Frankie’s vision blurred with desire.
“Trust me,” he whispered.
Swamped by lust, the idea of giving her safety up to him felt so damned good she couldn’t help twitching. Gage bent to her mouth and fluttered kisses across her lips. Frankie arched up to meet him and let go.
Chapter 20
NO GOOD DEED GOES UNPUNISHED
“You son-of-a-bitch!” She spat the words so forcefully that Gage took a physical step backward. The beautiful, sunny morning promptly went straight to hell.
“I heard you talking to Quinton about Vin’s phone call. Why didn’t you tell me he called? His message was for me!” Her fists clenched. “How dare you intercept my phone call! You don’t see me screening your messages. Why do you think that is? Huh? I’ll tell you why.” She took a step closer and jabbed her finger in his chest. “YOU are too controlling and stubborn to have any woman hang around for more than a short-term fling.”
Gage met her outrage with his own.
“Do you know how much I hate it when you yell at me?”
“Back at you, buster. If you would pass along my messages like you’re supposed to, I wouldn’t have to yell at you.”
Gage towered over her, seething.
“I don’t want you seeing him.”
“It’s none of your business who I sleep with. Get it?” Frankie punctuated the words with a muffled curse and spun to walk away.
Gage caught her hand and whirled her around to face him. Frankie shoved at his chest with all her strength, sent him stumbling back two steps. His hand darted out to yank her jacket roughly. The rip of material sent her over the edge. Enraged, she began to rain blows on him. Gage grabbed both her wrists and took the kicks stoically, blocking the well-placed ones with his thigh. She tried to pull away. He held fast.
“Damn you, Gage! Let me go, or I’ll —”
“Or you’ll what?” his fury reverberated through the air. She kept kicking. He spun her around and locked her arms against him, held her tight while she fought.
In the garage, Quinton and Damon dropped what they were doing and rushed out to intervene. Damon chanted, “Whoa, Whoa” as if trying to slow a runaway horse.
Frankie’s body stilled in Gage’s arms, tensed, and then her chin flew up in defiance. Hostility blew out in one great exhalation. “Fuck off!”
Quinton snaked his way between them and gave each a push with his open palms.
“Both of you need to cool down, right now.”
Gage snarled once, released her and backed away, content for the moment to pace the helipad like a caged lion.
Quinton turned to Frankie.
“Go to your quarters. I’ll be there in a moment.”
“Don’t speak to me like I’m one of your daughters,” she hissed. “I’m the boss. I can go wherever the hell I want and right now it’s not my room!”
Quinton pointed a decisive finger towards the house. His voice was pitched low and soothing. “Go inside, Frankie. Wait for me.”
Damon crept up behind her and put his hands on her shoulders. He pushed gently.
Gage stopped pacing and turned to her, “Do what he says and stop acting like a spoiled brat.”
She lunged at him.
Damon caught her in mid-leap. He held her up, feet dangling off the ground, while she squirmed and kicked and tried to elbow him.
“Put me down!”
“Calm down, boss.”
Frankie continued to claw and fight.
“I could use some help here,” Damon addressed the other men.
Quinton walked towards her, slow and deliberate. She went dead still and swallowed hard.
“You may put me down, Seaman McGoldrick,” she spoke in an authoritative voice. “I’m going to my quarters.”
With a nod from Quinton, Damon released her.
“Come on boss,” Damon soothed and reached out to guide her towards the house. “I taught Stewie a new trick you really need to see.”
Frankie took a reluctant step. “I don’t care what you taught that friggin’ cat to lick,” she shrugged away.
“I know, I know,” he coaxed. “Come on, humor me.”
Step by step, Damon angled her away.
Once she was out of earshot, Quinton turned his attention to Gage.
“You haven’t talked to her, have you?” he growled.
“There wasn’t time. She got home too late.”
“Did you find the time to bed her?” Quinton pinned him with a reproachful ice-blue stare. When Gage said nothing, Quinton shook his head. “I thought so.”
Gage whirled angrily, pointed a sharp finger at his chest.
“What the hell would you have done?”
Quinton closed his eyes and exhaled deeply, “Exactly what you did,” he spoke through clenched teeth. “I was hoping you were smarter than that.”
“Sorry to disappoint,” Gage growled.
Quinton held his hands up, “Look, mate, if you want to get inside a woman’s head, you have to stop thinking like a dick.”
“I don’t need your insults,” Gage spat. “I’ve got enough shit to deal with as it is.”
“I fully agree.”
Gage blinked up at the larger man.
“Do you want my help or not?” Quinton said.
Time slowed as comprehension filtered through Gage’s anger.
“Yes.”
Quinton nodded. “Alright then, I want you to wait a few hours until she cools off,” he spoke quietly. “I’ve never seen her this volatile. She’s acting like Isabelle when she became,” he stopped in mid-sentence and squinted at some distant memory. “When Frankie calms down, go to her. No more arguments, no stalling. Understood?”
Gage stared at his boots like a chastised child.
Quinton pressed the advantage. “Every day is a gift, Adams. Start playing offense. Put a check on your pride and stop reacting to every blow life deals you or you’re going to lose her.”
Gage’s head snapped up.
“It’s time to unload.” Quinton’s tone softened to a more brotherly timbre. “You have to tell her everything. You love her. She loves you. Nothing else is important. Tell her and it’ll all work itself out.”
Gage shook his head and sighed. The heat in his green eyes cooled to remorse. “How did I slide so far down the rabbit hole?”
“It’s a slow process, mate. Bit by bit, year after year, you keep burying your feelings until one day you look around and realize that you’ve buried yourself alive.”
Gage ran his hands through his hair.
“A good woman can save you,” Quinton said softly. “You have to trust Frankie enough to be her best friend.”
Gage nodded.
“Now that we have an understanding,” Quinton concluded, “I’m going to go in there and try to do some damage control.”
“Good luck,” Gage sighed.
As Quinton walked away, he turned back and smiled wickedly. “Next time you hold her that tight, make sure she sees spots, mate.”
As he approached the house, Quinton saw Frankie through the window. She was pacing the small confines of the pilot’s quarters. Damon stood guard outside her door. He shook his head at Quinton in a grim, are-you-really-sure-you-want-to-do-this gesture. The latch scraped noisily when he turned the smooth knob.
Frankie looked up, eyes dagger-sharp and blazing with rage. “Don’t you dare start in on me,” she warned. “I don’t want to hear it. And tell Damon to get the hell away from my door. I’m not a prisoner. I run this outfit, remember? I’m going for a swim so stay out of my way.”
Quinton moved her wetsuit aside and sat down on the edge of the mattress. He kept mute while she vented.
“What is up with you guys? None of you respect my personal space anymore!”
Quinton bit back a grin. Frankie had the typical redhead’s temper, flaring hot and fast then dying out just as quickly.
“I don’t understand Gage. Why does he keep seeking me out? Can’t he find
someone else’s life to meddle in?” A long tendril of hair fell across her eyes. She whisked it back from her face.
Quinton cleared his throat and hoped he wouldn’t be sorry for reminding her, “I believe it was you who made the sex deal with him, wasn’t it?”
Frankie stared with marked horror. “He told you about that? That was a private conversation. I can’t believe it! Nothing is sacred around here. Everybody knows everything but me! I suppose he also told you that I like it on top and give an awesome blowjob?”
Quinton pursed his lips and made another supreme effort not to grin.
“Actually, until now I’ve only had my imagination.”
Frankie shot him a nasty look.
“I’ve always thought the walls around this station needed another layer of insulation,” he added and glanced up in time to catch Damon snickering.
“Well, that deal is off,” she bellowed. “Finished. New rules. My rules.” She took a deep breath and clenched her hands at her sides. “I hate this, Quint. Everything about that man is confusing. Half the time I don’t know what to think. Or what he’s thinking! I’m so tired of second-guessing and failing.” She looked down at her feet. “Last night he woke up screaming in the middle of a horrible nightmare. Someone was hurting him, torturing him. I tried to get him to talk about it. He clammed up. All I could do was hold him.” Tears welled in her eyes. “He won’t let me in, won’t let me help him.”
Quinton looked down at his feet and whispered, “You’re already helping him. Gage cares for you.”
“I know that,” she sighed. “But the man’s got more baggage than an airport carousel. I can’t get close enough to really help him unload.”
She stopped pacing to stare directly at him.
Quinton met her gaze. “You’re closer than you realize,” he said.
“Stop feeding my words back to me. That’s not what I mean and you know it.” She started pacing again. “Gage is eating himself alive and I can’t bear to watch it.”
Long silence passed between them before she spoke again. “I had a lot of time to think while I was doing temporary duty in North Carolina. I’ve made a few decisions.”
Quinton’s eyes narrowed. “What kind of decisions?”
“I’m going to start dating other men, maybe even sleep with a few of them to expand my horizons a bit. Try to get Gage Adams out of my system.”
Quinton’s pale eyebrows rose at the strange detour her thoughts had taken. “I thought you enjoyed being with Gage.”
“Of course I do but I need more experience. I’m not very worldly when it comes to some things,” she blurted. “The library has some great books and I’ve learned a lot.”
“You’re learning from sex books you checked out of the library?” Quinton asked incredulously.
She nodded and said, “There are times, like when we’re playing naked truth poker, that I don’t have a clue what you guys are talking about. I just fake it.”
“I know,” Quinton answered quietly.
“Everybody knows.” She stared at the floor.
“Don’t go looking for something you don’t need,” he said softly. “If you’ve got questions, ask Gage. He’d be happy to teach you.”
“Did he tell you that I passed out the first time we were together?” Frankie blushed with embarrassment.
Quinton put his hand up. “Gage wants you the way you are. He needs you more desperately than you realize.”
Frankie looked up at him, her brows knit together. Quinton watched her face move through a myriad of expressions.
“You’ve fallen in love with your fuck buddy,” he spoke softly.
The simple statement was like a slap. A surge of resentment flared up inside her. Frankie stumbled a little. His hand shot out to steady her.
“No,” she answered. “I can’t. I won’t.”
“You have.”
“It’s not supposed to work that way. The reason they call it a fuck buddy is to prevent all the guy-girl relationship bullshit.”
“Frankie, stop arguing with me. You’re in love. I can see it in your face every time you look at him.”
“You can’t possibly know what I think when I look at him.”
“You were never any good at poker,” he replied. “We just let you win on occasion.”
She grimaced and fell prone on the bed, smothering her face with a pillow.
“I can’t believe this,” she moaned.
Quinton reached over and patted her shoulder.
“You look tired. Have you been getting enough sleep?”
“I don’t know. Why?”
“Just wondering. Look at me,” he ordered.
She moved the pillow to stare up at him.
“Have you been feeling alright lately?” he asked.
“I guess.” She contemplated the question a moment longer, added, “I think I came down with the flu in North Carolina.”
Quinton started nodding again. “Stomach flu?”
It was Frankie’s turn to nod.
“I can’t seem to kick it. I’m living on antacids.”
Quinton frowned. “Would you do me a favor?”
Her face twisted in suspicion. “Sure, Chief, what?”
“Gage needs to tell you something important and I want you to listen while he talks. Everyone knows he’s not very good at divulging his feelings. Don’t give up on him. You need to hear what he has to say. I think it will clear up a lot of things for you; make sense out of the nonsense.” He quirked an eyebrow and asked, “Do it for me?”
She puckered her lips.
“Please?”
“He’s so difficult.”
“Do it for me, please.”
Frankie took a deep breath.
“I’ll try.”
“Thank you.” He stood abruptly and held out his hand to her. She reached for him and he spread his arms wide. He squeezed her into his chest for a big hug.
“One thing more,” he said.
She flashed him a dazzling smile. “What?”
“Don’t forget to take your vitamins.”
The direct phone line between New Harbor and Harmony Bay rang, sounding loud through the speakers mounted around the station. Frankie pulled away and walked into the living room. Quinton trailed behind her.
“Moriarty here.”
“Frankie, this is Andre.”
She winced, glanced up to meet Quinton’s quizzical look.
“Good morning,” she answered.
Andre cleared his throat. “I’m working on several crew evaluations that are due the end of the month and I would appreciate your providing some input into them.”
“Certainly,” Frankie responded. “Who do you need help with?”
“Garner and Meriweather.”
“I’ve worked with them numerous times. I’ll be happy to assist you.”
“Excellent. I’ll pick you up for lunch tomorrow at noon.”
Lunch?
Tomorrow?
Huh?
Before she could respond, Michalet hung up. Frankie’s mouth gaped open stupidly.
“Well?” Quinton asked.
“Andre wants to discuss crew evaluations over lunch tomorrow.” She scratched her head. “That’s a first. He’s never sought my input before. He usually does his best to avoid me.” She turned her confused gaze on the big flight mechanic. “The man doesn’t even like me. I wonder what brought about this sudden change?”
Quinton’s mouth pulled up into a sinister grin.
“According to the latest rumor, Andre’s divorce was final last week. I think he wants to do some fraternizing.”
Frankie’s face screwed up in a tight frown.
“Are you talking about me and Andre? Together?”
Quinton smiled again.
“Not in this lifetime,” Frankie shuddered.
“Didn’t you just mention something about expanding your horizons?”
“That doesn’t include sleeping with the enemy.”
&n
bsp; Quinton waved his hand towards the helipad. Gage sat in the open cockpit, looking defeated.
“Let’s not mention this to anyone yet, okay?” Quinton suggested.
She nodded enthusiastically. “Fine by me. I have no problem keeping a secret.”
Quinton gave her an amused look.
“I’m going out there to have another talk with Gage,” he said. “Try to behave yourself for awhile, okay?”
Frankie snorted and grabbed her fins. “I’m going for a short swim,” she said with a laugh, “How much trouble can I possibly get into?”
“You don’t really want an answer to that, do you?”
“I’ll be on my pager if you need me,” she spoke over her shoulder on the way out the door.
“Take Damon with you.”
Frankie nodded reluctantly. “Okay.”
* * * *
It was early that evening before Gage could work up the nerve to seek her out. Fear of rejection made his senses sharp. He could hear her downstairs; the kitchen chair creaked each time she moved. Her voice was sisterly as she talked Damon about their swim and the large pod of dolphins they saw. Now and again, the sound of her laughter, pure and joyous, rang through the house.
Gage dug around in his satchel, tried to find the list of things he had written down to discuss with her the night before. The list they’d never gotten to. Outside, the weather mirrored his mood — low overcast, drizzle with occasional light rain. He pulled out a neatly quartered paper, took a deep breath and steeled himself.
He promised Quinton no more arguments.
He’d tell her everything. His fears, his doubts, the shame and defeat. All of it. Gage stood up, wiped sweaty palms down his pant legs.
The downstairs radio screeched.
“BRS-925 Zaitsev calling American Coast Guard. We request your assistance please.”
The voice hailing the New Harbor station had a trace of accent and hint of worry. Russian? Armenian? The second request came quickly on the heels of the first.
“American Coast Guard, come in please.”
Armenian.
Gage cocked his ear to the door and listened as an ensign at Station New Harbor intercepted the call.
“Vessel hailing United States Coast Guard, go ahead.”
Guarding the Coast Page 22
