“We have no reports of a ship in distress in the area, Captain,” announced the communications officer.
Eric squinted, thinking. “What about fishing boats?” he snapped.
“No, sir, no reports.”
Looking once more at his first officer, he dreaded what he needed to do. “Send out a rescue team to check it out,” he barked as he handed the binoculars off to one of the crew members and strode off the bridge, digging into each step, heading directly to the ship’s launch. The crew hurried around him, feet pounding the deck. All of them knew their roles, what was expected, and there was no hesitation. Joe jogged up beside him, and they watched as the small rigid hull of the rescue boat, with its team aboard, splashed into the water and sped off toward the dinghy.
His heartbeat was slamming now inside his chest, so hard and loud that he glanced at Joe, wondering whether he could hear the thump that roared in his ears. Beads of sweat ran down his brow, his back, under his arms, and his short-sleeved tan shirt was sticking to his back.
At times, he hated not knowing, because he had to think quickly and respond just as fast. His work was a love-hate relationship, a marriage really, the only one he’d ever have and could never live without.
“So what do you think?” Joe leaned on the rail, staring after the team, and then raised a pair of binoculars to his eyes.
“I don’t know, dammit. Wish I did. I don’t like sending them out like this. Maybe I should have gone.”
“Not your job, Captain. You stay with the ship. Let the men do what they need to. They’re trained for this; you’re not.”
Eric knew Joe was right, but he’d never admit it. He didn’t like being told what to do by anyone, including Joe. This attitude was a challenge in the Navy and had gotten Eric into more hot water than he could measure. “Maybe so, but I’m still the captain here,” he barked, mainly because he would always have the last word, and he reached over and snatched the binoculars from Joe.
“You’re right, Captain, you are, which is why you need to be leading the crew on the ship.”
This time, Eric just glared at Joe. Joe should have stepped back, apologized, but when Eric turned away, he also knew Joe was the only one who never reacted in fear to him, the only one who could get away with speaking to him that way. He raised the binoculars again and studied, helpless from this distance, as the three-man team approached, then secured the dinghy. If something went wrong, there was nothing he could do from here. This part he really hated, as he waited with unease squeezing his gut tighter and tension knotting its way across his shoulders until they were so tight his neck began to throb.
The radio Joe held crackled: “There’s someone in here, a woman, and she’s in pretty bad shape.”
Eric didn’t know what to think, but he also knew that with the hostile situation in the area, this could be anything. He snatched the radio from Joe. “If it’s a body, don’t touch it. Could be booby trapped. Check for wires or anything unusual.”
The line clicked with static. “Captain, she’s still breathing. Don’t see anything on her,” the deep voice hissed. Eric nodded to Joe and handed him the radio.
“Bring her back. Secure the dinghy,” Joe ordered.
Eric watched the scene as two crewmen lifted a body. He knew the other crewmen were searching for wires or traps, anything unusual. Then they moved her into the small, rigid rescue boat.
“Someone get Lieutenant Saunders on deck,” Eric shouted to a crew member. At this moment, he was grateful Lieutenant Larry Saunders, the senior medical officer from the Vincent Carrier, was still aboard and had scheduled this week for training with the onboard hospital corpsmen. “Bring her up!”
Crewmen shouted and worked as another team went down to secure the dinghy. The crew hovered, hands reached out, and the team lowered a woman to the deck. Eric watched and studied, but he couldn’t believe what he was seeing. She was soaked and wearing a heavy blue sack-like dress. She was barefoot, and she was an absolute mess. A blanket was draped over her.
“Move back. Let me through!” Lieutenant Saunders was a solid man, about average height. He was much shorter than Eric, who was well over six feet. Larry pushed through all the testosterone, crowding around the young woman. “I need some room here,” he said loudly as he squatted down beside her.
“Everyone who doesn’t need to be here, move back to your stations,” Joe shouted at the crew, who were pushing and crowding around the woman.
Eric moved closer and stood just behind Larry, studying her face. She appeared young, and her eyes were closed, but it was the bruises on her face, her lip swollen and split, with dried blood crusting over it, that made him angry.
She tossed her head to the side. “Ohhh,” she mumbled. Her eyelids strained as she struggled to open them.
“Easy, take it easy.” Larry rested his hand on her shoulder as she moved her head to the side, blinking, her eyes staring up at the sky and then locking on to Eric. For a minute, she blinked and lifted her arm. When she tried to move, she screamed.
“Don’t move. I need a stretcher in here!” Larry shouted.
Eric watched her and her wide eyes, which appeared confused and panicked, as if she couldn’t make sense of anything.
“W-where am I?” Her voice was dry and raspy, and then she coughed.
“Get her some water,” Eric said to a sailor. He squatted beside her as the doctor moved away. Eric brushed his hand over her shoulder when she stared at him with wild-eyed fear from the most amazing baby blue eyes he’d ever seen. “It’s going to be okay.”
“Are you an angel?” she said.
What the hell? That was not what he expected. Before he could answer, a cocky voice called out from the group of sailors behind him, “Oh, that’s one he’s definitely not been called before.” Several others chuckled, and Eric was tempted to kick some ass, though he couldn’t quite figure out which one of them had said it.
He draped his other arm over his knee and swiped a hand over his jaw, feeling the bristled hair that he still needed to shave. “I’m Captain Hamilton with the US Navy. You’re aboard my ship, the USS Larsen. We recovered your dinghy off the starboard bow. Can you tell us where you came from, what you’re doing out here?”
She squinted eyes that appeared so fragile. “The US Navy, the United States Navy?” she asked in a way that was almost pleading as tears spilled and traced a path down the sides of her face. She swiped at them and then her nose. “Really, am I safe?”
Eric glanced over his shoulder at Joe, who was also watching her. It was obvious he didn’t know what to make of her, either. Her hand was shaking, so Eric took it in his to try to calm her down, and she held on tight in a way that surprised him for someone in such bad shape. “What’s your name, honey?”
“Abby. My name is Abby,” she said, her voice dry and raspy.
“Abby, you’re safe and under the protection of the US Navy.”
“Captain, please.” Lieutenant Saunders moved to her other side. “Abby, take a drink of water.” He lifted her head, pressed the cup to her lips. She tried to guzzle it, but Larry pulled it away before she downed it all. “Slowwww now. Nice and easy, or you’ll be sick.”
“How long was I out there?” She sounded breathless.
“I was hoping you could tell me,” Eric said, as she kept seeking him out, her eyes on him. She shook her head, and creases appeared between her brows. She was obviously thinking. Eric watched her eyes, studying her to see if this was a trick, a game.
“I don’t know. I couldn’t stay awake.” Her voice shook, and she struggled to pull away, to sit up.
“Whoa, don’t move.” Eric held her shoulders down. “No, just lie still, Abby.”
“Abby, I need to get you down and take a look at you, make sure you’re okay,” Larry said. Two crewmen set a litter beside the captain, and he moved back and watched as they lifted Abby and the blanket fell away. He heard the outburst behind him, but that was nothing compared to his own shock as he stared
at the swollen belly of a very pregnant woman.
“Where are you taking me?” Her eyes widened with fear as the two sailors adjusted straps to secure her to the litter. She was starting to fight them, and she was very afraid.
Eric moved in and put his face close to hers. “Abby, I need you to look at me. Calm down, you’re safe. Right now, we’re strapping you to the litter to move you to sickbay. I need you to tell me you understand. We’re not going to hurt you.”
She searched his eyes with hers, which appeared so vulnerable and innocent, yet at the same time, it was as if she’d seen everything horrible in the world. She grabbed his shirt and fisted her hand in the damp cotton. He didn’t try to pry her hand away. He covered it with his and held it against him, pressing his other hand over her forehead and smoothing back her hair.
“Take a breath. Slow down. Let it out slowly. Come on. That’s it, good girl,” he said. She shivered and then glanced at the doctor on the other side. “Keep your eyes on me, Abby.”
She was absolutely petrified, like a woman on the edge, and for the first time he felt as if he needed to talk her down. She stared at him, watched him, blinked, and breathed out hard again and again until he felt her hand relax on him.
“Good girl. Okay, let’s move her,” he said as he stood up, slipping her hand from his shirt and nodding to the crewmen. They lifted her, and she started to sob. “Abby, I’m right behind you.” Eric tried to get her to look at him and smiled to calm her so she didn’t become hysterical. She was obviously afraid of something. Eric touched her foot so she would know he was there and walked beside the stretcher until they reached the hatch.
“Everyone, back to your stations. Show’s over,” Joe ordered the remaining crew.
“What do you make of this, Doc?”
“Don’t know. I think someone worked her over. By the looks of her dehydration and being pregnant… well, let me have a look, but just know we’re not equipped for this, not here.”
“Got it, Doc.” Eric fell in beside the doctor behind the stretcher, boots clanging on the metal floor of the passageway.
“Watch your side,” one of the crewmen shouted to the other as they turned and lifted the stretcher through the hatch and into sickbay.
Eric gestured for the doctor to hang back so Abby couldn’t hear. “Just say the word, and we fly her off.”
Larry paused and studied the captain for a second. His freckled face and round cheeks showed his worry, and he inclined his head, then stepped into sickbay. “Put her on the table,” he ordered as Abby was unstrapped and moved. The two young sailors stared at Abby, who was lying helpless.
“That’ll be all.” Eric dismissed them so they wouldn’t linger anymore.
“Lieutenant Lynn, we need some help here,” Larry said.
Todd Lynn brushed past the sailors as he stepped into sickbay. He was another tall, good-looking sailor, with a million-dollar smile all the ladies swooned for when he walked into a room. “What happened to her?” he asked.
“She was found in a dinghy like this. Let’s get these wet clothes off her.”
Lynn used a pair of scissors to cut off the clothes and dumped them in a heap on the floor, covering her with a sheet. Eric didn’t turn away, although watching her naked before a sheet was draped over her had rocked him. She was staring at him again, as if she was reaching out for his hands.
They checked her blood pressure, and the doctor was talking to her. “Where does it hurt, Abby? She’s got heavy bruising around her ribs. Let’s roll her on her side.”
“Here. It hurts here.” She touched her chest and moaned when they turned her.
“I know it hurts, Abby.” The doctor placed the stethoscope in his ears and listened as he leaned down. “Take a deep breath, Abby. Hold it.” She scrunched her face. Larry pulled the stethoscope off and looped it around his neck. “Sounds rough. What’s the BP?”
“One-fifty over eighty-five. Got some bruising here, too, around her kidneys.” Eric walked around and saw the purplish bruising on her back. “Some older bruising here, too.”
“I’m going to check your ribs here.” Larry slid his hand under her breast and probed.
“Ohhh!” she cried out.
“I know, Abby.” Larry lifted his chin and glanced at the captain. “Bruised for sure. Hasn’t punctured the lungs, though. The ribs may be cracked. Abby, how far along are you in your pregnancy?”
Abby was still on her side, but she turned her head and watched Eric. “I’m not sure. I think I have another three weeks.”
“Okay, on your back again.”
They rolled her, and the lieutenant placed a towel over her breast and pulled the sheet down. The doctor probed her swollen belly. “When was the last time you felt the baby move, Abby?”
She shook her head. She scrunched her eyes and searched out Eric again. “I don’t know. It’s been a while. Is my baby okay?”
“Right now I just want you to stay calm. I’m checking everything out, and in a minute we’re going to listen to the baby’s heart.”
Larry raised his head and gave the captain a look. Eric knew he was worried and wanted to make sure the lady stayed calm, so he stepped around the doctor and stood beside Abby.
“Let the doc finish his exam before you panic, okay? Just relax.”
She reached for his hand. Hers was so tiny and frail, and his big one all but swallowed it. She turned her head into his hand, brushing the side of it. He tried to picture her without the bruises, and to him she was stunning, innocent, but what the hell was she was doing in the middle of a war zone?
“Abby, I’m going to listen to the baby’s heartbeat. This may be a little cold.” The doctor placed the stethoscope in a few spots on her belly and listened, then stared at his watch as if counting. “The baby sounds good. That’s a good thing, Abby.” He draped the stethoscope around his neck and patted her arm.
She started crying, and she wouldn’t let go of Eric’s hand. “I’m sorry.” She suddenly looked so embarrassed as she dropped her eyes and then started to pull her hand away, helplessly wiping her tears and her nose.
“Abby, here’s a Kleenex.” Lynn handed her a couple, and she took them and blew her nose.
“Captain, can I have a word?” the doc asked as he tucked the stethoscope back into a secured drawer.
Eric watched Abby as she lay there, looking so lost and vulnerable, her eyes puffy and red from tears. At the same time, she was doing everything she could to hide her humiliation. He’d seen rock bottom many times, and he recognized when someone was there.
“Abby, I’ll be right back. I need to have a word with the doc.” He settled his hand on her bare shoulder and didn’t miss the way she reached out to him with her eyes but then blinked away as if ashamed. Just from that touch, he sensed her fear, her need, and a shadow of something that had her pulling away. “Lieutenant, check her vitals again in a few minutes and see if you can get some juice into her.”
“Yes, sir.”
“So, Doc, tell me: What’s the verdict?”
Larry squeezed the back of his neck, wincing. “She’s extremely dehydrated, and I suspect her body is breaking down protein, which is a problem for the baby. However, once we get her hydrated and some food into her, we should see an improvement.” He crossed his arms and glanced at Abby and the lieutenant, who was checking her vitals again, and rubbed his jaw before crossing his arms, turning away. “I am concerned about the bruised ribs. She’s tender, but I don’t think they’re broken or cracked. Her right ankle is slightly swollen, and from the looks of things, I would say there’s a mild sprain. It’s definitely not broken.”
Eric was a tall man, so he could easily watch Abby as Lieutenant Saunders described her injuries. He just couldn’t reconcile in his mind how someone could beat a woman—how could someone drive their fists into a pregnant woman? But he’d seen so much ugliness that he’d given up trying to understand the monsters that lurked inside so many, leading them to do the most despicably evi
l things.
“Whoever did this didn’t just slap her around; they used their fists on her,” Saunders said. “She was beaten pretty bad, and it doesn’t appear to be the first time, either. The baby appears to be okay. Heartbeat’s strong. It looks like her face got the worst of it.”
A dark purple bruise outlined her cheek and slightly swollen left eye, the same collage of colors as her jaw. Her lips were dry and cracked, the right side of her lower lip swollen with dried blood. Eric had to force himself to look away as he felt a rage building inside him. Just let me find who did this and give me five minutes alone with the bastard. I’ll make him pay.
Eric was far from a saint. He’d been called the devil himself by some, and he loved a good fight. He’d been in so many, driving his fists into lowlife scum, but it went against everything he believed in to hit a woman. Any man that would stoop so low was not a man, in his book. Men were supposed to love and protect women, not use them as punching bags. He had seen it so many times, drunken sailors assaulting their girlfriends, and, as he thought about it, he still remembered the last time he’d tried to step in, back in homeport, while stationed in San Diego.
One night, he had been at the local pub with a few friends. They’d met for a night of pool to catch up and shoot the shit when a young, arrogant sailor started arguing with a young girl and then slapped her across the face. One minute, Eric was holding his pool cue. The next, he’d snapped it in half across that sailor, yanked him by the collar, and pounded his face with two sharp jabs until he’d fallen to the floor, blood trickling from his mouth. Eric still couldn’t believe how that girl had reacted. She’d screamed and dropped to her knees, hovering over that useless prick and pleading with Eric to leave him alone because it was her fault—she’d provoked him.
The sailor had pushed her away, and Eric’s friends grabbed his arms and said, “Let’s go.”
Eric had jerked away and jabbed his finger in the girl’s face, shouting, “Get yourself together! What’s wrong with you, letting some guy knock you around? Don’t you have any self-respect?” He then leaned down at the sailor, who tried to get up until he met the monster who stared back at him, and Eric became aware of the sailor’s reaction to him: His eyes widened, and fear or perhaps recognition of who Eric was obviously cut through his drunkenness. “If I ever catch you hitting another woman again, I will take you out back and kick the crap out of you... you piece of shit!”
Danger Deception Devotion The Firsts Page 50