Color etched his cheekbones and he grabbed the T-shirt he’d discarded earlier and flung it at her. “Hell, I can’t talk, let alone think, with that kind of distraction in front of me.”
Some of the tension dissipated and Kelly’s inner balance returned. She smiled as she slipped the T-shirt over her head, covering her distracting body parts. “Better?”
His mouth quirked. “Yeah, for talking anyway. Okay, I guess Brendan was right, I should have waited to tell you.”
Brendan? He’d discussed his supposed “love” for her with his brother? Unsure if that was a good thing or not, she decided to try for logic. “Look, you can’t be in love with me, we haven’t known each other long enough.”
She chose to ignore the stupid voice inside that asked why the idea that someone could really love her made her panic.
He raised an eyebrow. “Seriously? Exactly how long should it take?”
She ran her fingers through her hair. “Dammit, don’t be so literal. I don’t know, but I’m sure it’s longer than a few days. Jeez, do you tell all your girlfriends you’re in love with them? Because I’m telling you, I’m not the kind that falls for that sort of crap.”
The more she thought about it, the angrier she became. He’d made her feel special, and now…now she just felt used. Which was totally stupid since she’d wanted him as much as he’d wanted her.
He snagged her hand and pulled her forward until her face was only a few inches in front of his own. “Now you’re making me mad. I’ve never ever told a woman I loved her. You’re my first, and God willing, my only.”
The stateroom seemed to close in around her, suffocating her in his heat, his very scent. “B-but weren’t you engaged? Didn’t you tell her you loved her?” She hated that she sounded breathless and downright needy.
The smile he gave her looked sad. “No, we’d both been going together so long, marriage just seemed like the next logical step. Thank God she fell in love with someone else, or we might have gone through with it.”
He tugged her closer, his breath brushing her cheek. “What about you, did you ever love anyone?” he asked softly, his gaze exploring her face.
She shook her head. When he slipped his arm around her and pulled her down to lie by his side, she rested her cheek on his shoulder. It felt like coming home.
An idiot—her list of stupid attributes had grown to gargantuan proportions. Because now she wanted to tell him things she’d never told anyone. Not about the baby, that was still too raw a subject to talk about, even six years after the fact.
“Tell me about your family.”
She’d expected Ian to ask about her dubious love life, and it took her a moment to register his change in direction. Tripping along behind that realization was the earlier memory of her parents dancing. Her heart rate did a double-time march. “My family? Why do you want to know about my family?”
Ian wrapped both arms around her, pulling her closer. “Because that’s where it all started.”
She tried to resist his cuddling, but it proved too comforting.
When she didn’t respond, he continued, “Isn’t that where you learned about packing light and saying goodbye?”
Stunned that he’d remembered their conversation on the back of the boat, her mortification grew with the sting of tears that threatened. God, she’d never been a crier before, why now all of a sudden?
He ran a warm, work-roughened hand down her back to cup her bottom. “I don’t want you deciding I’m too much baggage and telling me goodbye,” he said. A soft chuckle vibrated through his chest and fluttered her hair. “I want you to choose me over a damn air station in Kodiak.”
Kelly remembered Brendan’s funny look, and the sudden change in mood that had followed her comment about returning to Alaska. It made Ian’s claim of love all the more believable—and all the more frightening.
* * *
Kelly stiffened in Ian’s arms and he could almost feel her thoughts ping-ponging around her head. Hell, he might as well go for broke. “Tell me about your mom. How old were you when she died?”
She inhaled sharply and he feared he really had gone too far. Her expression at dinner, talking about her dad teaching her how to swim, had begged the question about her feelings toward her mother. He’d known she’d be complicated, hadn’t he?
Her sigh traveled from her head to the toes that were tucked against his feet. “Funny, I thought of her and my dad just tonight. It was a really weird memory that I don’t fully understand.”
Her fingers crept up to his chest where they began toying with the hair over his left pectoral. He gritted his teeth, not wanting an inappropriate reaction to sideline their conversation.
“I hardly ever saw my parents together. It seemed like they were always going in opposite directions. In reality they probably saw each other during the day when they worked, but I never thought about that. Mom was very competitive and committed to her career. She didn’t like things that got in her way.”
Bitterness and a world of hurt came through in her words and tone. He tightened his arms and kissed the top of her head. “Did you feel like you were in her way?”
The nod she gave was almost imperceptible. “I was the mistake. Matt was planned, wanted, and male perfection personified.”
A stunned silence followed. Well damn, no wonder she’d turned out to be such a tomboy.
“Wow, I can’t believe I said that.”
Her hand stilled, then moved restlessly before he finally snared it. “Kelly, if she really hadn’t wanted you, she could have put you up for adoption, or, hell, never had you in the first place.” He could only pray it was the truth, God knows there were plenty of unwanted kids born every day.
Kelly stilled and Ian pushed on. “How old were you when she died?” he asked again.
“Eleven.” She cleared her throat and laced her fingers through his. “It never occurred to me that she could have aborted me. She always talked about how unfair it was she couldn’t fly in combat—that’s how the guys got promotions, and she resented the heck out of it.”
Suddenly she sat up and stared down at him. “Holy Hannah, whenever she’d talk about that I’d cringe, thinking I’d been the reason she couldn’t do that stuff. Jeez, I didn’t have anything to do with it, did I?”
He smiled at her confused expression. “I think the Commander in Chief had more to do about that than a little girl. Let me hazard a pop-psych guess here. Your brother had already left home by the time your mom died. To gain your dad’s respect and attention, you became ballsier than any boy on the base.”
Yeah, he could see her challenging kids and adults to races in shark-infested oceans just to prove her worth. And beating the pants off anyone foolish enough to take her up on it.
A hoot of laughter broke the remaining tension and the Kelly he knew best yanked his borrowed T-shirt over her head. “Enough of this talk, I want to get back to you pushing buttons and making me scream,” she said.
Before he fell under her spell completely, he realized she’d neatly sidestepped the whole issue of love and saying goodbye.
* * *
Karl was in a foul mood by the time his driver delivered him to the God-forsaken Colombian airstrip. He wouldn’t have had to make the damn trip if Andrew hadn’t pulled that stupid stunt with Cook. There was nothing safe about flying that old Beech Baron across the damn ocean.
“ꜟHola!” Andrew cheerfully greeted him in the building’s tiny lounge.
“Don’t ‘ꜟHola!’ me. Where are Cook and the boys?”
“Checking out the DC-3. Are you sure that thing is airworthy? It looks like crap.”
“Go wait in the car,” he snapped, then held his hand up. “No, I’ll talk to you in the car. Right now I need to go speak with the mechanic.” He stalked out to the hangar, waived a dismissi
ve hand toward Cook and continued to the glassed-in office behind the derelict-looking tail dragger.
The mechanic, nut-brown with shiny black eyes, grinned and pumped Karl’s hand. After the requisite exchange about family, health, and—for God’s sake—the weather, Karl could actually get down to business.
“Sí, sí, I installed two remote-controlled fuel shutoffs and a GPS tracking device. You’ll use this,” he handed Karl a small black box with a couple of silver switches, “to trigger the shutoffs.”
“What kind of range will I have?”
“Up to ten miles. You track the plane on your computer, intercept its path and shut the fuel off one or both engines whenever you want.”
Karl nodded. “Did the bales get packaged as I requested?”
“Sí. We tested a couple to make sure they would work. They are water-tight and will float to the surface.”
The man looked curious but knew enough not to ask. Karl stood and shook his hand, slipping him a hundred dollar bill. “Gracias. I’ll have a word with the pilot before I leave. Make sure the plane is fueled, loaded and ready to go by dawn the day after tomorrow. They’ll need to get an early start.”
Karl slipped the controller in his jacket pocket then headed back out to the hangar where, from the sound of it, Cook and the boys had migrated to the plane’s interior. He found the three of them clustered in the cockpit flipping switches and going through some sort of written checklist.
Cook looked tired but the two kids still looked excited. This was all a big adventure to them. Andrew had convinced their mom the trip would be a great opportunity for the two of them to visit a foreign country, practice their Spanish with real native speakers and log Ray a lot of hours flying the Beech Baron down to Barranquilla, Colombia. To ease Cathy’s concern, or so he claimed, Andrew had volunteered to accompany her sons.
All of this without Karl’s knowledge. Or approval.
“So does it look like it will make it back to the States?”
“I’ll know after I take her around the pattern and do a couple of touch and goes,” Cook said.
“I’ve arranged for a driver, so when you’re ready he’ll take you into town. You’ll have tomorrow to get rested up. The boys can do some sightseeing before you take off early Monday morning.” He handed Cook a card. “If you need anything call me. Andrew and I’ll be heading out Sunday but Tomas will see to anything you might need after I leave. I’ll see you when you get back to the States.”
“Boys, have fun on the flight.” Karl pulled a money clip from his pocket. “You need to make sure you buy your momma a nice gift.”
“Oh thanks, Mr. Martinez, but Andrew already gave us some spending money. He’s making Danny do a school report on the trip since he’ll miss classes on Monday.”
Of course Andrew did, the little shit. “Good, good. Then I’ll probably see you back home in Florida,” he said slipping his money back in his pocket. Maybe he should make Andrew write a report on not interfering.
Except having those two kids on the plane actually played into his plan—not that he’d tell Andrew that. Now as long as the Coast Guard did their job, nobody should die.
* * *
Matt tracked the truck’s progress onto the small airstrip at the edge of the Colombian jungle. He was in full camo and his high-powered binoculars had specially coated lenses to minimize reflection. His teammates were spread out in the jungle and on top of the various airport buildings watching anything and everything that arrived and departed.
The latest bales of el Cerdo’s cocaine were being dispersed into smaller batches and shipped to the U.S. by air, land and sea. This truck’s load looked to be destined for the stripped DC-3 parked on the ramp outside a newly erected metal building. He slowly shifted his binoculars to scrutinize the pilot performing the plane’s pre-flight inspection.
Unlike what they’d had on the Canadian pilot behind last week’s aborted shipment, inter-agency intel on this man was extensive. Owner of a small charter business near the Gulf Coast of Florida, he’d begun buying and refurbishing old planes from Central and South America in the last six months. Had he planned on running drugs all along, or had the promise of easy money been too hard to resist?
At this point Matt didn’t care. What mattered was this load of cocaine was his to track to its final destination, wherever that might be. The powers that be were more interested in the buyer than the mule doing the transport.
“Fuse, do you copy?” Squirrel’s quiet voice sounded in Matt’s ear bud.
“Roger. What do you have?” he asked, his lips barely moving. The truck pulled up to the metal building then reversed so the rear faced the open cargo doors on the DC-3.
“We have their flight plan. The plane is going to Florida on a ferry permit with three on board including the pilot. We have the go to follow.”
Matt checked his watch. “When’s our departure?”
“Eleven-thirty. You better get humpin’.”
Matt melted back into the jungle. He hadn’t been back in the States for almost two years. Maybe he could engineer a side trip to check out his sister. Give a few digs about her cushy Coastie assignment in Florida and put into action his new resolve to be a better brother.
* * *
Kelly jogged to the gym, mentally flogging herself the whole way. They’d overslept after their marathon sex—oh, no, Ian wanted her to call it “lovemaking,” and she mouthed the word while rolling her eyes. Thank God he hadn’t brought up his foolish claim of falling in love with her again. She flung open the door and damn near broke her neck tripping over a pair of legs.
“Watch where the hell you’re going,” Joe snarled at her.
“Sorry, sorry, I didn’t see—”
“Yeah, whatever. Just keep your distance.”
Wow, somebody got up on the wrong side of an empty bed. Kelly heard a muttered foul word and felt her cheeks heat. Fine, okay, she could deal with obscenities. After all, she’d been exposed to ports around the world and knew just about every dirty word for male, female and a few animal parts in over a dozen languages.
“KB, you’re late,” boomed one of her exercise partners.
“I know, I know. I overslept this morning and have been playing catch-up,” she replied. She looped her towel around her neck and began doing stretches. Her first monthly physical fitness exam was next week and she wanted to make a good impression in her new assignment. She’d learned early on that if she overachieved in the beginning, the guys let up on her.
She bent over at the waist, doing her swimmer stretch, and was startled when she heard a loud wolf-whistle. Dressed in her standard RS tank top and gray athletic shorts she felt anything but sexy. Great, some stupid lothario—
“Shark-bait! I’d recognize that little backside anywhere.”
Kelly, still bent over, looked between her legs and grinned at the hulking figure striding toward her. “Good God, you followed me from Alaska. What will your wife and children say?”
His expansive laugh filled the gym and had people turning around to watch. “Nah, babe, you followed me. I’ve been here almost six months.”
Kelly straightened up in time to be lifted from the floor in a hug that would do a grizzly proud. “Where have you been? I arrived almost a month ago,” she squeaked out along with all the air in her lungs. She tried to return his hug, but her arms only reached his sides. Thomas Kaid, or “Tank” as everyone called him, started his career playing center for some NFL team in the Northeast, but Kelly knew him as the best damn flight mechanic and hoist operator she’d ever flown with.
“I just got back from an assignment at Gitmo, repatriating Cubans.” He set her back down and grinned at her. “Damn, it’s good to see you again.”
“Bishop, don’t you have a schedule to keep?” Joe cut in with a scowl toward her and a speculative lo
ok directed at Tank.
“Hey, man, sorry. You work with Kelly here? Did ya know she’s the best of the best?” Tank asked.
He gave her another hug, missing the narrow-eyed glare Joe sent her way. “No, I can’t say I’ve noticed that since I’ve worked with her.”
“What the hell—”
Tank turned at Joe’s sarcastic tone and Kelly grabbed his T-shirt. “Hey, got time to hold my feet for my sit-ups?”
“Yeah, sure,” he said watching Joe stalk over to the weight bench. He looked down at her and raised his eyebrows. “What’s with Peterson?”
She shrugged. “He doesn’t think I’m qualified to be a rescue swimmer.” She dropped to the floor and stretched out with knees up and feet flat. “How are the kids? Have they acclimated to the warmer weather?” The last thing she needed was someone else taking notice of the rift between her and Joe. Especially when that someone was in the same job classification as Joe and would defend her honor, potentially driving a wedge between her and the other hoist operators in the process. Kelly’s mood lightened with another thought. Sooner or later, she’d get a rotation in a helo with Tank.
His one hand easily covered both her feet and ankles. He snorted at her question. “Yeah, they spend all day in the pool, and want to go to the beach every weekend. Pris loves it too. Her first week here she gave away all her winter clothes and swore she’d never go anywhere that had temperatures below sixty.”
Kelly settled in to a steady rhythm of thirty sit-ups per minute. “As opposed to sixty below?”
“Uh-huh. Now quit stalling and tell me why Peterson’s being such a prick.” He gave her an assessing once over. “Did he try something? Is he pissed because you had to put him in his place?”
“Sixty-three, sixty-four. You’re, sixty-five, distracting me, sixty-six, I’m trying to, sixty-seven, keep count here. Sixty-eight.”
“Baby-girl, nothing can distract you if you don’t want to be distracted. So tell me, do I need to go rearrange his face? And don’t give me no eye-roll thing, I get enough of that at home with the ten-year-old.”
A Dangerous Leap Page 10
