Chapter 32 Reckoning
THIRTY-TWO
Reckoning
TIA
Tia waited a few minutes before heading back to the hangar.
Leaning against the pallet, she tilted her face to the heavens.
So many twinkling lights shimmered down, bathing her in countless wishes and the possibilities of what might be.
Her lungs filled and emptied. With each breath, the tumultuous beating of her heart eased, and in its place, a quiet surrender filled the void.
She supposed it had always been like that around Ryker even if she’d never noticed before now. Hadn’t it been there each and every time he helped her adjust her pack, gave her a hand up from the dusty ground, or paced her faltering stride with his quiet assurance that she would hold her own?
When he’d sheltered her from that sniper not too many days ago, part of the flutter in her heart hadn’t been from fear.
But she’d known him as a player, a man who refused to allow a woman to tie him down.
Women had moved in and out of his bed with the relentless coming of the tide. She’d hated that about him.
Somewhere along the way, things had shifted for him and for her as well. With a smile fixed on her face, she pushed off from the pallet and headed back to the hangar. They had a future filled with nothing but time.
The hard-packed ground refused to yield beneath her combat boots, and gravel crunched beneath her feet.
A heavy tang of dirt, sand, and earthy smells hung thick in the air.
Dust was an ever-oppressive force in this place, always managing to creep into every nook and cranny.
It was a constant reminder that this was not home.
Turning around the last row of pallets, she pulled up short as a shadowy form separated from the door leading back inside the hangar.
“Major Meyers,” the voice said.
She peered into the man’s face, trying to pick out his features.
Colonel Vane’s gaze cut back to the way she’d come. “I think we need to have a conversation.”
Her step faltered, and she came to a thudding halt. “Sir?”
Her first instinct was to give a salute, but the area around the hangars was designated a no-hat, no-salute zone. She would’ve felt far more comfortable rendering the salute because she didn’t know what to do with her hands.
He gestured away from the hangar. “If you’ll follow me?”
Although stated as a question, the command couldn’t be ignored. She stiffened her spine, rolled her shoulders, and shoved her hands deep into her pockets where he couldn’t see how her fingers twisted with dread.
“Yes, sir,” she said, giving a nod.
A lump formed in her throat, and she swallowed it down. There could be only one of two reasons he needed to speak with her at this hour. Either that reporter had finally arrived for the exclusive interview, or he had noticed Ryker exiting the maze of pallets and put two and two together.
He took off, his long legs devouring the ground, which forced her to keep pace. Fortunately, she had practice following men who were much taller than herself and had long strides.
The USO building squatted less than a few minutes’ walk from the hangar. Without another word, Vane marched directly to the building. He held the door and ushered her inside.
“My office, please.” His tone was direct and didn’t mince words.
It was late enough that there was no one on duty.
Unlike many other areas on base, the USO didn’t require twenty-four/seven staffing of personnel.
She glanced around the darkened rows of cubicles and swallowed down the lump in her throat.
The urge to ask what was up surfaced several times, but Vane had a purpose for bringing her to his office, and he would divulge that only when ready.
The door to his office was shut and apparently locked.
She pulled up short and turned sideways to allow him to unlock the door.
With a jangle of metal, he inserted the appropriate key and turned the knob.
Another imperious wave of his arm had her pulse skyrocketing.
Her reaction had more to do with the scowl on his face than anything else.
That singular expression told her everything she needed to know.
This conversation had nothing to do with an exclusive public relations interview.
She entered and approached the front of his desk, coming to attention without being asked.
“Have a seat, Major.” He dropped into his military-issue swivel chair and leaned forward, placing both palms on the laminated wood of his desk.
“If it’s all right,” she said, “I prefer to stand.” She shifted and moved to the position of parade rest, but there was nothing restful about the tension rippling through her body.
He arched a brow.
“Sir,” she added, offering the appropriate honorific.
Tightness filled his expression, a taut display telegraphing his displeasure.
“As you wish, but this might take more than a moment.”
Her stomach dropped, but she didn’t waver. This was a conversation she needed to have while standing tall. Besides, on her feet, she had the advantage of height on Vane. He might be ready to dress her down, but she would have the tiny—yet insignificant—luxury of looking down at him while he did it.
“You have a unique position,” he began, “a challenging role for a woman in the Air Force.”
She wished he would get to the point.
“Do you know why I brought you here?”
Until she knew for certain why he’d brought her to his office, she wasn’t going to volunteer any damaging information.
“No, sir.” It might not be wise to lie, but she was operating on the principle of plausible deniability.
“Women in combat is a touchy subject both within and outside of the military,” he said.
“Technically, I’m not in a combat role.”
They were splitting hairs.
“I can imagine the selection process was quite grueling.”
“The selection process for special operations surgical team members is difficult and rigorous for all applicants. Many men wash out.”
“Of course,” he said. “I am not here to denigrate your accomplishments.”
She couldn’t stand it anymore. “Exactly why am I here?”
“The decision to do a spotlight on one of our women in combat was not an easy one. We balance opening many doors against those who wish for them to remain closed.”
“Are we debating the pros and cons of women in combat, sir?” She was tired of his evasiveness.
“No, but as one of a very few women chosen to support in this manner, the lens of public opinion cannot be ignored.”
“And you feel I threaten this lens?”
“I feel,” he said, standing to his full height, “your actions with Tech Sergeant Ryker Lyons blackens the reputation of the Air Force and all women who strive to break through the barriers you so easily surpassed.”
Her insides twisted with the confirmation of her fears.
The relationship between Ryker and her had been discovered.
But who? Who would’ve spilled? Not Forest. Not Skye.
Not even Ash. Who else knew? Who else suspected?
It was suicide to treat Vane with disrespect, but if he had any proof she had acted inappropriately with Ryker, her career had just reached terminal velocity, and she faced a headlong crash and burn.
The destruction of a lifetime of hard work would follow.
“What actions, sir?” It wasn’t career suicide to demand he be direct because his eyes told her everything she needed to know.
He slapped his palm down on his table. The sharp rap had her jumping back. Eyes wide, she curled her lower lip inward and bit down to keep it from quivering and showing a weakness she couldn’t afford.
“Don’t test me,” he said, raising his voice, moments from losing all decorum. “We’re talking fraternization.”
She gave a sniff and said nothing. Do not confirm. Do not deny. Lying now would only make things worse. Besides, the anger simmering in his eyes meant he had far more to say.
“There are reasons people argue against women serving in combat,” he said, “and you’ve given the entire world all the fodder they need to ruin the efforts we’ve been trying to make.
It’s enough to debate the physical requirements, but the one thing that keeps coming back around to sabotage the whole effort is inappropriate relations.
I don’t need to tell you, fraternization is not tolerated.
I don’t need to explain the consequences.
” He ran a hand through his close-cropped military hairstyle.
“No, sir, you do not.”
She knew the consequences, but like a fool, she had chosen hope and denial instead of doing what was right. She and Ryker should never have crossed that line. Her head had known this, but her heart had refused. It wanted a happy ending.
There was a specific Air Force Instruction that detailed everything about fraternization.
The Air Force placed high value on professional relationships, fostering them whenever possible.
Professional relationships were vital to the functional effectiveness of the Air Force and ultimately the mission, especially when missions involved difficult challenges, hardships, the potential for injury, and even death.
It was why her team celebrated kids’ birthdays as a group and celebrated the Fourth of July, Veterans’ Day, Labor Day, Halloween, Thanksgiving, and Christmas together whenever possible.
Unit cohesion, morale, and good order and discipline were essential for mission success.
Her relationship with Ryker threatened to undermine the very fabric of her unit. She knew this. Ryker knew this. But not once had they thought to stop things before they began. Now, it was too late.
If substantiated, she could face a court-martial.
That could result in a felony conviction within the military legal system.
If she were lucky, she’d receive a general discharge instead of an honorable one.
It would make it more difficult to find employment and would strip her of most of her benefits as a veteran. Vane’s threat was very real.
He continued, explaining something drilled into every active-duty military member as a part of annual training, “Fraternization between an officer and enlisted is a career-terminating event. And to think”—he shook his head—“we were going to spotlight your accomplishments!” His voice shook with rising anger, and disappointment colored his words. “Do you understand now?”
She gulped but was wise enough not to offer any damning information. This was a situation to fall back on her SERE training—survive, evade, resist, escape. Answer only the question asked. Do not volunteer additional information. Keep secrets close, and speak only the barest of truths.
She hadn’t been taken prisoner, but this sure as hell was war. It was a battle to salvage her career—not that it was likely she’d succeed, but she would sure as hell fight to keep Ryker’s name clear.
“Our team is a close-knit group,” she began.
Perhaps she could salvage something of this disaster.
To bring her up on Uniformed Code of Military Justice fraternization charges, Vane would have to have indisputable proof.
“What others might consider fraternization is often the result of working closely with one another.”
She pegged him with an unwavering stare. It was time for him to shit or get off the pot. That expression had always been a favorite of hers.
“I witnessed your little liaison,” he said. “I think that is proof enough. If a personal relationship affects the functioning of the unit, it ceases to be personal and becomes an official concern.”
“With all due respect, sir, that means shit.”
What had he seen? She needed to tease that information out without giving away too much.
She took herself out of parade rest and crossed her arms over her chest. Like most men, his gaze dropped to her tits, but he caught himself and brought his attention back to meet her stare.
“I get it,” she said. “It’s a man’s world out there.
You’re not the first to check out my breasts, nor will you be the last. I get that kind of attention all the damn time out there.
I choose not to let it bother me, but I’m not about to bring you up on sexual harassment charges because you can’t keep your eyes off my boobs. ”
“You want to accuse me of fraternization,” she said and tried like hell to keep her voice even and calm, “you’d better have proof.”
Her intent wasn’t to threaten him, but he had her scared. Reacting too harshly was going to get her in trouble. It was time to rein it in.
She continued, “If you saw us exiting that hangar and heading away to find a quiet place to talk, any inferences you make past that point are pure speculation.”
“Not speculation,” he asserted. “Supposition based upon the way Sergeant Lyons was adjusting his uniform on his return. You clearly headed out there for a tryst.”
“Speculation, and as for Lyons adjusting his uniform, it was by your order that he play onstage in his BDU bottoms and T-shirt. Lyons mentioned something about representing the Air Force while also blending with the band. Your choice. Not his. And it had nothing to do with me.”
She was venturing into all-out lies at this point, but her career was on the line.
Embellishing might make her story more believable, but Colonel Vane appeared to be a smart man.
He would segregate her from Ryker, question him, and if their stories didn’t align, more questions would follow.
She would have to leave the story of why he had been adjusting his uniform to Ryker.
“Explain why the two of you headed to a location of extreme privacy. You wouldn’t be the first set of lovers to find solace in the dark.”
“Sir,” she said, “he just finished an amazing performance with his rock idols. He needed to celebrate, blow off steam, and act a fool, as it were. He couldn’t dance around like a groupie in front of the band you’re expecting him to stand side by side with for the next few weeks. He needed a moment.”
“A moment?”
“Yes, sir,” she affirmed. “He needed a moment.”
“And how does that explain the dirt on your knees?”
She glanced down and noticed the dark stains for the first time. With her entire body trembling, she forced one more lie out into the open. “There’s dirt everywhere, Colonel. Just because I got down on the ground doesn’t mean anything more than that.”