A Dangerous Leap

by Sharon Calvin

  Kelly swallowed the bile that suddenly burned her throat. The kid had been damn lucky. She stuffed her mangled cup in the trashcan. Children and predators on the internet made for ugly scenarios.

  “Is she going to be okay? From what I overheard you telling the sheriff, she hadn’t been raped.”

  “No, she was lucky. Thank God for an inept boater more afraid of drowning than getting caught with a minor tied up on his boat.”

  “Did you hear what happened to him after he was transported to the hospital?”

  “Yeah, the sheriff said after they stitched his head they transferred him to the county jail.”

  “So what’s the story? How’d she end up on his boat?” Ian stood and shoved his chair against the table with enough force to knock the pepper shaker over.

  Kelly arched her eyebrows.

  He scowled and righted the glass container. “Sorry, I’ve got a couple of kid sisters. I would’ve killed anyone who touched them like that.”

  Had her brother ever worried about some guy touching her inappropriately? Dismayed by what she feared the answer would have been (indifference, more than likely), she put her hands on her hips and regarded Ian. “Just how big is your family?”

  His expression warmed immediately. “There are ten of us counting my parents.”

  Kelly just stared, unable to comprehend such a thing. Ten of them—that meant eight kids? “Wow, just like the Brady Bunch.”

  He laughed as he rounded the table. “No, more like the Waltons. So back to the girl on the sailboat. How’d that pervert get her there?”

  Kelly had to blink several times before her mind could make the leap from a storybook childhood to a Grimm’s Fairy Tale. She ran her fingers though her hair. “They met on the internet. She’s fourteen and wanted to learn how to sail. He strung her along with some stupid story about being a teacher at the marina. They’d even met in person a few times before. But she never saw it coming.” Kelly clamped her mouth shut. The girl had been desperate for attention, her own parents too busy with their careers to give her what she needed. Kelly knew all about that kind of childhood—she’d lived it.

  Ian followed several steps behind as she left the lounge. “Think she’ll be okay?” he asked again.

  She needed space from him and his concern. Without looking back she kept walking and talking. “Yeah, I think she will.” Kelly slowed her stride. Someone needed to have a little talk with that girl’s mother. She forced her mind, and heart, away from possible solutions. Not her problem. She had enough on her own plate, she didn’t need to try and take anyone else’s problems on.

  Right now, getting Joe to accept her as part of his crew was her problem. She shifted her shoulders back and fingered the silly patch Caitlyn had given her. The ACE award would be a great way to ensure acceptance in the close-knit Coastie world. Maybe even a way to get Joe’s respect and—

  “You headed home? Need a lift?”

  Ian’s quiet voice directly behind her sent another shiver down her spine, making her aware of wanting to be touched, to be held. She hadn’t heard his step, hadn’t prepared for his sudden closeness. From her body’s traitorous reaction, she needed both time and distance from the man.

  Kelly rolled her eyes. Her libido had been dormant for so long she’d thought her body had grown totally desensitized to males. After all, she’d spent her whole life on and around military bases surrounded by men of all shapes and sizes. Heck, her job required her to be in close quarters, touching and being touched all the time. It had never been an issue.

  But with Ian it was different. None of the other men were as appealing as this Italian hunk, her newly awakened hormones howled. Well, why not just add stupid to her earlier self-assessment of foolish and pathetic?

  Concentrate on the conversation, Kel. She took a deep breath and turned to face him. “Yes, I’m headed home, and no, I don’t need a lift. I—”

  “Hey, Razz, you comin’ or not? Thought you said you’d only be a few minutes,” a leggy blonde in uniform called from the doorway to the hangar. The look she gave Kelly smacked of ownership.

  Ian swore softly. “Shit. I forgot, but I’m not about to admit that to her.” He waved at the woman. “I’ll meet you by the truck,” he called out.

  When he looked back at Kelly, she could almost believe his disappointment. Almost being the operative word.

  “Sorry, I better get going. Guess I’ll see you tomorrow,” he said and gave Kelly a sly wink.

  She automatically nodded. Yeah, sure, tomorrow. She should have known he’d go for a tall, curvy blonde.

  * * *

  Joe Peterson shoved his helmet into the locker and slammed the door. It bounced open perversely, rebounding with a clang. He fisted his hands, controlling his sudden need to break something. Hell, she’d been so scared she’d hurled all the way out to the wreck. He cuffed the door again and this time it stayed shut.

  He’d busted his butt trying to earn a swimmer rating, a hundred bucks said all she’d had to do was lie back and spread her le—

  “Hey, Peterson, I heard you guys launched for that mayday and had to leave your swimmer in the water. Any truth to the rumor it was the new female swimmer?” The other flight mechanic wagged his eyebrows up and down and stowed his gear in the locker across from Joe’s.

  “So is she built like one of those Russian athletes with a mustache and arms as thick as your thighs?” He hooted out a laugh and popped a stick of gum in his mouth.

  Joe scowled. Somehow, he could have accepted that kind of female more easily than the little bit of fluff that had practically fallen out of the helo. “Nah, she’s tiny. More like a minnow than the Hulk.” How the hell she’d be able to handle a two hundred-pound man panicking because he couldn’t swim was beyond him. And what if she’d had more than one survivor in the water? Both panicking and threatening to drown anyone trying to help them.

  He stripped off his flight suit. The multi-survivor training scenario had shattered all hopes of ever being a rescue swimmer. He clamped his jaw closed. He’d never been able to control more than one “drowning” victim at a time. Hell, she’d get herself and her survivors killed—

  “Caitlyn’s impressed with her,” Ryan said, coming up behind Joe and stashing his helmet in the locker next to his.

  “Yeah, only because she wants more recruits for her stupid-ass girls club,” Joe said.

  Ryan gave him a pointed look and Joe swore to himself. As Caitlyn’s copilot, Ryan always took Caitlyn’s side. Not that Joe had any complaints about her ability. Hell, when it came right down to it, she flew better than Ryan. And if the weather conditions were impossible to fly in, he’d climb in her helo without hesitation. No, his problem was with a little girl pretending to be one of the boys.

  * * *

  Karl Martinez handed a beer to his nephew Andrew, then sat on one of the two rear facing bridge chairs of his vintage Grand Banks trawler. The setting sun’s reflection rose and fell on the Gulf’s long-period swells. Maybe he’d relocate to an island when he retired. Someplace a little more remote and less pretentious than Marco Island.

  He glanced up at the sound of a helicopter flying overhead and squinted. It wore the orange and white Coast Guard colors.

  “This is a nice change from the afternoon storm,” Andrew said with a nod toward the horizon. He settled back and propped his feet on the teak rail and took a long pull on his Corona. “Also a nice change from my usual Sunday stuck in the computer lab tutoring kids who don’t have a clue what they’re doing. But they’re all convinced they’re going to be millionaires before they’re twenty-five.” He snorted and took another swallow of beer.

  Karl propped his ankle on his knee. He really should visit his brother’s son more often. Tampa wasn’t that far up the coast and made for a nice cruise. “They’d piss it all away on designer duds and
friendly fuckables,” he said and sipped his Corona.

  Andrew dropped his feet to the deck and sat up choking on his beer. “Jeez, friendly fuckables, give me a warning before saying something like that.” He laughed and took another careful swallow. “You’re probably right though. For most of them a long-term goal consists of making it through one more semester.”

  “You still plan on joining the family business when you graduate?” The kid had been working for the family since he’d hacked into his first network at thirteen. But he had enough smarts to do damn near anything he wanted, legitimate or otherwise.

  His nephew grinned. “Well I did interview with the FBI.”

  Now it was Karl’s turn to choke on his beer. “Christ, you didn’t.”

  “Sure I did. They even offered me a job after I get my master’s. Cyber security is a hot ticket right now.”

  “Not that I doubt your worth, but they’re looking for a mole.” Of course that could work both ways—the family would have a reliable mole working for the FBI.

  “Of course they are. But seriously, they can’t afford me.”

  “I’m not sure I can afford you.” Karl leaned forward and set his beer on the table. It was time to get down to business—the real reason for his visit. “Tell me what you found on the three pilots I asked you to check out.” All three had done some smuggling for the family at one time or another, but Karl had never met any of them.

  Andrew’s expression sobered as he removed his sunglasses and angled his body toward Karl’s. “Any one of them is capable of doing the work. They’re all basically greedy and don’t give a damn about the legality of what we’re asking them to do as long as they don’t get caught.”

  He held up his hand, his index finger pointing up. “Richards has the most time in a DC-3 and has flown aircraft in and out of the States.” He raised his middle finger to stand with his index finger. “Nelson has done some smuggling across the Mexican and Canadian borders. But Cook,” a third finger joined the digital lineup, “has refurbished a couple of DC-3s and has the most total hours. He’s even successfully ditched a plane in the ocean. There’s a lot of water between Colombia and the Florida panhandle.”

  Karl nodded but kept his smile to himself. The kid had nailed it. “Did you discover anything we could use as a lever, if we need one?”

  Andrew picked up his beer and smiled. “Maybe. But I want to go with you when you meet with him.”

  “You’ve got classes. Besides, your place is in a nice clean office, not in the field.”

  “Uh-huh. And which one of us has a pilot’s license? Which one of us knows where to put pressure on Cook if needed? And which one—”

  “Is a pain in the ass?” Karl forced his shoulders to relax. There wouldn’t be any danger and the kid probably would come in handy. “I won’t make any allowance for your class schedule or any personal commitments. If you aren’t ready when I say go, I’ll leave without you.”

  Andrew nodded with a smug look on his face. “If the weather’s nice, I could rent a plane to fly us up there. That would save you even more time.”

  Another helicopter flew over and Karl frowned looking up at it. “What’s with all this air traffic?”

  “There’s a Coast Guard base at the Saint Pete airport. They’re always flying in and out of there.” Andrew extended his legs and smiled. “Just let me know when you want to go, and I’ll be there.”

  “Yeah, sure,” Karl said absently. His only experience with the Coast Guard was with their large ships running drug interdiction missions or auxiliary personnel who inspected private boats for safety infractions. He knew they had smaller helicopters outfitted with gunners to take out the outboard engines of the high-powered drug-running boats, but this helicopter looked a lot bigger. He watched it disappear over the Gulf. They probably flew all along the coast.

  Karl lifted his beer and took a sip. Maybe he could use that fact to his advantage.

  * * *

  “Girl, that man is definitely interested.”

  Kelly snorted her opinion of Caitlyn’s statement. She hadn’t wanted to like the redhead. Heck, she’d hated her just for her height, having boobs, and being such a girly-girl. But after just two weeks, she considered the woman her best friend—something she had not allowed herself since Jenny, her roommate in college.

  Joe Peterson, on the other hand, was proving to be a major pain in the ass. Mostly, he’d kept his harassment below the crew’s radar, but his constant questioning of her ability and childish digs were wearing her down. She’d expected and welcomed the opportunity to prove herself before a new crew. The environment demanded absolute faith in your team. She understood it, and she believed in it. Yet she’d rarely been the odd one out before.

  Caitlyn pushed her wraparound sunglasses back up on her nose, not even trying to disguise her Cheshire grin. Her wild red hair danced in the wind as Kelly nudged the port throttle forward to synchronize the twin four fifty-four engines on her borrowed cabin cruiser.

  Despite her ridiculous feminine wiles, the lieutenant was a damned good helo pilot—who obviously couldn’t read men the way she could wind currents and cloud formations.

  “Mark my words Kelly-girl, Razz has a thing for you. ’Course the idiot doesn’t know what to do about it yet, but it’s only a matter of time.”

  Rather than allow the rude remark that wanted to trip out of her mouth, Kelly snugged her ball cap lower. She had only seen Ian a couple of times in the last two weeks, and hadn’t flown with him since they’d rescued that girl from the sailboat. But Caitlyn maintained that both times he’d appeared in the hangar had only been flimsy excuses to see Kelly. But come on, the guy was dating a tall blonde, what would he want with a petite brunette who could barely fill out a training bra?

  Caitlyn crossed her bare legs at the ankle and wiggled her gold-painted toes. “Are you sure the guy who owns this boat isn’t your sugar daddy?”

  Kelly sputtered out a laugh. The Admiral might be flattered, but his wife certainly wouldn’t be. “More like an uncle. He was a close friend of my parents, he was a couple years ahead of my dad at Annapolis. I’ve known him all my life.” She adjusted the port trim tab. “He and his wife only get down here part of the year. My living on the boat, and taking it out, keeps it in much better shape than sitting in the slip getting musty and covered in bird poop.”

  She’d come to love her floating home. With its roomy forward stateroom, small galley, and head with built-in shower, it boasted bigger quarters than most ship-bound Coasties had. She enjoyed the laid-back atmosphere at the marina, and the gentle sway and slap of the water when she slept.

  Unfortunately, the boat’s movement and sounds now brought to mind erotic visions of a blue-eyed, dark-haired man she couldn’t seem to get out of her system.

  “So, has he asked you out?”

  Kelly jerked her head around to look at Caitlyn. “The Admiral? Are you—”

  “No, you doofus. Razz. Has he asked you out yet?”

  Embarrassment made Kelly concentrate on navigating the narrow channel. Women like Caitlyn didn’t seem to understand guys weren’t interested in dating Kelly. Sure, she’d never lacked for male friends, and she had always been invited to group outings. But she’d never been sought out when couples broke away for more intimate pursuits.

  She was sure Caitlyn had always been part of those first couples to leave.

  Kelly laughed out loud at herself. She’d just turned twenty-eight, not eighteen. “No, he hasn’t. And I’m sure he’s not going to. Remember, he already has a girlfriend.” Maybe if she kept repeating that to herself, she would stop fantasizing about the man. “Anyway, I’d rather hear about that hottie doctor you’ve been seeing,” she said, hoping to deflect any more talk about Ian. She didn’t need him haunting her day off.

  * * *

  Ian slowed h
is steps along the dock, the afternoon sun shooting lasers of light off the water. The kid at the marina’s office had said it was a maroon-on-white cabin cruiser. It was supposed to be berthed between a forty-foot sport fisher and a beautifully restored old wooden cruiser.

  When he saw the empty slip the stab of disappointment cut deep. He couldn’t explain his fascination with Kelly other than she was a puzzle. Like an illusion that initially looked simple, the longer and harder he studied her, the more complex she became. He doubted many people saw beyond that what-you-see-is-what-you-get first impression. He wanted to be the exception.

  Even being away from the air station for two days working on a shipboard clinic hadn’t kept her from his imagination. Now it was his day off and he’d manufactured a reason to track her down.

  Ian stood for a moment, vacillating between hanging around for Kelly’s return, or turning tail and leaving. The throaty rumble of twin engines caught his attention. He smirked at the boat’s name. Sea Dawg backed into the slip with enough skill that more than one boater watched with admiration—or maybe it was the sexy little captain that had them all eyeing the maneuver with more interest than a simple docking deserved.

  Kelly looked tiny standing at the helm of the thirty-six-foot boat. She deftly shifted the engines from neutral, to reverse, to neutral again. She wore a pair of aged denim shorts and a utilitarian sport bra top that shouldn’t look suggestive but did. Cait stood on the boat’s bow tying off lines to the pilings. Kelly hopped up and cast the stern line onto the dock. Ian grabbed it and quickly looped it around the cleat. When he looked up, Kelly’s surprised smile greeted him.

  “Hey, sailor, would you tie off the port side while you’re there?”

  “Aye, aye captain.” Ian gave a smart salute and caught the tossed line in mid-air.

  While he finished securing the boat, Caitlyn gathered her belongings and leaped to the walkway with cat-like grace, and Kelly shut down the engines.

  “Kel, I’ll catch you in the morning, thanks for the tour. Ian, since you’re here, why don’t you be a sweetie and help Kelly hose down the boat? I’d do it, but I’m late for an appointment.”