Frankie scurried along. She had learned through the grapevine that Monday was waffle day at the cafeteria. Everybody loved waffles and the food line was already forming.
Inside the mess hall, two harried cooks rushed to feed a hungry mob of Guardsmen. A buffet line of sausage, bacon, fluffy scrambled eggs and fresh, delicious waffles stretched ahead of her. Frankie grabbed a brown plastic tray, plate and silverware and started to pile on the food.
“Captain?”
A voice from across the cafeteria caused her to look that way. Keith, or was it Daniel, or Travis, motioned her to join him at one of six metal tables that had seen a lot of wear and tear over the years. Frankie smiled, picked up a container of maple syrup and started his way.
“Ahoy and good morning,” a cherubic warrant officer addressed her. Frankie took a seat opposite his two companions. Their uniform insignia announced them as ensigns. Reflective badges put names with faces. Frankie held out a hand to shake.
“Hello, I’m Frankie.”
An ensign named O’Keefe began the small talk.
“Glad to meet you. We heard you’re here on TDY.”
“That’s right.” Frankie picked up a knife, spread enough butter on the top of her double stack of waffles to make a cardiologist cringe.
“Where are you from?”
“West coast of Oregon.”
“Are you enjoying it here?”
“At double time pay? You bet,” she answered.
Frankie grinned and dove into her meal like a ravenous bird. She hoped they would get the hint and let her do a bit of feeding before socializing.
They didn’t.
Warrant Officer Hobbs immediately lobbed another question. “Where are you stationed?”
“Harmony Bay.” Frankie consumed an entire strip of bacon in one voracious gulp and turned her sights to a greasy link of sausage.
“What’s the matter, Frankie? Don’t they feed you out there?”
The three men started snickering. Frankie took a swipe at her mouth with a napkin and smiled.
“It’s a small air station. We don’t have the staffing luxury of dedicated cooks.”
Hobbs still laughing, “If you’re looking to transfer, we’ll probably have an opening soon. The man you’re covering for had to take an early retirement because of his heart condition.”
“I’m sorry to hear that,” Frankie shoved another slice of bacon in her mouth. “How long have you worked with him?”
“About fifteen years. He’s an excellent pilot, almost as savvy as you,” Hobbs said with a smile.
Frankie grinned and let his flattery roll over her without comment. There was silence for a moment while the men watched her eat. Hobbs took a bite of waffle and squinted.
“Harmony Bay, you said? I think I might know someone stationed there,” he stated.
“Really?”
Hobbs thought on it a moment longer. “I think he’s still there. It’s been a long time since I saw him last.” Hobbs scratched his chin.
“Rescue piloting is a small world, especially on the west coast. Everybody knows everybody else. What’s his name?” she asked through a mouthful of syrupy waffle.
“Adams.”
Frankie schooled her face to remain indifferent. It wasn’t easy. Only years of practice made it believable. She chose her next words carefully.
“I know Gage. He’s one of our best co-pilots.”
“How is he?” Hobbs asked.
“An asset to the Coast Guard,” Frankie hedged. “We were lucky to get him.”
Hobbs nodded in agreement.
“How did you come to know him?” she asked.
“We were both in the Persian Gulf when the conflict broke out. My flight squadron did a lot of work with his pararescue unit.” Hobbs paused to take eat a link of sausage. “It’s a shame but I sorta lost track of the man. Life gets busy like that, you know. But I always wondered how Adams was getting along after his friend was killed.”
Frankie kept her head lowered and asked, “What friend?”
“I don’t recall his name. Some buddy from his old PJ days, I think. A lot of mean stuff was going on back then.”
Frankie cleared her throat. “Do you remember what happened to his friend?”
Hobbs frowned, trying to recall details. “Some skydiving accident is all I remember. Adams blamed himself for his friend’s death.”
“He’s good at that,” Frankie whispered.
“At what?”
“Putting all the blame on himself.”
There was a moment of awkward silence before Hobbs added, “I really felt sorry for Gage. The accident happened a couple of days before his wedding.”
The food on her plate suddenly lost its appeal.
“He quit the PJ’s shortly after and took a flight position with the Coast Guard.” Hobbs paused, eyeing her curiously. “Hey, are you okay? You don’t look so good.”
Frankie stared at her plate, appetite gone.
* * * *
She was still reeling from Hobbs’ information when she checked in at the flight center an hour later. A couple of training missions were scheduled for the day but nothing slated for her team. Frankie checked the weather reports and then meandered over to the mail bin reserved for temporary personnel. She blinked. There was a small package waiting for her. Frankie bent down and dug it out of the bin. She turned it in her hand. Her breath hitched.
It couldn’t be.
Frankie sucked in a deep breath and tried to slow her thumping heart. The writing on the address label belonged to Gage! Her hands started to tremble. She quickly stepped outside into the glare of daylight.
“Open it up,” she whispered. “Just do it, you big wimp and get it over with.”
She eased the tip of her pocketknife under an edge and carefully pried the tape and wrapping paper away from a sturdy wooden box. She braced herself.
There was a note on top, the printed copy of her last e-mail to him. Her shaky hands unfolded it. Her eyes opened wide.
I am not in love with Robin. Call me!
He had written the words in bold red ink. Under the note, something silver shined in the sun. Frankie slowly extracted it from a protective nest of bubble-wrap and pulled it free. A set of dog tags dangled from her fingertips.
Chapter 19
WELCOME HOME
Gage scrambled off the riding lawnmower, locked the shed behind him and glanced at his watch. He had been frantically cleaning up, trying to make the place presentable in case Frankie wanted to come home with him after their next stretch at work. His home was peaceful, tranquil in a way that women had always appreciated. Not only that, but the cabin was secluded enough she could scream at the top of her lungs while he fucked her senseless. God, he loved to make her scream!
Tomorrow would start another week at Harmony Bay. She would have to return home sometime that evening. He wanted to be there when she arrived. He also wanted to check up on Damon and assure himself that the kid’s health was sound.
Gage had it all planned. There was so much to straighten out between them that he’d needed to make a list. He had phoned for advice and Quinton suggested the idea. Gage concurred. Tonight was the night and he didn’t want to get thrown off track if Frankie needed to talk about something not on his agenda.
He sprinted across the freshly mowed field, thinking positive thoughts. The situation wasn’t hopeless. There was plenty of time to salvage their relationship. At least the dog tags made it safely to North Carolina. Frankie thanked him profusely by e-mail.
He hoped she would call.
He needed to hear her voice.
Gage drew in a cautious breath and took one last, long look around the cabin. Satisfied, he grabbed a freshly laundered uniform and headed out to New Harbor.
* * * *
Damon was naked, sunning himself on the back patio of his ultra-luxurious condo. Through the open curtains Gage could see everything. The kid was a meticulous housekeeper with excellent, albeit
expensive, tastes. The portrait hanging above his fireplace immediately caught and held his attention, eclipsing all else in the room.
Almost.
A bra was draped over one of the matching leather sofas. A frilly pair of pink panties littered the floor. He rolled his eyes. He didn’t plan on staying long. Gage knocked once, twice, heard a loud, “Come on in, it’s open”. He walked through the main room and stepped out onto the patio, somewhat surprised to find the kid alone.
Damon watched his expression, read his thoughts. “She’s in the bathroom, soaking in the tub,” he stated.
Gage wasn’t about to ask who she was or what made her decide to take a bath in the middle of the afternoon.
“So, LC, are you ready to start the grind tomorrow?”
“Um hmmm,” he answered, distracted by the collection of gels beside Damon’s lounge chair.
“You wanna beer?”
“No thanks, I stopped by to see how you’re doing.”
Damon’s upper thigh sported a faint yellow bruising around a jagged red scar. Gage moved in for a closer inspection.
“Amazing, isn’t it? The wound is completely healed.” Damon nodded over his shoulder at the panties. “Nothing helps the healing process like a little loving.”
Gage was speechless.
“How about you, LC?” Damon paused to take a gulp of water. “Has Frankie called you?”
The look on Gage’s face was an easy read.
“I didn’t think so.” Damon’s voice dropped an octave. “Don’t worry, LC. You’ve got plenty of time to have a sit-down with her this week and try to straighten things out.”
“You sound like Quinton.”
“She’s just scared,” Damon continued. “Strong women don’t like to cry.”
“It wasn’t my plan to make her cry.”
Damon gave him an exasperated look over the top edge of wraparound Italian sunglasses. “You don’t get it, do you?”
“You’re not the first person to tell me that this week.”
“Women always cry when a man opens up and lays his feelings out for her inspection. Frankie’s a woman, she’s gonna start crying.”
Gage opened his mouth to speak. A beseeching female voice interrupted before he could respond.
“Damon? Yoo-hoo? Honey, could you come up here and wash my back?”
The kid jumped to his feet.
“I’ll be right there,” he answered and gave Gage a weak smile. “Sorry, boss. Duty calls.”
“Let me guess,” Gage pointed. “Sophia?”
Damon gave him a conspiratorial grin. “You better keep this a secret from Frankie for awhile, LC. She’s got plenty enough to cry about as it is.” Damon took off through the house, vaulting the stairs three at a time.
* * * *
It was late afternoon when Gage pulled into Frankie’s driveway. He set the parking brake, retrieved the hide-a-key from under the planter box and let himself in.
He took a deep breath.
The house had a closed-up smell after two weeks left vacant. He opened every window. A light ocean breeze cooled his face. Noise from the beach drifted up to him as he searched the cabinets for a vase. Gage wanted the night to be a memorable one for them both. He’d bought a dozen yellow roses and an expensive bottle of champagne.
The phone rang and Gage automatically reached to answer it.
“Adams here.”
There was a long pause before a deep voice asked, “Is Frankie there?”
Gage recognized him immediately.
Vin Diesel.
“She’s not here.”
There was another pause.
“Can you give her a message for me?”
“Yeah, sure.”
“Tell her that Vin called and I’ll call her tomorrow.”
“Yeah, sure.”
Gage hung the phone up and sank into a chair.
“Damn it.”
* * * *
Frankie yawned, turned the corner and coasted down the street in front of her house. She was drained. Shortly after four that morning, the North Carolina base received their first rescue call and the missions had never let up. She’d flown for hours, searching the waters off the coast for survivors before making a mad dash to the airport just in time for a series of lengthy flight delays and layovers. Hungry and bone-tired, she wasn’t prepared for the sudden impact of sensation, a punch in the stomach, when she saw the black Ford pickup in her driveway.
Excitement and nervousness sang along her nerves, then dread. Gage was in the house, no doubt mad and ready to yell. She pulled in next to his truck and held her breath, tried to psych herself up for a fight. Her heart raced. Her stomach churned. She was frozen to the seat. She leaned her head against the steering wheel and tried to slow her breathing.
“Francesca? Are you going to sit out here all night?”
Frankie jumped and let out a yelp. His face was the most beautiful thing she had ever beheld. Then he smiled and she was certain of it. “I just got here,” she stammered.
“You got here five minutes ago. I’ve been waiting.”
Gage opened the door and pulled her into an embrace, inhaling a deep breath of her hair. Her scent assailed his nostrils, nearly knocking him down with memories. She slid her arms around his waist.
“I missed you,” she said and offered her mouth.
“You’ve got a strange way of showing it.” He covered her lips with his. She returned the kiss with equal force. He pulled back to look at her. “Don’t ever leave like that again.”
Her eyes were tightly closed around tears. When she didn’t respond, he asked, “Francesca?”
She cleared her throat twice. “I am so sorry.”
Gage could feel her trembling.
“Thank you for finding my dog tags,” she whispered.
Gage kissed the tip of her ear. “Let’s go inside and talk.” He gently guided her into the house, pushed the door closed behind them and tilted her face up to meet his.
“You look tired.”
“It’s been a long week. I’m running on fumes.”
“Are you hungry?”
“No.”
Gage sat down on the edge of the sofa and pulled her to his lap. He reached around, groped to find the list in his back pocket.
“There are some things we need to discuss.”
Frankie gave a startled sob. “Gage, I’m sorry I left the way I did. I couldn’t take it. Damon was bleeding everywhere and you were going crazy with delirium. Andie and Nicole had things under control and Quinton was on his way.”
“I heard I made a real ass of myself.” He rubbed his wrists. “Look at my bruises,” he held his arms out for inspection. “I think Andie enjoyed tying me up.”
“I’m sure she did,” Frankie pecked his unshaven cheek with a quick kiss. “And I’m also sure we’ll hear about it at the next Margarita Monday.”
Gage unfolded the paper. “We need to talk.”
“I’m beat right now, Gage. Can it wait?”
Her eyes were rimmed with dark circles.
“You need sleep,” he said matter-of-factly.
Frankie shook her head. “I need you.” Her hands ran across his chest and paused to rest on his hips.
He brushed the hair from her face, massaging her scalp with his fingertips. “We really need to talk,” he reminded her.
“I know,” she answered. “And we will.” She nuzzled her face against him. “Later.”
“Are you trying to seduce me?”
“Yes,” she mouthed.
Gage folded the paper and shoved it back in his pocket. “Did you have something particular in mind?” he asked.
There was calmness in her voice when she answered, “Tie me up and make me see spots.”
He let out a little chuckle. “I thought you were exhausted.”
“I’m never too tired for sex with you.”
Without another word, he led her into the bedroom. The candles he had lit earlier flickered on the beds
ide table. The room smelled of roses and fresh linen. Her skin was cool against his hands. She didn’t resist as he used her own shirt to tie her wrists to the headboard. He stripped her slowly, kissing every inch of her bared flesh right down to her toes. He secured her ankles to the bedposts with a pair of socks and spread her wide for his inspection.
Gage sat back on his haunches and looked at her. Candlelight played across her taut belly, accentuated by the shifting tension of her muscles.
Five minutes passed.
He said nothing.
He made no move to touch her.
“God, you’re beautiful,” his voice was husky with emotion. Frankie opened her eyes just as he slid his tongue up her thigh and licked her like a giant cat. He paused and stared deep into her eyes.
“Is this what you want from me?”
“Yes,” she whimpered.
“Are you sure?”
He slid a hand down her ribcage. She murmured content.
“I’ll give you what you want,” he whispered, “but I want something in return.”
“What?”
“A promise that you will never leave me again.”
Frankie blinked. Her eyes gleamed. A rhythmic throbbing beat in her chest, spread a heated flush across her skin. His fingers went further down and dipped briefly inside her before he withdrew. Moist and squirming, her hips bowed up to find him. She pleaded with her eyes.
“No,” he laughed softly, exultantly. “Not yet.” He reached up and ran his hand lightly across her breasts. He pulled a bright red bandana from his back pocket and whisked it past her face. Frankie sucked in a tortured breath.
“Gage!”
His response was the slightest tweak of a taut nipple captured between his thumb and forefinger. His voice never wavered as he asked, “Do you trust me?”
“I’m not sure I trust myself right now,” she admitted.
“Giving up control is frightening,” he paused to run his mouth along her jaw line. “But the pleasure of the release is worth it.” His finger traced a path around her breasts, circling, waiting for a decision. “Let yourself go, Francesca. I’ll give you a safe word. Say it and I’ll stop immediately.”
Guarding the Coast Page 21
