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Connor stopped pacing and faced the speaker.

“We took damage and are leaking fuel. Can’t make it all the way back to mom.”

The watch commander didn’t hesitate. “Copy. Proceed to FARP Alpha.”

“Dusty One.”

Connor strode across the hangar’s concrete floor and approached the watch commander. “What’s FARP Alpha?”

He sighed with obvious frustration at Connor’s continued interruptions, but he patiently pulled up a chart of their operating area and pointed to a speck of green hidden in the vastness of blue. “Passu Keah,” he said.

“Is it a base?”

He shook his head. “It’s a Forward Arming and Refueling Point on an uninhabited atoll in the southwestern part of the Paracels.”

“So, there’s gas there,” Connor concluded.

The watch commander nodded. “A Marine Corps MV-22 Osprey from the USS America delivered a five-hundred-gallon fuel bladder there, but it’s not the most ideal place to gas up.”

Connor looked up at the screen showing two radar contacts flowing south away from Lingshui Air Base on Hainan Island and one flying north from the Reagan. “Can they make it?”

He shrugged. “Depends on how bad the leak is. If they drain the fuel bladder dry, they should have enough to reach the carrier, but there are just too many variables to be certain.”

Connor watched the radar contacts slowly tick across the computer screen and felt a pang of guilt that he couldn’t do more for the SEALs who had risked everything to rescue Lisa. He turned and strode back to the rear wall and resumed his pacing, wishing there was something he could do other than hope.

Hope was never a good strategy.

34

Escondido, California

Jenn walked into her apartment and kicked off her heels, watching them sail over the sofa in elegant arcs. She left her roller bag standing next to the front door and walked into the kitchen to reach for a wineglass before stopping herself. She needed to find a new way to unwind.

Shoulders slumped, she opened the empty refrigerator and pulled out a bottle of water. Maybe if she wasn’t so thirsty, she wouldn’t think about the unopened bottle of Malbec sitting on the counter. Taunting her.

“Oh, shut up,” she spat.

Dropping the empty water bottle, she reached up and untied the neckerchief that had been slowly choking her all the way from Honolulu. It was fitting, she thought, as she felt the life growing inside her choking off the freedoms she had taken for granted as a sky goddess. It was amazing that a little pink line could have such an impact.

How could this happen?

She shook her head. She knew how it had happened. And, if she was being honest, she wasn’t all that surprised. Andy’s appetite for her was insatiable — a refreshing change from the empty and meaningless dalliances she thought she had been enjoying before he came into her life.

But it wasn’t just his fault. She couldn’t keep her hands off him either. Whether he was wearing his green romper — or jumpsuit, or whatever it was called — or in his trademark shorts, T-shirt, and flip-flops, she couldn’t help herself. He was irresistible. Easily the most attractive man she had ever met.

And he loves me.

She swallowed hard. Jenn didn’t want to admit it, but she was genuinely concerned that if she told him, he would disappear and leave her with a lifelong reminder of what could have been. It wouldn’t be the first time a man had disappointed a woman.

Jenn glanced at the clock over the stove, mentally calculating what time it was wherever in the Pacific Ocean Andy was floating. Not that it really mattered. It wasn’t like she could pick up the phone and call him. As much as she wanted to hear his voice reassuring her that everything would be okay, she knew it was just a dream.

Walking into the living room, Jenn reached back and unzipped the top of her dress, wriggling her arms free from the confining and itchy fabric. She let the top of her dress fall around her waist and flopped back onto the sofa, closing her eyes as she tried to ignore what surprises the next few months had in store for her.

She had three days off before her next trip — a two-day trip to Honolulu with a long layover — but she wished she could sleep for nine months and wake up when her nightmare was over. Better yet, maybe she could sleep for eighteen years.

She groaned.

No matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t get her mind to switch off. The little voice in the back of her head wouldn’t shut up.

He’s going to say you trapped him.

He’s going to deny it’s his.

He won’t even call you back.

And on and on.

She reached into the pocket of her dress and pulled out her phone, hoping a quick email to Andy would silence the voice long enough to let her sleep. She wasn’t nauseous now and wanted to take advantage of it.

The message was short and sweet and straight to the point.

Let me know when we can talk.

USS Ronald Reagan (CVN-76)
South China Sea

Andy opened his eyes, somewhat surprised to discover that he was back in his rack. He couldn’t remember if he had actually made it to the officer’s head down the passageway. The gut-twisting cramps seemed to have receded, but the debilitating headache and fever had not. He lifted his head from his pillow, and the room immediately began spinning.

What the heck is wrong with me?

He dropped his head back to the pillow just as he heard the door open. A brilliant beam of light intruded on the pitch-black darkness of his stateroom, and he leaned his head to one side to see who had entered. But even that subtle movement was enough to bring his nausea back, and he groaned.

“Andy?” The voice of Lieutenant Commander Tom Wilson, his detachment officer-in-charge, startled him.

“Yeah?”

“You okay?”

He closed his eyes to quell the nausea and swallowed hard against the lump in his throat. From the moment he first raised his right hand and swore an oath to the Constitution, Andy had prided himself in putting the mission first. He had flown sick. He had flown tired. He had even flown injured. But this…

“Not really,” he said, hating the words as they tumbled from his mouth.

Andy opened his eyes and noticed that the beam of light still shone into his room. Tom’s voice hadn’t come any closer and almost sounded as if he hadn’t even crossed the threshold and was still in the passageway outside his stateroom.

“We need to get you down to Sickbay.”

But Andy didn’t want to go anywhere, and he shook his head. “Doc just said I need to sleep it off.”

“You’ve been asleep almost a full day,” Tom said. “And a lot more people are getting sick.”

Andy swallowed again. “Food poisoning?”

Tom didn’t answer right away. “We don’t know. Doc wants to draw blood.”

Frustrated, Andy swung his feet out of his rack and lowered himself to the floor. He braced himself against the metal bunk and waited for the vertigo to subside, then took a hesitant step toward the door. “What do you mean, we don’t know?”

Tom retreated away from the door, as if the one step Andy had taken put him in mortal danger. “Hold it right there,” he said.

Andy stopped. “What’s going on, Tom?”

“Lots of people are getting sick.”

“Yeah, you said that.” A sudden stab of pain hit him square in the stomach, and he doubled over with a grunt. “What… the fuck… is going on?”

“Doc doesn’t think it’s food poisoning. But whatever it is, it’s spreading quickly throughout the ship.”