Radclyffe - Oath of Honor

want a repeat.

The door opened and Wes Masters walked in, looking just as

good out of her uniform as she had in it. She walked as if she was

still wearing her dress blues—confidently, her expression unhurried,

untroubled, and sure. Looking just as good as she had for the briefest

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moment last night when Evyn had imagined how that tight body would

feel covering hers.

“Morning, Doc,” Evyn said, feigning a cool she didn’t feel,

conscious of her own slightly rumpled appearance. At least her clothes

were clean. Still, a niggle of unease burrowed in her belly, and she

wondered if Wes could tell she’d come straight from a bed that wasn’t

hers. Not a one-night stand exactly , more like a legitimate date—second

date, even—and she’d made plans to see Louise again later in the

month, schedules permitting. Evyn’s skin prickled at the thought. She

didn’t do repeats—well, she hadn’t in a good long time—but Louise

had been fun, sexy and passionate, and completely undemanding. When

she’d said she had tickets to a holiday show and invited her to go, Evyn

couldn’t think of a single reason not to say yes. So she had.

“Have any trouble getting in this morning?” Wes asked.

Looking up with a start, Evyn stood, wondering how long she’d

been daydreaming and if anything showed in her face. “No. You?”

“Got a cab. No problem.” A faintly puzzled look crossed Wes’s

face and was quickly gone.

“Ready?” Evyn heard the curt tone in her voice and consciously

relaxed her shoulders. Wes was too sharp not to pick up on her tension,

and she didn’t intend for Wes Masters to have an inkling of what was

going on in her head.

“Absolutely. Can’t wait to get started.”

Evyn laughed at Wes’s dry tone. The uneasy churning in her

stomach disappeared and she smiled. “I’ll just bet.” She walked to the

door and locked it. “Take your jacket off.”

Watching Evyn sort through a gear box she’d placed on the table,

Wes shrugged out of her jacket. “Shirt too?”

“Ah, no,” Evyn said, busying herself untangling the lines for the

earpiece and wrist mic Wes would need to wear. She hadn’t thought

of Wes naked for all of five minutes, and she’d really like to make it

ten—years—or so before she had to squelch another image of Wes’s

tight body sliding over hers. Her thighs twitched. Hell. She held up the

radio. “This clips on the back of your pants. Turn around.”

Wes complied. “I’ll be on your channel?”

“That’s right.”

Evyn secured the radio with the minimal amount of contact

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possible. Even clothed, Wes had a great body. Unclothed, she’d be

incredible. She smelled really good too—kind of woodsy and crisp,

like the breeze on Whitley Island before the storm had rolled in. Clean,

sharp, exciting. Evyn stepped away before her skin burst into flames.

“That’s it. You can dre—put your jacket on.”

“That’s it?”

“You need something else?” Evyn asked around the knot in her

throat. Maybe she ought to move up her date with Louise. This hair-

trigger arousal thing was new and damn annoying. A little regular sex

might put a lid on it. “Ah…any questions?”

“Nope. The sooner we get started, the sooner we’ll be done,

right?”

“That’s the theory.” Evyn searched for a hint of resentment or

anger or resistance but found only the cool, confident tones she’d come

to associate with Wes’s approach to everything. Her body cooled off

and her head started working again. Game time. “Let’s go test it.”

“Where are we headed?” Wes asked, matching Evyn stride

for stride as they left the ready room. A trio of black SUVs waited

outside.

“The James J. Rowley Training Center—but we just call it

Beltsville.”

“What are we—”

“If you’re not in the president’s vehicle, you’ll be one behind it,”

Evyn said as they climbed into the rear of the second car. “Ordinarily

you’d have your own field-trauma kit, but you can use our FAT kit

today.”

“If I’m expected to use this equipment for any reason today,” Wes

said, “I’d like to see what’s in it before we leave.”

“You’ll have what you need if anything comes up. You can

customize your own later.”

Evyn settled next to the big guy Wes had seen at Whitley Manor.

He extended his hand. “Morning, Doc. I’m Gary Brown.”

“Wes Masters.” Wes shook hands and settled across from him and

Evyn. The cloak-and-dagger treatment was already starting to get old

and she’d just started. She understood she needed to know how PPD

operated, but she didn’t see why she needed to be in the dark. “So, will

I have to pass the physical before I get to play with the big kids?”

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Gary coughed and looked out the smoked-glass windows. To

Wes’s surprise, Evyn colored faintly.

“Can you?” Evyn asked.

As a matter of fact, she’d just had her annual re-quals and part of

that had been a fitness eval, but that had to be in her records. Which

Evyn had undoubtedly seen. “Well, I do spend an awful lot of my time

at a desk, but pushing papers around can be pretty tiring.”

Evyn grinned as if Wes’s sarcasm pleased her. “No sit-ups for you

today, Doc, but I hope you can run.”

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RADCLY f FE

chapter thirteen

The first blast rocked the vehicle about forty-five minutes into

the trip. All Wes could see out the window was a tree-lined

road and a brilliant flash of orange somewhere ahead of them before

a cloud of dust—or smoke—enveloped the SUV. The vehicle swerved

hard right and she bounced against the door frame. Pain shot down her

left arm. She grabbed for the medical kit at her feet with her other hand

and held on.

“What’s the situation?” she shouted over a series of deafening

roars. The road beneath the heavy chassis vibrated.

“Rocket attack,” Gary yelled back.

Evyn pressed her fingers to her earpiece. Her mouth was moving,

but Wes couldn’t make out the words. She jolted forward as the SUV

jerked to a stop.

“Out, and stay with me,” Evyn said, pushing the rear door open.

Gary went out the opposite door and Wes scrambled after Evyn,

the FAT kit clenched in her fist. Acrid air stung her eyes and burned her

throat. Her ears rang. She expected to find craters in the blacktop and

wished for a flak jacket and helmet. Her heart pounded in her throat.

Everything she knew about battle training flashed through her mind.

She followed Evyn’s path exactly, thinking about IEDs and severed

limbs and crippling burns. Another flash overhead, another bang. Her

pulse shot up and her belly writhed.

That couldn’t be live ammo, these people weren’t that crazy, but

she ducked all the same at the sound of weapons fire. The lead car was

stopped crosswise on the road, smoke coming from under its hood. Two

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men and a woman crowded around the rear door of the limo. Evyn ran

to them and Wes pushed forward, nudging Evyn aside to get a look in

the interior.

“POTUS is unconscious.” A heavyset Asian man pointed to a man

she didn’t recognize—the president’s stand-in—sprawled half-off the

rear seat.

More explosions, more noise. Wes couldn’t make out most of what

was coming over her radio, and she shut the chaos out of her mind. Her

only job right now was stabilizing her patient.

“Don’t move him,” Wes ordered, climbing into the back.

“We have to—we’re not secure,” the agent said.

“Not yet.” Wes flipped the locks on the FAT kit and surveyed the

contents. Two seconds later she spied the cervical collar and pulled it

out. “Hold this.”

“I got it,” Evyn said, crouching next to Wes’s left shoulder.

Wes handed Evyn the collar, yanked out her earpiece, and fitted

the stethoscope to her ears. She checked for bilateral breath sounds,

made sure his airway was clear, and did a fast visual survey of the

victim. No other injuries. “I’ll take the collar now, thanks.”

She secured the collar and said, “Okay—let’s go. You”—she

pointed to the big agent—“stabilize his head and neck while we move

him. Evyn, get three others on torso and limbs.”

“We know the drill.” Evyn backed out of the vehicle and Wes

followed, keeping below the top line of the SUV to take advantage of

what little cover she had.

Agents crowded around, Wes hoisted her med kit, and the evac

team took off running.

v

Wes gathered up her gear from the floor in the back of the

ambulance and stowed it in the med kit. Her shoulder ached and her

eyes were gritty, but her head buzzed pleasantly with the adrenaline

rush that followed every trauma alert. The “president” was in the OR

fifteen minutes after injury—or would have been if this weren’t a drill.

He’d been delivered stable and ready for emergency intervention. A

by-the-book field evac—just the way she’d written it.

“You about ready?” Evyn said from behind her.

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Wes closed the FAT kit. “All set.” She hefted it, winced, and

shifted it to her other hand.

“What’s wrong?”

“Hmm? Oh, nothing. Jammed my shoulder a bit. It’s noth—”

Evyn climbed into the rig and pointed to the narrow stretcher

against the wall. “Sit.”

“I’m fine.” Wes laughed. “I’m the doctor, remem—”

“And I’m team leader. Sit.”

Wes shut it and sat. No point getting into a pissing contest over

who was in charge just yet. She kept quiet as Evyn helped her ease her

jacket off and unclipped her radio.

“Can you unbutton your shirt?” Evyn asked, her gaze fixed

somewhere past Wes’s left shoulder.

“Sure.” Wes loosened the top half of her shirt one-handed and

tugged it free from her pants. She wore a tight silk tank beneath it and

was suddenly aware of her nipples tightening. Great. “It’s a bit cold in

here—can we do this fast?”

“Where does it hurt?” Evyn ordered herself not to look down. The

aisle was narrow, and she was practically kneeling between Wes’s legs.

If she leaned forward another inch their breasts would touch.

“Left shoulder joint. It’s just stiff—nothing—”

“We’re going to do this, so you can just suck it up,” Evyn said.

“Fine.”

Ever so carefully, Evyn drew the collar of Wes’s shirt aside with

two fingers, careful not to touch skin, until she could see her shoulder.

“Big bruise.”

“Feels like it.”

Evyn rocked back on her heels as far as space would allow. “I’m

going to range it. Tell me if it hurts.”

“Go ahead.” Wes watched Evyn’s face while Evyn gently cupped

her elbow and manipulated her shoulder. Evyn’s eyes were storm-cloud