Rebirth (Cross Book 1)

by Hildred Billings

  “Lieutenant Cromwell, member of nearly three years.” Miranda stood behind the colonel, arms crossed behind a clipboard and brown eyes narrower than usual. “Member due to physical discrepancies,” she continued to read from her cheat sheet. “Member due to disability in lieu of discharge.”

  Colonel Noyes took the clipboard from Miranda’s hand and stared at the information. His breathing was heavier than a small windstorm rattling the attic windows. “Feeling better these days, Lieutenant?” he asked without looking up from the file.

  “Yes, sir!” No details. None were necessary.

  “Excellent. Shows real dedication.” He handed the clipboard back to Miranda before moving on to Troy.

  The rest of the morning went on without contest, although Danielle counted each minute that went by with a fervent desire to get to lunch and heave her sighs of relief. Usually, the inspection would be over by the afternoon, and everyone could resume their usual demeanors.

  At lunch, Danielle entered the break room and fetched her coffee cup from the shelf. Java. She needed some damned caffeine to get through the sure-to-be sleepy afternoon from hell.

  “Good. You haven’t left for lunch yet.”

  Danielle’s break was cut short by Miranda, who walked in with a visage that glowed the moment she saw the lieutenant alone in the break room. “I need to talk to you.”

  What the hell had she done? What now?

  “Calm your shoulders, Lieutenant. I only have a favor to ask of you. You’re not in trouble.” Miranda scoffed. “Yet.”

  Oh, sure, so she could be soon enough!

  Danielle refused to turn around. “Dare I ask?”

  “The colonel wants to see a prowess demonstration before he leaves. From me.”

  Danielle grimaced. Wait. For. It.

  “I need you to be my sparring partner.”

  The coffee cup almost hit the sink. “Excuse me?”

  “It works in your favor, really. The colonel put you on his list of officers he wants to see under another review.” Before Danielle could express shock, Miranda continued. “If you can prove to him that you’re more than physically capable of staying in the military, then it won’t be a problem. On the other hand, you are I are about the same height and weight, so it’s a fair match for the both of us. I’ll even go easy on you, Cromwell.”

  Danielle put her cup away and shot Miranda a lurid look. “Do I have a choice?”

  “Of course you do, but it would behoove you to follow me.”

  “I haven’t sparred in a while. You’ll probably win, regardless.”

  “Then that works out for me, doesn’t it? Can’t have a captain who gets her ass kicked by a lowly lieutenant.” Miranda headed toward the door. “Be in the gym upstairs by 1:30 so we can get this over with.”

  It took every ounce of resistance for Danielle to not throw her cup across the room. Wrestling with the captain she had an inappropriate crush on never sounded like a good idea, but who was she to judge what sounded reasonable anymore?

  ***

  “Shit, did you hear? Hottie’s gonna spar with Cromwell!”

  That’s all it took to get half the department suddenly finding themselves “needing a workout” in the gym on the fourth floor. Whether it was self-deprecating curiosity that drove them to be conveniently within eyesight of the wrestling mats, or flat-out sadistic amusement, Danielle was not thrilled to find a handful of her coworkers snickering as she shuffled her way to the locker room at 1:15.

  The gym was a common escape in the later afternoon when all assigned work was finished, but Danielle was used to going by herself or with Troy for the workout, not to meet up with her commander so the entire building could watch them throw each other across the room. Danielle forced a lump of bile down her throat as she approached her locker and took out her athletic clothing. She was alone as she stripped off her khakis in favor of a sports bra, a navy-blue T-shirt emblazoned with her branch’s logo, and a pair of black basketball shorts. The sneakers were worn, but still fit. Under normal circumstances, she would feel ready for a workout. This time? She didn’t feel anything aside from the nerves digging into the pit of her stomach like a tapeworm.

  She covered her tattoo with a sweatband when a pair of footsteps trudged up to the mirror. Surprise shot through Danielle’s veins as she turned to see Miranda clipping a series of barrettes into her shoulder-length hair.

  “I hope you’ve done some stretching,” Miranda said. “There’s been a rash of people tearing ligaments lately because they’re too stupid to stretch.”

  “I like to think I know enough exercise science to help me pass sixth grade PE.”

  Miranda cocked her head in Danielle’s direction before heading into the gym. “I’m sure you’re athletic, anyway.”

  Danielle grimaced. Why did everything that woman said have to sound like innuendo? Probably because Danielle wanted everything coming out of Miranda’s mouth to be innuendo.

  She couldn’t shake the glances firing from all directions as she entered the gym a few seconds later. She found Miranda and Colonel Noyes conversing on the edge of the wrestling mats and resigned herself to joining them so they could get this embarrassing charade over with.

  “Ah, yes, remember Lieutenant Cromwell? She’s the one I’ll be sparring with today.” Miranda’s reassuring smile only made Danielle more nauseous.

  The colonel scoped Danielle out with approval. “I take it you feel up to this challenge, Lieutenant? I know that Captain Hotchner is more than capable at fisticuffs.”

  “Yes, sir. I’m up to the task.”

  “Lieutenant Cromwell is strong, Colonel,” Miranda said. “She was fourth in her class.”

  Danielle had forgotten that. After all, if she didn’t make top three, then what was the point of remembering? Yet Colonel Noyes was impressed. Good. While Danielle hadn’t had a proper spar in several weeks, she hoped she was good enough to fight Miranda for a few minutes. Weren’t commanding officers expected to train twice as hard? Or was it the other way around?

  “Excellent.” Colonel Noyes backed away from the mats. “I’m excited to see this demonstration. What’s the flavor this afternoon?”

  “Well…” Miranda shot Danielle a look that said he’s looking for flavor. “How does a light round of regular ol’ fisticuffs sound? First one pinned is the loser?”

  Danielle frowned. “I thought you said we would just be wrestling.”

  “I said ‘sparring.’ You inferred ‘wrestling.’”

  A round of excited gasps echoed among the surround spectators. “Fine. Whatever.”

  The two of them shook on it and spaced out at arms-length. The colonel stood on the side, unaware of the vast crowd gathering at the edges of the training mat.

  Troy was one of the spectators, standing behind a row of taller men. Everyone at that vantage point agreed that Danielle was anticipating a lengthy match. She hobbled back and forth between feet, kicking at the mat and rolling her head in tight circles, loosening up her muscles as if Miranda was about to put her through her paces. Across from her, Miranda stood firm and erect, arms crossed in front of her black shirt and a grin that tugged on the edges of her mouth. Too bad Danielle was wrong about how long this match could last. Miranda meant business, and given her length in the military, her experiences, and her impeccably maintained body, she had the upper-hand on every count.

  They didn’t wait for anyone to announce the start of the match. For a moment, Danielle’s eyes met Miranda’s from across the mat, and this was enough for the latter to lash out a kick higher than her own head. The grunt that accompanied the limber move echoed through the gym, sending a couple of the hardest officers farther into the crowd as Danielle took up the defensive position. Before the brandished foot could find contact with one of her body parts, she dodged, shooting disgust in her opponent’s direction. Instead of a sneer, however, Danielle was met with the same smile from a moment before. This would definitely be interesting.

  Miranda t
hrew herself into another attack, this time lunging toward Danielle and making a two-hand grab for her torso. Miranda’s momentum was enough to send them both to the ground, yet Danielle did not dodge again. She thrust her own hands before her and locked onto Miranda’s bony shoulders right on time. Miranda tossed her hands up at the last minute to save her balance and not fall over. With teeth grinding and feet attempting to find extra purchase, the women pushed against one another with the intent of throwing the other down. However, their strength was more matched than anyone expected, for neither would budge no matter how hard the other pushed.

  After another second of fruitless stalling, Miranda twisted her hands beneath Danielle’s arms, shoving her inferior off her as she spun and directed another quick kick toward Danielle’s head. She ducked, sliding onto the mat, leg shooting out as her hands braced themselves against the floor. Danielle kicked her leg to the left and snagged her feet against Miranda’s ankles. She leaped up, Miranda flinging her arms in circles in a vain attempt to stay on her own feet.

  But Miranda’s balance was still strong, and she retained a suitable stature in front of the colonel. Her smile dropped and her eyebrows furrowed.

  “You are good, Lieutenant,” Miranda spat, shaking out her arms and tossing a loose hair out of her face. “But you’re also very lucky.”

  “What? Worried? I’m a lowly lieutenant. You’re the one who needs to save face.”

  Miranda twisted another high-kick in Danielle’s direction, staying on the offensive.

  Disbelief clouded Danielle’s eyes when she snatched Miranda’s ankle between her hands. As the captain grunted an obscenity, Danielle made sure to clamp down, lest the shoe met her face. “What the hell? You already did that! You think I don’t pay attention?”

  Miranda did not reply with words. Instead, she yanked her foot out of Danielle’s grasp and spun around on the other leg again, the sheer speed with which she moved mesmerizing the spectators.

  Not Danielle.

  She had watched her the entire time, preparing to duck out of the way before Miranda’s foot made contact again.

  Yet what she was not prepared for was the fist following right behind it, clipping Danielle’s shoulder and sending the younger woman on a flailing, unbalanced trip backward. Before she could regain her composure, Miranda threw herself at Danielle, pushing her to the ground with the force and momentum of a car. Danielle’s back hit the mat with a resounding thump that made most of the spectators jump.

  To secure her partner to the mat, Miranda lodged her legs around Danielle’s chest. She couldn’t breathe. Might as well consent defeat.

  After a few seconds of idle watching, the spectators applauded.

  “There. See?” Miranda planted her weight against Danielle’s chest. “You didn’t see that coming?”

  “Get off me!” Danielle hadn’t realized how loudly she shouted that until it was too late. “I mean… please?”

  She’s on me. She’s on top of me. Dear Jesus, can’t handle this. Her crotch is on my tits. Don’t care if there’s clothes. Don’t know what to do. What the fuck am I feeling right now? This isn’t regular sexual arousal. I don’t want that right now! Oh my God, what is wrong with me? What’s going on? What do I do? Why can’t I breathe? Is she trying to kill me?

  These thoughts sped through her head with hardly any recourse. The second it took to have them was a second too long for Miranda, who noticed the change in Danielle’s demeanor.

  “No need to be so damn rude.” Miranda complied with Danielle’s insubordinate request. She bent down to help her back up onto her own two feet, but Danielle declined.

  “Nice showing.” The colonel slapped his hand on Miranda’s back, sending her forward one large step. “Some nice showmanship, indeed. All right, Lieutenant?”

  Danielle rolled her neck around. “Nothing hurt, sir, aside from perhaps my pride.”

  “It’s what you signed up for,” Miranda reminded her.

  “Permission to shower, sir.” Danielle had to acknowledge Miranda again. “Ma’am.”

  “Granted,” the colonel said. “Although you’ve hardly broken a sweat, Lieutenant.”

  No answer. Danielle gave a curt nod and headed for the locker room, the spectators parting to let her through. A few gave her congratulations and acknowledgments of a fair fight she was doomed to lose from the start.

  She rummaged through her locker near the showers. Her pride wasn’t as hurt as she announced earlier, but she was embarrassed about the public tussling from Miranda. She hadn’t expected to overthrow her captain and become the star underdog, yet it would have been nice to prove to Miranda that she was capable of defending herself.

  “For the love of God, where is it?” Danielle shoved herself farther into the locker in the hopes of finding her missing undershirt. Hadn’t she shoved it in here earlier?

  “Looking for this?”

  Danielle emerged from the depths of her locker at the sound of Miranda’s voice. Over her shoulder she was sure to see her captain, still in gym clothes, dangling a wrinkled, white undershirt over her right hand.

  “Thanks.” Danielle snatched her shirt back. Miranda lifted a wary eyebrow and lowered her arm. “Where was it?”

  “On the floor. Didn’t want it getting dirty.”

  Danielle continued to frown as she brushed off dust from the white fabric. Dare she undress in front of the woman she had an unhealthy crush on? A debilitating crush, since God knew it wasn’t good for either of them?

  “Look, Lieutenant…” Miranda approached her. The odor of sweat became stronger the closer she came. “I want to apologize for what happened back there. You know I’m under a lot of pressure to perform in front of anyone with brass.”

  “I guess.” Danielle slammed her locker shut. “You know we’re going to be talked about, right? By like… the whole building. Not just our department. Everybody who saw that or knows somebody who saw will talk about us.”

  Miranda continued to stand with her usual placid countenance. A stance that had served her well most of her life, particularly when she was in the face of something that reminded her of shit she never thought she’d get to have again. Like the woman standing right in front of her, pissed out of her mind for reasons she would never acknowledge.

  “I don’t mind. I can handle it.”

  Danielle threw her clothes down on the bench and turned on her captain, cheeks flushing red as Miranda’s cool suggestion exploded in her ears. “Well I do, you know?” Crap. Too loud. Danielle turned the volume down, looking toward the ground and uncurling fingers from her fists. Miranda stood without a hint of shock. “I mean…” The back of Danielle’s throat closed as she tried to say more. “I’m not interested in you. It’s easier if people don’t assume those things. We could get in big trouble. You know that, right?”

  Miranda lowered her eyes and saw a glimpse of black on Danielle’s wrist. “I told you to get rid of that,” she said. “Before the colonel sees it. Get back to work within the next fifteen minutes.” She pivoted on her cross trainers and stalked toward the exit.

  Danielle was left alone in the locker room. Didn’t Miranda realize that any hint of flirtation would mean both of their heads? In the end, Miranda had more to lose than Danielle. Longer time in the military. Higher status and paygrade. More benefits. A life. While Danielle didn’t know much about her superior’s personal life, she didn’t doubt that an extroverted woman like Miranda had a ton of friends and a full social life.

  And she was definitely not friends with Danielle, a woman under her command. They were not friends beyond general work-related acquaintances, and although it was obvious that Miranda was romantically interested in her, Danielle hoped to do nothing to inspire more of that in her commander’s mind.

  Even though…

  Damnit, why did chemistry have to be a thing? Why did one scathing look kinda turn Danielle on when it should have scared her witless? Miranda wasn’t the most beautiful or sexiest woman she had ever seen.
Or at least she didn’t think so. Maybe. Right?

  Maybe Danielle was simply a glutton for a dominant personality in a woman. In another life, she would be totally into lesbian BDSM, as long as she was the one chained up and spat on.

  Freud probably had something to say about this. Like how it was a product of Danielle’s childhood with her crazy mother, a dead dad, and a grandmother who was one of the first female officers in her department.

  Danielle grabbed her clothing and started undressing. A sigh heavier than her heart escaped her body, teetering her on the edge of a long-winded repose that flashed before her. Although no image manifested before her eyes, a voice cracked in her ear. Feminine. Fierce. A warrior on the hunt for her prey.

  “You promised.”

  Danielle’s brain was on fire. Simply lit up in her head, probably through her traitorous ear canal since she had so much luck with her body. Figures danced before her. Voices screamed in her head. When she wasn’t dreaming of burning fields, she felt that heat, that melting hatred searing into her body and washing away her most atrocious sins with the flames of attrition.

  Miranda stood before her. No, no. Not her. She had left, hadn’t she? Then who was that? Who was that woman with the short hair and white robes desperately clinging to her, begging her to stay, to run away with her to a place so far away that they would never be bothered again?

  A ghost?

  “You promised me you would stay this time!”

  “I can’t.” The words came back to Danielle in a flood of repressed memories. “I can’t stay. I have to go… I have a du…”

  She snapped awake, head resting against the bench and eyes focusing on the dull, gray ceiling above. Her undershirt lay on top of her chest, legs drawn across the bench and mind unable to decipher how she ended up there. Danielle grabbed her forgotten shirt and sat up.