Oath Of Honor

Chapter Thirteen

The first blast rocked the vehicle about forty-five minutes into the trip. All Wes could see out the window was a tree-lined road and a brilliant flash of orange somewhere ahead of them before a cloud of dust—or smoke—enveloped the SUV. The vehicle swerved hard right and she bounced against the door frame. Pain shot down her left arm. She grabbed for the medical kit at her feet with her other hand and held on.

“What’s the situation?” she shouted over a series of deafening roars. The road beneath the heavy chassis vibrated.

“Rocket attack,” Gary yelled back.

Evyn pressed her fingers to her earpiece. Her mouth was moving, but Wes couldn’t make out the words. She jolted forward as the SUV jerked to a stop.

“Out, and stay with me,” Evyn said, pushing the rear door open.

Gary went out the opposite door and Wes scrambled after Evyn, the FAT kit clenched in her fist. Acrid air stung her eyes and burned her throat. Her ears rang. She expected to find craters in the blacktop and wished for a flak jacket and helmet. Her heart pounded in her throat. Everything she knew about battle training flashed through her mind. She followed Evyn’s path exactly, thinking about IEDs and severed limbs and crippling burns. Another flash overhead, another bang. Her pulse shot up and her belly writhed.

That couldn’t be live ammo, these people weren’t that crazy, but she ducked all the same at the sound of weapons fire. The lead car was stopped crosswise on the road, smoke coming from under its hood. Two men and a woman crowded around the rear door of the limo. Evyn ran to them and Wes pushed forward, nudging Evyn aside to get a look in the interior.

“POTUS is unconscious.” A heavyset Asian man pointed to a man she didn’t recognize—the president’s stand-in—sprawled half-off the rear seat.

More explosions, more noise. Wes couldn’t make out most of what was coming over her radio, and she shut the chaos out of her mind. Her only job right now was stabilizing her patient.

“Don’t move him,” Wes ordered, climbing into the back.

“We have to—we’re not secure,” the agent said.

“Not yet.” Wes flipped the locks on the FAT kit and surveyed the contents. Two seconds later she spied the cervical collar and pulled it out. “Hold this.”

“I got it,” Evyn said, crouching next to Wes’s left shoulder.

Wes handed Evyn the collar, yanked out her earpiece, and fitted the stethoscope to her ears. She checked for bilateral breath sounds, made sure his airway was clear, and did a fast visual survey of the victim. No other injuries. “I’ll take the collar now, thanks.”

She secured the collar and said, “Okay—let’s go. You”—she pointed to the big agent—“stabilize his head and neck while we move him. Evyn, get three others on torso and limbs.”

“We know the drill.” Evyn backed out of the vehicle and Wes followed, keeping below the top line of the SUV to take advantage of what little cover she had.

Agents crowded around, Wes hoisted her med kit, and the evac team took off running.

*

Wes gathered up her gear from the floor in the back of the ambulance and stowed it in the med kit. Her shoulder ached and her eyes were gritty, but her head buzzed pleasantly with the adrenaline rush that followed every trauma alert. The “president” was in the OR fifteen minutes after injury—or would have been if this weren’t a drill. He’d been delivered stable and ready for emergency intervention. A by-the-book field evac—just the way she’d written it.

“You about ready?” Evyn said from behind her.

Wes closed the FAT kit. “All set.” She hefted it, winced, and shifted it to her other hand.

“What’s wrong?”

“Hmm? Oh, nothing. Jammed my shoulder a bit. It’s noth—”

Evyn climbed into the rig and pointed to the narrow stretcher against the wall. “Sit.”

“I’m fine.” Wes laughed. “I’m the doctor, remem—”

“And I’m team leader. Sit.”

Wes shut it and sat. No point getting into a pissing contest over who was in charge just yet. She kept quiet as Evyn helped her ease her jacket off and unclipped her radio.

“Can you unbutton your shirt?” Evyn asked, her gaze fixed somewhere past Wes’s left shoulder.

“Sure.” Wes loosened the top half of her shirt one-handed and tugged it free from her pants. She wore a tight silk tank beneath it and was suddenly aware of her nipples tightening. Great. “It’s a bit cold in here—can we do this fast?”

“Where does it hurt?” Evyn ordered herself not to look down. The aisle was narrow, and she was practically kneeling between Wes’s legs. If she leaned forward another inch their breasts would touch.

“Left shoulder joint. It’s just stiff—nothing—”

“We’re going to do this, so you can just suck it up,” Evyn said.

“Fine.”

Ever so carefully, Evyn drew the collar of Wes’s shirt aside with two fingers, careful not to touch skin, until she could see her shoulder. “Big bruise.”

“Feels like it.”

Evyn rocked back on her heels as far as space would allow. “I’m going to range it. Tell me if it hurts.”

“Go ahead.” Wes watched Evyn’s face while Evyn gently cupped her elbow and manipulated her shoulder. Evyn’s eyes were storm-cloud blue, but her touch was sure and steady. A streak of dirt over her cheek made her look unexpectedly vulnerable, and Wes brushed it away before she had time to stop herself. Evyn flinched and Wes dropped her hand. “Shoulder’s okay. Sore, but no worse than at rest.”

“You’ll need to ice it,” Evyn said.

“I will. Thanks.”

Evyn looked away. “You’re welcome.”

“That was a pretty impressive sim.”

“You didn’t seem too bothered by it.” Evyn pushed to her feet and moved back to give Wes room to dress. She resisted the urge to ask her if she needed help. She didn’t want to touch her again. Not at all.

Wes looked up at her. “Did you expect me to be?”

“Well, seeing as how you’re a paper pusher and all.” Evyn grinned, realized she was falling into the habit of bantering with Wes, and skidded away from the friendly exchange. Relaxing her guard around Wes was just too easy, and she couldn’t afford to get familiar with her. Even if she wasn’t supposed to be training her, there was the little matter of Wes probably being on Lucinda Washburn’s private security payroll just now. Hell, for all she knew, Wes was evaluating her. And didn’t that just throw cold water on her libido. “I’ll meet you at the cars. We’re done for today.”

*

They didn’t speak on the trip back to the House, and Evyn disappeared as soon as they disembarked. Wes couldn’t figure out what had put that cold distance in Evyn’s eyes after the warmth that had been there just minutes before, and the more she thought about it, the more frustrated she became. She shouldn’t care—didn’t want to care. Since the idea of sitting around her hotel room until the next day waiting for her next exercise held no appeal, she went back to her office and spent the rest of the afternoon setting up a schedule to review various protocols with the team members. When she’d gotten everything organized to her satisfaction, she turned to the last detail on her list and made a call.

“This is Captain Masters,” she said when a young man answered. “Is Ms. Washburn available?”

“One moment, Captain,” he said pleasantly and put her on hold.

Lucinda answered. “What can I do for you, Captain?”

“I wanted to follow up on my request to schedule the president for a baseline physical examination.”

“Yes, I have that on my list. Can you hold for a moment?”

“Of course.”

A minute passed, and Lucinda returned. “Are you free right now?”

“Certainly.”

“Five minutes in the clinic?” Lucinda said.

“I’ll be waiting.” Wes hurried to the clinic and commandeered the PA, a man she knew by name but hadn’t formally met yet, to assist. “Hernandez, you’ve got the duty. Set up a room for a complete physical, will you? The president is on his way.”

Hernandez, a navy corpsman, snapped to attention. “Yes, ma’am. And welcome aboard, ma’am.”

“Thanks.”

Three minutes later, the president arrived, followed by a military aide carrying nuclear codes in a secure briefcase. Wes saluted.

“Thank you for interrupting your schedule, sir.”

The president returned her salute and extended his hand. “Good to meet you, Doctor.”

She indicated an exam room. “Right in here, sir. This shouldn’t take very long.”

The military aide took a post just outside the door, his expression neutral. Hernandez had laid out equipment on the counter next to the exam table and had draped an ironed white gown on the end of the chair. He stood at attention to the left of the door.

“I’ll leave you to change,” Wes said and stepped out to wait until Hernandez signaled the president was ready. Two minutes later he called her in, and she quickly worked her way through the exam, checking vital signs, listening to heart and lungs, testing reflexes. Everything was fine, which she had anticipated.

“All set, sir,” she said when she’d finished. She stepped out while Hernandez assisted the president, and returned when Hernandez called her.

“What’s your verdict, Doctor?” the president asked as he knotted his tie.

“We’ll want routine bloods again in four months and an EKG in six. But you’re cleared for duty.”

Andrew Powell smiled. “Glad to hear it. How are you finding the post so far?”

“I’m honored, sir.”

“I promise it’s not always this quiet.”

She laughed. “In medicine, sir, quiet is not bad.”

“True about my job too. What are you doing for the holidays?”

“I have the duty, sir.”

The president opened the exam-room door and paused. “Well, be sure and make the staff Christmas party.”

“I will. Thank you, sir.”

“I’m sure I’ll be seeing you again soon,” he said.

“Yes, sir. Happy holidays, sir.”

“Happy holidays, Captain Masters.”

Wes stayed in the hall until he disappeared. Today she’d been part of a simulated rocket attack aimed at destroying this man and what he symbolized to the nation and the world. The idea that someone close to him might be a traitor made the urgency of her job even more acute. She understood—at least rationally—a little bit better why Evyn didn’t yet trust her, and as much as she resisted the idea, she couldn’t totally trust Evyn either.