Oath Of Honor

Chapter Eighteen

The world spun crazily upside down. The light flickered rapidly and finally blinked out and all that was left was cold. Only pain and blood-stopping cold. Unseen hands dragged Wes deeper beneath the icy mantle, into a blackness that extinguished the last glimmer of illumination. Instinctively, she held her breath, struggling to orient herself in the surreal landscape of shock and panic. Her left arm wouldn’t obey her. She kicked and flailed but her water-filled boots and sodden jeans weighed her down. Up and down held no meaning—she revolved in a world without substance. Her animal brain fled from the freezing darkness, away from the primeval terror engulfing her. Primitive reflexes kicked in, and she fought to return to the last place she’d felt light and heat. The surface.

She struggled upward, her chest burning, the pain so huge she hungered to suck in air to soothe the flames. She clamped her teeth shut, finally recognizing the water that entombed her, water that would provide no air, only sudden and swift death. With only her right arm and her clumsy legs to power her, she flailed and kicked and writhed her way toward the shimmer of light penetrating the gloom. Despair squeezed her throat closed.

She wasn’t going to make it. Too far, too cold, too much pain. Blood thundered in her ears, her heart crashed wildly against the crushing pressure in her chest. Another second and instinct would overrule reason. She had to breathe. Breathe and end the torture.

Fury washed through her. She would not surrender. Her mind hazed, confusion dulled her senses. The cold bored deep inside her and bloomed into heat, suffusing her with blissful warmth. Another few seconds and the fear began to abate. She stopped thrashing. The vise around her chest tightened, and her battle slowed. Her arms and legs were so heavy. The sea—warmer now—enclosed her, streaming past her face like gentle fingers caressing her, welcoming her. She was so close to falling asleep, the cold forgotten.

A frigid blast of air hit her in the face and someone yelled into her ear, “Breathe, damn it. Breathe!”

Wes jerked and sucked in a lungful of air. She coughed and life returned to her arms and legs. Pins and needles shot into her fingers and toes. A knife blade of slicing pain pierced her chest. The cold returned with a vengeance. Enemies grasped at her, threatening to pull her back into the dark. She thrashed.

“Wes, it’s Evyn! Don’t fight me.”

The darkness disappeared, gray sky flashed overhead. An arm gripped her chest—Evyn. Evyn was towing her. Evyn was not the enemy. Wes tried to kick her legs, but she couldn’t move.

“Almost there,” Evyn panted, her breath sounding harsh and labored. “Wes, keep breathing.”

Wes sucked in another breath, coughed again. Her throat burned. “Evyn, what—”

“It’s okay, we’re almost to the boat.” Evyn’s voice was strained, tremulous.

The water was so cold. The shore was a distant blur. A whirlpool pulled at her legs. Riptide. Evyn’s grip on her slipped, and Evyn cursed.

“You’ve got to hold on to me,” Evyn shouted. “The current is against us.”

“Don’t let me pull you down.” Wes tried to force her lethargic limbs to move. “I can swim.”

“Shut up, Wes,” Evyn grunted. “I’m not letting you go.”

Wes was too tired, too cold, and in too much pain to argue. Water splashed into her mouth, and she needed all her strength to keep her head above the roiling waves. She had to trust Evyn. She did trust her.

A shadow loomed overhead. The boat.

“Let me lift you,” Evyn ordered. “Don’t fight me.”

Icy metal scraped Wes’s back as she was rolled into a narrow litter and strapped down. She spun in midair and the litter rappelled upward, jerking with each ratchet of the winch. Hands grabbed the basket and guided it onto the deck, voices tumbled over one another—a jumble of orders and phrases she thought she recognized but couldn’t make sense of. “Evyn?”

“She’s right here.” A man’s voice. Then, “Daniels, get below. You’re blue.”

Someone lifted Wes’s left arm, and she groaned.

“Sorry.” A woman’s voice. She knew her. Who?

Wes fought to come back to herself. She opened her eyes, focused on the faces looking down at her. She knew them. Had to connect the names floating in her hazy mind.

“Do you know where you are?” the blonde asked. Blonde—hazel eyes. Worried eyes. Cord.

“I’m okay,” Wes said, her voice sounding like a croak. “On board the ship. I’m okay.”

“You’re okay,” Gary echoed, his face oddly white against the flat gray sky.

“Let me up.” Wes struggled against the strap across her chest.

“Just take it easy.” Evyn appeared next to Gary. “You took a swim, Doc. Let us check you out.”

Above Evyn’s left shoulder the helicopter slid into view, its belly open, the rescue basket angled in the portal. The basket—the basket swinging toward her. Toward her and the patient, her priority. “I remember going in. How’s the patient?”

Evyn smiled crookedly. “Which one?”

“The president. The only one.”

“He’s fine.” Evyn’s mouth twisted and a shadow passed over her face—storm clouds in a summer sky. “How are you?”

“Left shoulder’s getting a workout, but it’s just banged up some. Swallowed a little water, feels like. I’m okay.”

The radio crackled. Cord said, “Lower the Stokes.”

Wes twisted her head, felt a restraint on her neck. “You can take this collar off. I’m fine.”

“You are,” Evyn said, her bloodless lips tinged with blue. “But we’re going to transport you to the hospital—check you out.”

“No way,” Wes said, her voice stronger already. “I never lost consciousness. There’s nothing they’re going to find in the ER that I can’t tell you right now—my shoulder is contused and I’m cold. Get me warm and I’ll be fine.”

“You’re not in charge here, Dr. Masters,” Evyn said sharply. She shivered violently and her eyes glazed before she blinked them back into focus.

“I’m the senior medical officer,” Wes said. “And you’re verging on hypothermia. Gary—she needs to get out of that wetsuit and get warmed up.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Gary said. “Evyn, you heard the captain. Get below and strip down. The extra thermals are in the bulkhead.”

“Don’t pull rank on me, Wes,” Evyn said.

With her good hand, Wes unsnapped the buckle holding the band across her chest and pushed up until she was sitting in the litter. “I wouldn’t need to if you listened to reason.” Her head swirled, but she fought down a wave of nausea. Her shoulder ached, but sensation had returned to her fingers and her arm was moving again. Stiff and sore, but mobile. “I’ve had worse playing rugby.”

“That’s not in your personnel file.”

Wes grinned. “Not everything is in there, don’t you know that?”

Cord’s voice cut through the rush of wind. “Let’s finish this pissing contest onshore. Can I release the chopper?”

“Yes,” Wes said, “as soon as the president is transferred up.”

“You’re going too,” Evyn said.

“If I needed to go—which I don’t—we’d wait for another chopper. POTUS is the priority. We do this by the book.”

“The exercise is over.”

“I’m not grandstanding, Evyn,” Wes said quietly, holding Evyn’s gaze, letting Evyn see for herself she was okay and thinking rationally. “I wouldn’t risk it if I thought there was a bigger problem, but I want to end this mission on my feet.”

The glacial blue of Evyn’s eyes softened and she nodded to Cord. “Send up the president’s litter.” She crouched by Wes, her face all Wes could see. “But when we get back to land, I want to check you over myself.”

“Deal.” Wes pulled the thermal blanket they’d placed over her more tightly around her shoulders. “Go get out of that suit.”

Evyn grinned weakly. “No argument.”

Wes waited until Evyn disappeared down the hatch before saying to Gary, “Make sure she gets something hot into her. She expended a lot of energy out there.”

Gary handed her a steaming thermos. “Tea. I’ll get hers next.”

“Thanks.” Wes sipped the blessedly hot liquid and closed her eyes. The mission had very nearly been derailed by the accident, and when they wrote up the report, they’d have to explain exactly how that had happened—and who, if anyone, was responsible.

*

“Showers are down the hall on the right,” Cord said as the group hurried into the rescue station. She waved Jeff and Gary on and turned to Evyn and Wes. “The first order of business is for the two of you to get warmed up.”

“Go ahead,” Evyn said to Wes. “You feel steady enough?”

“Yes, I’m fine. Some heat and dry clothes and I’ll be good to go. You need to hit the showers too, Agent Daniels.”

“Gary went to get our gear from the car—I’ll get it and be there in a second.”

“All right. Thanks.” Wes left quickly and Evyn squelched the urge to follow immediately.

The distance in Wes’s voice was nearly as chilling as the water had been. Evyn couldn’t tell if Wes’s aloof reserve hid anger, pain, or criticism, but the wintery expression in Wes’s eyes left her feeling abandoned. The stab of loneliness was as frightening as it was unexpected.

“You okay?” Cord said softly.

“What?” Evyn focused on Cord, read her concern. “Yeah. You weren’t kidding about riptides. Freaking strong, and freaking cold.”

“The weather’s changing fast. We’re in for a blow. Maritime reports say we’re looking at snow up and down the coast.”

“The water sure felt like it dropped twenty degrees.”

“In some parts of the current, it probably had—cold water pulled up to the surface by changes in the wind and air pressure.” Cord grimaced. “I’m really sorry I didn’t call off the exercise earlier.”

“Couldn’t be anticipated—or helped,” Evyn said, listening for the distant sound of the shower running. She really wanted to go back and check on Wes. She wasn’t convinced Wes was as steady as she claimed. When she’d finally located her, the powerful current had been pulling Wes hard and fast out to sea. Wes had been spinning, sinking, and she hadn’t been struggling. For a sickening, heart-stopping second, she’d thought she was too late. She couldn’t remember ever being so terrified.

“You want me to get your gear?” Cord asked. “You’re shivering.”

“No.” Evyn ignored the chill spreading along her bones. “As soon as I check with Gary, I’ll shower.”

Cord nodded. “I’ll be in my office.”

“Thanks, Cord.” Evyn turned away, pretending she hadn’t seen the questions, or the concern, in Cord’s eyes. They’d gotten to be friends over the years since she’d first met Cord during her water-rescue certification. Back then, there’d been a tiny spark of interest, but time and distance had made friendship more feasible, and she was glad to have avoided the awkwardness that would have cropped up when they had to work together. Besides, a friendship with no complications was worth a lot more than a hot and heavy—and short-lived—affair. That’s exactly what she should be looking for with Wes—a sound professional friendship, but she couldn’t seem to get her head around that. When she’d seen Wes disappear into the water, the only thing she’d thought about was getting her to safety. She hadn’t thought about the mission or protocol or the fact that they were in the middle of an exercise to rescue the president. None of that had mattered, and that was a big problem.

As if reading her thoughts, Gary walked up, set two gear bags beside her, and said, “Stop beating yourself up. What happened out there was an accident. You okay?”

“I’m okay.” Evyn leaned against the wall inside the entrance to the rescue station. “Listen, you should get out of here if you’re going to catch the flight home.”

“What about you?”

“I’m going to be here a while. I need to check Wes over, and she needs to at least get some sleep before she flies. I’ll rebook us on a flight out in the morning.”

“You want me to stay?”

“You don’t need to. Your wife will be happy if you make it home tonight, and you’ll score with her for the next time you can’t get home.”

Gary smiled. “Damn sensitive of you…and I appreciate it.” He paused. “You did right out there, Evyn—start to finish. Stop second-guessing yourself.”

She shook her head. “I don’t know, Gary. I wasn’t thinking about anything at all—I just reacted. If I’d waited just a minute, she might have come right back up to the surface, Cord would’ve thrown her a lifeline, and we could’ve hauled her in. Then you and I could have gotten the president into the chopper, just the way it reads in the rulebook. Instead, I went over the side without a thought to POTUS.”

“Jesus, Evyn, it was a training exercise and we had a team member overboard. I would’ve gone after her myself if you hadn’t already done it.”

“Would you? That’s not the protocol and you know it. Our responsibility is first to the president, and then to the team. We took Wes through the same scenario with the shooting sim, expecting her to leave wounded agents on the ground.”

“Oh, come on.” Gary snorted. “Sure, there was an element of uncertainty during that sim, but she knew somewhere in her mind those agents weren’t really in danger of bleeding to death. That makes it a whole lot easier than having someone get pulled into a riptide.”

“Maybe,” Evyn said, appreciating his efforts to make her feel better but not buying the excuse. She’d broken protocol—instinctively and against all her training.

“I’m telling you,” Gary said, “I would’ve done exactly what you did.”

“I didn’t do it consciously, Gary. I didn’t even register we were in the middle of a training exercise. My instincts are supposed to be different than that.”

“You know what—we can hash this all out when we debrief. Right now you’re standing there blue as a Smurf, shivering all over. You need to get in the shower. You can beat yourself up back in DC tomorrow.”

“Look, I’m sorry,” Evyn said. Taking her anger at herself out on Gary wasn’t fair. Not his fault she’d abandoned her training—it was Wes’s. Every time Wes Masters figured into anything, she totally went off the rails.

“Forget it—it’s been a hell of a day.” Gary thumped her shoulder. “Go shower, will you?”

“Yeah.” Evyn grabbed her go bag and Wes’s, and pushed off the wall. “You better get started for the airport or you’re not going to make it. Storm coming.”

“You sure?”

“Yeah, I’ll get us checked into a hotel, call Tom, and bring him up to speed.”

“Okay. But I want to see you when you get back to DC before we debrief on this mission.”

“Why?”

“So I can make sure you don’t fall on your sword when it’s not necessary.”

Evyn laughed. “Deal.”

She waved Gary toward the door and headed down the hall. She wouldn’t fall on her sword, but she needed to get herself back on track. She needed to do the job and forget about Wes going into the water, forget about the panic that had hit her hard and filled her with terror when she thought she’d lost her.

*

The locker room was unisex and small—a ten-by-ten-foot room with three narrow gray lockers against one wall, a few open shelves for gear and supplies above a bench opposite the lockers, a tiny closet with a toilet in the corner, and another slightly bigger closet with a doorless wooden shower stall. The water was still running in the shower when Evyn walked in, and the single horizontal foot-high window above the lockers was frosted with steam. She shed the canvas pants and hooded sweatshirt she’d pulled on out on the patrol boat, dropped them next to the bench, and grabbed a couple of white terry cloth towels from the shelf. By the thinness of the material, they’d been washed a lot of times, but they were clean and dry, and that was all she needed. The shower in the other room turned off.

“Need a towel?” she called.

“I got one, thanks,” Wes called back.

Evyn wrapped a towel around her torso and waited for Wes to leave the shower. The already small room shrank further when Wes walked in, her wheat-gold hair bronzed by the water, hugging her scalp and fingering along her neck. Sparkling droplets beaded on her chest and rained in thin rivulets over the muscles of her upper abdomen. Her skin was goose bumped.

Evyn unfolded a towel and held it out. “You’re cold. Cover your shoulders. You’ve got a pretty good bruise going there.”

“Thanks. Looks worse than it feels.” Wes rubbed her hair and draped the towel around her neck. “There’s still plenty of hot water.”

“Good, I’m ready for it. Your bag is over there.” Evyn gestured to the bags she’d left at the end of the row of lockers. “I’ll be out in a second.”

She edged past Wes, a foot of space between them. Despite the lingering cold that had taken up permanent residence in her bones, she was anything but numb. Being close to Wes charged her muscles and flooded her blood with heat and expectation. She tugged off the towel, draped it over the side of the shower stall, and stepped inside, twisting the hot tap all the way open. She added a little cold but kept the water as close to steaming as she could stand, immersing her head, turning her face into the spray, desperately hoping to purge the image of Wes’s body outlined by the thin cotton towel. Strong shoulders, sculpted arms, the swell of firm breasts, the stretch of abdomen and slight flare of thighs. She shuddered and braced her arms against the smooth tile wall. She let her head hang down while the heat beat against her neck and shoulders. She stayed there until the water started to cool and then twisted the taps closed. Briskly, she toweled her hair dry, finger-combed it, and wrapped the last dry towel around her chest. She strode back into the locker room, not looking in Wes’s direction, and quickly pulled on dry jeans and a long-sleeved T-shirt. After donning thick wool socks and kicking into her boots, she turned to Wes, who had stretched out on the bench with an arm over her eyes. She might have been asleep.

Evyn smiled to herself. Wes was like every other first responder she’d ever known—able to sleep anywhere, anytime, under any conditions. She eased her emergency kit out of her go bag and crouched next to the bench. “You asleep?”

“No,” Wes said quietly. “Just enjoying being warm.”

“I know what you mean.” Evyn pulled out a blood-pressure cuff and a stethoscope. “I want to check your BP.”

Wes moved to unbutton her cuff, and Evyn brushed her hand aside. “I’ve got it.”

She unbuttoned Wes’s cuff and folded the sleeve up to her mid-upper arm. Wes’s skin was lightly tanned, soft and smooth, the muscles beneath firm and finely etched. She didn’t look at Wes’s face as she wrapped the blood-pressure cuff around her biceps and checked her pressure. “Ninety over sixty. Is that usual for you?”

“A little low,” Wes said, “but nothing worrisome.”

“Uh-huh.” Evyn wasn’t about to argue, but she wasn’t going to let Wes self-diagnose, either. She checked her pulse. Sixty, slow and steady, full and strong. Wes didn’t just look to be in good shape, she was. “Do you run?”

“I row.”

“It shows.” Evyn pulled out a digital thermometer. “Put this under your tongue.”

Wes moved her arm from over her eyes and turned her head to look at Evyn. Her eyebrows rose slightly as she eyed the thermometer. “I’m okay.”

Fatigue shadowed her eyes, darkening the green to nearly black. Her lips were pale. She looked exhausted.

“Your vital signs are good, but you need fuel and rest.” Evyn wagged the thermometer. “Under your tongue.”

Wes grinned wryly and opened her mouth.

Evyn slid the thermometer in, and Wes slowly closed her lips around it. Her eyes held Evyn’s, and Evyn felt heat rush to her face. Her thighs suddenly trembled, and she dropped onto her knees to steady herself. Hell, she couldn’t even do something as simple as take Wes’s temperature without starting to lose it. Well. She might be able to keep her cool if she didn’t look at Wes’s mouth and imagine those moist, sensuous lips closing around her. Wes put every one of her fantasies to shame—and scared the hell out of her. She swallowed hard and wondered if Wes could hear the tightness in her throat. Her heart nearly froze when Wes’s hand moved toward her face.

Evyn stilled, feeling a little bit like a rabbit paralyzed at the sight of a predator drawing near. Wes’s fingers grazed her cheek, slid down to her neck, and Evyn’s breath caught in her throat.

“You’ve got a bruise,” Wes murmured.

Evyn slipped the thermometer from between Wes’s lips and pretended to stare at it. “Ninety-six. You’re too cold.”

“And your pulse is racing.” Wes’s fingertips rested over Evyn’s carotid. “I bet if we took your blood pressure, it would be all over the place. You need some rest too, Agent Daniels.”

Evyn wanted to move away from Wes’s touch. And she wanted more of it. She wanted the fire streaming from Wes’s fingertips to scorch through her, burning away fear and uncertainty and caution. She wanted to explode. Her stomach trembled. She licked her suddenly dry lips and eased away. “We both need a meal. Sit up, I want to check your pressure while you’re upright. I’m not letting you walk out of here and have you fall down halfway to the vehicle.”

“I appreciate your concern,” Wes said quietly, “but I’m not a squid, you know.”

Evyn laughed. “I know. But I bet it’s been a long time since you’ve had that kind of dunking.”

Sighing, Wes pushed upright. “True.” She closed her eyes. “And I do have a little orthostatic hypotension.”

Instantly, Evyn forgot about everything except making sure Wes was stable. She took her pressure again. “Seventy over fifty. You’re a little dizzy, aren’t you?”

“Just a little.”

“Okay.” Evyn rose briskly. “We’re spending the night in Kitty Hawk. You’re going to get some hot food into you and twelve hours’ sleep.”

Wes frowned. “I can sleep in DC. The trip back isn’t that long.”

“Sorry, I’m not taking a chance on you decompensating on an airplane. Food, sleep, home tomorrow.”

“Should I ask who left you in charge?”

Wes sounded grumpy, which only proved she wasn’t at the top of her game. Evyn had never seen her disgruntled by anything.

“I’m only in charge by default, Captain,” Evyn said softly. “I set up that exercise. It’s my fault you went in today. I’m going to see you make it home, safe and sound.”

“That’s bullshit. The cable snapped. It was an accident.”

“It could’ve been worse.” Evyn shuddered inwardly. Wes had been on her way down when she’d reached her. She couldn’t even think about that without feeling as if pieces of her were going to tear apart and shatter like glass on the rocks. “No matter what you think, I need to take care of you right now.”

Wes drew a sharp breath. “I’m not sure how good I’ll be at that—being the patient, I mean.”

“Not used to being taken care of?”

“Not really, no.”

“No one special?” The silence stretched and Evyn waited for the shutters to close again. But Wes just searched her eyes, and Evyn was too tired and worried to hide whatever might show.

“No, no one.”

“Then I guess I’m it tonight,” Evyn said, trying for lightness.

“It might take some getting used to,” Wes said softly. “I might not be any good at it.”

“I doubt there’s anything you aren’t good at.” Evyn packed her gear and bagged their wet clothes. She held out her hand to Wes. “Let’s start practicing and see how you do.”

Wes rose slowly from the bench, wavering ever so slightly. Evyn slid her arm around Wes’s waist. “Okay?”

“Don’t quite have my land legs yet.” Wes let out an exasperated sigh and draped her arm over Evyn’s shoulders. “Just give me a minute.”

“Take all the time you need. We’re not on a schedule tonight.”

Wes’s hand curved around Evyn’s shoulder, the pressure of her fingers shooting tendrils of excitement through Evyn’s chest. Her heart hammered and her legs quivered. She braced her muscles, hoping Wes couldn’t feel her tremble. She planned on taking care of Wes and nothing more.

“Ready to get out of here?” Evyn asked.

“More than ready.” Wes dropped her arm and stepped away. “I think I can make it on my own.”

Evyn missed the contact instantly and said casually, “Never doubted it. Let’s go find a room for the night.”

Wes laughed softly. “More practice?”

“Uh…hell. You think maybe you could cut me some slack? My brain is a little numb here.”

“Well, let’s go get you warmed up.”

Wes reached for the door and pushed it open, and Evyn wondered how the tables had been so neatly turned.