“Of course, Commander Griffin.”
Erica nodded and headed off to find her bunk.
She was going to fight that man’s unit to keep him on the hospital ship so he could get the help he needed.
There was no way any covert operation was going to get around her orders. Not this time. Not when this man’s life was on the line.
He deserved all the help she could give him.
The man had lost a leg in service to his country. It would take both physical and mental healing.
He’d paid his price and Erica was damn well going to make sure he was taken care of.
Five years later, Okinawa Prefecture, Japan
“CAPTAIN WILDER WILL see you now, Commander Griffin.”
Erica stood and straightened her dress uniform. She’d only landed in Okinawa five hours ago on a Navy transport and she was still suffering from jet lag. She’d flown from San Diego after getting her reassignment from the USNV Hope to a naval base hospital.
Another step in her career she was looking forward to, and the fact that it was in Japan had her extremely excited.
It was another amazing opportunity and one she planned to make the most of. Hopefully soon she’d get a promotion in rank but, given her track record, it seemed like she had to fight for every promotion or commendation she deserved.
It’s worth it. Each fight just proves you can do it. You’re strong.
Captain Dayton taking a disgraced young medical officer under his wing and letting her serve for seven years on the Hope was helping her put the past to rest.
Helping her forget her foolish mistake, her one dumb moment of weakness.
Erica followed the secretary into the office.
Dr. Thorne Wilder was the commanding officer of the general surgery wing of the naval hospital. They wouldn’t see as much action as they’d see in a field hospital, or on a medical ship, but she’d be caring for the needs of everyone on base.
Appendectomies, gall bladder removals, colectomies—whatever needed to be done, Erica was going to rise to the challenge.
Dr. Wilder had requested her specifically when she’d put in for reassignment to a Naval hospital. She’d expected some downtime in San Diego while she waited, but that hadn’t happened and she didn’t mind in the least. She’d spent almost a year after her disgrace at Rhode Island in San Diego, waiting to be reassigned, and then she’d been assigned to the Hope. Perhaps her past was indeed just that now.
Past.
It also meant she didn’t have to find temporary lodging or, in the worst-case scenario, stay with her mother in Arizona where Erica would constantly be lectured about being in the Navy. Her mother didn’t exactly agree with Erica’s career choice.
“You’re in too much danger! The Navy killed your father.”
No, the Navy hadn’t killed her father. Undiagnosed PTSD had killed her father eventually, even if his physicians had had a bit of a hand in it by clearing him to serve in a covert mission.
Her mother wanted to know why she hadn’t gone in to psychiatry, helped wounded warriors as a civilian. Though that had been her intention, working in an OR gave her a sense of satisfaction. Being a surgeon let her be on the front line, to see action if needs be, just like her father. It was why she’d become a medic, to save men and women like her father, both in the field and in recuperation.
“Commander Erica Griffin reporting for duty, sir.” She stood at attention and saluted.
Dr. Wilder had his back to her; he was staring out the window, his hands clasped behind his back. It was a bit of an uneven stance, but there was something about him: something tugging at the corner of her mind; something she couldn’t quite put her finger on. It was like when you had a thought on the tip of your tongue but, before the words could form, you lost it, though the mysterious thought remained in your head, forgotten but not wholly.
“At ease, Commander.” He turned around slowly, his body stiff, and she tried not to let out the gasp of surprise threatening to erupt from her.
Brilliant blue eyes gazed at her.
Eyes she’d seen countless times in her mind. They were hauntingly beautiful.
“You’re so beautiful … Beautiful. Like an angel.”
No man had ever said that to her before. Of course, he’d been drugged and out of his mind with shock, but still no one had said that to her. Not even Captain Seaton, her first commanding officer when she’d been a lowly and stupid lieutenant fresh out of Annapolis. Captain Seaton had wooed her, seduced her and then almost destroyed her career by claiming she was mentally unstable and obsessed with him after she’d ended the relationship.
She was far from unstable. She had a quick temper, but over time she’d learned to keep that in check. Her job and her status in the Navy intimidated men, usually.
So his words, his face, had stuck with her. As had the stigma and that was why she’d never date another officer. She wouldn’t let another person destroy her career.
Dating, if she had time, was always with a civilian. Though she didn’t know why at this moment she was thinking about dating.
“Like an angel …”
As Erica stared into Captain Wilder’s blue eyes, a warmth spread through her. She’d always wondered what had happened to him. Since he’d been moved against her wishes, she’d assumed he hadn’t made it.
She’d apparently been wrong. Which was good.
Five years ago when she’d woken up, she realized she’d slept for eight hours. So she’d run to find Captain Dayton, only to be told that, yes, her request had been heard, but had been denied by those higher up the chain of command. When she’d gone to check on her patient, he was gone.
All traces of him were gone.
It was like the covert operation had never happened.
Those men had never been on board.
Even her patient’s chart had gone; wiped clean like he’d never existed. She’d been furious, but there was nothing she could do. She was powerless, but she always wondered what had happened to that unnamed medic.
The man who had begged her not to take his leg.
The man who’d cried in her arms as the realization had overcome him.
Now, here he was. In Okinawa of all places, and he was a commanding officer.
Her commanding officer.
Dr. Thorne Wilder.
Captain Wilder.
She’d never pictured him to be a Thorne, but then again Thorne was such an unusual name and she wasn’t sure many people would look at someone and say, “Hey, that guy looks like a Thorne.” His head had been clean shaven when he’d been her patient, but his dark hair had grown out. It suited him.
The scars weren’t as visible because he wasn’t as thin, his cheeks weren’t hollow, like they’d been when she’d treated him and his skin was no longer pale and jaundiced from blood loss and bacterial infection. She hadn’t realized how tall he actually was—of course when she’d seen him he’d been on a stretcher. She was five foot ten and he was at least three inches taller than her, with broad shoulders.
He