and she flinched. Once he’d closed the door behind them, he spun on her, his eyes flashing with an intensity sharper than a sword. “Are you still injured?”
Her hand got to her shoulder before she realized she was going for her scar again. “No. Why do you ask?”
“Out there in the hallway, you flinched when I touched you. Did that hurt? Did the bullet do serious damage?”
“Oh.” She bit her bottom lip. How was she supposed to explain that she still wasn’t used to human touch? After three weeks of only painful interactions, even her mother’s hug felt unnatural. “Um...no. It didn’t hurt. The doctor on the aircraft carrier said it was a clean exit. I’m fine.”
He ran his hand over his face, the sinewy muscles of his forearm bunching and pulling taut as he stared at the ceiling and blew out a slow breath. “Ms. Hayes, what are you doing here? This—” He flicked his finger back and forth between them. “This isn’t allowed. You’re not supposed to be here. We aren’t supposed to communicate once the mission is over. Didn’t the PAO tell you that?”
“I know.”
“Where are you supposed to be right now?” His brows furrowed, compassion transforming his features.
She looked away from the Pacific blue of his eyes, her words caught in her throat.
“How’d you get on the base?”
She wheezed around the lump sitting on top of her airway, hugging her sweater in place. “I was supposed to have an interview prep course with the lieutenant commander in the public affairs office.”
He marched to the far side of the desk, the only significant piece of furniture in the room, glanced at her over his shoulder and began pacing, hands grasped behind his back. “I understand that you’ve been through a serious ordeal, and I’m sorry that you had to go through that. But I’m not allowed any private contact with you.” He scrubbed his face again with an open palm, still not looking in her direction.
It was easier to think and speak when he wasn’t staring her down, so she rushed to tell him everything. “Do you remember the last thing I said to you that night?”
He stopped but kept his head straight forward. “I do.” With the shake of his head, he ran his fingers through his pale brown hair. “You were under a lot of stress, and you’d been imprisoned for weeks. It isn’t unusual to hallucinate under those kinds of conditions.”
“I wasn’t hallucinating.”
He turned back toward her, but she couldn’t meet his gaze. It was too disarming. So she looked around the room, searching for something—anything—to help steer this conversation where it needed to go.
Hugging her arms around her stomach, she took a deep breath. If she didn’t lay it all on the line now, there might not be a later.
“You said I was safe. You said you’d protect me.”
“I did. You made it safely home, didn’t you?” His words were short but not unkind.
“I made it home, anyway.”
Those blue eyes sliced into hers.
“What does that mean?” His lips barely moved.
“Someone has been following me, and I think it’s the same man from Lybania.”
“The one who will know that you know?” His arms crossed over his broad chest, the sleeves of his T-shirt pulling snug around his biceps. He looked so intimidating. If he hadn’t leaned toward her, head cocked in concern, she’d have turned and run.
She nodded slowly. “Yes.”
“Did you call the police? Tell them you’re being stalked, and they can look into it for you. They can handle things like that.”
“I did call the police. They wouldn’t help me. I promise you’re the last person I want to bother with this, but I don’t have anywhere else to turn.”
He sighed, dropping his hands to his side. “So, who is this guy?”
“Um...” She bit her lip and looked down at her sandals. “I don’t know.”
His eyebrows shot up his forehead, which wrinkled in even ripples. She could read the doubt on his face. He probably thought she saw a Middle Eastern man behind her in line for coffee, and that fear made her jump to the conclusion that he was following her. His voice dropped to almost a whisper. “I think you need to talk to someone about this. The PAO could probably recommend a counselor.”
Her blood boiled at his condescension, and her apprehension evaporated. Taking a deep breath in through her nose, she pushed it out through tight lips.
If she had any idea how to face down the man following her on her own, she would. But since she didn’t, she had to convince the lieutenant to help.
Taking a firm step toward him, she pointed her finger toward his chest, but stopped about two feet short of touching him. She wasn’t that brave. “Listen to me. I’m in trouble, but it’s not just me. I don’t know the name of the man who’s after me, but I know that I heard him plotting to blow up something here in San Diego.”
“Do you speak Arabic?”
“Just enough to get by for two years in Lybania.”
He squinted at her, leaning toward her still-outstretched finger. “Then how do you know you didn’t misunderstand what he said?”
“He was speaking English.”
* * *
Tristan snapped his full focus on Staci at her words. “Was he American?”
“Yes.” She didn’t hesitate.
Could she be telling the truth? “How do you know?”
“How would you know an American? He spoke like an American, used words like an American.”
“Did he have an accent?”
She looked toward the ceiling, worrying her lip between her teeth before answering. “Not that I noticed. He wasn’t from the South or Boston or New Jersey. He sounded like a national newscaster, polished and smooth.”
Rats. This girl honestly thought she’d overheard something. Whether she was really being stalked or not, there was no denying she thought she was in trouble.
But he wasn’t the right one to help her. Getting involved in something like this could only spell trouble—mostly with his commanding officer, who had already warned him once about being too friendly with rescued hostages.
He scrubbed his fingers along his scalp, a vain attempt to relieve some of the pressure building there. She wasn’t supposed to be there. He was breaking all the rules already by speaking one-on-one with a rescued hostage. If his CO found out, he’d be knee-deep in a serious mess, and no matter how pretty she was, she wasn’t worth risking being grounded for the next mission or worse.
He didn’t like telling a scared woman that he couldn’t
