Navy Justice. Geri Krotow

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СКАЧАТЬ he involved her in this op, there was no longer any hope of ever having more with her than what they’d always had—business. And yet, she was the only woman who’d completely believed in him, as a Navy sailor, a SEAL, a man.

      Navy Lieutenant Commander Joy Alexander.

      A wisp of memory drifted through his adrenaline-soaked mind—the tall, curvy Navy JAG he’d worked with, the attorney who’d defended him. It’d been a tough case.

      She’d been tougher.

      They’d made a good team. For six long months in the legal offices of Naval Station Norfolk, they’d slugged it out, seeking justice for an Afghan villager anyone else might have presumed guilty. It certainly would’ve been easier than facing down the entire United States Justice System with what initially looked like almost zero evidence.

      Joy hadn’t given up from the very first minute they were introduced. In the aftermath of their trial win, his days had become bleak—for other reasons. He’d thought back to how she’d looked on that last day as she drove out of the legal building’s parking lot and waved goodbye.

      He’d followed her Facebook posts while she was aboard the USS Lincoln, and then after, when she’d moved here to Whidbey. Brad didn’t post on Facebook; he lurked solely as a means of keeping in touch with the few old friends he had left. Joy had gotten out of the Navy and stayed on the West Coast to start over as a civvie.

      He’d hoped to show up, take her on a date. If he got past his wariness over chasing a woman he still thought about. A woman he’d made love to in his mind countless times.

      Like him, she’d been a loner. Dedicated to the pursuit of freedom and justice for all. The job was starting to wear on her; he’d seen it back then. He’d felt the same way. Dedicating your life to your country at eighteen, fresh out of high school, was noble and needed. Democracy had to be protected. Terrorists had to be stopped.

      By thirty, the thrill of adrenaline rushes started to break down your body, no matter how fit you were, how dedicated. By thirty-five, you realized that the hard jobs were meant to be done by younger shipmates.

      From what he’d gleaned, Joy had led a relatively charmed Navy career. Still, as they worked on the case together, he’d seen the fatigue shadowing her, too.

      He knew she’d felt the attraction between them—he’d seen it in her glances, the way her hand crept to her throat in an unconscious defense mechanism. If they’d met elsewhere, some situation in which he wasn’t an enlisted SEAL and she wasn’t a Naval Officer JAG, their relationship might have played out very differently.

      A different ending was what he’d hoped for when he saw that she’d gotten out of the Navy, too. They were both civilians now, free to take up with whomever they wanted.

      And then he’d been assigned this mission.

      You’ll never be free.

      As he pulled himself over the edge of the cliff and onto grass that felt surprisingly soft after the rough-hewn cliff side, he figured he had three more minutes to make it inside her place.

      Good thing he was in her backyard.

      He’d memorized her address and the surrounding locale back at the office, when he’d done a search on her, just in case.

      In case he had a chance to ask her out. Instead, he had to ask her for help. Again. He vowed to get what he needed and get out before the terrorists knew he’d been here, before Joy could wind up like his ex-fiancée.

      Dead.

      The question he’d ignored, the question he had to disregard, nipped at his conscience.

       How are you going to let her go a second time?

      * * *

      “WE’LL HAVE A deputy out there as soon as we can, ma’am.”

      “I have to report to work in an hour. Can I give you my work address and they can take my statement there?”

      “No, ma’am.” The emergency operator’s voice was firm. Practiced in getting panicked people to tell her what she needed.

      Joy wasn’t panicked. But she was getting annoyed.

      “I’m just trying to do my civic duty. I’m an attorney, if that helps. Former Navy JAG.” It was a little bittersweet, saying former, but thrilling to think of her new life, too.

      “Then you’ll understand, ma’am, why we need you to stay put. As you can imagine, we’re getting a lot of calls at the moment. Call and tell your boss you’ll be late, and an officer will be at your home, either from Oak Harbor PD or the sheriff’s office.”

      “Fine.”

      She disconnected and made a quick call to the firm’s receptionist as she hurried to her bedroom. Maggie picked up immediately.

      “I’m so sorry to do this on my first day, but it’s unavoidable.”

      Grabbing her jewelry she went into the bathroom.

      “No problem. I’ll let Paul know. He’s a proponent of flexible working hours, as I’m sure he told you, and you have a valid reason for coming in late.” Maggie’s soothing tone reflected professionalism and concern. “Are you okay, Joy?”

      “Yes, yes. I’ll be in as soon as possible. Thank you.”

      She hung up and hoped Maggie was right—that Paul wouldn’t think twice about her tardiness.

      Joy hated being late for anything.

      After she applied her makeup in record time, despite her trembling hands, she took a minute to take in her full appearance.

      And snorted.

      She threw her mascara into the vanity drawer. How could she care about her appearance when she’d witnessed what could very well have been a terrorist attack?

      Her stomach churned, and she regretted that last cup of coffee as it threatened to come back up. GERD and its annoying symptoms was how her body handled the stress, the overload of information and emotions; she was aware of that. It aggravated her gastrointestinal problems. But understanding her physical coping mechanisms didn’t make them any less bothersome.

      The beating of helicopter blades and wail of sirens had been constant. She should take the long route to the office and avoid the shore road, but she knew she wouldn’t. She’d want to see what kind of crash recovery site had been set up. Of course it would be on West Beach, practically next to her house.

      Back in her sunroom she couldn’t take her gaze off the shoreline. Sure enough, several people were walking the rocky stretch in front of her house, two hundred feet below her vantage point. Most were in some sort of uniform, either Navy or local emergency management. A couple of the responders wore windbreakers with identifying letters like “OHPD” for Oak Harbor Police Department and “US NAVY.”

      The police officer or deputy sent to take her statement probably wouldn’t learn anything new from her. The people who could use her eyewitness testimony were higher СКАЧАТЬ