We only get our two-mile swim in, when I’m called to Command’s office. Honestly, I expected this to happen as soon as I checked in today. I change back into my uniform and head to the commander’s office. His name is in black vinyl across his door, and the sight of it makes my stomach turn. Not because I don’t like the guy, because his allegiance isn’t going to be me, but to the brass. I tap my knuckles under his name, Adam Peterson.
“Enter.”
“Sir,” I say as I stand there, with my hands behind my back. I don’t make eye contact or even look in his direction. He stands and motions for me to follow him. We end up outside and walk across the street from our compound.
“I’m not privy to much, but I’ve picked up a few bits and pieces over the past few months. A lot of people are upset with your sister-in-law for the lawsuit against the Navy, as well as the charges brought against Admiral Ingram.”
I want to point out that Ingram lost every title he’s earned over the years, and he’s nothing but a civilian, but I keep my mouth shut.
“However, I am not one of those people.” He turns and looks at me. “There’s a lot of higher-ups who don’t want you back here, and that is a red flag for me. Your service record is impeccable, so I can’t understand why they wouldn’t want a highly trained sniper protecting our country. But you and I both know why or at least suspect we do, right?”
I nod.
“Keep your head down, Archer. Don’t give anyone an excuse to discharge you.”
“I won’t, sir. But, if I may,” I pause and wait for the go-ahead from him. “Do you think it’s in my team’s best interest if I step away from active duty? I don’t want my presence to affect them.”
“It won’t. This is business as usual. Your team has six weeks to get ready, and then you’re back in the rotation.” He pats me on the shoulder and walks back toward his office. I look around, trying to see if anyone listened to us, but no one seems to pay me any attention.
The one thing I hoped—to keep my boots on the ground—isn’t going to happen. They’re going to send me out, and I can only hope I come back alive.
CHAPTER 6
CARA
As soon as Nate leaves for work, I stand in our bedroom and face the mirror. My eyes focus on my mid-section and not the bags under my eyes or my breasts. They’re sore and even thinking about them makes them hurt more. I rest my hand over my belly—for what or why, I’m unsure. I’ve seen countless women do this in movies and TV and have always wondered why. Am I meant to feel different knowing there’s something . . .? I can’t bring myself to say baby. I don’t know if it’s fear or what. Or if by calling it what it really is, I’m accepting my fate, and I don’t know if I’m ready for that yet.
Nate, though, that man is cut from a different cloth. I can see it in the way he looks at me, waiting for me to tell him my decision. He’s patient and unbelievably kind when I’m being the cruelest woman to him. He deserves to be a father, and if I’m not the one to provide him with the life he desires, then maybe we need to take a step back from our relationship.
My hand goes to my heart, and I cry out. The pain of losing Nate is too much. He’s the love of my life, and the last thing I want to do is live without him. “Then why do you hesitate, Cara?” I ask myself in hopes my reflection can give me an answer, but I only see pain and longing. Love and anguish. No matter what I decide, the decision is life-altering.
The mirror will not tell me what I should or shouldn’t do, nor will my head. My heart holds the answer, and right now, it’s not guiding me. I give up the staring contest, head into the bathroom, and dress in my standard black slacks with my holster and gun on my hip, white button-down, and black sport coat. The FBI doesn’t have a dress code, which I’m thankful for, but I can’t seem to get this through my head. I can wear just about anything I want, but this is what I opt for. It’ll be interesting to see what my team decides to wear. I’m definitely not going to be the type of boss that enforces a dress code. I want my team to be as comfortable as possible, especially given the nature of what we look at daily.
My drive to work takes about thirty minutes. Today, when I pull up to the guard station and show him my ID, I’m greeted with, “Good morning, Special Agent Hughes,” and when I go inside the building, it’s the same. It’s like the staff studied my face to make sure I felt welcomed on my first day. They did a good job.