Seawolf End Game by Cliff Happy

should go, Captain.” She motioned to the cut by his left eye. “That might need a few sutures.”
    Brodie didn’t respond but instead motioned toward the duty van that had been brought around and was now waiting for them at the base of the hill. “You’re going to freeze to death out here. Why don’t you wait in the van with the others?” His voice and demeanor had returned to normal, except for the tattered uniform, the gash to the side of his head, and bloody knuckles.
    “No, sir,” she insisted. “I want to do something I should have done eighteen months ago.”
    Kristen had always regretted never reporting Fitzgerald for having tried to rape her while she’d been at Corpus. Since that night, she’d often wondered how many other women he may have assaulted since he attacked her, and if those assaults might have been prevented had she’d spoken up then.
    The Provost Marshall, a full commander, walked up, and Kristen and Graves greeted him politely. But the grumpy commander—recently dragged from a nice warm bed—ignored the others and dealt with Brodie. “Did you have to beat him half to death?” he asked as he looked Brodie over.
    Brodie appeared unmoved, and Kristen got the impression this was not his first time speaking to the police. “He assaulted one of my officers.”
    “Then you should have called me,” the commander told him. “Bad business, officers fighting officers. We have enough trouble keeping the enlisted men around here in line without this kind of nonsense.” The Provost Marshall was basically the base commander’s chief of police and responsible for good order and discipline on Sasebo.
    Kristen could see he was planning on arresting Brodie but saw no hint of concern in her captain’s eyes. “I couldn’t agree more,” Brodie concurred. “Just as long as no one puts a hand on one of my officers.”
    The commander nodded and looked at Graves. “Whom did he allegedly assault?”
    “Me, sir,” Kristen interjected, determined to do what she could to keep them from placing handcuffs on Brodie.
     The Provost Marshall’s annoyed expression changed dramatically when he looked at her. Kristen didn’t know how bad she looked, but she could taste blood from a cut lip, and her cheek was already swelling. Plus, her normally perfectly coiffured hair looked like a haystack. She then realized, as she saw a flash of anger on the Provost’s face, that two men pounding on each other was one thing and fairly common, but there still existed a bit of a chivalric code enforced in the military. Spousal abuse and physical abuse against women ranked up there with child molestation on the maggot ladder among most in the military, and the Provost Marshall was no different. “Are you okay, Lieutenant?” he asked as his tone of voice changed dramatically upon seeing her. “I can have one of my patrol cars take you to the hospital and have the ER check you out.”
    “No thank you, sir. I would like to stay with my captain.”
    The Provost nodded thoughtfully and then motioned toward an ambulance where Fitzgerald was being loaded up for transport to the hospital. “And the guy with his face beat in, he assaulted you?”
    Kristen nodded and then pulled back some of her thick hair to show the gouge marks where Fitzgerald had dug his fingers into her slender neck. “Yes, sir.”
    The Provost Marshall’s tune changed rapidly as he saw the fresh gouge marks on her neck, and his jaw tensed angrily. But just as Kristen thought everything was calming down, she heard a low growl beside her as Brodie moved off the rail. He’d seen the fingernail gouges on her neck and the berserker fury was returning.
    “Sean!” Graves warned and grabbed Brodie’s right arm as Kristen gripped his left.
    The Provost Marshall stepped in between Brodie and the ambulance and held up a restraining hand. “Hold on there, Galahad,” he cautioned. 
    Brodie swallowed his rage and stood, a dangerous scowl on his face. He cut