Breakpoint by Joann Ross

Author:Joann Ross [Ross, Joann]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Contemporary, Romantic Suspense, Military, Romance Suspense
ISBN: 9780451227768
Publisher: Signet
Published: 2008-12-31T16:00:00+00:00

30

“Captain Ramsey wants to greet you personally,” their escort told them.

As they descended to the below waterline decks of the cavernous carrier, Dallas found himself actually relieved when it was explained that, for security reasons—and their own safety—they’d always have to have an escort while on board. Because, although he’d always prided himself on having a GPS in his head, he feared he’d be hopelessly lost within his first ten minutes alone.

And for a guy used to wandering around deserts and jungles in some of the world’s toughest terrain, that would just be too humiliating to ever live down. In fact, he might just need to throw himself off the boat.

“We’d be honored.”

Although her tone was polite, Dallas had come to know Juls enough to hear the impatience in it. He knew she wanted to get down to brass tacks. Meet with the doctor, investigate what could be a possible crime scene. But once again, there were traditions to follow, respect to show.

The guy glanced over at Dallas. “That’s quite a coincidence, sir,” he said, “your having the same name as this boat.”

“That’s all it is.” Not having been in the officer ranks, Dallas was uncomfortable with the repeated “sir.” But he understood training. The guy would probably tack “sirs” onto butchers or barbers back home. “A coincidence.”

The USS O’Halloran was not only long, it was tall. Two hundred and fifty feet, to be exact, and Dallas was beginning to get the feeling that the OOD was going to make sure they covered every inch of the ship before he finally ushered them into the captain’s inner sanctum. Which, he figured, was the same sort of benign hazing he and a lot of his fellow Spec Ops guys would give the CIA spooks whenever they showed up for a mission.

All vertical movement required moving up and down a seemingly endless series of narrow stairs. In their seemingly constant need to be different, the Navy called them ladders, which made sense, since they were essentially open, very steep metal stairs set at seventy-degree angles. Sailors were clattering up the right sides, down the left.

“I now understand why I’ve yet to see an overweight sailor on this ship,” he murmured to Juls. One positive about the stairs was that it gave him a very nice view of the woman’s very fine butt.

The negative was that he quickly learned the hard way that if you weren’t careful, it was easy to hit your head on the metal step above you.

“It’s pretty much a multibillion-dollar StairMaster,” she agreed.

Dallas decided they must be getting closer when all of a sudden stars started appearing on the floor.

“This is the Walk of Fame,” the OOD said back over his shoulder. “It commemorates important persons in naval history.”

William D. Leahy. Chester W. Nimitz. Hyman George Rickover. William F. Halsey. Then—whoa!—noticeably larger than its predecessors, and painted a rich and gleaming gold in contrast to the other bronze stars, was Declan Cormac O’Halloran.

“Okay,” Dallas admitted. “Coincidence or not, I kinda hate to step on this one.

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