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“I'm not. I'm—”

“You have no idea.” The exclamation point to his sentiment is provided with a lingering kiss.

In his embrace, I sense a wholeness, a wellness, that I've never before experienced. And these thoughts collide with my previous discussions with Em. I've always insisted I was fine, but now I'm presented with evidence to the contrary. I've never felt more
fine
in my life than right here, right now. And this definition of fine is so far removed from my old definition, I now realize “fine” wasn't the correct word at all. “Existing” would be more appropriate.

But my ruminations begin to flounder, replaced by an urgency that wells from out of nowhere. His hands glide down my waist, landing on the grooves of my hips. Our mouths open, tongues melding, our breathing heavy—

It's a jolt when he pulls away.

“You know, I'm thinking this was a bad idea,” he says, struggling for air.

“No,” I say, panting. “Good idea, wrong place.”

He smiles. “It's not going to make saying good-bye very easy.”

“Good-bye?” I say, still recovering my breath.

“Sara, this is so ridiculously hard, but I have to go back to the ship tonight. Before we left Hawaii, I offered to take Ben's duty here, so he could meet his wife, who's flown over to see him.”

My shoulders slump.

“I know. But I'd hate to renege on a promise like that.”

“No, I understand. You have to follow through.”

“I'm sorry,” he says, glancing at his watch. “Ben will be pacing the quarterdeck, guaranteed.”

“Really, it's okay.”

Caressing the side of my face, he leans down and kisses me gently—a lighter kiss, the aching kind of lighter.

“Come on,” he says.

We ride the elevator to ground level and stroll toward the entrance of the tram station. Normally, my eyes would have been drawn to the magical cityscape, or certainly to Eric, his arm now wrapped securely around my shoulders. But I can't help noticing the man who has been watching us. He stands in the shadows about twenty yards away, his back leaned against the station building. Even in the dark, his eyes shine a brilliant blue. I don't think I would have given him nor anyone else a second look tonight, except that this man has Ian's eyes.

I tell myself I'm imagining things. But I swivel my head several times to check. The man is definitely following our progress in line. I shift my feet uneasily.

“What is it?” Eric says.

“That man over there. He's watching us.”

A dark expression crosses Eric's face as he locks eyes with the man, who appears to smirk in the dark.

“Do you know him?” I ask.

“Yes,” he answers tersely, the distaste in his voice clear. “We've worked together before.”

“Are you okay?” I ask, alarmed as Eric's body tenses.

“Come on. They're boarding.” He keeps his arm around me, pulling me tight, as he ushers me forward.

 

23

Stepping into my stateroom, I only have eyes for my rack. No surprise after another all-nighter, this time standing duty on the ship. After I said good-bye to Eric, I slept alone at the Harbourview, then reported yesterday morning for duty aboard the ship. And now, twenty-four hours later, I'm asleep on my feet once more.

Today is our last day in Hong Kong and liberty doesn't expire until noon, but I have no interest in leaving the ship. I crawl into bed, not bothering to remove my khakis and non-regulation sweater, and fall into a heavy sleep.

*   *   *

I hear shuffling and wake with a start. My heart skitters for a moment until I confirm the source of the noise. It's Em.

“I feel like shit,” she says, letting the door slam behind her.

I rub my eyes. She's in her khakis. How did she get in her uniform? She's just coming off liberty, right?

“Em, what time is it?”

“It's eighteen hundred.”

“What!” I check my watch. “I slept all day?”

“Sure as hell did. I came off liberty at noon and you haven't moved. Hell, we've been under way for three hours already.”

“Oh, man.” I sit up groggily. I did it again, sleeping another day away.

“They're still serving in the wardroom if you want to run in there,” she says.

I lower myself from my bunk. “Nah, I'll get something later.”

Em lies on her rack with her hands over her head and closes her eyes. I'm about to take my sweater off when I remember the bruises on my arms. Do I want to tell her what happened? Do I want to receive the “I told you so”? Pulling the chair out at my desk, I decide to leave the sweater on for now.

Oh, man. And then Eric. What the heck do I admit to there? That would be “I told you so” times a hundred.

Emily's schedule and mine ran totally opposite this port call. With the exception of the first day, one of us was either on duty or on shore patrol while the other was on liberty. So we haven't spoken to each other since the Hail and Farewell.

“I gather you had a long night on duty,” she says, eyes still closed.

“Yeah. I never went to sleep last night.”

“That sucks. I figured it must have been something like that for you to sleep so long.”

“I didn't miss anything, did I?”

“Nope. Everyone's been sleeping the day away like you, so you're good.”

“Thank goodness,” I say.

“Oh, crap!” Em says, bolting up. “You did miss one thing. You're not going to fuckin' believe this! Captain Magruder fired Commander Egan!”

“What!”

“He is fuckin' gone! Like his stateroom has been cleared out and he is no longer on this ship. I heard they were sending him back on a flight from Hong Kong.”

No way. Eric couldn't have … or could he? He said he had to leave to go back to the ship for a minute.… How…?

“Can you fuckin' believe that?”

“Does anyone know why?” I ask, holding my breath. Crap. I don't want anyone to know what happened. But at the same time, relief washes over me. He's no longer on the ship.

“That's the thing. No one had any idea this was coming and no one knows why. But hey, that asshole isn't going to be around to harass you anymore!”

No, he won't be around to harass me anymore. Eric made sure of that.

“God, my head hurts,” Em says. “Please tell me you have some Advil.”

“Comin' up.” I walk to the tiny sink we share in the corner and rummage through the medicine cabinet.

“Even though I have a splitting headache,” Em says, “I need to hear about your liberty. Please tell me you found Eric, and fork over the details.”

I am so not ready for this conversation. I bring her the Advil along with a cup of water.

“Thanks,” she says.

“Yes, I found him, but why don't you tell me about your liberty first?” I say, stalling. “You never came back to the room after the Hail and Farewell.”

“I wish I could remember,” she says, tipping her head back to swallow.

“Are you serious? You can't remember?”

“I haven't consumed that much alcohol since … oh, fuck, I don't even know.” She hands the cup back to me. “So, no, I don't remember a fuckin' thing and I only have a wicked hangover to show for it.” She grimaces. “Ow, that was loud.”

“Maybe I should let you get some sleep,” I suggest. “I can turn down the lights. It'll be quiet.”

“It'll be quiet?” Em says incredulously. “It'll be quiet? Who the hell do you think you're dealing with here? If you think that'll get you out of telling me you slept with Eric, I've got news for you.”

“What! How did you know!”

She smiles proudly. “I didn't.”

I shake my head. “Emily … so help me…”

“But now that you've confirmed it,” she sniggers, “I want every juicy morsel, every delectable detail of your rendezvous.”

“I'm not giving you anything! I was tricked!”

“Oh, come
on
! You can't deny me this! You know I'm an addict,” she says, pointing to the paperback volumes spilling out of her desk.

I think about this, swayed by her pleading expression. “Okay,” I say. “I'll give you one thing.”

“Anything.”

I walk to her stack of books and rifle through them, selecting one. The guy on the cover has light brown hair, worn close to the head. He stands on a rocky outcrop, one foot raised, hands resting on the hips of his faded, low-rise jeans, a border patrol agent's badge clipped to the waist. Wearing boots, no shirt, and sporting a ten-pack, he looks thoughtfully across the desertscape with olive-green eyes, soft like melted glass.

I toss her the book. She studies it briefly before looking up. “So?”

“So, he looks like that, only when I saw him, he wasn't wearing jeans,” I say, trying—but failing—to keep the smile from spreading across my face.

She flops back on her bed. “Oh dear god. I have died and gone to fuckin' heaven.”

 

24

Eric is onboard the
Kansas City.
He never mentioned a need to come to our ship when we were in Hong Kong, but Shadow Hunter 67 landed earlier this morning and delivered not only him, but Brian Wilcox and Captain Plank, too.

Em gave me the lowdown on the morning's events because I was trapped in a maintenance meeting. She said a Nighthawk helicopter from
Nimitz
arrived next, carrying Admiral Carlson and two other men she didn't recognize. And finally, a contingent of Australians stepped off their Squirrel helicopter, which is still parked on our flight deck.

Em is in a meeting with the group now. She said her attendance and that of Commander Claggett had been requested. The only thing that bugs me about this is that I'm down here in the hangar, knee-deep in an aircraft inspection, while Eric is in the wardroom. I'm trying to figure a way to steal a moment with him. Maybe I can just loiter here in the hangar until the Shadow Hunters come to pick him up.

I clutch a pencil-thin flashlight between my teeth, peering into one of the aircraft's engine inspection panels, when I feel a tap on the shoulder.

“Jus' a sec,” I say.

I finish twisting on the oil cap, pull my hands from the engine bay, and spit out the flashlight. It's Em.

“What's up?” I say, pulling down on the visor of my ball cap. The navy-issue ball cap is big, boxy, and ugly as sin. When you deploy on a ship, you're issued a cap with the ship's logo embroidered on the front. The cap is far too large for my head—they always are—so I tuck my hair underneath to make it fit better. I work at loose strands now, shoving them under the headband, when I take in Em's expression.

“Wait. What's the matter?”

She lets out a disheartened sigh. “Your presence is requested in the wardroom.”

“What?”

“They want the aircrew that's scheduled for the fast rope tonight.”

“But that's you, Em.”

There was no one more relieved than I when I saw the flight schedule. Finally, I thought. No more Sara-at-the-controls rubbish. The other pilots are just as qualified as I am to fly these SEAL exercises and it doesn't make a lick of sense as to why they haven't been scheduled. So when Em found out she was flying the fast rope tonight, she was in a great mood.

“Not anymore,” she says, the hurt clear in her voice. “They specifically requested you.”

“But that's crazy.”

“The only good thing was that Claggett got chewed out in front of the whole group for not doing as he was told. He was supposed to schedule you, not me.”

“I'm sorry, Em. Really—”

“Just go,” she says, her eyes downcast.

*   *   *

My steps are heavy as I leave the hangar. I don't want these stupid flights to come between Em and me, but here we go again. I mean, last night was perfect. Yes, she found out about Eric, but I was able to keep the whole thing on the surface and we joked and laughed about it and had fun.

It won't be fun anymore after this rigmarole.

I turn down a darkened passageway en route to the wardroom. The overhead lights are out
again
and emergency lighting provides the scant illumination available. Men mill about outside, some in flight suits, some in khakis, some in camouflage gear. It probably went dark in the wardroom and that's why this group stands in the passageway now.

I squint in the low light to find my way, spotting Eric in the process. He's talking to Brian and Captain Magruder.

Admittedly, my heart leaps when I see him. I don't want to disturb them, however, so I walk past, planning to just mouth “hello.”

I look in his direction, hoping to catch his eye. He doesn't see me.

I stop. And wait.

I adjust my ball cap, tugging on it. This should grab his attention.

He looks up. Yes, he's finally noticed me! I'm about to open my mouth when he gives me a curt nod and continues his conversation without a second glance.

A cold needle of uncertainty inserts itself into my heart.

He just looked at me. He
saw
me. And yet he reacted as if I wasn't there. And his expression. So remote. So disengaged. So …

I look at him again, hoping for … something, but receiving … nothing.

Wait a minute.…

I am resolutely ignored as he continues his conversation with Brian and Captain Magruder.

But I'm standing right here. I'm right—

It hits me with the force of a punch thrown straight to the gut. He played me.

My arms reflexively wrap around my middle and I can't seem to work it right to draw in breath.

This can't be. It can't.

My legs move forward and I reach for the wardroom door.

“It's not going to make saying good-bye very easy.” He was telling you good-bye, you moron. That was his way. Thanks. It was great. You're beautiful. Good-bye.