Point Of Departure. Lindsay McKenna

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      Callie stood in the circle of his right arm, his hand around her waist. Ty was tall compared to her five-foot-five-inch frame. She could see a wry quality in his gray eyes, darkly shadowed by some unknown emotion, and she heard self-mockery in his husky voice. Despite her own shock, she sensed that he, too, bore emotional wounds from his past. “You were a knight,” she whispered. “You rescued me. I thought I was going to be raped by them. I didn’t expect to get help. Not here. Not these days….”

      Her words chilled Ty to the bone. He nodded and gently nudged her to begin making her slow, limping way to the dispensary door. “Remington’s a bastard, but I don’t think he’d rape you. He was drunk.”

      Callie shot him a look. “Drunk or not, that’s no excuse for them attacking me.”

      The quaver of real fury in her voice stirred Ty. “I’m not defending them,” he said softly. “What they did was wrong.”

      The bright lights momentarily blinded Callie. She didn’t really want to be here. She wanted to curl up at home, left alone to nurse her wounds. After all, that’s what she’d always done—take care of herself by herself. Now here was Ballard, solicitous and sensitive to her needs, and she had no idea how to react to him. Long ago, she’d lumped navy pilots under one simple description: arrogant, insensitive, egotistical and selfish. And no man had forced her to challenge that characterization—until now. As she limped down the green-and-white-tiled passageway toward the nursing station, Callie tried to grip the torn edges of her blouse with her hand, embarrassed by how she must look to the corpswaves and nurses.

      The nurse on duty took her name and wrote everything down. Then she led her to a cubicle formed from three white sheets, where, with Ballard’s help, Callie was able to sit up on the gurney to await the arrival of the doctor on duty. This close to Ballard, she couldn’t escape the anger banked in his eyes, and she wondered who it was for. Her? Or the pilots? She knew from painful experience that pilots stuck together, bonded tighter than glue under any perceived attack by an outsider.

      Still, if Ballard was angry with her, or blaming her for what had happened, why was he still here with her? Moistening her lips, Callie glanced at him, standing stoically beside the gurney.

      “You don’t have to stay, Commander. I’ll be okay now,” she managed to say, her heart squeezing oddly in her chest. She had to pull herself together!

      Ty raised his head and settled his gaze on Callie. “How will you get back to your car?” Beneath the fluorescent lights overhead, she looked very pale, her skin appearing translucent under the harsh glare. Her hair was in disarray, and Ty suddenly was seized with the most maddening urge to gently tunnel his fingers through that black, shiny mass and tame it all back into order. The impulse was as crazy as it was unexpected, and Ty jammed his hands deep into his pockets. Although Callie was an officer, she didn’t have that outer toughness so many of the women seemed to wear as armor in the male-dominated military world.

      Callie inwardly railed at Ty’s response. He could have said “I want to stay because you need help.” No, he was only concerned with his responsibility to get her back to her car. Now that the incident had passed, no doubt he’d take the side of Remington and his brother pilots. Trying to stop the aching hurt in her chest, she merely nodded and looked away. But why should she be hurt or affected by this man? Her emotions in utter disarray, Callie had no easy answers.

      “Hi,” a tall woman in her forties said, pushing aside one of the sheet dividers, “I’m Dr. Rose Lipinski, duty physician. Looks like you took a few bumps and bruises, Lieutenant Donovan.”

      Callie was thankful the doctor was a woman. A part of her relaxed as the redheaded Dr. Lipinski came forward to examine her. The doctor was lean as a rail, but her green eyes sparkled with warmth.

      “I guess I do look a little beat up,” she said, automatically reaching to shake hands with the doctor. At the sight of her bloody, lacerated palm, she gave the doctor an apologetic look and pulled it back.

      Lipinski smiled understandingly. “What happened, Ms. Donovan?” she asked, as she gently began to examine Callie’s hands, knees and the swollen right ankle.

      “I was accosted in the O Club parking lot,” Callie whispered, her throat suddenly closing with tears. Embarrassed, she raised her hand to wipe the threatening moisture from her eyes. She saw Dr. Lipinski’s own eyes narrow speculatively as she continued her examination.

      “Attacked,” Ballard growled.

      The doctor stopped her examination, twisted to look over her shoulder and studied him in silence. “Really? And who are you?”

      “Ty Ballard.”

      “Oh, yes, I’ve heard of you…. Top Gun, right?”

      “Yes, an instructor.”

      “Did you see Ms. Donovan being attacked, Commander?”

      Ty nodded. “I was walking to my car after a beer at the O Club when I heard her scream.”

      “I see.” Rose studied Callie’s drawn features. “You know the man who did this to you?”

      “Men,” Ty corrected grimly, moving within a foot of the two women. “Three men.”

      The doctor’s thin brows drew downward with censure. She turned and picked up some gauze from the nearby sink and methodically began to clean Callie’s hands and knees. “Can you identify them?” she asked quietly.

      Callie nodded. “Yes.” She shrugged. “One is my boss, Lieutenant Commander Remington. The other two are Top Gun students.”

      “Lieutenants Thorson and Oakley,” Ty provided darkly. “Both are TAD fighter pilots from the Enterprise. They’re at the top of their class so far, fighting it out for first place.” He scowled. “They’ve got real killer instincts.”

      Callie felt a chill run through her. “That’s a good description of them,” she choked out.

      “Oh?” Dr. Lipinski swabbed Callie’s palms with an antiseptic that stained her skin an orange color. “And how would you describe them, Ms. Donovan?”

      Suddenly uncomfortable at the tension in the doctor’s voice, Callie murmured, “Drunk, arrogant and violent.”

      “I see….” Dr. Lipinski carefully examined the swollen ankle. “Looks like a good sprain, Ms. Donovan. Does it hurt if I turn it this way? That?”

      Callie withstood the jagged pain as the other woman gently moved the ankle in every conceivable direction. She was trying to be a good patient, but between Ballard’s angry intensity and Lipinski’s bird doglike snooping, she longed to escape.

      “So,” the doctor continued in a low voice as she wrapped Callie’s ankle in an Ace bandage, “you saw the whole thing, Commander?”

      Ty shrugged. “I saw part of it, Doc.”

      “Were they all drunk?” she asked.

      “Yes, they were. I could smell the liquor on their breath.”

      “Boys will be boys, eh?” the doctor murmured, her frown deepening. As she finished wrapping Callie’s ankle, she smiled up at her. “I want you to tell me what happened from beginning to end, Ms. СКАЧАТЬ