, the phone still at her ear. "Aye, aye, Captain. DCA out."

  She passed the receiver back as he wove his way through the bodies, curious to see what she could possibly need from him. The Captain wasn't kidding when he'd said he'd assigned Jade as his running mate because she was the best officer in the command. She was.

  Jade smiled up at him beneath her battle helmet as he reached her side. "Confused?"

  He readjusted his own as he grinned back, answering honestly, "Yup."

  Her husky laugh carved a crater into the center of his gut. "Then listen up, I've probably got ten seconds before the next crisis hits."

  She was taking time out from this shouting madhouse to explain it to him? He hoped to hell the grin on his face wasn't as big as it felt. Just three days at sea, and he was well on his way to gaining her complete trust. At this rate, he might even have the keys before the week was out.

  Luckily, she'd already turned back to the laminated charts. "These plates depict every inch of the Baddager to scale. As you already know, the ship is divided into three sections, from the weather decks right down to the keel. Repair Two is responsible for the bow, Repair Three for amidships, and Repair Five the aft end."

  She pointed to the line of black grease pencil she'd added to the diagram, extending out from the midsection of the plate marked USS Baddager, AD-52: Deck 01. "These are called damage control symbols. They help me track the various fires and flooding—drill or real—as they occur throughout the ship. See? This one tells me the missile entered the port side of the ship here."

  She traced the box she'd drawn around several compartments. "We lost these four outer staterooms in the initial explosion. This part of the diagram tracks the actual damage control progress." One by one, she pointed to the symbols. "Fire and smoke boundaries have been established. Electrical power has been secured in the area and hose teams have entered the space and have the fire under control. However—" she tapped her finger on the next square "—due to extreme heat, we sparked another fire in this adjacent stateroom."

  "DCA, Repair Five hose team has accessed the watertight door and entered the machine shop."

  "Very well, Sanders." Jade didn't look up as she flipped the plate back to reveal another chart, this one marked Deck Three. She added a symbol with her grease pencil and then continued the brief.

  "The second missile impacted here in the machine shop. Again, fire and smoke boundaries have been set, electrical power secured, and—as you just heard—our hose team has accessed the space and begun battling the blaze. Due to the extent of damage reports in my possession, I've concluded that this second warhead did not explode."

  Reese whistled. "Not bad for two hours' work."

  She laughed and glanced around the room. "In reality, this would take a whole lot more—all day. But why put everyone through it for that long if we don't have to?"

  He definitely agreed. The sooner this drill ended and the ventilation kicked back on, the happier and cooler they'd all be—her included. He hadn't missed the way she'd been rubbing the perspiration from beneath her helmet every now and then. But he wasn't surprised she didn't complain.

  He hadn't heard her grumble once in the past three days. Not about the sleep he knew she hadn't slept, the meals she hadn't eaten, or the free time she plainly did not have. He was beginning to think the woman existed on coffee alone. And it wasn't healthy.

  He ought to know.

  "Excuse me, DCA?"

  They both turned to face the guy with tattooed thighs for arms. The one who'd been manning the phones and repeating each stage of the drill's progression over the ship's loudspeaker—or 1MC, as Jade called it. "What do you need, Smith?"

  Reese caught the pointed glance the guy shot in his direction—and Jade's responding, almost imperceptible nod.

  "Go ahead, Smith."

  "It's Repair Two, DCA. They still haven't sen
t that fire team you requested to Repair Three."

  Reese also caught the streak of pure fury in her gray eyes before she conquered it. The serene smile she replaced it with didn't fool him for a second. "Petty Officer Smith, do me a favor and contact the Repair Two Locker Officer over the phone. Tell him if he doesn't cough up that hose team soon, I'm going to pay him a visit and pull it out of his hind end personally."

  Smith grinned, obviously relishing the task. "I take it I can quote you on that, ma'am?"

  She nodded solemnly. "You may."

  Reese stared down at her as Smith spun around to do her bidding. "Let me guess, Lieutenant Dillon's the Repair Two Locker Officer."

  Jade's lips twisted into the semblance of a real smile. "Macbeth, you must have ESP."

  He noted the new tension in her shoulders as she turned back to the charts. No, but he sure as hell wished he did.

  "DCA, Repair Five reports the fire in the machine shop is under control."

  "Very well, Decker. Sanders, ask Lieutenant Shale if he needs any more firefighters beyond what he's been sent. Smith, have Ensign Turner send fifteen extra sailors from the pool on the mess decks to Repair Three to suit up, just in case."

  "Aye, aye, ma'am."

  Reese clenched his hands together as she rolled her shoulders, swamped by the ever-increasing urge to lift his hands and rub the tension out himself.

  "DCA, Repair Five reports the fire in the machine shop is now out!"

  Her sigh was almost inaudible as she closed her eyes. "One down, two to go."

  "Desmoking and overhaul of the fire is in progress in the machine shop."

  She stepped up to the charts and added another symbol.

  "DCA, Repair Three reports the fires in Lieutenant Wynne's stateroom and the adjacent space are now out!"

  That elicited an honest-to-God smile. "Petty Officer Smith, pass the word over the 1MC to the crew—all fires throughout the ship are now out." Then she turned around to address the sailors still clustered around. "Relax battle dress in Damage Control Central."

  A collective sigh ripped through them as they yanked off steel helmets, unhooked the gas masks dangling from their hips and rolled up their sleeves as far as possible. Reese could have sworn he heard the blessed sound of ventilation kicking on as Smith broke the seal on the heavy watertight door to the space.