Targets Entangled (4 page)

“Gunny, we’re with you on this.” Stick stated the fact before following up with the concerns that had been circulating among them. “But your sister was killed in an attack on the multi-national compound where most of the American families lived because it was a hell of a lot easier target than the U.S. Embassy. The assault came under the command of Mykelti. We’re here to rescue those children, but we need to know if there is a side mission to take care of this Mykelti and clean up his operation.”

“There isn’t,” Starr stated with decisiveness. She didn’t bother to look over at Gunny who was leaning against the bulkhead with his arms crossed. Daegan didn’t miss the fact that the man’s hands were balled in fists. It was evident he wasn’t in agreement. “Our mission is to rescue those girls and bring them home to their families. Nothing more and nothing less.”

“The drunk driver that ran the red light that resulted in my sister being a quadriplegic is still sitting in a jail cell.” Stick was making a comparison and a damn good one, but none of this was sitting well with Daegan. It was bringing back memories from when he was younger that he’d rather not think about. He stood and walked over to the coffee maker, wishing this conversation would fast track. As Starr said, they were on a mission to rescue children. Nothing more, nothing less. “If he wasn’t, I know what I would do and what I am prepared to do if that moment ever arises. Stepping into your shoes, Gunny, we will back you on whatever decision you make once in country. We just need to know beforehand so that we’re prepared.”

“Listen to me closely,” Starr instructed, her tone harder than Gunny’s. Daegan ignored the fact that his hand contained a slight tremor and poured himself a cup of coffee, ensuring it was only three quarters the way full. It wasn’t that he didn’t understand the need to avenge Sidney Taylor’s death. It was the fact that he knew from personal experience that it wouldn’t bring the woman back to life. He took a drink of the coffee out of a Styrofoam cup, not caring that it burned his esophagus on the way down. It was better than feeling what this conversation had dredged up. “We do our mission and we leave. I gave my word to Gunny that I would see this operation through to its logical conclusion, but understand me clearly—we are not here to seek vengeance.”

“Yes, ma’am.” Those words were muttered around the room, although Daegan had caught Gunny’s stare. Neither man said a word. Daegan didn’t like the knowing look in Gunny’s eyes, so he was relieved when Trigger finally managed to insinuate Diesel’s role into the mission. The change of subject had Daegan breathing evenly again and he somewhat relaxed his stance. “Diesel would easily be able to lead us in the right direction once we get into the general area, but it will be dicey if Mykelti has gone to the east as we believe and broken up the hostages into smaller groups.”

“I agree.”

Daegan half listened to the conversation as he went about making another pot of coffee. It seemed as if they would be here for a while before Starr left to debrief the captain, and he for one wanted more caffeine. What he really needed was some fresh air, but that wasn’t going to happen anytime soon. He clenched his jaw when Gunny silently closed the distance and poured the remaining contents of the carafe into a cup before sliding it back into place for Daegan to finish his task.

“Whatever you’re going to say, I’d rethink it,” Daegan warned, not bothering to take his eyes off of the coffeemaker. “You’re the team leader of this crew and I respect that. That doesn’t make us best buddies who share our past…mistakes.”

Daegan had no doubt that Starr had each of them independently investigated before she had offered them a position on her team nor did he have any misgivings that Gunny had read through the files. If either of them had any reservations about anyone in this room they would never have been given this opportunity. Daegan would do his job and do it to the best of his ability without repentance. He’d been there and done that and knew it didn’t bring back the dead.

“I understand why you and the team would think I’d want retribution on Mykelti, but I would never ask this team to do something that would put them at risk for personal motivations,” Gunny replied, not letting this die. “Saving those girls from a fate worse than death is our assignment and one that Sidney would want me to carry out. It doesn’t go beyond that.”

“You keep telling yourself that, Gunny.” Daegan didn’t know why he was offering advice when it was clear that he still had issues with his own past decisions, but if Gunny could benefit from his knowledge then so much the better. The team continued to talk about the mission in the background, so he looked Gunny’s way to make sure he had his full attention. “I don’t say this to be cruel, but do you hear Sidney’s voice crying out for help when you go to sleep at night? Do you see her lying in a pool of blood when you close your eyes, knowing there wasn’t a damn thing you could do to stop it?”

Gunny was the biggest man in this room, but it didn’t matter when he was up against the monster of powerlessness. Men like them weren’t cut out to be vulnerable. They didn’t know how to handle it and they usually resorted to their basic animalistic instincts. Daegan could see his words hit home, but that was his intention.

“That won’t change when Mykelti dies, buddy.” Daegan had purposefully used the word
when
since Gunny would eventually go after the man responsible for killing Sidney. That was a fact that not even Starr could change. “Do you know why?”

“Don’t—”

Daegan held up a hand and shook his head, not wanting to hear any more of what his supervisor had to say. Gunny didn’t need to make excuses. This was his current path and it just happened to dredge up Daegan’s past. He was an adult. He knew exactly what this man standing in front of him felt because he suffered the same fucking way, but he sure as hell wouldn’t stand here and placate him. Daegan would tell him the goddamn truth.

“Nothing changes because the one thing that has kept you alive, allowing you to wake up every morning and face another day, is gone…just like Sidney.”

Daegan needed some air. He set his cup down and left the room without a backward glance. He maneuvered the passageways until he was twenty feet from the ladderwell and the subsequent hatch that led to the weather deck. He came up short when he spotted Ferrin. His blood was running hot and he wasn’t thinking as clearly as he should be, but it didn’t stop him from doing what came naturally. He had her soft body against the bulkhead before she could once again pretend he wasn’t there like she’d done so many times over the last few months. He damn well was and he needed to prove it himself.

Daegan claimed her mouth, sliding his fingers into the smooth twist of her hair. She felt so damn good, reminding him that they were both here…both alive. Using his thumbs to keep her chin tilted up to meet his, he drank his fill. The mint flavor that was on her tongue invaded his senses and he wanted more. Her slight vanilla fragrance that always seemed to cling to her enveloped him as he deepened their kiss. Her small hands rested against his shoulder, not pushing or pulling him in either direction as he melded his body against hers. It was as if she didn’t know what to make of this and she was afraid to want more. He slowly pulled away, both of them breathing hard. When he set his gaze on her, her grey eyes were as dark as any storm he’d ever witnessed at sea. Before she had a chance to unleash her fury, he did his best to dissipate any crashing cold front.

“I’ve changed my mind, Ferrin,” Daegan murmured as he stepped away. He tucked one of the now loose strands of her chestnut hair behind her ear. “I’m giving you fair warning. I still want you.”

‡

O
ne week had
passed without Ferrin seeing Daegan after that pulse raising and provocative exchange in the passageway. She wasn’t sure if she should feel relieved or worried. He’d caught her so unaware that she had been helpless to stop the tidal wave of arousal that he’d instigated when his warm lips had captured hers. He’d even given her fair warning, but it was as if he was intentionally staying far away from her since his startling pronouncement that a détente was no long an option.

“Ferrin?”

She looked up from the clipboard in her hand to find Roger Edelton giving her an inquisitive look. She’d given him the pass down of the night, letting him know what issues had taken place and what radios were operable, assigned to specific nets, and their key requirements. In addition to the nets that the COC were utilizing there were radio channels assigned to bridge operations and navigation emergency frequencies that required constant monitoring on guard selection. Beyond the functional assets, there were also a number of radios that had operational problems that the S-6 radio maintenance technicians needed to address in the near term.

Roger operated the dayshift, which would be a hell of a lot busier in terms of operational requirements while they were still en route to the Area of Operational Responsibility (AOR). Once they arrived at their destination she was fairly certain that night operations would take on some additional workload for obvious reasons. Until then she’d handle the lion’s share of radio channel encryption key changes that almost always occurred during her shift. The COC operations chief or his watch officer would hand over each channel in turn to be rekeyed and op-checked to be handed back to the designated end user. Of course that didn’t include the additional requirement of putting through most of the crew’s personal ship-to-shore radio calls back home. Few of the ship’s crew were authorized satellite phones for security purposes and that meant she got to log each radio call back to the MARS operator nearest to their desired family member’s or spouse’s location. Now that they were entering the Panama Canal, the time zones had shifted and those crewmembers that wanted to talk to their families during the evening local time in San Diego needed to do so on her shift.

“Sorry,” Ferrin mumbled, rubbing her forehead and using work as an excuse as to why she was easily distracted. “I’m just a little tired. As the number of radio net requirement increases as the op tempo picks up, there is going to be a need for every RT asset we have on board. Jerry and I got everything up and running so far. You may want to check on what nets the COC and bridge are going to need in the ops order for this upcoming mission as soon as it gets released. We may have to arrange to de-conflict between the two of them and get the chief involved.”

“You got tomorrow off, right? So relax and take it easy. We’ll save you some work for when you come back on shift.” Roger took the log of calls that had been placed last night out of her hands and quickly scanned it as if he was looking for something. “It’s only going to get worse the farther away from home we get and the longer we’ve been gone.”

“Trust me, I know.” Ferrin removed her glasses and tucked them into her blouse pocket before gathering her favorite mug that she’d already washed out along with her container of Tic-Tacs. She couldn’t leave without inquiring about his interest in the logbook. She waved a hand toward the duty log. “Is there something wrong?”

“Not really,” Roger said, skimming the papers one more time. He glanced her way with a smile. “Everything is good to go.”

“Okay,” Ferrin said, not quite believing him. She shrugged slightly, not really understanding his personal peculiarities. It would take a whole team of specialized abnormal psychologists to sort out his odd behavior traits. “Have a good one.”

Ferrin didn’t hesitate as she walked out into the passageway and continued to her cabin. She was sharing one with Nina Cornwall, but they hardly ever saw one another since the woman worked first shift on the bridge. There was no way that she was going to sleep with the direction that her thoughts were leading her. Instead she changed into some workout clothes with the intention of draining her body of its collective stress and anxiety that she’d gained during the lapsed week since her run-in with Daegan.

Ferrin maneuvered through the passageways with her iPod and ear buds in hand until she’d made it to the ship’s physical fitness compartment. Since the change of shift had just occurred, there weren’t that many people using the equipment. She chose the better of the two treadmills, thinking a good half-hour run would accomplish what she needed. Once she had herself set up she zeroed the incline option that caused problems even with a minimum sea-state environment. She set the base speed and initiated her normal pre-programmed routine.

Ferrin focused her sights on the weights in front of her instead of the mirrored bulkheads and allowed the music to carry her mind away from the slight burn in her thighs. It felt good and she increased the speed after fifteen minutes. At least thirty minutes had passed before she noticed someone in her peripheral vision and her attempt at evening out her breathing came to an abrupt halt. It took a second for her to realize that she wasn’t getting oxygen. She hit the stop button before the machine could throw her off.

“What are you doing here?” Ferrin asked, trying to catch her breath.

Daegan was leaning up against the bulkhead with his arms crossed, the outline of his biceps drawing her attention. She forced herself to look at his face instead of the T-shirt that he’d apparently ripped the sleeves off of. A white towel hung around his neck and showed exactly how tan his sun-kissed skin had become. She was afraid to look lower, knowing full well that the shorts he was wearing didn’t cover the contour of his muscled thighs.