Hover (40 page)

“The earpiece? Is that why…?”

“Everyone felt the intel guys were reading it wrong, but I couldn't let it go. I had this gut feeling, so yeah, that's why I gave you the radio.”

“But why didn't you tell me your concerns?”

“Because I started wondering if the guys were right. Mike, Animal, they thought I was taking it too personally. That I was too quick to point the finger.”

“But why would you do that?”

“Remember when I said Jonas and I had a history? Well, it's a sordid one.”

“I remember, but we've never had a chance—”

“I know. The short story is we've conducted joint missions with him and his guys in the past. He didn't care to follow orders. He was reckless … dangerous. And the two of us? Butting heads would be an understatement. I had the lead on every mission we did together, and you can imagine how well that went over. And then, the sordid part…”

He stops, lifting his shirt, pointing to the bullet wound on his abdomen. Pink and raised and circular, it's just as I remembered. Wait …

“Are you saying…? Did he—”

“The bullet that left this scar came from his gun,” he says carefully.

My hands fly to my mouth. “No.”

“We were trapped in a firefight. One of his men was killed and another severely wounded. But it wouldn't have happened had he stayed in position as I'd ordered. He screwed up, plain and simple. I called him on it right there and I could see it in his eyes. Everything that had built up between us. All those years. Something just snapped. It was about ten minutes later when I went down.”

“He aimed at you? He actually fired at you?”

“He claimed it was an errant bullet … I don't know. I couldn't prove it. But there was no one near me when it happened, and based on past experience, Jonas only hits what he aims at.”

“That's unfathomable.”

“Actually, it's even worse than that.”

“How could it be worse?”

He runs his hand over the scar and it's some moments before he answers.

“This is an exit wound.”

I pause, staring at the scarring. Wait a minute. I look into his eyes and then back to the wound. “An exit…?” And then it registers. “He shot you in the back?”

He nods.

“Eric, I can't even…”

“I know it doesn't excuse my actions for trying to keep you off the mission, but I knew he wouldn't hesitate to hurt you. I hope you can understand.”

“I do,” I say. “Now I do.”

He pulls his shirt down again.

“But if you didn't trust Jonas, and if the others didn't either, why were you working on such an important mission together? One that involved a U.S. president?”

“We argued against it, but it was Aussie intelligence that led to the plot discovery, and it got political from there. Our hands were tied.”

“I see. But when did you suspect something was up during the mission itself? You got to us so fast.”

“After you took off from the
Kansas City,
I called and had five four launch right after you. Something nagged at me. The distance between the targets, I think. And then the whole episode on
Nimitz
. Switching teams around at the last minute. Something wasn't right.”

“I know. You didn't look too happy.”

“And the sub … Well, we realized pretty quickly we weren't prosecuting anything.”

“Jonas told me. It was a diversion to keep you away. There's so much I need to tell you, but he was hired, Eric. By someone in U.S. intelligence. Very high in U.S. intelligence. He told me.”

“That would make sense. We knew he had to have had high-level help. We had solid intel, normally reliable intel, of exactly when that sub would be there for the rendezvous. But instead, the
Leftwich
boys were left scratching their heads with negative sonar readings and Mike was out there just turning circles. Once we realized we were chasing a ghost, we had five four on scene within thirty minutes. We were already en route when I received your SOS call. That was brilliant, by the way. Agonizing to listen to. But brilliant.”

“Did you think we were really ops normal?”

“I did. Even though I suspected something was up with Jonas, I had no inkling whatsoever that his plans would involve you.”

“Did you hear what happened?”

“Yeah.” He looks down, his thumbs busily rubbing my hand. “God, if I'd seen your bird go down…”

It's several long moments before he looks at me again. “You probably don't know this, but Messy radioed me just after you went in.”

“Radioed you? But Jonas took their radios.”

“He used the radio I'd given you.”

“What? But Jonas ripped it apart. He fixed that?”

“Yeah. He gave me all the gory details—well, the quick version anyway. We were only twenty minutes out at the time. It's how we knew you'd been taken aboard
Twister
.”

“That means he fixed it while he was floating in the ocean. Unbelievable.”

“No kidding.”

Floating in the ocean. Floating with Animal …
I hesitate to ask the question. He was hurt so badly.

“What is it?” he says.

“Animal?” I ask.

A slow smile crosses his face. “He's one tough SOB, I tell you what.”

“He's okay?”

“Thanks to you, yes. He told me what you said. What you did. The way he talks, he'll be naming his firstborn after you.”

“What about Lego and Messy? Are they okay?”

“Fine. I spoke with them yesterday. They spent most of the day with investigators, giving their statements, and they're doing it again today, but yeah, they're good. They're really worried about you.”

“They were both amazing. Lego repaired the engine oil line using who knows what and then Messy with the AFCS. Genius.”

“He's really shook up about that, by the way. He's blaming himself for the crash, one that still had you in the aircraft.” He stops, his eyes searching mine, his hands squeezing my fingers more tightly now. “Speaking of shook up … I've never been so scared in all my life.”

I can't imagine Eric being scared of anything. But he looks down at his hands, the ones that cover and surround mine, tightening his lips as he tends to do when sorting out his thoughts. He finally lifts his eyes.

“Remember how we talked about my job as a SEAL? About what I do? Who I am?”

“I remember.”

“And the nickname? Lightning? Well, it's energy. This energy that wells up inside and it's all I can do to control it. And then combine that with my feelings for you.… Watching you swim away from Jonas … you were trying to get away.…” He winces, shaking his head at the memory.

“Thank god Brian was at the controls. He saw what was happening to me. We were still a hundred feet above the water when I started unbuckling my harness. I had to do something. Try to draw his fire. Something. And then I'm falling and I'm thinking, did I really just jump? Brian told me yesterday he dropped altitude as fast as he could when he realized what I was doing. He thinks I went out around fifty or sixty feet. I barely remember getting shot. I don't remember hitting the water. And then my arms took me to you.”

We share a long look before a grim smile settles across my face. “It probably would have been a lot easier for you to fall in love with someone else, huh?”

He sits back as he regards me, considering the question far longer than I would have liked.

“Maybe,” he answers finally.

I flinch at the response.

“But it wouldn't have been real.” He leans forward and his eyes are doing the crawl-inside-my-soul thing again. “I'd be lying if I said it wasn't difficult to watch someone shooting at you, but at the same time, when the going gets tough, there's no one I'd rather have at my side. So yeah, it might not be easy. But it'll be real. And I want that. I've wanted that for a long time.”

He cups my chin with his bandaged palm, and my vision goes blurry, the moisture spilling over and trickling down my face. He leans forward, touching his lips to mine—a salty kiss, but the sweetest I've ever experienced.

 

49

The knock on the door startles us both. I reach for his hand.

“Mind if we come in, ma'am?”

It's Lego.

“No, please come in,” I say.

Lego and Messy push through the curtain, dressed in their summer white uniforms, clean, crisp, and polished. I don't think I've ever seen them out of their flight suits, so this is a shock.

“What the hell, sir,” Lego says. “Are you makin' the lieutenant cry?”

“We can take care of him, you know, ma'am,” Messy says.

“Yeah, his sorry SEAL ass ain't a match for us,” Lego says.

I look at Eric. “They know?”

“They saw me jump from the helicopter. They said a real pilot would never jump from his aircraft.” He laughs. “And with all they've been through, I figured I could let them in on the secret.”

“So how are you?” I ask. “I was so worried. Did the jump go okay? Were you hurt?”

“Do you believe this shit?” Lego says, looking at Messy. “She's worried about our candy-ass jump. A jump that wasn't even a jump. More like a step.”

“Ma'am, I'm so sorry,” Messy says seriously. “I never would have forgiven myself if you hadn't gotten out.”

“You were brilliant, Joe,” I say. “Just brilliant.”

“I almost got you killed, ma'am. That's not so brilliant. I thought we'd all jump out, he'd take the controls, and then botch the landing later. But, my god. A buttonhook?”

“We had no idea you were planning something like that,” Lego says. “We were just floating there with our mouths open. That was, bar none, the most unbelievable maneuver we have ever seen.”

“Bar none,” Messy says. “And even with you ending in a hover and all, I just didn't think our Aussie bad boy would be that … well, bad. I thought he'd at least be able to hold it long enough for you to get out, but good god.”

“Either that, or she's just that good,” Lego says. “I don't know, Mess, I think it's a little of both.”

They nod in agreement.

“So look at you two,” I say. “You clean up nice.”

“Yeah, you won't see this too often,” Lego says.

“Fuck, we've been meetin' with the JAGs and the CIA and shit,” Messy says.

“Guess our statements don't count if we're in flight suits,” Lego says.

“Well, I think it's nice,” I say. “You're a handsome lot.”

“That's right kind of you, ma'am,” Lego says.

“So when are you gettin' outta here?” Messy asks.

I look to Eric.

“That's a good question,” Eric says. “I know I'm supposed to be here another three or four days at least, so I'd expect probably the same for Sara.”

“Well, just get back as soon as you can, all right?” Messy says.

“Yeah, it's gonna suck not having our favorite pilot on the flight schedule,” Lego says. “Although, you have someone else who's gainin' on ya for favorite pilot status.”

“I do?”

“Does she know, sir?” Messy asks.

“No, I don't think so.”

“Know what?” I say.

“Maybe we should mosey on outta here, Kyle, so she can see her next visitor,” Messy says.

“You know, I think I'll mosey with you,” Eric says, pushing himself up. For the first time, I notice his crutches leaning on the foot of the bed. Messy grabs them and hands them to Eric.

“Thanks,” Eric says. “Come on, guys.”

“See ya soon, ma'am,” Lego says.

“Yeah, you take care,” Messy says.

I look to Eric in question. “I'll be back in just a minute,” he says.

I push myself up, not feeling any pain in my leg. I give a glance to the IV bag, wondering what's dripping in there.

“May I come in?” Commander Claggett asks.

“Yes, sir, please.”

Like Lego and Messy, he wears his summer whites. He must be giving statements, as well. Wait a minute. Giving statements …

“May I?” he asks, pointing to the chair next to me. He continues to look down as he sits, his hands clasped together.

“Sara,” he starts, but stumbles over the syllables.

It's the first time I've ever heard him say my name.

“This is going to be harder than I thought,” he says, looking up.

“Sir, I'm so sor—”

“No. Please don't. I'm the one who needs to apologize.” He leans back heavily in the chair. “I'm sorry. For everything. You've taken so much shit from me … all because I couldn't—”

He stops and wipes his face. His light brown hair has been freshly cut, and to anyone else, he would look pressed and clean in his neat, white uniform. But his tortured eyes tell a different story. His razor-sharp outward appearance harbors a wounded soul.

“I never allowed myself—” He looks to the overhead, his quavering lips clamped together. “I … I couldn't let her go,” he says, his eyes returning to mine. “I don't know how to let her go.”

He's blurry in my vision now. I don't even bother wiping my tears, as it would be a fruitless endeavor.

“So I have a lot to work out,” he says. “Captain Magruder is allowing me to take some leave so I can get my head together. But I want you to know, it'll be different going forward. You certainly don't deserve to be treated the way I've treated you. Kara would have my ass if she knew.” He laughs lightly, but the tears are brimming. He looks away, trying to keep it together.

“I wish there was something I could do, sir.”

He returns his glassy eyes to mine. “Well, you can start by calling me Nick … if you want.”

I nod.

“And you can make the most of the time you have with Lieutenant Marxen.”