Navy Orders. Geri Krotow
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remembered that she stared at him for a good bit before she stood up without a sound and left the restaurant. She hadn’t known what else to do—she’d never seen this in a movie before, hadn’t practiced this type of exit strategy during any of her navy drills on the ship.
That was the last time she’d spoken to Dick. She’d refused Krissy’s calls, too.
The Pacific wind tore at her cheeks and brought her thoughts back to the present.
That had been fourteen months ago. She hadn’t spoken to her family since, except for holiday calls to her mother, and a brief visit from her a year ago. Mom had known all along about Dick and Krissy’s relationship and had never bothered to tell Roanna. She’d been deployed to the Persian Gulf, in the midst of a freaking war, and her mother hadn’t warned her.
No one had.
Why she’d kept the cheap ring this long was beyond her. Dick had certainly never offered her the family heirloom that her half sister, Krissy, wore on her petite left hand. Mom had let this tidbit drop last Christmas. It had been Ro’s first Christmas willingly away from her family and it had been her best. A bit lonely but she’d dined in the chow hall on base with other single sailors who worked for her and it had turned out to be a wonderful day.
Ro was the strong one in her family. The natural leader with common sense. The one who broke the mold, got away from the hell she’d known as a child.
But strength was the last thing she felt as she battled the wind and her emotions. The moisture from the mist started to form drops.
The sorrow, sense of failure and complete emptiness she experienced in the driving rain belied the professional reputation she’d built for herself. Clad in only her running tights, athletic shoes and weatherproof jacket, she felt smaller than usual. Her runs often took her across this bridge. Usually it was a place of solace and exhilaration, mingled with consolation. She’d chosen Deception Pass for the closure she needed. No more waiting. Her new life, her new attitude, started today.
She looked out over the edge of the bridge. White foamy water resembled the froth on a cappuccino. It was so far below her it made her dizzy. She grabbed the cold metal railing to keep her balance.
This is it.
She ungloved her right hand while keeping her fingers wrapped around the ring that pressed against her palm.
“Goodbye, Dick, goodbye, old Ro. Hello, new life!”
Before she allowed herself to reconsider, she held the ring out, ready to release it into the wind.
A sudden strong gust of wind forced her to use all of her strength to keep from falling over.
The ring fell out of her outstretched hand, into nothingness.
For a horrible moment it looked as if the ring was going to blow right back in her face—the gusts were that strong. Instead, it made it only halfway back toward her before it pinged against the metal edge of the railing and ricocheted into oblivion. She visualized its descent past the massive fir trees that covered the cliffs on both sides of the gap. A lone seagull floated on the updrafts and she imagined the bird cocking its head at the sparkle of sun glinting off the gem.
The sense of empowerment she’d anticipated was mixed with chagrin and anger that a gust of wind had turned her grand gesture into no more than an accident.
* * *
IT TOOK EVERY ounce of Miles’s explosive ordnance disposal training and prior experience not to scream at Ro to stay still and not—please, God, no—jump.
He was next to her in a few agonizing strides. He took in her stiff body, one gloved hand on the guardrail while the other lifted in front of her as if she were tossing her anguished thoughts away.
Only after he had his arms around her and they were falling toward the safety of the hard concrete sidewalk did he allow any words to escape his lips.
“Ro, it’s over. I’ve got you.”
* * *
RO REMAINED FROZEN as she tumbled with her assailant. The shock of being hit by a solid wall of muscle was as much to blame for her lack of response as her teeth-loosening collision with the concrete path.
The arms around her middle and shoulders, and the hand that cradled her head, kept her from a total loss of consciousness as sparks spewed in front of her vision.
“Stay with me, Ro. Are you okay?”
She blinked at the all-too-familiar baritone. A groan made its way past her clenched teeth. Only one man fit the bill of hero and rescuer, and had that deep sexy voice to match.
Navy Chief Warrant Officer and Explosive Ordnance Expert Miles Mikowski.
“Miles?”
“You scared the shit out of me, Ro.”
Her breath came back in gasps. Anger began to warm her from the inside out.
“What the hell are you doing?”
His face was a mere inch from hers, his weight hard but hot in contrast with the frigid ground beneath her. She’d never seen his eyes this close—his pupils were pinpoints of black heat in his steel blue irises as his breath warmed her wind-burned cheeks.
“Ro, it’s okay. I’m here, and you’re not alone.”
“Alone in what?” Their physical proximity started to register across all her senses and she squirmed. “Will you get off me?”
Had he lost his mind?
Slowly, as though she were a hand-blown Easter egg, he inched up and off her, all the while retaining a firm grasp on her arms, her hands. He rocked back on his heels in a crouch and pulled her up to a seated position.
The sound of car engines and the call-outs of drivers forced Ro’s glance away from Miles and to the highway.
“What’s going on, folks?” A uniformed state trooper stood on the street next to them. “Are you okay, miss?”
Ro looked at the officer, then at Miles.
“I’m fine, Officer. At least I was, until my...my colleague seemed to think I was in trouble. Miles?”
He shook his head.
“Tell me you weren’t about to do something really stupid, Ro.”
“The only thing I was going to do, I did. I tossed my old engagement ring.” She stood up and ignored the sharp cries of pain from her battered bones. She was going to kill Miles when she had the chance.
He stared at her as if he was seeing a ghost.
“Sir, are you okay?” The trooper turned to Miles, a hand on his hip.
“Yes, I’m fine. Sorry about any confusion, Officer.” Miles ran his fingers over his chin and Ro caught the grimace he was trying to hide.
Miles, embarrassed? This was new.
“I was in the war, and since I’ve been back a lot of vets have, ah—” he glanced past the trooper, to the vista of the Strait of Juan de Fuca “—I’ve seen a lot of vets with PTSD. I acted on instinct when I saw Ro on the bridge, in these winds, at this hour.”
“That true, miss?” The trooper deferred to Ro.
“Yes, yes. Miles is my work friend. He’s a good man, Officer, and wouldn’t ever do anything to hurt me.” She looked the trooper straight in the eye. No matter how much Miles drove her to distraction with his steady, determined attempts to date her, she knew he’d never act on anything other than honorable motives.
“Okay. I got a call from a concerned driver who saw you both take a tumble, and I had to ascertain that it wasn’t assault or a suicide attempt.” He paused, a slow grin overtaking his face. “Since you were just throwing away an engagement ring, we’re fine. I won’t write you a citation for littering, but toss the next ring