Adamant Spirits, page 105
So at some point in the distant future, they would deal with this behind closed doors? Anton would get little more than a slap on the wrist. Her blood boiled.
“Just—If I may, sir.” Edwin extended a bony finger. “I didn’t get these from Captain Cipriani. These were retrieved from a database I accessed through Tavian implants. The Tavians were using the information contained here.”
Aside from the faint echo of Edwin’s voice around the circular chamber, everything was silent. Not a single person in the gallery even moved. Sophia gripped her wooden armrests. Ichiro would be hard pressed to bring this matter behind closed doors now.
“Stealing Guard correspondence is a grave violation of the treaty.” Royce’s lips twitched upward. “It’s very good you caught this, Mr. Harper. All of Nios owes you a debt of gratitude. Were you able to find anything pertinent to the incidents in Santa Rita?”
“Oh, yes, of course.” One screen flew to the center of the room, and the others disappeared. “These messages pertain specifically to the operation in Santa Rita. The timestamps on these messages show the Tavians received them before Lieutenant Kalos and his unit started the… before they entered the, um, theater—however you say it, the Tavians knew they were coming and they knew where they’d be.”
Anton sprang up from his chair across the chamber and propped himself up on his crutches. “I request permission to address the panel.”
Niko never got that courtesy.
“If this is true, I’m just as shocked as all of you, and I want to know how it happened.”
Dad’s hard gaze slid from Anton to Ichiro and back, his head tilted forward slightly. She’d gotten that look before. Their charade wouldn’t be tolerated.
“I’m a victim in this,” Anton insisted.
Ichiro straightened in his chair. “I understand your eagerness, but it’s not customary to offer a defense—”
Dad leaned forward. “Given that we’re all here right now and the summit is tomorrow, the minister will want as much information as possible. If anyone here feels they may be able to provide a more complete picture of these serious events, they should be allowed to speak.”
Anyone…
She tucked her chin to hide her smile. Anton could take his turn.
And then she’d take hers.
“Yes.” Ichiro bobbed his head. “Captain Cipriani, please approach the podium.”
Anton hobbled to the podium, his eyes tight and strained. “I want to assure you that I had nothing to do with this—”
She rolled her eyes.
“—and I will fully cooperate with the investigation, so we can determine how the Tavians hacked my implant.”
“Mr. Harper, is that what the evidence suggests?” Dad asked. “That Captain Cipriani was hacked?”
“I can’t tell how they obtained the messages,” he replied.
“I would never give the Tavians my own messages.” Anton raised his voice. “If I had, do you really think I would have followed Lieutenant Kalos into Santa Rita? The Tavians could have found and killed me.”
Well, that was probably true. If anyone could be counted on for their strong sense of self-preservation, it would have been him. But whether he’d been hacked or he’d handed over the messages, it meant little to her. He still shot at Niko—nearly killed him. He’d face the full consequences for that.
“I would like to address the panel.” She rose from her seat.
“Lieutenant Anuva.” Ichiro drew in a tight breath. “We are under strict time constraints. Please send any and all information in a memorandum for commander through the proper channels for consideration.”
“I have important evidence pertinent to this panel’s investigation of the Santa Rita incidents.” She waited, fingers curling into her palms. They didn’t want to talk about it anymore—they’d always wanted this to go away, but she wasn’t going to let them forget.
The captain next to Ichiro tilted her head. “We said that anyone who had evidence should be allowed to speak.”
“Approach the podium, Lieutenant Anuva.” Ichiro sighed with a dark look that all but screamed this had better be good.
Her heels clacked along the marble floor, bringing her closer to the most important battle she’d ever fight. Anton stepped aside, his smile not reaching his eyes.
She cleared her throat. “Two days ago, Lieutenant Kalos escorted Mr. Harper into an area known for high Tavian activity to retrieve the evidence from their implants.”
Anton hopped forward on his crutches. “And in doing so, he disobeyed yet another direct order.”
She spun. “You just said that you—his commander—were there as well. Why were you there if it wasn’t a sanctioned mission?”
Anton’s glare hardened. “I was trying to intercept Lieutenant Kalos before he could do anything stupid.”
Got him. She could have leaped in the air.
“To that end, I’d like to present the map overlay for evidence.” She blinked and projected the map. “The blue dot is where Lieutenant Kalos had sought cover, the green is Captain Cipriani, and the red dots around the perimeter are Tavians. As you can see, Captain Cipriani had a clear path to Kalos’s position, if his goal had been to intercept him, but that wasn’t what happened. Captain Cipriani stopped short and got into the prone position with his rifle pointed toward Kalos.”
“This is all speculation!” Anton blustered.
She nodded at his leg. “If it’s speculation, then how were you shot?”
“We all can see the web of beacons and scramblers.” He waved a hand at all the white glowing on the map. “It would have been impossible to mark exactly where I was.”
“I, too, will fully cooperate with the investigation.” She talked over him. “And my implant logs will show that I locked on Captain Cipriani’s implant signature the moment he teleported into the reserve. Additionally, I’m ready to testify to this, as is Lieutenant Guthrie Tejeda, who had a visual of Cipriani while he fired his rifle—”
Anton huffed. “They are loyal to their commander! Their testimony shouldn’t be considered.”
“Even if you’d prefer not to take our testimony, I request that you watch the full footage of the map overlay. Captain Cipriani takes a direct path to Lieutenant Kalos’s position and then stops here.” She pointed. “With a full line of sight—”
“The area was crawling with Tavians!”
“—and he waited in the prone position with his rifle pointed in the direction of Lieutenant Kalos.” She pictured Niko’s face as she’d pulled him from under the tree root, pale and unresponsive, and had to work at keeping her voice steady. “The first shots fired were from Captain Cipriani’s vantage point, and no Tavians were in the area. He fired three shots, corresponding with the three wounds sustained by Lieutenant Kalos. This was no mistake.”
Anton’s whole body was rigid. “In the heat of combat, nothing is ever easy—”
Ichiro held up a hand, silencing Anton, while keeping his focus on Sophia. He raised his eyebrows. “Those are some very serious allegations.”
“I don’t make them lightly, but I urge the panel to consider the evidence,” she said. “None of the Tavians in the area would have had a clear shot. Lieutenant Kalos’s injuries could have only come from one person.”
Ichiro eyed Dad. “If I recall correctly, the penalties for something like this could be prosecution for attempted murder.”
Dad nodded gravely.
“We’ll need some time to deliberate over the evidence and render a disciplinary decision,” Ichiro continued. “But this is unprecedented. I have no choice but to recommend that Captain Cipriani is relieved of his command immediately while he awaits further disciplinary action.”
“I want it on the record that I intend to appeal this.” Anton jabbed a finger at the ground.
Ichiro’s gaze darted to him. “That’s certainly your right. I look forward to seeing how you could refute all this evidence.”
“Sir.” Sophia spoke up again. “In light of the proof that the Tavians possessed the messages that led to the ambush in Santa Rita and Captain Cipriani’s actions in the field, I request that his testimony regarding Lieutenant Kalos be thrown out.”
Ichiro nodded, shuffling his papers and already glancing at the door. “Yes. That seems reasonable. Lieutenant Kalos’s leadership responsibilities are reinstated.”
Her chest expanded with a breath but tightened just as quickly. It was the result she’d fought for, but now Niko would have to choose. Black ops guards weren’t allowed to have serious relationships—especially true since he was her commander again. He deserved to be unit leader, but she couldn’t help but hope he’d give it up to be with her.
“This panel is adjourned.” Ichiro rose and left quickly. The entire chamber buzzed with the turn of events.
“See?” Guthrie approached the podium. “I told you.”
She rolled her eyes. “I’m going to go see if Niko’s awake, so I can tell him the news. Want to come?”
“Nah, I think you two will probably have a lot to talk about.” He winked, and warmth rushed to her cheeks. He wasn’t wrong. “Besides, I got a date with Emma tonight.”
She let out a humorless laugh. “And so it begins.”
“Sophia,” Dad called from behind her.
“I’ll catch you later,” Guthrie said, backing away.
She turned as Dad approached.
“Nice job today.” He hugged her, but his emerald eyes seemed distant.
“Not happy with the result?” she asked, lifting her head from his shoulder.
“What? No, it’s not that at all,” he said, his eyebrows pulling together. “In the few months you’ve been in the Guard, you’ve had to fight battles I’d hoped you’d never have to fight.” He turned to face her. “But I couldn’t be prouder of how you’ve handled it all. I’m amazed at the person you’ve become.”
A lump rose in her throat. “Thanks, Dad. That means a lot.”
“I have to run. I’m meeting with Commander Mendoza to help prepare for the summit, and she’ll want recommendations for who should fill Cipriani’s command role, but maybe you could come over for dinner soon?”
“I’d like that,” she said, kissing his cheek.
He disappeared into the dwindling crowd, and she took a moment to let everything that had happened settle. She’d stopped them from making a scapegoat out of Niko. Anton would finally face the consequences of his actions. Horacio was set to be released from the hospital soon, and with any luck, Layla would be released after the summit tomorrow.
Only one thing left to do…
Her stomach squirmed. It was time to talk to Niko.
Twenty-One
Bright sunlight lit up Niko’s room—too bright. He wasn’t ready to get up yet. He arched his back to turn over, and splitting pain shot through his chest.
Oh yeah…
Rolling onto his back, he groaned.
“Niko, are you awake?” Sophia whispered.
He opened his eyes. Sure enough, there she was, dark curls pulled back in a loose bun, eyes as gorgeous as ever, and her smile… He would have walked through fire just to see her again.
“You saved me,” he croaked. The words ripped through his dry throat. How long had he been sleeping?
“Barely.” Her eyebrows pulled together, and she smiled tightly. “It was touch and go for a little while. You were in surgery a long time, and you’ve been asleep for a week.”
“Huh?” he grunted. How could he sleep that long and still be tired?
“A week. Your hourly scans for infection thankfully haven’t come back positive, but your inflammatory markers were still high, so they kept you sedated.”
A week. What happened in that time? He swallowed. “Edwin?”
She grinned, and for a moment all the tightness in her face disappeared. “He did it, Niko. He got everything he needed and more. The Tavians had all the messages between Anton and his assistant—including one where he said he was going after you. That was all the panel needed. He was immediately relieved of command, and it’s possible he’ll face attempted murder charges. You have been cleared of everything. You’re unit leader again.”
Cleared. He sucked in a breath, and even though it ached, his chest somehow felt lighter. Not an ounce of him wanted the unit leader position again—he couldn’t be with Sophia and be her boss—but that could be dealt with later. Right now, there was too much he needed to say.
Her lips curved upward. “The Tavians showed up to the summit with their crazy list of demands, but when we showed them the evidence—213 counts of possession of Niotian correspondence—they backed off immediately.”
The Tavians conceded. Did that mean… “Layla?”
“Released immediately. She’s shaken up, of course, but physically, she looks good.” Her smile faded. “She came by to see you when you were sleeping. She’s really grateful for everything you did to get her back.”
Niko let his head drop back into the pillow. Beams of amber sunlight shone on the ceiling and gave the white hospital room some color. All of this would have been worth it just to get Layla back—even if he hadn’t been cleared.
But he had. Layla was free, and he was, too.
“So that’s it?” Niko asked. “It’s over.”
She dropped her chin again and studied her hands. “Um, Royce has some concerns—something about the Tavians giving in too easily and how it might be a sign that they’re covering something else up, a mole in our government. Commander Mendoza is taking that pretty seriously. She’s leaving no stone unturned, but there’s enough resolution to move forward. Gideon has been discharged from the Guard for his part in the messages. McCade was promoted to take over Anton’s command, so it looks like he’s your boss again.”
Niko chuckled. “I bet he loves that.” Truthfully, Niko did, too. There wasn’t anyone better.
His hand drifted toward the edge of the bed, toward her. Even the small space between them felt like too much—not that she would have seen it. She was still frowning at her hands. He needed to tell her so much, but there was a massive wall between them. He ached to burst through. “But?”
“Hmm?” Her gaze popped up.
“This all sounds amazing, but you’re fidgeting again.” He pointed at her hands. “Something’s wrong.”
Her mouth opened, but she stayed quiet as her face tightened. It felt like his heart was being torn from his chest.
“I put in a request for reassignment,” she finally said.
“What?” he belted out the question so forcefully, his chest heaved in a coughing fit.
“Niko!” She flew to his side and tried to steady him as he curled forward. If the coughs were any stronger, he might hack up his spleen, but she couldn’t leave. Not after everything they’d been through. Only moments ago, the future had seemed so bright and hopeful, but without her?
She propped him up with pillows and grabbed some water from a nearby table. “Please try to take it easy.”
He cleared his throat. “Is this about the unit leader thing? I won’t take it. I don’t even want it.”
“No, no.” She shook her head, still standing next to the bed with her hands out like she was ready to catch him. “Well, maybe a little bit, but that’s not the whole problem.”
“Then what is it? You’re too good of a guard to just walk away.”
Her gaze darted to him, strong and steady. The green flecks in her eyes glimmered, sending a wave of shivers over his skin. “That’s the problem. I am a good guard, but that’s not what I want to be to you.”
“I…” Of course she was more than a guard to him. She was everything. She knew that, right?
She sighed and plopped into her chair. “You told me to go find my fairytale, so here it is.” Scooting to the edge of her seat, she laced her fingers into his, sending his heart into his throat. “It’s you. I don’t need a pairing, but I don’t want to be casual with you, either. If we stay in black ops, we’ll always have to hide our relationship—pretend it’s less than it is.” She shook her head. “I can’t hide my feelings for you. I’m not saying I want children tomorrow, but if I’ve learned anything about the Guard, it’s that it can be a very lonely place.” She shrugged. “I want a partner.”
He was her fairytale? If it hadn’t been for his stitches, he would have pulled her to his side. For her, it wasn’t enough just to be together. She wanted it all.
Everything he wanted.
It was more than he would have dared to hope for. He’d been awful to her when they’d met. He could barely expect her forgiveness, and yet she’d seen right through him. She was beautiful, fearless, as fierce as anyone he’d ever fought with, yet gentle and kind, good—and she saw the good in him. Now that he’d seen her for who she was, he couldn’t ever imagine wanting to leave her side.
He pulled her hand up to his lips and kissed it reverently. “You saved me, Sophia.”
She huffed. “Let’s not talk about that anymore.”
“No.” He shook his head. “You don’t understand. You saved me twice.”
Frowning, she searched his face.
“When we teleported here, I could feel myself dying. It actually wasn’t so awful, kind of like drifting away with a tide, peaceful. I’d done what I’d needed to do.”
She recoiled away from him, shaking her head. “I don’t want to hear this. I can’t—”
He tugged on her hand, pulling her back until she sat on his bed next to him. “Then you said, ‘I love you.’”
Her gaze drifted to his, and he slid his arm around her waist.
“I didn’t know if I’d make it, but I knew I wanted to try just to hear you say it again.”
“I love you,” she whispered, then dropped to his lips and kissed him, her sweet floral scent washing over him and every bit as lovely as it had been before. He ran a hand through her silky curls. Finally, McCade’s decision to leave black ops made sense. A partnership, a love, a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity. He’d never regret leaving everything behind for her. Pressing his forehead to hers, he stared deeply into her eyes. Could he really look into those eyes for the rest of his life? Make her smile? Kiss her? Have children with her?
