Midway Between You and Me (Harlequin Super Romance)

by Rogenna Brewer

  He spared a glance at the male and female albatrosses preening their downy baby. “That’s a hell of a way to pressure a guy.”

  “Pressure? We can only go one of two ways, forward or nowhere. And I don’t think you’re ready to go anywhere. It’s not fair for you to come around every morning and make me breakfast, promises—”

  “What kind of promises?”

  “Exactly!”

  “Is this some female thing that will blow over in a week?”

  “That’s a man’s answer to everything.” She took a deep breath. “I like what we have, but I don’t want zero return on my investment when you ship out in a few months. Before we take this any further I need to know, would you give up the uniform for me?”

  He shifted and looked down at his feet. “Now, that’s unfair. I’d never ask you to give up something to be with me.”

  “I know. I shouldn’t even ask. I’m just warning you now, that might be what it takes to hold me. And for me to hold you, I might have to give up some of my beliefs and ideals. We’re opposites, and even though opposites attract, they aren’t always right for each other.” She crossed her arms. “I don’t want you to come around and make me breakfast anymore.”

  He chose his next words very carefully as he put his cap back on. “You’re right, I don’t see us going forward from here when you’re unwilling to take one step in my direction. You won’t have to worry about me coming around anymore.”

  1900 Monday

  Eastern Island, Midway Islands

  A WEEK AND A DAY LATER, Tam had asked Bowie to meet her on Eastern Island. She’d been miserable every minute without him. As promised, he was there waiting for her. “Thank you for meeting me.”

  “I told you I would.” He put aside the book he’d been reading and jumped to his feet, brushing the sand off his shorts. “Did you lug all that from the boat?” he asked, gesturing to the picnic basket, blanket and gunny sack she held.

  “They’re supplies. It’s going to be a long night.” In truth, they could have started out later in the evening, but sunset had seemed more romantic.

  “Why are you wearing your sunglasses this time of evening?”

  “Just sitting here watching the sunset and reading Tennyson, guess I forgot about them.” He took them off.

  “It’s a beautiful sunset, isn’t it?”

  “So I’ve been told,” he said, staring at her as if she had all the answers.

  She busied herself unloading the picnic basket. “You can’t see the colors, can you.”

  “Not without these,” he said, holding up his sunglasses. “When I was a kid with a whole world of possibilities, a teacher broke the news I’d never be an astronaut, a pilot, a fireman, a policeman—none of the really cool jobs that a boy grows up dreaming about.”

  She sat on the blanket beside him. “So you picked from the very top of that list and chose demolition?”

  “Something like that. I always want what I can’t have.”

  “We have a lot in common because I always gravitate toward what’s bad for me.” Which is why she’d kept herself locked away from the rest of the world for so long. “Is this a step in the right direction?” she asked.

  “Honey, this is two miles in the right direction,” he said, acknowledging the actual distance between Sand and Eastern with a smile. “I want to kiss you, Tam.”

  “I know.”

  He brushed a strand of hair away from her forehead and followed the length to the end. It was as if he’d awakened every nerve ending in her body and they were all begging for his touch. “You’re very beautiful. I’m not going to—”

  She pressed her fingertips to his lips. “Don’t swear you’re not going to hurt me. Because you are.”

  Her fingers moved to his hair. She pressed her mouth to his. He stole her breath and replaced it with his. Over and over again.

  Eventually she must have made a sound because he raised his head to look into her eyes.

  She wanted him to say something. Anything.

  “Now, that didn’t hurt, did it?” he asked, stroking her face.

  She reached up and touched his smiling lips. She couldn’t help but smile back. “No, that didn’t hurt.”

  She ran her hand across one broad shoulder and trapped him closer. Just as he opened his mouth to kiss her, he pulled back. “What the hell?”

  Tam twisted for a better angle. A turtle hatchling dropped to the sand above the blanket and crawled away. “Don’t move,” she said when he would have rolled off her. “You might roll onto one.”

  There were hatchlings all around them, breaking through their sandy nests and heading toward the water by the hundreds.

  Once she determined none of the little creatures would be crushed, they were able to sit up. “Grab the camera,” she said, pushing to her feet and following the turtles to the water.

  “How do you turn it on?” he called to her.

  “It’s already on!”

  “Why, you little devil,” he teased. He trode carefully, and starting at the nest he captured the progress of hundreds of tiny sea turtles on their way toward the ocean.

  Tam stood ankle-deep in the surf, and he directed the camera on her.

  “Not me, silly. The turtles,” she said.

  “I kind of like what’s in my sights right now.”

  A wave crashed in to her and she fell to her knees, laughing as she tried to regain her feet. He rushed her then and she splashed him, mindless of the camera. He picked her up and spun her around, kissing her hard on the mouth until she was dizzy and breathless.

  “You know,” he said, “they filmed the love scene in From Here to Eternity on Midway because at the time it was too shocking to be filmed in Hawaii.”

  “You do love your movie trivia.”

  “I do,” he agreed.

  “Well, it was shocking when Burt Lancaster slapped Deborah Kerr.”

  “I’m actually more interested in acting out the rolling around in the sand bit.”

  Her breath caught. “Look, I’m sure, no, I know that you’re a nice guy and all—”

  “But you’re used to my kind just passing through. What does that mean exactly, Tam? We’ve all been hurt before. What’s life about except taking chances? I’m here now, I’m not hurting you now. So I’m here for six months and we don’t know beyond that. You’ve been here what?—three years? And you have a contract for the next three, but do you know where you’ll be sent next? The truth is, none of us knows what tomorrow will bring. We only have tonight.”

  “Pretty words, Lieutenant. But I can’t be with a guy who only thinks about tonight.”

  “Okay,” he said, pulling back slightly, shoving the video camera into her hands. “And I can’t be with a woman who doesn’t trust me. But we would have made a hell of a movie.”

  No doubt they would have.

  He dunked himself completely and emerged soaked to the skin, his mismatched clothes clinging to his every muscle and sinew. Oh, the hell with it. Who knew better than she that there was no tomorrow?

  She tossed the camera to the sand and rushed him. Despite the cooling off period, their kisses were heated, demanding, invasive. She started to unbuckle his belt.

  He stilled her shaking hands. “You’re not ready for this.” He kissed her fingertips. “But I appreciate the effort.”

  What did he mean? Her body was beyond ready. And his was once again hard with need. Was he rejecting her?

  “What’s the matter?” she asked, sensing she no longer had his complete attention.

  “Nothing,” he said. But he stared off into the distance, listening to something. “It’s late. We need to head back.”

  He helped her pack, then hurried her to the boat.

  “Don’t tell me nothing if it’s something. I have a rifle in the footlocker on board.”

  “No offense, but I’d rather have McCain as backup. And you safe on Sand Island.”

  0500 Tuesday

  Eastern Island, Midway Islan
ds

  “WHAT ARE WE LOOKING FOR again?” McCain asked, shouldering his weapon.

  “I don’t know,” Bowie answered, equally equipped for trouble. “But I heard an engine of some kind.” He thought it might have been a boat, but he wasn’t sure of the size or how far away it was.

  They were standing in the middle of the fuel depot dwarfed by two million-gallon tanks. “We’ve combed every inch of this island.” McCain bent to pick up something in the sand. “Are you sure it wasn’t the blood rushing from your brain to other parts of your body?” He held out a wrapped condom.

  Bowie grabbed it and put it back in his pocket. “Let’s cut back across the airstrip, it was still dark when we checked it out before.”

  McCain heaved a sigh but followed Bowie.

  Inland, there was a large sandy cove that harbored Hawaiian monk seals. They heard the barking even before they spied the basking seals.

  “What is that?” McCain asked as they stood on the lava rock above the sand. Among the seals there was a large mass, a bloody mass. “Is it human?”

  “I don’t think so,” Bowie called back, already scrambling down the rock.

  McCain slid down right behind him and they ran headlong through the seals, only to be charged by a bull who sent them climbing back up the rock.

  “Now what? He’s not going to let us near it.”

  “We call for backup,” Bowie said, unhooking his two-way radio from his belt and preparing to eat crow. “Warden, come in, over.”

  He explained the situation to Tam. He’d wanted her to tell him what to do over the radio, but she insisted she’d be right over. In a matter of minutes she was there, taking control of the situation.

  “Keep downwind of the bull. And try not to make any sudden moves.”

  They reached the corpse of the dead seal, and she stooped beside it. Flies buzzed around the open wound.

  “This seal wasn’t killed for her pelt. A poacher doesn’t come for just one. And this one hasn’t even been skinned.”

  “Maybe we scared him off last night before he could do any more damage.”

  “Yeah, we were real scary,” she muttered as she snapped some Polaroids. “No, this killing was more ritualistic. The seals are birthing, this one was pregnant. It looks like she delivered under stress. If there’s a pup, it won’t be far.”

  She had them wrap the seal corpse in a sheet she’d brought with her and started looking around. The pup had died nearby. Covered in afterbirth and a layer of sand, it had already been attacked by scavengers.

  “Poor little thing didn’t stand a chance.”

  Fall 1972

  Hanoi, Vietnam

  SKULLY HEADED NORTH with one purpose and one purpose only—to reach Lan. His seventy-two hours had come and gone. Only a fool would travel up country now. But he did what he was trained to do and moved among the shadows.

  Just before he reached Hanoi his luck ran out. He was captured by a squad of NVA regulars who wanted to shoot him on the spot before realizing just who he was.

  “Mau len, faster!” The NVA urged Skully forward with a bayonet to his back.

  His mind calculated his escape options. He had a chance against the five NVA. But if he went along with them, he’d make it to Hanoi alive. Even better, they would march him straight up to the gates of hell, the Hanoi Hilton.

  Exactly where he wanted to be.

  Xang would be there, maybe he was holding Lan captive. Skully didn’t know for sure. And the only person who could tell him where she was, happened to be the devil himself. Lieutenant Bian Xang, warden of the Hanoi Hilton.

  There was only one flaw.

  He’d survived the war by following one rule: never walk into a situation without backup and an escape route. He didn’t have either.

  Upon reaching the prisoner-of-war camp they brought him straight to an interrogation room. The NVA had roughed him up pretty good by the time Xang entered the room. Beads of sweat ran down his forehead and stung the cuts on his face and chest.

  “So we meet again,” the general said. “However, I believe the advantage is mine this time.” Xang fancied himself a MacArthur, carrying a riding crop that he beat rhythmically against his palm.

  Skully sat like a stone and said nothing, biding his time.

  “Look where they sent me after Parrot’s Beak? Because of you some other general will lead the way to Saigon. I’m going to enjoy this.”

  It took four men to hold him down while another whipped the soles of his feet. Skully cursed and spit and taunted Xang, but he would not cry out.

  “Dung lai!” Xang grew impatient and called a halt to the beating.

  The regulars sat him upright in a chair facing the general.

  “I almost forgot to tell you I have something of yours. Or should I say I’ve taken back what is mine.”

  “Where is she?” Skully spat out blood.

  “Perhaps I should have framed that in the past tense. Forgive my imperfect English.” A table stood between them, and Xang rested his palms against the flat surface. “Are you aware Lan gave birth to your bastard?”

  “You’re lying.”

  “You’re doing the math in your head, yes? You’ve known her for what, nine months? Yes, I believe that is what she said. But this child was born at seven months. So maybe, maybe not yours. I couldn’t take the chance.”

  Skully pulled his battered body up straighter.

  His child.

  “What have you done with them?”

  “You don’t really want to know. But I will keep you alive until you are begging for a merciful death. The way that Lan begged—”

  Skully rushed Xang, knocking back his chair and turning over the table to reach the bastard. But the guards caught Skully first, and he remembered little after that.

  The next thing Skully knew, his squad was picking him up off the floor and he was begging Tad Prince to kill him.

  He’d lost the woman he loved and their baby.

  There was no reason to live.

  CHAPTER TEN

  1200 Tuesday

  GEORGE CANNON SCHOOL;

  NAVAL AIR FACILITY

  Sand Island, Midway Islands

  SHE’D BEEN RIGHT ABOUT Bowie not being the kind of guy who looked beyond the present. But Tam had other problems on her hands. Gooney birds were dying. She hadn’t gotten the toxicology reports back yet to know if this was an epidemic of some sort, but she suspected an outbreak of parrot fever.

  Because of that she’d kept her distance from Crackers. And the bird was squawking up a storm.

  “What’s with the bird?” Bowie asked from the other side of the screen door, where he stood holding a branch.

  “She’s lonely,” Tam said as he stepped into her office.

  “I need to build her an aviary outdoors. Cracker’s chew toy arrived,” he said.

  “I can see that.”

  “This came for you. It’s a controlled substance. I had to sign for it.”

  “Just an antibiotic. I wanted your medic to have it on hand in case we have an outbreak of psittacosis, parrot fever. In humans, it causes an acute intestinal infection.”

  She kept herself busy so he’d get the hint and go. Several minutes passed and she heard a squawk, then a curse.

  “What’s going on in there?” she asked.

  “Crackers bit me.”

  “Let me look at your hand.”

  “Just a scratch,” he said.

  “It’s not just a scratch.” She opened the package he’d brought with him. Moving to a locked cabinet, she took out a hypodermic needle and began filling it.

  “What are you doing?”

  “Your medic can give you the shot or you can drop your pants for me.”

  “You don’t have to ask twice. Will one cheek do?” He revealed a modest expanse of well-muscled glute.

  “A cheek will do,” she said, swabbing the spot with alcohol, then jabbing him with the needle.

  “Professor,” he said in a tight voice. “
You have the bedside manner of a Navy nurse.”

  “Know a lot of Navy nurses, do you?” she asked while disposing of the syringe in a nearby hazardous waste container.

  “What’s eating you?” He rubbed the injection site.

  She ignored him and changed the subject. “It’s not even bleeding.”

  “Could have fooled me.” He looked over his shoulder at her.

  And she peeked at his ass. A tattoo was just visible above the edge of the lowered waistband of his briefs. “You have a tattooed butt?”

  “It’s nothing.” He tried to turn away from her.

  She held his gaze but snagged his waistband with her index finger. Demon-red eyes glared at her from a black skull and crossbones. She felt herself slip into unconsciousness.

  Bowie caught her before she hit the floor.

  “Tam!” he called, manipulating her into a sitting position. “Tam.”

  “I’m not even going to ask,” McCain said, entering the office with the screen door slamming behind him.

  “It’s not what it looks like. She took one look at my tattoo and fainted.”

  “But how did your pants get down around your ankles in the first place?”

  “She was giving me a shot.”

  “If you two want to play doctor, who am I to judge?” McCain teased, as Tam’s eyelashes fluttered.

  “Help me get her up,” Bowie said, letting McCain help Tam to her feet while he readjusted his pants.

  “I’m okay, I’m okay,” Tam insisted. “I just felt a little light-headed.”

  “I wish my ass had that effect on women,” McCain said. “I have the same tattoo. Wanna see?”

  2000 Tuesday

  BACHELOR OFFICERS’ QUARTERS;

  NAVAL AIR FACILITY

  Sand Island, Midway Islands

  “PSST!” KATIE WHISPERED from the bushes.

  “What are you doing here?” Tam whispered.

  “I’m trying to get a peek at that tattoo you told me about. They shower around this time every night. Right after they get off work.”

  “Katie!”

  “It’s not my fault they never pull the shades.” She offered Tam the binoculars. “His room’s on the top floor, corner. Two windows on each side.”