Page 21 of Securing Jane

“I’m sorry I haven’t been around much,” he told her.

Jane shook her head. “Don’t. I knew what I was getting into when I agreed to go out with you. Hell, you all but spelled it out when I was at your house. I like who you are, Storm. I like that you’re worried about your men. I admire you. The fact that you’ve been taking the time out of your very busy schedule to text me, to call, to let me know you’re thinking about me even if you don’t have time to see me, means everything.”

“You deserve better,” he said softly.

“Than what? A man who texts me just to let me know he misses me? Someone who leaves me a long voice message because he randomly thought about the part in our favorite movie where Andy tells Red that hope is a good thing, the best of things, and no good thing ever dies…and that he hopes our relationship works out because he can’t stop thinking about me? Lord, Storm, you’ve been more attentive to me in the last two weeks, without seeing me, than any other man has been in person. You have nothing to apologize for.”

Storm squeezed the hand that was lying on her thigh and curled the other around her ass. Then he surprised her by leaning over and resting his forehead against her knee. Jane brought a hand up to run her fingers through his hair.

How long they sat like that she wasn’t sure, but she felt more connected to Storm than she’d ever felt with another man. Ever. It should’ve scared her. Hell, they hadn’t even really kissed or spent much time together, but he’d shown by his actions that he wasn’t like the boys she’d dated in the past. He was a grown-ass man, an honorable one. One she was desperate to get to know intimately.

They both heard Storm’s administrative assistant greeting someone out in the other room at the same time. Storm’s head came up, and he squeezed her hand one last time. Jane saw the mask fall over his features. Right in front of her eyes, he changed from the tired man to the ever-so-competent and in-control admiral.

When someone knocked on the door, Jane stood up and faced the door.

“Come in,” Storm called.

Rear Admiral Dag Creasy appeared in the doorway.

“Dag,” Storm said with a smile. “Good to see you.”

“Same,” the other man said, returning his smile.

Jane started to slide sideways to get out of their hair, but the rear admiral gestured for her to stay. “Don’t go, Jane. I didn’t mean to interrupt.”

“But you did,” Storm told his friend in mock irritation. “So get on with it so I can get back to some quiet time with my girl before the shit hits the fan again.”

Dag didn’t take offense. He merely smiled and sat in one of the chairs in front of Storm’s desk.

Jane wasn’t sure what to do. Should she stay where she was? Go sit in the other chair? Leave? She’d always liked the rear admiral, but she didn’t really know him and wasn’t sure what the protocol was in an instance like this.

“Heard anything from NCIS about the person who mailed that bomb to you?” Storm asked as he reached out and pulled Jane closer to him. She stumbled slightly, but ended up resting on the arm of his chair. Storm’s arm went around her waist to steady her, and she barely breathed as she sat perched next to him.

“That’s why I’m here,” Dag said, leaning back, not seeming at all surprised or irritated that she was practically sitting in Storm’s lap. “I was sent the preliminary report today, and I wanted to talk to you about it.”

“I should go,” Jane said again.

“Stay,” Dag ordered. “This concerns you as much as anyone else. After all, you were the one who bore the brunt of the asshole’s anger. It’s only fair.”

“What’d they find out?” Storm asked.

Jane had to admit she was curious, so she stayed where she was and listened with rapt attention.

“There was a note inside the box that was recovered and pieced back together. The person who wrote it obviously isn’t happy with me. They rambled on and on about what a shit officer I am and how I’m unfit to be in charge of anyone. The person said that I held grudges and punished sailors unfairly. NCIS believes it was sent by someone who was court-martialed while under my command.”

“That should narrow things down considerably,” Storm said. “That’s good, isn’t it?”

Dag shrugged. “Yes and no. I mean, it makes sense that it’s someone who was court-martialed recently, but what if it’s not? There have been hundreds of sailors who have been disciplined over the years under my command.”

“What about the handwriting on the box? Can they somehow track that?” Jane asked, then blushed as both men looked at her. “Uh…sorry, I’m sure they’ve thought of that.”

“They have,” Dag said with a small smile. “And it’s a no-go. The Navy doesn’t keep handwriting samples of their sailors. As you know, there was no return address and the stamps were hand-canceled, so that makes it harder to track. The ink was smudged and it’s unreadable, so there’s no way of knowing how the box got into the mail system in the first place.”

Jane nodded. “Yeah, that does make it tougher. It could’ve been dropped off by hand or sent through the mail system off the base. Are you still in danger, Sir?”

Dag’s expression gentled. “I can take care of myself,” he said.

Which wasn’t an answer. “Of course you can,” Jane agreed. “But forgive me for overstepping here—what if the person decides to step things up? Putting tear gas in a box is one thing, but they might decide to hand-deliver a box to your beautiful home on the ocean. It could be an actual bomb next time. What else is NCIS doing to find out who did this so you can be safe? The last thing you need to worry about when you leave work is someone coming after you, especially after all you’ve done for your country.”