Going Dark Read online

  Dean didn’t realize how passionately he was talking until he stopped, and the resulting silence dragged on for a minute. Her mouth was slightly open and her cheeks looked a little pink—maybe from the shorts comment.

  He probably shouldn’t have said that. Not because it might be construed as sexist—whatever—but because it gave too much away.

  He’d been looking.

  • • •

  Annie shouldn’t be surprised by the captain’s defense of her father and other men like him. She’d heard many of the arguments before—albeit not so plainly and forcefully put. But the possibility that her father might have had a brain injury still had her reeling.

  “You certainly don’t mince words, do you?” she said. “Disneyland?” She shook her head. “I’ll remember that. But in defense of ‘liberals,’ we don’t all live in Fantasyland—conservatives just don’t allow for the possibility that they could be wrong. You make it sound too simple, but good and evil aren’t always that black-and-white, and the people making the decisions don’t always know what’s right. Actually, if you look at recent history, they tend to make plenty of mistakes. Toppling Saddam”—she couldn’t resist pronouncing it like the first Bush president—“made room for ISIS to step in. And frankly a lot of political leaders today—on both sides—are not the ones I want making those ‘tough’ decisions.” She paused, taking his silence perhaps as begrudging agreement. “Look, I’m not saying that the military or Special Forces aren’t sometimes necessary. I’m saying that they are being overused for questionable purposes when the cost is so great. There are too many families like mine.”

  He didn’t disagree—with that, at least. “If we let everyone make decisions, nothing would ever get done,” he said. “Someone has to be in charge. That’s why we have elections.” He thought for a minute. She liked that about him. He thought before he spoke. And even if that speaking was too blunt, it wasn’t hyperbole and inflammatory statements. “The system doesn’t always work, but it’s the best one we have.”

  “Which doesn’t mean we shouldn’t be trying to make it better. And there are other ways to make a difference.”

  “You mean like your stunt with the drillship? The only difference that was going to make was alienating anyone who might be inclined to agree with you. Inconveniencing people, interfering with their jobs, and making them angry isn’t the way to persuade anyone. Didn’t anyone ever tell you that you get more bees with honey?”

  She felt her temper pricking at his sarcasm. “Don’t you think that’s a little ironic coming from you? Did you use a lot of honey when you were in the navy?”

  He surprised her with his reply. “Sometimes yes. Despite how the media like to portray us ‘machines’”—her cheeks heated—“combat is usually the last resort. When I was in Afghanistan, we spent a lot of our time making friends with the locals and training them to defend themselves.”

  Her heart sank on hearing that he’d been in Afghanistan. What hidden scars did he have?

  She forced her mind back to the topic. “But weren’t you just saying something about ISIS and justifying the use of our military because diplomacy is never going to work?”

  “You aren’t equating a drillship looking for oil with fighting ISIS?”

  “No, I’m just saying that honey isn’t always enough. Of course I didn’t want anyone to be inconvenienced or angry, but sometimes agitation isn’t just effective—it’s also necessary to get people to listen. It’s a method. Not one I’d want to rely on all the time, but peaceful, orderly, sign-holding protests don’t always work. Sometimes you have to do something dramatic—something big—or maybe even something unpleasant to get the job done.”

  “Said every terrorist everywhere. That’s exactly the type of argument that the bad guys use to justify their ‘wars.’ I bet that’s how Julien and his friends were justifying what they were planning to do, too.”

  Her cheeks heated. “That isn’t fair. There’s a big difference between a sit-in on a ship and blowing it up.”

  “Agreed. Just as there is a big difference between what our military is doing to combat threats like ISIS and trying to prevent drilling for oil. Even so, we aren’t doing very much blowing up at all. But as much as I’d personally like to hit the reset button, that isn’t how our government operates.”

  “Reset button?” He waited for her to understand. She was incredulous. “You mean wiping them out?”

  He shrugged. “These are evil people, Annie, who want to set our civilization back hundreds of years. They aren’t messing around. They’re fighting a war with us, but we’re engaged in some kind of PC bullshit. Our response has turned reactive rather than proactive. George W might have opened the door in Iraq, but it was later administrations that allowed these organizations to flare up again. If we’d taken care of them when we had a chance, we wouldn’t be in this position.”

  She didn’t disagree with everything he said, which was surprising. “You might be right, but that is part of the cost of being a civilized nation. We don’t go around hitting the reset button just because we don’t like someone’s beliefs. You conservatives love to hold up the Constitution and wave it around anytime someone mentions guns, but I sometimes wonder whether you’ve actually read it.”

  To her surprise he didn’t argue with her; he just laughed. “I’m beginning to feel like I’m on CNN.”

  She smiled back at him. “Minus all the yelling and vitriol.”

  Which was nice. She liked that they could disagree and still have an intelligent conversation. Maybe they understood each other better now, too.

  He was thoughtful, watching her for a moment before speaking. “You really think that climbing on board a drillship in the middle of the ocean is the best way for you—a scientist—to make a difference? You sure that your ‘big and dramatic’ aren’t about something else?”

  Maybe he understood more than she wanted. “Like what?”

  His gaze was cool and steady. “You tell me.”

  She knew what he thought. That this was about her dad—or rather his memory. But he was wrong. She wasn’t trying to prove herself to him or anyone else.

  She did want to make a difference, and protesting was a legitimate way to do so. “I think we’ll have to agree to disagree about methods. But just because you don’t like my way doesn’t make it wrong.” She eyed him speculatively. “Besides, if you believe in the system so much, what are you doing here hiding?”

  From the way his jaw clenched, she could tell he wasn’t happy with the question. Nor did he have an answer for her. “It’s getting dark. I’m going to see about finding some water. You can get started on one of those protein bars if you want.” He gave her a long look. “We should get some sleep. Assuming the storm breaks, I want to leave at first light.”

  “What about the boat?”

  “I’ll fix it as best I can, but without the waves and the rain, it should get us there.”

  Should.

  “Where are we going?”

  “The closest island is Lewis, but as I don’t want to risk that, it’s North Uist instead. It’s in the same chain, but I don’t think they’ll be looking for us there.”

  “And then?”

  He held her gaze, giving her nothing. She hadn’t thought he would. He would leave her and go on his way. What else was she expecting?

  It was for the best anyway. She’d avoided his type for a reason. Even if he wasn’t in trouble, she couldn’t go there. Conservative, former military, and alpha. The trifecta of not going to happen. No matter how attracted she was to him. And how hot that kiss had been. She’d had enough of wannabe superheroes.

  “Get some rest, Annie. I’ll be back.”

  When the door closed behind him with a slam, something in her chest seemed to do the same.

  • • •

  They left the small island not long after da