Radclyffe - Oath of Honor

and black with no pattern. Conservative. As close to a uniform as he

could get without wearing one. Wes sympathized. She felt vaguely

uncomfortable working out of uniform, especially when she passed

military personnel and officers from the Uniformed Division of the

Secret Service at every junction. Without the symbols of her rank that

had come to define her, she felt displaced, a lot like she did in this

strangely skewed new medical terrain.

“Anything I can help you with?” Peter said.

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“You can tell me if you think there are any protocols that need

updating or reviewing.”

He shifted ever so slightly in his seat, a tell indicating her question

had caught him off guard and made him a little uneasy. She couldn’t

imagine why the question would make him uncomfortable, but her

radar pinged—something was off.

“I can’t think of anything,” Peter finally said. “I know Len—Dr.

O’Shaughnessy—reviewed everything himself. Once in a while he’d

update some of the pharmaceuticals used in emergency protocols, but

he pretty much left the management of acute problems up to the team

handling the presenting problem.”

“So the same injury or medical condition might receive different

treatment depending on which team handled it?”

Peter shifted again. “Well, management is pretty standard, so I

don’t think anyone really deviated much.”

“How often does the team get together—for debriefings or case

review?”

“Our schedules can be pretty irregular—we’re not usually all

around at the same time. For Len—well, you now—especially. When

the president is traveling, Len almost always accompanied him, which

might mean he was detached to the president for weeks at a time.”

“Meaning there wasn’t really any unit Q&A.”

Peter hesitated. “Not per se, no.”

“Okay, thanks. That’s helpful.” Wes could see right away that her

idea of running a unit was completely different than the laissez-faire

attitude of her predecessor, and probably his before him. No one would

conceive of running an emergency room without standardized protocols

that everyone adhered to, departmental review of case outcomes, and

regular morbidity and mortality conferences. And yet this unit, which

not only cared for some of the most important individuals in the world,

but several hundred high-level staff and countless visitors, had only the

barest degree of internal organization or accountability. She planned

to change that and doubted anyone would be too happy about it. She

leaned forward on her desk and folded her hands. “Anything else you

think I should know?”

“No,” Peter said quickly. “It’s all standard stuff.”

“Yes, well, I gather that around here, standard means pretty much

a constant state of readiness.”

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“I guess that’s true.” He kneaded his jacket between his hands.

“Like most things, there’s a whole lot of preparing for situations that

never happen.”

“Let’s hope that continues to be the case.” Wes stood. “I should

have a new rotation schedule available for everyone in approximately

a week. Until then, everyone should continue with the rotations as

previously posted. If I’m needed at any time, my pager is listed with

the operators. I left my cell phone number on the board in the clinic

AOD office last night. Otherwise, carry on.”

He stood and saluted. “Yes, ma’am.”

She returned the salute. “Not necessary in private.”

“Hard habit to break.”

She nodded. “Yes, I know.”

Peter disappeared into the hall, and Wes sat back down behind her

desk. He didn’t seem to harbor any resentment, at least not outwardly.

He did seem uneasy, though, but that might just be because he didn’t

know her, and she had taken the job that presumably he had wanted.

Or maybe she was reading too much into the situation because Evyn

thought Chang deserved the job and not her. Evyn.

She hadn’t thought about her while she was working, but every

time she stopped, snippets of their conversations would start up again

in her mind. Along with that split second of gut-wrenching horror when

she’d thought Evyn was mortally wounded. Evyn was so certain of

what should be done and why. In order to do Evyn’s job, that kind

of mindset was probably necessary. She understood. She even agreed,

while another part of her mind questioned.

All Wes could hope was that her orders never conflicted with

her training, but ultimately, she would follow orders, regardless of the

consequences to others. Even Evyn. She shied away from the idea of

leaving Evyn wounded, without the care that might potentially save

her life. She thought of Evyn’s body fresh from the shower—sleek

and smooth and strong. Beautiful. She was trained to read a person’s

body with her hands—to feel the presence of injury and disease in the

disruption of the pattern of skin and muscle and bone. She experienced

the world through her senses, and Evyn filled her senses. The whisper

of Evyn’s skin beneath her fingers that day in the ambulance left her

wanting more. Seeing Evyn naked after her shower, she’d ached to trace

the tantalizing curve along the edge of Evyn’s shoulder blade down the

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slope of her back to the hollow above her hips. She’d imagined heat

and supple—

“Captain?”

Wes jerked and looked across the room. Jennifer stood in the

doorway, a half smile on her face. Her hair was down, a luxurious

sweep of soft midnight waves. Today she wore forest-green pants and a

V-neck sweater in a lighter shade of green. Low brown boots completed

the outfit. Her figure was small but full, perfectly proportioned.

“Something I can help you with, Lieutenant?”

“A few of us are going out to eat at the end of shift. Would you

like to come?”

Wes quickly considered the advisability of fraternizing with her

new team. If she didn’t go out with them, she might appear standoffish.

If she did, she wouldn’t know the players or the power structure. She

didn’t usually fraternize with colleagues, and socializing with team

members before she’d taken firm command wasn’t a good idea. And

there was the glint of interest in Jennifer’s eyes, no small matter. Wes

had thought she’d noticed it the first time they’d met, and now she

was sure of it. Jennifer’s invitation might be a little bit more than unit

camaraderie.

“Thanks, I’d like to, but I can’t tonight,” Wes said. “I’ve got a

million things to review, and I’m still finding my way around this

place.”

“I understand,” Jennifer said, disappointment clear in her voice.

“Some other time, then?”

Wes smiled. “Yes. Definitely.”

“Good. I’ll let you get back to work.” Jennifer backed up. “If you

need help with the files—”

“I’ve got it for now. Thanks.”

“See you then.”

Jennifer turned and left, leaving Wes alone with charts and

protocols, the stuff of her life she knew well—and thoughts of Evyn

Daniels, something new and entirely different.

v

The round white clock hanging behind the red Formica-topped

counter sported a dented chrome rim resembling a hubcap and a faded

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RADCLY f FE

Harley symbol in the center. The black hands shaped like handlebars

read six forty. Hooker’s contact was ten minutes late.

He looked around the roadside diner, studying the faces. At six

thirty on a weeknight, the place was nearly empty. The locals, mostly

farmers, ate early, and the truckers wouldn’t start arriving until midnight.

The militia go-between who’d arranged the meet hadn’t given him any

info other than the location—he’d said the contact was spooked about

dealing with an “outsider.”

Who the hell knew what a bio-disposal technician looked like?

Two guys in oil-stained work pants and denim shirts with the sleeves

cut off midway up tattooed biceps sat at the counter slurping coffee and

uttering occasional monosyllables while working through enormous

steaks and mounds of potatoes. A young woman, barely in her twenties

if that, slouched in a booth with a glass of tea and a red-and-white

cardboard boat of fries slathered in cheese. She ate slowly, making each

fry last three bites, as if the food might be her last for a while. Probably

a runaway—her face was worn with fatigue, but her eyes were too

focused for her to be a junkie. Two men in white open-collared shirts

and dress pants occupied another booth—probably businessmen on the

road. No one paid any attention to him. He finished his coffee, slid two

bills on the counter, and walked outside.

The Georgia heat slapped him in the face, momentarily taking

his breath away. The change from the biting cold in Chicago was

disorienting. Like the diner, the gravel lot was mostly empty. A few

cars clustered around the far corner of the restaurant, where someone

sold ice cream from an open window. Several people, mostly women,

stood in line with children in tow. No one paid any attention to him.

He’d come all this way for nothing.

As he walked to his car, he glanced into the small grassy lot on

the far side of the building. A brunette in a floral sundress and strappy

sandals sat under a tree at a picnic bench, an ice-cream cone in her hand.

She smiled at him, holding his gaze for just a second longer than was

typical for a lone woman who wasn’t a working girl. Hooker walked

over.“Good day for ice cream,” he said.

“They make the best vanilla bean around here. You should try it.”

“Maybe I will. I haven’t had an ice-cream cone in a long time.”

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She was early thirties, eyes as black as her hair, small and pretty. Built

too. No wedding ring. In fact, no distinguishing anything—no jewelry,

no flash. Attractive, but not someone who would draw attention.

“Probably too cold up north for ice cream,” she remarked, catching

a line of vanilla dripping down the side of the cone.

The quick flick of her tongue caught him by surprise and his cock

got hard. He shifted slightly to hide the fullness in his trousers. “You

got that right. I guess this doesn’t feel hot to you, though, does it?”

“No—this is the best weather of the year.” She smiled. “Sit down,

unless there’s somewhere you have to be in a hurry.”

“Not really.”

“Just get in?”

“That’s right.”

“Here on business?”

He nodded.

“What is it that you do?”

“I buy and sell things,” he said.

“I imagine you find all sorts of interesting things.”

“You never know what you might come across.”

“You’re right. Sometimes things turn up you never expect.” She

bit into the cone and a fleck lingered on her lip.

He had the urge to suck it off. He spread his legs a little wider to