just being contrary and she knew it. Being under his thumb for her every move on this case rankled. “I’m not sure. Once the case closed and I was sent home, I really didn’t have a chance to follow up.” All true.
“Well, that needs to be one of our priorities. NCIS agents always follow up.”
She nodded. “Agreed. I could look into that right now. I’ve just got to find Billy.”
“Sia, he’s probably turned in. It’s late.”
“It is?”
“Yes, and you’re dead on your feet. Let’s put this on hold until tomorrow when we’ll both be rested. We need to organize how we’re going to tackle and untangle this mess. If Walker is responsible for all three deaths, then we need to figure that out. If not, we need to either confirm the pilot-error ruling or negate it. There’s more at stake here than proving innocence or guilt.”
“What is that?”
“There are families involved. People who want to know what happened to their loved ones. They need to have answers to put them completely to rest,” he said gently.
He opened the cabin door and Sia stepped out. He followed and secured the door. He turned and headed down the corridor and she followed.
It must have been the weariness leeching at her body. His words caused a storm of emotions to rise in her, the remembered pain of her brother’s death and shame that it had been deemed his fault, never knowing the real answers, not being able to forgive or forget Chris’s part in his death. The tantalizing clue from Walker that he had the real answer, but had no intention of giving her that peace. Her eyes filled and she stumbled on the ladder, which was just what the Navy called the metal stairway that led to the various decks of the ship.
With lightning-quick reflexes, Chris caught her and the movement jostled her sore shoulder. She cried out at the painful twinge. Chris responded by steadying her and swinging her up into his arms. Against her protests, he carried her the rest of the way to her quarters.
The memories whirled around her and intertwined, mixing in a braid of pain and longing that had pulled at her for six long years. To feel his touch again was torture. To have his arms around her again confused her, but was still wonderful.
He was sorely testing her sense of balance. Seeing him again was both unexpected and unwanted. At least on her end. She was going to have to endure working with him—she didn’t have a real choice, but she could ill afford to let herself rekindle any of the feelings she’d had for him. She couldn’t risk it. Besides, their forced contact was temporary, so there was no point. All she had to do was resist the temptation—the very potent temptation.
“Put me down,” she demanded for the third time. Defiantly, he held her against his warm, muscular body. “It was unnecessary.”
“You’re dead on your feet and this was faster.”
His voice had gone rough like whiskey and smoke with a touch of black satin sheets. Sia’s body responded swiftly and automatically to those softly uttered words, nonsensical as they were. He might have said anything in that voice, and she feared her response would have been the same—an instantaneous quickening, a flash of warmth, reduced lung capacity. His breath was warm against her cheek. “I don’t need you to rescue me.” She clenched her teeth at the breathless quality to her voice.
“You were always fiercely independent.” A wicked gleam sparkled in his eyes, curling the corners of his delectable mouth. He leaned close as he easily held her in his strong arms, his thumb rubbing against the exposed skin between her sleeve and the sling. The feel of his skin against her sent a shower of sparks through her.
“Damn straight,” she said as his gaze intensified and there was more fire in his eyes than smoke. With little effort, he caught her gaze, held her prisoner.
“And stubborn,” he breathed, leaning closer still, his lips just brushing the shell of her ear.
She
“Well, that needs to be one of our priorities. NCIS agents always follow up.”
She nodded. “Agreed. I could look into that right now. I’ve just got to find Billy.”
“Sia, he’s probably turned in. It’s late.”
“It is?”
“Yes, and you’re dead on your feet. Let’s put this on hold until tomorrow when we’ll both be rested. We need to organize how we’re going to tackle and untangle this mess. If Walker is responsible for all three deaths, then we need to figure that out. If not, we need to either confirm the pilot-error ruling or negate it. There’s more at stake here than proving innocence or guilt.”
“What is that?”
“There are families involved. People who want to know what happened to their loved ones. They need to have answers to put them completely to rest,” he said gently.
He opened the cabin door and Sia stepped out. He followed and secured the door. He turned and headed down the corridor and she followed.
It must have been the weariness leeching at her body. His words caused a storm of emotions to rise in her, the remembered pain of her brother’s death and shame that it had been deemed his fault, never knowing the real answers, not being able to forgive or forget Chris’s part in his death. The tantalizing clue from Walker that he had the real answer, but had no intention of giving her that peace. Her eyes filled and she stumbled on the ladder, which was just what the Navy called the metal stairway that led to the various decks of the ship.
With lightning-quick reflexes, Chris caught her and the movement jostled her sore shoulder. She cried out at the painful twinge. Chris responded by steadying her and swinging her up into his arms. Against her protests, he carried her the rest of the way to her quarters.
The memories whirled around her and intertwined, mixing in a braid of pain and longing that had pulled at her for six long years. To feel his touch again was torture. To have his arms around her again confused her, but was still wonderful.
He was sorely testing her sense of balance. Seeing him again was both unexpected and unwanted. At least on her end. She was going to have to endure working with him—she didn’t have a real choice, but she could ill afford to let herself rekindle any of the feelings she’d had for him. She couldn’t risk it. Besides, their forced contact was temporary, so there was no point. All she had to do was resist the temptation—the very potent temptation.
“Put me down,” she demanded for the third time. Defiantly, he held her against his warm, muscular body. “It was unnecessary.”
“You’re dead on your feet and this was faster.”
His voice had gone rough like whiskey and smoke with a touch of black satin sheets. Sia’s body responded swiftly and automatically to those softly uttered words, nonsensical as they were. He might have said anything in that voice, and she feared her response would have been the same—an instantaneous quickening, a flash of warmth, reduced lung capacity. His breath was warm against her cheek. “I don’t need you to rescue me.” She clenched her teeth at the breathless quality to her voice.
“You were always fiercely independent.” A wicked gleam sparkled in his eyes, curling the corners of his delectable mouth. He leaned close as he easily held her in his strong arms, his thumb rubbing against the exposed skin between her sleeve and the sling. The feel of his skin against her sent a shower of sparks through her.
“Damn straight,” she said as his gaze intensified and there was more fire in his eyes than smoke. With little effort, he caught her gaze, held her prisoner.
“And stubborn,” he breathed, leaning closer still, his lips just brushing the shell of her ear.
She
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