Chapter 3
River
Every inch of me hurts. We’ve done burpees until my arms gave out, sprinted the flight deck until my lungs burned, and finished with a plank hold that had even Kit shaking. Benson stood over us the entire time, stopwatch in hand, grinning like a sadist at a buffet.
“Pathetic,” he’d said when Cheddar finally collapsed. “My grandmother could hold longer than that, and she’s been dead fifteen years.”
Benson is a masochistic son of a bitch. Half the group is lying on the flight deck, trying not to throw up after surviving his PT torture session.
“Everyone showered and dressed by 09:00 hours. I expect you back on deck looking sharp. We have a surprise visitor, and you will not embarrass me!”
I know he’s talking to us as a group, but I can’t help feeling his eye contact is directed at me.
“Yes, sir,” we chant. I’d say we jogged towards the bunks, honestly, it’s more of a shuffle.
“Fuck, I’m not going to be able to move tomorrow,” Cheddar moans.
“Anyone know who the mystery visitor is?” I ask.
“Must be someone important. The whole crew is getting suited and booted,” Kit replies.
She’s right. Everyone is scampering around in a rush. They must know something we don’t. Not surprising, none of us in the sapphic bunkhouse has any sort of importance. We’re just part of the machine. Lowly Able Rates with no responsibility apart from doing our jobs correctly.
“Let’s look lively. I don’t want Benson up our arses for being late. He’s just itching for a reason to keep hauling us over the coals,” Cheddar huffs.
Picking up our pace, we race back to our bunks. Kit practically carries me to the shower the second I have my wash bag in hand. Rolling my eyes, I let her shove me into the cubicle.
“Five minutes, River,” she barks.
So maybe I’ll need to do a bit more to get back in Kit’s good graces.
“I’ll need three,” I shout back. She’s in the stall next to me, humming. We’re used to quick dips. The Navy doesn’t really afford long hot showers.
Smelling a lot fresher, I haul my arse back to the bunks. My hair will have to stay damp. I don’t have time to dry it fully. A quick blast will do. Unless there’s an inspection, no one will notice when it’s up in a bun.
I’m dressed before everyone else. My beret sits snugly on my head. Kit runs in with a towel drying her body. I’ll admit I peek a little, because I’m only human.
“Chop, chop, Kit,” I tease. She throws me a scowl, but there’s no heat in it. We hustle out to the flight deck and join the growing crowd. There are a lot of curious looks. Most of the crew are laughing and joking. That is until Benson barks out an order.
He’s not even an officer, and yet he seems to think himself God Almighty at times. I’d love to see him taken down a peg or two.
“Attention on deck,” he screams.
It’s an impressive sight. Hundreds of sailors coming to attention at the same time. It sends a thrill down my spine, even after all these years.
My eyes stare straight ahead. Silence descends as we wait patiently. I wonder if the visitor is the reason we’ve been delayed a couple of days.
The sun’s beating down on the flight deck, and I can feel sweat already gathering under my collar. My legs are screaming from the PT session, and I’m trying not to lock my knees. Last thing I need is to pass out in front of whoever this VIP is.
The wait stretches. Someone behind me coughs. Benson’s eyes sweep the formation like a hawk looking for prey.
Then, movement to my port side draws my attention. Bloody hell, is that the fucking Admiral of the Royal Navy? Shit, this must be important.
A ripple of excitement crosses the deck as we’re told to stand at ease. Even though we can’t talk, the energy shifts as more people catch sight of the admiral. He’s flanked by Captain Morley and—oh, for fuck’s sake. It’s her!
The woman I took to bed last night. Everything floods back to me in a nauseating wave.
Her laugh—low and surprised when I kissed her neck.
The way she’d gripped my hair when I went down on her.
Her thighs trembling around my head. The taste of her.
The sound she made when she came the second time, breathless and broken.
Fuck.
She’s just as gorgeous as I remember. How could I have possibly blocked that face out? Oh, and her body. Christ, she has a body to die for. I remember worshipping her for hours. I think I gave her some of my best moves.
But why is she here? Fuck, did I pick up a bar bunny?
It goes without saying there are people in the world who really like the uniform.
It’s not just women, men are just as bad.
Bar bunnies like to hang around popular military drinking spots waiting for sailors, soldiers, and airmen to tumble in looking for a good time.
I’ve had many a good time with bar bunnies, but I know better than to pick one up in Portsmouth. Abroad…no problem. After all, we’re usually only in town for a few days at a time.
Cleo, that’s the woman’s name. Yeah, she didn’t come across as a bunny. Yet she’s here, on my ship. Fuck, what do I do?
The admiral starts talking but I can’t take in a word he’s saying. Not when Cleo is standing there. Her eyes pass over me and there’s a flicker of recognition. For half a second, our gazes lock. My stomach drops. Does she remember? Is she going to say something?
But then her eyes move on, blank and professional, like I’m just another sailor in the formation.
Maybe that’s a good thing. The last thing I want is a stalker. Or it’s possible she didn’t really recognise me in my uniform. I was dressed very differently last night, and my hair was down.
The crew comes to attention again and then falls out. Voices rise as the Admiral, Captain Morley, and Cleo leave the deck. I’m still standing like a lemon, unable to move.
“River?” Cheddar stands directly in front of me.
“Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck!” I say, not really talking to her, but to the bloody universe.
“What’s going on, you’re as white as a sheet.”
Kit slings her arm around Cheddar’s shoulders. “So, what do ya think?”
I’ve no idea what she’s going on about.
“What’s wrong with her?” Kit asks Cheddar after she receives zero response from me.
“No idea. River, do you need the sick bay?”
I shake my head, which breaks me from my reverie of panic. “She’s here,” I hiss. Grabbing my girls, I walk them towards our cabin.
Kit pulls free of my vice-like grip. “Who is here?”
“Redhead from last night!”
Cheddar gasps dramatically and looks around the flight deck. “Where?”
“She was standing next to the admiral,” I choke.
Kit scrunches her face. “Are you sure it was her? Didn’t you say you blacked out?”
I nod. “Yes, but then I saw her and it all came back with frightening clarity. It was her. What the fuck is she doing here?”
“She’s a journalist.”
My head snaps to Cheddar. “How the hell do you know that?”
She scoffs. “Because the captain introduced her. Did you hear anything the captain or admiral said?”
Boot jogs over to us. “Hey, you ditched me.”
Kit yawns. “Nah, River’s just having a meltdown. You’d already left.”
“Oh, what’s happening?”
I let the others fill her in. I’m still processing.
Boot flicks me on the nose. “Earth to River. Why are you freaking out? She’s here to do a job.”
Cheddar smirks. “Because this is the first time she’s ran into a woman after running out on them.”
“I don’t run out on them. They know it’s a one-night-only thing.”
We all know I’m full of shit. I do run out on them, and I’m sure I need lots of therapy hours, but that ain’t gonna happen on the government’s penny.
“You keep telling yourself that, Romeo.” Kit laughs.
“Look,” Cheddar begins, “it’s likely you won’t run into her. If you do, just remain professional.”
“What if she wants to fuck again?” I murmur.
“Wow,” Boot coughs. “I have to admire your self-confidence, Romeo.”
“It’s called arrogance,” Kit replies.
I shrug. “I know what I’m good at. Sex is my forte.”
Cheddar slaps me upside the head, laughing. “It’s really hard to like you sometimes, Romeo.” Our banter helps me unwind a little.
“Okay, so can someone fill me in on what I missed?”
“Dawson!” Benson’s voice carries across the deck.
“Shit,” I hiss, whirling around. He’s waiting with hands on his hips.
“The captain wants to see you.”
His words don’t compute. I’ve never been hauled in front of the captain.
Even with my somewhat roguish ways on board, Benson has never taken it up the chain of command, let alone to the fucking captain.
Crap, he must have spotted me spacing out when the admiral was addressing us.
I’m guessing he’s taken that, added it to the fact I smelt of booze this morning, and decided it’s finally time to have me disciplined.
“Rome, you better get going,” Kit whispers in my ear.
I know she’s right, but my legs won’t move.
“Come on,” Cheddar mutters, taking me by the elbow.
I make it to the bridge, but the captain is nowhere to be seen. Instead of drawing attention to myself, I slip out and head to the officer’s mess.
Muffled voices come from behind the door as I approach. Taking a few deep breaths, I finally knock.
“Enter.” The captain’s voice is strong. I’ve always found it a little nerve-wracking. She’s just the kind of woman who commands respect.
Stepping through the door, I come to attention and salute.
“Ah, Dawson.”
Shit, she knows my name.
“At ease.” The smile on her face doesn’t lessen the weight of her authority.
My eyes stray to the side, and I see her. Cleo. She’s not looking at me. Her attention is fixed on the captain, posture perfect, expression neutral. Professional. Like she didn’t have a strap buried inside her twelve hours ago.
Christ, I’m going to be sick.
Keeping a blank face, I wait for the captain to continue.
“As you heard, the admiral is spearheading a campaign to increase recruitment. Cleo will be writing an in-depth piece for her paper. She’ll be staying with us for the next eight weeks as we complete training exercises in the Atlantic.”
I didn’t know any of this.
“Warrant Officer Benson volunteered you to act as Cleo’s guide.”
Of course he fucking did. This is revenge for this morning. For every time I’ve rolled my eyes at him, every infraction, every moment of insubordination. He’s found the perfect punishment.
Eight weeks. Eight weeks as a tour guide for the woman I fucked and ditched.
How can I get out of this? Oh, that’s right, I can’t. There is no feasible reason I can come up with on the spot.
“Yes, ma’am. It would be my pleasure.”
Bullshit, but I’ll do anything not to get a reaming from the captain. I refuse to let Benson win.
Captain Morley smiles. “Wonderful. I’ve already shown Cleo to her quarters. I’ve invited her to a dinner this evening with the admiral. As a thank you for helping me out, I’d like for you to also attend, Dawson.”
My face flushes. I’d rather contract the clap than go to a dinner with the woman I banged, my captain, and the admiral.
My dress uniform is going to reek of panic sweat.
“Thank you, ma’am. I’d be honoured.”
“Super. We’ll dine in my private lounge. 20:00 sharp.”
It’s clear she’s dismissing me, so I salute and about turn. The second the door clicks shut. I grab the opposite wall to steady myself.
It’s lunchtime, so all the girls will be in the dining hall. Boot never misses chow time. Racewalking, I make my way through the ship. As expected, Kit, Boot, and Cheddar are sitting together laughing. Boot is shovelling potatoes in her mouth like she’s never eaten before.
“Ladies,” I say as I sit down, forgoing my own lunch. I’m not sure I could keep anything down.
“Well, look who it is,” Cheddar calls.
“How’d it go, Rome?” Kit asks.
“Oh, you know. Benson volunteered me to be Cleo’s guide while she’s on board.”
They all look shocked, which I appreciate. Boot and Cheddar throw their heads back and cackle.
“Why am I friends with you?” I grouse.
“Because you fucking love us, and I help you get pussy.”
She’s not wrong.
Boot finally comes up for air. I don’t like the wicked grin on her face. “Did you happen to find out Cleo’s surname?”
“Why the fuck would I?”
Oh, the grin is getting bigger. That’s not good.
“It’s Carter. Cleo Carter.”
I stare at her. “Great, thanks for telling me.”
She shakes her head. “Romeo, put it together. You’re smarter than this.”
Rude.
Looking between my friends, I furrow my brows. What am I missing? Her name is Cleo Carter. Cleo. Carter. Huh, that’s the same name as the admiral. But that can’t be right.
Carter. Admiral Carter. The Admiral of the entire Royal fucking Navy.
The man who was standing three metres away from me on the flight deck while I mentally undressed his daughter.
The man I’m having dinner with tonight.
I feel my eyebrows reach into my hairline.
“There it is.” Boot laughs.
“Cleo Carter. As in Admiral Carter?”
Boot points at me and winks. “Got it in one, Romeo.”
By this time, Cheddar is bent over, almost hyperventilating with laughter. Kit is chuckling behind her glass.
“I…I fucked the admiral’s daughter!”
God fucking damn it.