Seawolf End Game (9 page)

“And the second option that doesn’t involve being miserable?”

“Get off the boat and get away from him,” Patricia told her simply. “Trust me, I’ve been where you’re right now, and if you have to be around him all the time and yet not act on what you’re feeling, you’re going to go crazy.” She then added, “You’ve got to move on and find greener pastures.”

Kristen looked down at her hands, wishing Patricia had been able to offer something a little more appealing. “The really sick thing is all I ever wanted was to be on a submarine.” Kristen then added, “I mean since I was a little girl, it was all I wanted. Sure, I thought about a family, and I knew one day I would want to get married. But I never dreamed about those things.” Kristen glanced back over her shoulder and saw Brodie across the hall speaking with a fellow captain. The strange emotions and feelings she’d struggled with were now clear and she knew—for the first time—exactly what she was feeling. “But now, all I want is him.”

A lieutenant commander walked by and looked at Patricia as he pointed at his wristwatch. Kristen gave Patricia a questioning look.

“I have a flight in the morning and have to get my mandatory crew rest,” Patricia replied as she quickly knocked back the last of her wine. She then leaned closer to Kristen and squeezed her hand gently. “Krissie, I think you’ve got to tell him.”

“I wish it were that easy.”

Brodie, as her captain, had to appear to be fair and even handed with all his officers and men. She couldn’t possibly profess her love to him. If she did, and he responded in kind, then they’d be faced with an even greater dilemma: the two of them could never serve together, certainly not on a submarine. Not to mention their age difference, and the fact—as she feared—he might not share her feelings. If she told him, and as she suspected he didn’t have feelings for her, then this would lead to an intolerably embarrassing working situation, and her perfect little world would come crashing down. Finally, for the first time in years, she’d found a home, a place where she felt her fellow officers looked beyond her passion for her work and her idiosyncrasies and accepted her for who she was. Kristen was certain she wouldn’t easily find the same elsewhere.

Then, lurking in the recesses of her mind, was what Penny Graves had told her about how Brodie, since his divorce, had never allowed himself to become seriously involved with anyone. He’d forsaken the entire concept of marriage and love. How could she expect him to act in any way other than scorn should she reveal her heart to him?

Patricia patted Kristen on the shoulder. “Baby girl, you’ve got to tell him. If you don’t, you’ll tear yourself up inside.”

Kristen shook her head, feeling certain it was impossible. “Why him? Why now?” Kristen asked rhetorically.

Patricia shook her head sadly. “You’re still afraid to live in the present, aren’t you?”

“What?”

“You know what I mean,” Patricia stated bluntly. “You’ve always buried yourself in your work and with plans for the future, but ignored the here and now.” She then motioned toward where she’d last seen Brodie. “Krissie, he is here, and he is definitely happening right now. If you don’t take a chance, you’ll regret it the rest of your life.”

“But what if everything I thought he might feel was nothing at all, and he tells me he doesn’t care about me?” Kristen asked, enunciating her greatest fear.

“Then he’s a fucking idiot,” Patricia told her bluntly, “and you’re better off without him.”

Kristen offered a wan smile in response. Patricia made it sound so easy. But Kristen had never dealt with her emotions. It had always been easier to ignore them, or, when they were too painful, lock them away.

Patricia stood in preparation to leave, and Kristen joined her. They embraced warmly. They’d been talking for several hours, and despite all that had been revealed, Kristen felt better for having finally talked to someone about it. She just wished she could drag Patricia along with her back to the
Seawolf.

“What matters,” Patricia advised, “is you give it a chance. Life is too short to spend every second living for tomorrow. You’ve got to seize the moment sometime. Otherwise, before you know it, all the moments will be gone, and you’ll be looking back at your life regretting having never lived.”

Kristen knew Patricia was right and squeezed her friend tightly, wishing it was as simple as Patricia made it sound. But after a lifetime of structure and academics, she wasn’t certain she knew how to “live” as Patricia suggested.

“I love you, sweetie,” Patricia offered affectionately.

“I love you, too,” Kristen replied, wishing it could be as easy with Brodie.

“Remember what I said, okay?” Patricia insisted.

“I will,” Kristen answered, quite certain she would remember but doubtful she could find the strength to use Patricia’s advice. She watched as Patricia rejoined her pilot buddies, knowing wherever Patricia went she would be surrounded by people who cherished her company. Patricia had never been lonely, whereas Kristen entire life had been spent—at least emotionally—alone.

Officers’ Club, Sasebo, Japan

T
he sliding glass doors leading to the expanse of patio were closed to keep out the cold. Kristen slid one of the heavy doors open and stepped out, having no desire to rejoin her fellow officers at the moment. Her conversation with Patricia had been both revealing and unsettling, and she needed some time alone—something she wouldn’t get on board the
Seawolf
—to sort out her thoughts and feelings and make certain her unwanted emotions were locked away tightly before she returned to the boat.

Kristen closed the heavy door, and once beyond, the sound from inside faded to nothing. She was all alone. Her heels clicked on the flagstone beneath her as she stepped across the windswept patio to the railing. It was cold, but the brisk night air was refreshing and would help clear her head. She reached the railing and leaned against it, looking out at the mass of assembled naval power.

Aircraft carriers, guided missile cruisers and destroyers, along with submarines and various supply ships filled the tiny harbor. The ships were illuminated with strings of lights plus spot lights on their hull numbers. Beyond, she could a see a large full moon low in the sky and the various lights dancing across the water. Off to her right was a long stairway with a railing on each side leading down from the patio all the way to a sidewalk at the base of the hill next to a road. She closed her eyes, inhaling deeply the chill night air and smelling the scent of the nearby evergreens. It was a perfect evening: a romantic view, a full moon. It was the kind of night she had dreamed about. The only thing missing was him.

She loved him.

Admitting it provided her a liberating release from the torturous mental dungeon she’d been imprisoned in for weeks. But she saw no reason to think her love was reciprocated or it ever would be.

Why him?
She asked herself for the millionth time, even as her imagination wished she could wind the clock back a few weeks and for one more—awe-inspiring moment—feel his arms around her. What she wouldn’t give for that…

Kristen smiled softly, the scent of the sweet cigar he smoked tickled her nose as she imagined them together. Even for one night, dreaming of his hands on her, loving her tenderly; his lips, the lips she’d hungered for ever since the first taste of them, kissing her again; his body against hers. She could almost feel him behind her, and she reveled in the sweet fiction.

Kristen opened her eyes slowly as she heard the door behind her slide open slowly and then close softly, hardly making any noise at all. For a moment she thought she might be imagining it, but the scent of the cigar wasn’t in her imagination. It was in the air and although faint, she realized the scent was real and he was near.

Her heart began to race in her breast, and she felt her flesh tingling with excitement as warmth flooded her body. She heard the sound of his dress shoes on the stone patio directly behind her. A part of her was still afraid, but the rest of her was longing for his hands upon her flesh. She wanted to turn and fling herself into his arms and tell him to never let her go. But the small voice within her was warning her where it might lead.

They could never have a relationship and serve together. Kristen would be unable to stay aboard the
Seawolf
. The Navy could not afford to put him ashore—especially now—and she was nobody. A pain in the ass according to the Brass, and they would boot her onto the beach without a second’s thought.

Her left hand trembled as she felt the caress of his hand on her upper arm. Fear overwhelmed her. Fear different than the terror she recalled gripping her during her mission into Korea, but fear as palatable and nearly as debilitating. Could she tell him no?

Kristen knew the answer to the question even before she turned around to face him. The chill wind and all the rushing waves in the harbor could not extinguish the fire she felt welling up within her as she felt the caress of his hand, wanting him more than she imagined ever wanting anything.

But as she turned toward her would-be lover, instead of hot-blooded passion, she was repulsed. Her hand jerked free from his touch as if he were a poisonous snake.

“Hello, pretty,” Fitzgerald sneered, his eyes glassy from too much alcohol, his words slurred.

Kristen’s sweet dream was shattered by the cruel reality of Fitzgerald pawing her left arm with one hand while his other reached for her throat. She responded reflexively and raked her fingernails across his face, drawing blood.

“Get away from me!” She tried to drive her knee into his crotch as she’d done once before, but her long skirt made it impossible.

He lashed back, swinging his right hand around and backhanding her across the face. Kristen felt the blinding blow strike her cheek. Her head was spun clear around, and her body followed. The neat French twist came loose and her hair swirled about her head as she spun. Kristen staggered from the blow, feeling as if the side of her head had exploded. She grabbed the railing to stop herself from falling over. She tried to turn and defend herself, but her long dress and heels made any movement difficult. Before she could even turn to face him, he was on her.

“You’re not getting away from me this time, bitch!”

Kristen felt his powerful grip on the rear of her neck. His fingernails dug into her flesh cruelly as he viciously jerked her head back. His left hand went around her, grabbing her breast through her blouse. Kristen rammed an elbow back into his ribs and heard him grunt, but it wasn’t enough to weaken his vice-like grip. She struggled to free herself, but he was far too powerful, and in her long dress she didn’t have her normal agility that might have allowed her to escape.

Kristen felt his wretched claws on her, and the idea he might kill her was not nearly as unpalatable as the idea of him raping her. Realizing she couldn’t free herself, Kristen was about to scream for help, fearful no one would hear her through the thick glass. But before she could cry out for help, a sound like nothing she’d imagined struck like a thunderclap through the chill night air.

It was part growl and part roar, and whatever was making the sound couldn’t possibly be human. Kristen could feel Fitzgerald’s crushing grip biting into her flesh. But as fast as he grabbed her, his hand was torn away from her by whatever was now roaring in blood-thirsty rage right behind her. Kristen turned, gripping the railing to stop from falling to the ground and saw Fitzgerald flung into the heavy reinforced safety glass leading to the ballroom. He seemed to fly through the air, striking the glass as if thrown by a bear or a hulking gorilla. But she saw neither of these beasts.

Instead, she saw a man.

Except she barely recognized the man she loved any more. His back was to her, his hair raging in the wind, his hands clenched into fists seeming to crackle with energy as he charged at Fitzgerald with the insanity of an enraged bull.

In the large ballroom, most of the tables were empty, with only a few dozen officers and guests left. The
Seawolf
officers were still at their table, and Graves was with them, looking around for Brodie, wondering where his friend had disappeared to. Then he noticed Kristen was missing as well. Graves looked around, hiding his suspicion regarding where they might be. A part of him hoped his suspicion was true, but the professional in him knew it would be disastrous for both of them if they were to become lovers. He glanced at the men around the table. “Have you guys seen the skipper or Lieutenant Whitaker?”

Andrew Stahl pointed toward the patio. “I thought I saw Kristen go out about fifteen minutes ago,” he offered. “Want me to collect her, sir?”

“She’s on the patio?” Terry asked, standing up abruptly with a look of worry on his face.

Andy nodded. “I think so, what’s wrong?”

Terry stepped off toward the nearest door leading to the patio. “I saw that piece of crap Fitzgerald go out there a few seconds ago.”

No sooner had Terry finished this sentence then they all heard a loud crashing noise against one of the glass doors, and Graves saw a man’s body smash against it as a web-like crack appeared in the glass.