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Chapter 1-1

Chapter One

Alarms sounded and buzzed over and over, louder and louder. Footsteps pounded up the stairwells and ladders as emergency lights flashed in the passageways. The five-hundred-foot guided missile destroyer cut a wide path through the waters of the Northern Arabian Gulf, and the roar of the engines against the power of the water slapping and vibrating against the steel hull had his every instinct buzzing and ready to react in an instant. The speed of this ship could let them easily overtake their enemy. Captain Eric Hamilton braced his hand on the wall as he ducked his head, making his way onto the bridge of his ship, the USS Larsen. Hamilton took everything in as he moved, and his crew snapped to attention. He shouted, he commanded and ordered, and he didn’t ever consider whether he’d hurt someone’s feelings. This was the US Navy—he didn’t coddle his crew. He expected loyalty, and his crew would do what he expected or they’d find themselves on the wrong side of a man whom many feared. Oddly, knowing how he was seen by his crew didn’t bother him at all.

By the time he crossed the bridge, the hair on the back of his neck was poking up like sharp wires that sent a chill through him, a warning that kept him on his toes. It was a warning that had saved his butt time and again, a warning he lived by, and he swore he’d die before ever ignoring it. The crew were on edge, alert. He could always pick up the change in their voices. They shouted above the alarm that continued to buzz over and over, their eyes wide. With an instinctive reaction at the snap of his fingers, his crew jumped as one to respond. Eric could feel the adrenaline pumping from all of them. Everyone was at their stations. Even though the humidity was at an all-time high this early in the day, he knew the beads of sweat trailing down his back and soaking his shirt were from the unknown that they were racing into. This damn war around them kept him pumped and his adrenaline surging like a shot of high caffeine. He lived for it and couldn’t imagine any other way. To him, this was normal. He loved this, life and death, power in his hands and under his command.

By the time he reached the windows spanning the width of the bridge, binoculars had been thrust into his hand. Up until now, he hadn’t said one word, as his officers knew their parts and their roles.

“Captain, there’s a raft just off the starboard side. Can’t tell from here whether there’s anyone or anything on it.” Lieutenant Commander Joe Reed approached from behind. The man was Eric’s good friend and the current XO, executive officer, on this deployment.

He didn’t need to turn as he raised the binoculars and zeroed in on a black dinghy that appeared empty at first sight as it rocked up and over the waves. For a minute, he felt sick, and his pulse pounded harder and faster still when the thought of the USS Cole bombing popped into his head. No, it couldn’t be that again. He wouldn’t let it happen.

He glanced at Joe beside him. “What the hell are we walking into?”

Joe shook his head. He was never one to talk out of turn or to guess. Joe was Eric’s right-hand man and more often than not was the voice of reason among him and the crew—and just about everyone else.

Eric raised the binoculars again and stared at the black dinghy. He didn’t know what he expected.

“We have no reports of a ship in distress in the area, Captain,” announced the communications officer.

Eric squinted, thinking. “What about fishing boats?” he snapped.

“No, sir, no reports.”

Looking once more at his first officer, he dreaded what he needed to do. “Send out a rescue team to check it out,” he barked as he handed the binoculars off to one of the crew members and strode off the bridge, digging into each step, heading directly to the ship’s launch. The crew hurried around him, feet pounding the deck. All of them knew their roles, what was expected, and there was no hesitation. Joe jogged up beside him, and they watched as the small rigid hull of the rescue boat, with its team aboard, splashed into the water and sped off toward the dinghy.

His heartbeat was slamming now inside his chest, so hard and loud that he glanced at Joe, wondering whether he could hear the thump that roared in his ears. Beads of sweat ran down his brow, his back, under his arms, and his short-sleeved tan shirt was sticking to his back.

At times, he hated not knowing, because he had to think quickly and respond just as fast. His work was a love-hate relationship, a marriage really, the only one he’d ever have and could never live without.

“So what do you think?” Joe leaned on the rail, staring after the team, and then raised a pair of binoculars to his eyes.

“I don’t know, dammit. Wish I did. I don’t like sending them out like this. Maybe I should have gone.”

“Not your job, Captain. You stay with the ship. Let the men do what they need to. They’re trained for this; you’re not.”

Eric knew Joe was right, but he’d never admit it. He didn’t like being told what to do by anyone, including Joe. This attitude was a challenge in the Navy and had gotten Eric into more hot water than he could measure. “Maybe so, but I’m still the captain here,” he stated, mainly because he would always have the last word, and he reached over and snatched the binoculars from Joe.

“You’re right, Captain, you are, which is why you need to be leading the crew on the ship.”

This time, Eric just glared at Joe. Joe should have stepped back, apologized, but when Eric turned away, he also knew Joe was the only one who never reacted in fear to him, the only one who could get away with speaking to him that way. He raised the binoculars again and studied, helpless from this distance, as the three-man team approached, then secured the dinghy. If something went wrong, there was nothing he could do from here. This part he really hated, as he waited with unease squeezing his gut tighter and tension knotting its way across his shoulders until they were so tight his neck began to throb.

The radio Joe held crackled: “There’s someone in here, a woman, and she’s in pretty bad shape.”

Eric didn’t know what to think, but he also knew that with the hostile situation in the area, this could be anything. He took the radio from Joe. “If it’s a body, don’t touch it. Could be booby trapped. Check for wires or anything unusual.”

The line clicked with static. “Captain, she’s still breathing. Don’t see anything on her,” the deep voice hissed. Eric nodded to Joe and handed him the radio.

“Bring her back. Secure the dinghy,” Joe ordered.

Eric watched the scene as two crewmen lifted a body. He knew the other crewmen were searching for wires or traps, anything unusual. Then they moved her into the small, rigid rescue boat.

“Someone get Lieutenant Saunders on deck,” Eric shouted to a crew member. At this moment, he was grateful Lieutenant Larry Saunders, the senior medical officer from the Vincent Carrier, was still aboard and had scheduled this week for training with the onboard hospital corpsmen. “Bring her up!”

Crewmen shouted and worked as another team went down to secure the dinghy. The crew hovered, hands reached out, and the team lowered a woman to the deck. Eric watched and studied, but he couldn’t believe what he was seeing. She was soaked and wearing a heavy blue sack-like dress. She was barefoot, and she was an absolute mess. A blanket was draped over her.

“Move back. Let me through!” Lieutenant Saunders was a solid man, about average height. He was much shorter than Eric, who was well over six feet. Larry pushed through all the testosterone, crowding around the young woman. “I need some room here,” he said loudly as he squatted down beside her.

“Everyone who doesn’t need to be here, move back to your stations,” Joe shouted at the crew, who were pushing and crowding around the woman.

Eric moved closer and stood just behind Larry, studying her face. She appeared young, and her eyes were closed, but it was the bruises on her face, her lip swollen and split, with dried blood crusting over it, that made him angry.

She tossed her head to the side. “Ohhh,” she mumbled. Her eyelids strained as she struggled to open them.

“Easy, take it easy.” Larry rested his hand on her shoulder as she moved her head to the side, blinking, her eyes staring up at the sky and then locking on to Eric. For a minute, she blinked and lifted her arm. When she tried to move, she screamed.

“Don’t move. I need a stretcher in here!” Larry shouted.

Eric watched her and her wide eyes, which appeared confused and panicked, as if she couldn’t make sense of anything.

“W-where am I?” Her voice was dry and raspy, and then she coughed.

“Get her some water,” Eric said to a sailor. He squatted beside her as the doctor moved away. Eric brushed his hand over her shoulder when she stared at him with wild-eyed fear from the most amazing baby blue eyes he’d ever seen. “It’s going to be okay.”

“Are you an angel?” she said.

What the hell? That was not what he expected. Before he could answer, a cocky voice called out from the group of sailors behind him, “Oh, that’s one he’s definitely not been called before.” Several others chuckled, and Eric was tempted to kick some ass, though he couldn’t quite figure out which one of them had said it.

He draped his other arm over his knee and swiped a hand over his jaw, feeling the bristled hair that he still needed to shave. “I’m Captain Hamilton with the US Navy. You’re aboard my ship, the USS Larsen. We recovered your dinghy off the starboard bow. Can you tell us where you came from, what you’re doing out here?”

She squinted eyes that appeared so fragile. “The US Navy, the United States Navy?” she asked in a way that was almost pleading as tears spilled and traced a path down the sides of her face. She swiped at them and then her nose. “Really, am I safe?”

Eric glanced over his shoulder at Joe, who was also watching her. It was obvious he didn’t know what to make of her, either. Her hand was shaking, so Eric took it in his to try to calm her down, and she held on tight in a way that surprised him for someone in such bad shape. “What’s your name, honey?”

“Abby. My name is Abby,” she said, her voice dry and raspy.

“Abby, you’re safe and under the protection of the US Navy.”

“Captain, please.” Lieutenant Saunders moved to her other side. “Abby, take a drink of water.” He lifted her head, pressed the cup to her lips. She tried to guzzle it, but Larry pulled it away before she downed it all. “Slowwww now. Nice and easy, or you’ll be sick.”

“How long was I out there?” She sounded breathless.

“I was hoping you could tell me,” Eric said, as she kept seeking him out, her eyes on him. She shook her head, and creases appeared between her brows. She was obviously thinking. Eric watched her eyes, studying her to see if this was a trick, a game.

“I don’t know. I couldn’t stay awake.” Her voice shook, and she struggled to pull away, to sit up.

“Whoa, don’t move.” Eric held her shoulders down. “No, just lie still, Abby.”

“Abby, I need to get you down and take a look at you, make sure you’re okay,” Larry said. Two crewmen set a litter beside the captain, and he moved back and watched as they lifted Abby and the blanket fell away. He heard the outburst behind him, but that was nothing compared to his own shock as he stared at the swollen belly of a very pregnant woman.

“Where are you taking me?” Her eyes widened with fear as the two sailors adjusted straps to secure her to the litter. She was starting to fight them, and she was very afraid.

Eric moved in and put his face close to hers. “Abby, I need you to look at me. Calm down, you’re safe. Right now, we’re strapping you to the litter to move you to sickbay. I need you to tell me you understand. We’re not going to hurt you.”