Chapter 24

Ryan

Every ounce of my control went into refraining from taking Whitmore’s head and ramming it into the steel table. If were another man, one who didn’t value his career and his future, I’d have knocked his teeth out by now.

Jack sat opposite me, wearing his trademark ‘I don’t give a fuck’ grin. He didn’t sit, actually, he slouched, his one arm resting on the table, too close for comfort.

I clicked my ballpoint pen and pictured ramming it into his hand. Fuck, this guy brought out the worst side of me, the violence I’d buried in my soul after what happened in the grit and sand.

“You going to talk, Baker? Or just sit there and click your pen until it spontaneously combusts?”

“Quiet,” I said, and slapped the table. Shit, that was one step too far already, and Jack’s subsequent smile told me as much.

“Quiet,” he replied, “but how am I supposed to tell you what you so desperately want to know if I’m forced to remain silent? Didn’t think of that did you, Lieutenant Commander?” He spat the last words out. The title. That was his problem, wasn’t it?

I had the title and he didn’t. But this wasn’t just a rank, it was a responsibility and it was something he’d never grasp, especially now that he risked a dishonorable discharge.

Two soldiers stood either side of the door behind Jack. They wouldn’t interrupt, but they would talk if anyone asked them what happened in this room.

Control. That’s all you need. Remain in control.

“Walk me through what happened on that night, Petty Officer Whitmore,” I said. This was the only way I’d get the evidence I needed from him before the Commander made his appearance and put pressure on the entire base.

“Which night?”

“The night you brutally assaulted Timothy Meller,” I replied, evenly.

“Oh, but you know all about that already, Baker.” Jack thumbed his nose. “We were both at the bar in Meek Springs, remember? We saw the kid standing there with his friends.”

“Yes, you saw him and you followed him outside.”

“I followed him?” Whitmore shook his head and I envisioned punching him for the third time in as many minutes. “No, I followed you. I followed you out into the alley and witnessed you beating Timothy to a pulp. How could you forget? Or were you too drunk to remember.”

“That’s not what happened,” I replied. “You left when I went to the bathroom. When I walked out to find you, you were standing over Timothy’s body. What was it you said to me?”

“I didn’t say anything.” Jack shrugged. “You must be under a lot of pressure, Baker. Aren’t you worried they’ll put you in prison when they find out what you’ve done?”

“You’re lying,” I said.

“Let’s call it a difference of opinion. Or rather, it’s my word against yours. Who do you think they’ll believe, Ryan? The man who’s toiled endlessly in the Navy, or the one who got all the men under his command killed.”

“Fucker!” I stood up, chest heaving. The controlled façade had already cracked. Christ, of course he’d know to bring that up. He’d been right beside me since I came back, listened to my sob stories about it.

“Sir,” one of the soldiers spoke.

“Yes?”

“There’s someone at the door, Sir.”

“Open it,” I replied, because the distraction would keep me from murdering this lying prick.

“Wonder who it is?” Jack twiddled his eyebrows up and down. “Maybe it’s that gorgeous Chanel. You know, the girl you’re boning on military time.”

I ignored that one.

The door opened and Petty Officer Jameson stepped inside. “Apologies for the interruption, Lieutenant Commander,” she said, and saluted. “I’ve got a call coming through for you from Commander Shepherd. Where would you like to take it?”

“Here,” I replied, and gestured for the soldiers to take Whitmore back to his quarters.

Jack chuckled. “Ooh, important call for the man who’s about to lose his station. You know I’m right, Ryan. You fucked up and everyone’s here to witness it.” The soldiers escorted him out, but he giggled all the way, as if someone had just told him the funniest joke in the world.

Every man and woman who enlisted was psychologically evaluated, but it wasn’t unheard of for a soldier to crack under pressure. I still couldn’t shake the feeling that this was a manipulation, though.

“Sir?” Jameson again.

“Oh, yeah, patch him through,” I replied, and sat down behind the desk. The stench of Whitmore clung to the insides of my nostrils. He wore that typical fuck boy cologne that scored him woman after woman whenever he had leave.

Jameson saluted and left, closing the door behind her, and I launched myself out of the chair and opened my windows before the call came through. Anything to get rid of the damn smell. My gray blinds rattled in the icy wind, but brought the fresh air I craved.

The phone rang and I lifted the receiver right away. “Lieutenant Commander Baker,” I said.

“Good morning, Baker,” Shepherd said, “I’m glad I caught you.”

A strange thing to say. Where else would I have been? “Is there something I can help you with, Sir?”

“How’s your investigation proceeding? Have you found any evidence indicating that Petty Office Whitmore is to blame for the crime?”

“Only that I saw it myself, Sir,” I replied.

“Not good enough and you know it, Baker. Don’t insult my intelligence by bringing that up again,” Shepherd snapped. “Now, tell me what you’ve done so far.”

“Sir, I’ve sent a small contingent of men to talk with the townsfolk. I figured it would be best to liaise with them as much as possible and improve relations,” I replied.

“And? How did it go?”

“Not well, Sir. They’re formulating a petition to close down the base and they won’t speak with anyone in uniform or out of it, for that matter.”

“Civilians,” Shepherd said, then muttered something indiscernible. “Any other progress?”

“No physical evidence, Sir, other than the cuts on Whitmore’s knuckles. I haven’t had any officers on the base, since you insisted we handle this within the military.”

“Good,” he replied.

“I have spoken with Petty Officer Whitmore but he insists on pinning the crime on me,” I replied.

“On you? Christ, this is a catastrophe in a teacup. Fuck’s sake. Fine, that’s it. It’s settled.”

“What is, Sir?”

“I’m on my way to the base. I’ll be there in the early afternoon,” Commander Shepherd replied. “Ensure that everything is ready when I arrive. I want a debriefing on the state of the base, as well as this presentation from your interior decorator. After that, we’ll handle Whitmore and what to do about him. And you.”

“Me, Sir?” My heart clawed it’s way up into my throat.

“You didn’t think you would escape disciplinary action, did you?”

“Sir, for what? I haven’t done –”

“Either one of your men attacked a civilian while you were with him, or you did. You understand how bad this looks after what happened with Mission Hubert. This needs to be dealt with swiftly.”

“Yes, Sir.” Fuck it, this was it wasn’t it? This was the end of my career with the military.

“Now, Baker, I don’t want you to concern yourself with the result of this too much. Focus on the base and making sure everything is adequately prepared for my arrival, understand?” Shepherd’s no-nonsense tone had run its course for me.

“Yes, Sir.”

“Good.” He clicked off the line.

I put the phone back on its base, then rubbed my eyes with the heels of my palms. So that was it, then. Whitmore had succeeded in bringing me down with him. In truth, what the hell did I expect? An easy way out of this? No, this wasn’t a fucking fairy tale.

Not only would I take the fall for what happened, but Chanel would likely suffer for it, as well. This was the point of collapse and I couldn’t say anything but that I brought it upon myself.

“Shit,” I whispered, and kicked the underside of my desk. “Shit!” I got up and charged to the window again. I slammed it closed and cut off the flow of air. Thankfully, Whitmore’s obtrusive scent had already dissipated.

I’d worked hard to make sure everything on the base was running smoothly. I was proud of what I’d accomplished here, and what I planned on accomplishing in future, but that was all on the line thanks to Whitmore’s fuckery.

I marched back to my desk and sat down, checking the time. It wasn’t long until noon, and it was my experience that Commander Shepherd always arrived earlier than expected. He loved the surprise factor.

Another rat-tat at my door. Christ, it was like Grand Central Station in here today.

“What is it?” I yelled, then inhaled and brought myself back from the brink. “Come in.”

Chanel entered the office, a weary smile stretching those too perfect lips. This was the last thing I needed. Being around her presented enough of a challenge already, without the prospect of Shepherd’s visit looming over my head.

“Hi.” She shut the door behind her. “I wondered if you might have a few minutes to speak about something. It’s important.”

“I don’t think so,” I replied.

Chanel wilted. “Oh. Okay.”

“Sorry,” I said, and guilt flashed through my veins. I didn’t want to take out my bad mood on her of all people. She’d been my anchor in stormy seas throughout this entire ordeal. She deserved better than me snapping at her. “I’m just tense.”

“Why? If I may ask.”

“Commander Shepherd’s on his way. He’ll be here in the early afternoon.”

Her eyes widened and she crossed the distance from the door to the desk in three great strides. “He’s finally coming? I’ll get to do the presentation. Ryan, this is good news. It’s great news.”

“Not really,” I replied, “since he might end up relieving me of my duty or having me court-martialed for a crime I didn’t commit.”

“What?!”

“I – Whitmore’s accusing me of having beat Timothy, as I’m sure you know, and there’s no evidence to prove otherwise. Either I’m going to take the fall for what he did, or I’m going to be punished in other ways.”

She shook her head on repeat, glossy hair flipping around her head. God, even in fear she was achingly beautiful. “They can’t do that to you. You didn’t do anything wrong.”

“You mean apart from sleeping with you.”

She stumbled back a step.

“I didn’t mean it like that. I just meant that what we’ve been up to isn’t exactly the military standard, if you catch my drift.”

“Oh, well, I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. I wanted it too.”

“But you don’t want it anymore,” she replied.

“I didn’t say that. Look, I’m sorry, this is all coming out wrong, I just don’t need extra pressure right now with this shit hanging over my head.” I bent and rubbed my eyes again. “It’s too much to deal with.”

Chanel’s footsteps were muffled on the carpet. I didn’t track her movements, but expected the door to open and shut. It didn’t. Instead, her hands rested on my shoulders. “It’s okay,” she said, “everything’s going to be fine.”

“I’d love to believe that, but I know better.” This would be the day that ended my military career. I didn’t have any skills outside of this. I didn’t have a future without the Navy. What was I going to do, become a bouncer at a club?

“I promise,” Chanel said, “it’s going to turn out fine. I feel it in my gut.”

I was overwhelmed with gratitude. She was strong when I couldn’t be. What a woman. If only she was my woman.