Radclyffe - Oath of Honor

“So what did your sister know that she immediately told your mother?” The street in front of the cantina was clear and Evyn pulled out.

“Nothing. Not really. I just happened to talk to her in the middle of the night—she’s a nurse in Philadelphia. I maybe mentioned I was having trouble sleeping, but not because of any problem. Just”—Wes shrugged—“a lot of changes. That’s all.”

Evyn glanced at her, then back at the road. Wes looked a little tired, but they’d been hitting the exercises hard for hours. She was obviously in great physical shape—she looked as good in a wetsuit as she did in the jeans and long-sleeved T-shirt she’d walked out wearing that morning. Rangy and lean and strong. Evyn put that image aside. If Wes was having trouble adjusting, she ought to know. She wanted to know. She wondered if she was part of why Wes wasn’t sleeping, and the idea didn’t sit well. “This isn’t what you expected, is it?”

“I had no idea what to expect.”

“Very politic of you.”

Evyn shot her another look and their eyes met. Wes had gorgeous eyes—the kind of crystal green that reminded her of summers in the park, of fresh-cut grass, of carefree pleasures. She had to drag herself away from her eyes and the memory of freer, simpler times. She stared at the road. “I don’t know why it is, but every time we’re together, we end up talking about stuff I never talk about with anyone else.”

“Like what?” Wes said gently.

“Like…personal things. I know more about you and your family right now than I know about Gary, and he and I have been partners on and off for a couple of years.”

“I know what you mean,” Wes said.

“Got an explanation?” Evyn asked half playfully, but her heart stuttered, waiting for the answer. She hadn’t meant to voice that crazy feeling of being totally exposed whenever she was alone with Wes and expected Wes to understand even less. Now she wasn’t sure what she wanted to hear.

“Not yet,” Wes said softly.

A wave of disappointment heavily laced with relief washed over her. Refocusing the conversation on something safe, she said, “So? What’s keeping you up at night?”

Wes laughed. “You’re as bad as my sisters.”

“Wait till you get to know me better.”

Wes laughed again. “Nothing, really. Just adjustment. I’m fine.”

“Oh, I’m sure of that. You wouldn’t be where you are if little things like having a new command dropped on you, transferring overnight to a new post, being put through an accelerated version of boot camp, and being charged with safeguarding POTUS threw you off.”

“Well, when you put it like that,” Wes said lightly, “I guess I am doing amazingly well.”

“We’ll see, Superdoc.” Evyn pulled the rented Jeep into the small lot beside the rescue station and cut the engine. She turned in her seat to face Wes. “If there’s something you want to talk about, I’m a pretty good listener.”

“You are. You make it easy to talk.”

The wind had picked up, and whitecaps raced across the water. Wes was studying her, in that completely focused way she had, and the attention was as exciting as the touch had been. She’d never been so aware of being alone with a woman in her life. They’d barely touched, and that had been totally innocent, but her blood sang with anticipation. She didn’t get this keyed up with a woman she was about to sleep with. Her system was primed with expectation for more than a touch, and nothing could be less likely to happen. “I hear a but coming.”

A wry smile played over Wes’s face. “Unfortunately, I think you’d probably end up ratting me out like Denny. Only not to my mother.”

Evyn wanted to deny that, but she couldn’t. “If I thought something would affect your performance, then I might have to.”

“I’d expect you to,” Wes said. “And before we go any further, I can tell you there’s nothing about this situation that bothers me. I’m fine.”

“I wasn’t looking for ammunition against you, Wes.” Evyn pulled herself back from a dangerous precipice. She’d crossed one of her own boundaries without even realizing it. Wes blurred all the lines for her between personal and professional with frightening ease, and that just couldn’t happen. “We both have jobs to do.”

“I know,” Wes said. “And since we do, I appreciate the offer to talk, but I think we’ll both do our jobs a lot better if we don’t complicate things.”

Wes was right and only repeating her own mantra—never get personally involved with someone at work. Evyn pushed open her door and a biting wind rushed in. “We’re on exactly the same page.”

*

The patrol boat rocked on the swell as the winds gathered force. The blue sky had given way to gray thunderclouds above churning seas.

“We’ve got time for one run,” Cord called from the wheel, “until things get too rough out here.”

Evyn turned to Wes, who wore civilian clothes as she would on a regular detail. She and Gary were in wetsuits. “POTUS has a sailboat, and the maritime weather reports aren’t always accurate. He could be caught out in this kind of blow. But this could get dicey.”

“Wouldn’t do much good to only train on calm seas,” Wes shouted, the wind ruffling her hair. “Let’s do it.”

Evyn waved to Cord. “Go ahead.”

Cord threw a water-rescue mannequin into the water and yelled, “Man overboard.”

Evyn and Gary clambered onto the bulwark and dove into the ocean. Even in the wetsuit, the first shock of frigid water on Evyn’s face and exposed hands and feet made her stomach tighten. She cut through the sea toward the bobbing figure, fighting the surging tides and buffeting waves. The figure alternately rode the swells and disappeared beneath the troughs. Were this the real deal, they’d only have a minute or two to reach the president, less if he went off the boat as a result of some kind of injury. The water temperature, the tide, and the rough surf created a swiftly lethal combination. She and Gary reached the mannequin at the same time, and she grabbed it in a rescue carry and started back toward the boat. Gary kept pace beside her, ready to take over and spell her if she grew too tired fighting the currents and the cold. When they reached the side of the patrol boat, Wes and Cord lowered a litter over the side, and she and Gary secured the figure inside. Gary tugged on the line to signal they were ready, and the litter swung away and up. Evyn scrambled up the ladder with Gary right behind. By the time they reached the deck, Wes was already in full resuscitation mode, kneeling on the soaked surface, rapidly running through the emergency assessment protocol, the field-and-trauma bag beside her, Cord acting as her first assistant.

Jeff tossed Evyn a towel, and she rubbed water from her hair, watching Wes work. Every time she’d seen Wes in action, she’d been struck by the way Wes gave everything her full attention, her all, a hundred percent of the time. Evyn spent her days with powerful people, and she wasn’t easily impressed, but that kind of fierce focus was incredibly exciting to watch. Wes issued orders without looking up from her patient, calm, sure, utterly in command. Wes personalized power in a way she’d never experienced before, and watching her, Evyn couldn’t help but imagine what that kind of potent focus would feel like turned on her in an intimate moment. Her skin beneath the tight neoprene suit pebbled with excitement, and heat bloomed in the pit of her stomach. She’d rarely been the recipient of physical attention even half as forceful and was always content to take the lead in bed. Satisfying a woman was incredibly gratifying, and she hadn’t been looking for more. A calm and quiet orgasm was just fine—only when she imagined being with Wes Masters, there was nothing calm or quiet about it. She felt the weight of Wes’s body pinning her down, Wes’s hands exploring her—not asking permission, her consent readily given. Her blood raced with the urge to open, to be known, to surrender. Nothing familiar about any of it, but so right. So damn right.