Frankie watched Gage’s busy lower lip curl up in a smile. She reached across the few feet of space that separated them and gently smoothed the skin of his bare forearm.
“Damon reminds you of Greg, doesn’t he?”
He spun to look into her face. A flood of grief washed over him. Over her. He moved across the room, hesitated at the door, long enough to break her heart. Without a word, he reached for the handle and slipped away. She watched the empty space where he’d stood, moments before her stomach forced her back to the bathroom.
* * * *
Paperwork.
Endless, tedious and occasionally mindless, it comprised much of what she did for a living. Frankie worked for two hours by sheer will. She forced herself to finish the report while her mind continually drifted elsewhere. Back and forth to Gage. His past. His present. All those terrible memories followed him around year after year, haunted his sleep, weaving his life into a macabre tapestry of sorrow and regret.
She took a deep breath and pushed away from the desk. It was time for some distraction. Stop the pity-party and get a fresh perspective.
She knew where to find it.
Damon was sprawled in the middle of the living room floor, he surfed the web on his laptop computer. He glanced up quizzically. She gave him a wry smile.
“Can I borrow your Audi?”
“Sure, boss,” he reached into his backpack a few feet away and tossed her a leather keychain. “Is there something wrong with your car?”
“I just want to go for a drive.”
“A fast drive?” His sharp brown eyes flashed with suspicion.
“Something like that.”
“You’re not going to wrap it around a tree in some kind of estrogen-induced hysteria, are you?”
“That wasn’t my plan,” she smiled ruefully. “I’ve got this craving for barbecued chicken wings. Want some?”
Damon made an ugly face. “No thanks. I’m not hungry.”
“What? Since when aren’t you hungry? Are you sick or something?”
“I’m fine, just busy with a project and I’ve already eaten,” he explained.
“Where’s Gage?”
“Running.”
“Where’s Quinton?”
“In the garage. He’s on the phone with Isabelle, trying to convince her he needs a son to carry on the family name.”
Frankie lowered her voice conspiratorially.
“Is he having any success?”
“They’re negotiating.”
Frankie looked over Damon’s shoulder at the fuzzy laptop screen. “Doing some research?”
His fingers plied the scroll-down key.
“I’m looking for some information on FBI Agent Margot Corley.”
Frankie squinted at the fine print of a news article.
“Any luck?”
“Not so far.”
His voice was tight. Frankie knew he was trying hard to conceal how much Agent Corley had him rattled.
“The Admiral called a few minutes ago to congratulate us,” she changed subjects. “He says that the mayor is giving a banquet in our honor on Friday.”
“We’re on duty until Tuesday,” Damon pointed out.
“The Admiral has arranged coverage and expects us to attend the function.” Frankie gave Damon a little nudge with her foot. “Maybe you should invite Agent Corley along.”
“Boss, are you serious?”
Frankie grinned.
“No way,” Damon retorted. “That woman is hateful.”
“That woman has you stumped,” Frankie stated flatly.
Damon rubbed his eyes. “I don’t understand why she keeps calling me to clarify stuff. She’s so rude all the time. By now she must’ve figured out that I didn’t have anything to do with the hijacking.”
Frankie cleared her throat. “Would you like me to talk to her? Tell her to back off before I have to bitch-slap her?”
Damon started to laugh. “I think I better work this problem out myself.”
“So, have you asked her what the problem is?”
“She refused to give me a straight answer. Said it wasn’t in her job description to be nice to me.”
“Hmmmm. Interesting response from a law enforcement professional. Well, keep after it,” Frankie encouraged while heading for the door. “I bet you’ll turn up something that will give some insight into her behavior. I’ll be on my pager if you need me.”
Chapter 24
AWARDS BANQUET
T he balding, middle-aged mayor of New Harbor looked out over a sea of heads in the hotel banquet room, tapped the podium microphone and cleared his throat.
“Ladies and gentlemen. I want to thank you for coming here tonight on such short notice to help me honor some of our Coast Guard’s finest.”
Frankie’s cool gaze drifted over him. No fool to politics, she tuned out most of his speech and waited for the wind-down. The moment came and on cue, every Guardsman present turned and smiled to the assemblage of New Harbor’s influential elite.
Admiral White arranged the night off for the crews of Harmony Bay and New Harbor with the caveat they attend the banquet. Like a shotgun wedding, the crews shrugged into their formal, dress white uniforms and arrived punctually at seven.
Gage insisted on picking up Frankie and escorting her to the festivities. Isabelle tagged along with Quinton while Damon brought a beauty of questionable intelligence. Frankie honed her attention in on the women standing beside her. Isabelle had posed an innocuous question to Damon’s date, but the woman introduced to them as Amber seemed to have some trouble with it. Her eyes glazed into a vacuous stare. She let out a raw squeak. For a moment they thought she might be having a seizure. Frankie and Isabelle exchanged worried looks.
Amber’s breathing increased to short bursts, her attention focused on some mysterious place across the room. The episode lasted only a few seconds. When it was over, she excused herself to the bathroom.
Concerned for her welfare, the two women fell in behind. Frankie searched the crowd for Gage as they made their way to the ladies lounge and found him standing patiently in line at the open bar. Her mouth went dry. He was so damned handsome it was impossible not to gawk. She allowed herself a brief fantasy of running her hands over every inch of that uniform before she ripped it off and threw him to the floor.
“Quinton tells me that you’ve been sick quite a bit lately,” Isabelle said, as they waited for Amber.
Frankie nodded and looked up at Isabelle. The wife and mother of two was simply stunning in dark blue silk that matched her eyes.
“I must have caught the flu while I was in North Carolina. I can’t seem to shake it,” Frankie replied.
“Have you seen a doctor?”
Frankie shook her head. “I do my best to avoid them.”
“Perhaps you should pass on the champagne tonight until you’re fully recovered.”
“Good idea,” Frankie muffled a burp. “My stomach is still a little queasy from dinner.”
“Gage looks great,” Isabelle commented. “Every woman here’s been ogling him. His dark hair and olive complexion are terribly sexy wrapped in a crisp white uniform. The contrast does bizarre things to women.”
“It’s called female hormonal imbalance.” Frankie reached out to brush the leaves of a potted plant she couldn’t decide was real or not. “It’s the same with any guy in uniform. Even Andre is getting looks.”
“Andre too?” Isabelle pondered, her forehead wrinkling with distaste. “I find it interesting that Gage doesn’t seem to notice all this female attention,” she continued. “I think there is only one person here he truly wants to impress.” She gave Frankie a dazzling smile and added, “Gage saw you staring at George Harvey earlier this evening.”
“George is a nice kid,” Frankie defended.
“Adorable too,” Isabelle concurred. “He has a cherubic face and charming personality to match. His manners are impeccable.”
“George is sweet,” Frankie answer
ed.
“He admires you.” Isabelle got a wicked gleam in her eyes.
Frankie turned to stare directly at her.
“It’s not much of a secret anymore that Gage and I are sleeping together.”
Isabelle fondled one of her dangling gold earrings and watched Frankie carefully. “It isn’t widespread knowledge. You’ve managed to keep a low profile relationship.” Isabelle smiled. “Gage was upset to see you talking with George. I thought Quinton would have to douse Gage with his beer to cool him off.”
“Are you trying to tell me that he’s still jealous of George?”
Isabelle nodded, took a sip of wine. “You do realize that Gage is in love with you?”
Frankie went stone cold. “He’s never mentioned those words to me,” she replied.
A distressed wail caused them both to jump. They scurried across the polished floor to the bathroom stall Amber had locked herself in.
“What’s wrong?”
“I can’t get it out,” she answered on a sob.
“Just reach over and unlock the door,” Frankie encouraged.
“No, I can’t get IT out.”
“Get what out?” Isabelle asked.
Long moments of silence passed.
Frankie tapped on the stall. “What’s wrong? Let us help you.”
Amber let out another wail.
“Damon put a remote-controlled vibrating egg inside me. It’s stuck. I can’t get it out and it won’t stop buzzing!”
* * * *
It took Frankie a few angry seconds to hunt down Damon. He stood by a faux-marble support pillar at the edge of the room, manipulating the controls of a small black box. Frankie snaked her way along the periphery of the room and crept up behind him.
“Let me have it,” she hissed and held out her open hand.
Damon palmed the box into his vest pocket and dipped his head to speak in a low voice.
“Have what?”
“Don’t play innocent with me,” she snapped.
“You sound like my mother.”
“If I was your mother, I’d be begging the world’s forgiveness for the monster I created.”
“Are you insulting my mom?”
“Not yet,” she replied. “But if you don’t hand over that remote right now, I’ll start insulting anyone in your family I have to.”
Frankie didn’t notice Gage and Quinton had wandered up behind them. Damon grinned at them.
“I want the remote,” she whispered. “Now.”
“What remote?”
“Hand it over, you little pervert.”
A few of the partygoers wandered into the area. Damon pulled her to a concealed position behind him.
“Hand what over?” Gage asked.
“Is there an echo in this room?” Frankie asked. “He knows exactly what I’m talking about. I want the remote control to his ‘toy’.”
Gage and Quinton moved fast, using their big bodies to block the general view. If Frankie and Damon were going to play show-and-tell, they didn’t want all of New Harbor’s finest citizens to see.
“What toy?” Quinton asked him.
“You know the one, I told you about it at dinner the other night,” Damon answered.
“I thought you were kidding, mate.”
“You said it sounded like fun,” Damon said with momentary confusion. “I thought you were going to get one for Isabelle.”
Frankie glared up at Quinton and then turned her ugliest look on Damon.
“Boss, why are you staring at me like I’m the Anti-Christ?”
“You little skunk. I can’t believe you did that. I know you’re obsessed with sex and pleasing women, but you’ve crossed the line this time.”
Damon snickered and looked mildly amused. “What line would that be?”
“Don’t get smart with me, buster. Your antics have gone too far.” She then asked in all seriousness, “Aren’t you worried your toy might accidentally stop somebody’s pacemaker or something? There are a lot of older folks here. You could kill somebody.”
“I’m a trained medical professional,” he answered. “I know CPR.” He patted her on the shoulder. “Don’t worry so much, boss. The worst it can do is turn on the television in the lounge. Besides, it only has a signal within forty feet.”
Gage and Quinton were both chuckling.
“Stop snickering, you two. Don’t encourage this brat. You should be setting an example.”
“Boss, Gage was setting an example. I found that vibrating egg in his catalog.”
Frankie blushed, momentarily speechless. She cleared her throat and asked, “Did I hear you correctly?”
“I found it in Gage’s catalog. There was an entire section of toys for ladies.”
“I think she gets the picture,” Quinton whispered.
Frankie looked at Gage. “You need to control your shopping impulses,” she stated and puffed an errant strand of hair from her eyes, turned and pointed a finger at Damon. “And you need to be on medication.”
Damon stared as if his feelings were hurt. “Medication? What do you mean? I’m still young. I don’t have any problem with erectile dysfunction.”
Frankie smacked herself on the forehead. “Too much information,” she replied. “The real issue here is Amber.”
Damon gave her a questioning look.
“She’s in the bathroom having a major meltdown right this moment. Your little gizmo is stuck in the ‘on’ position and she can’t get it out.”
The atmosphere grew serious.
“I think Amber is done playing,” Gage spoke quietly. “Take her home.”
“And hurry before the Admiral gets wind of this,” Frankie said.
Damon gave them a pleading look. “Amber doesn’t need to go home. I can fix the problem. Cover for me while I sneak into the ladies bathroom.”
Quinton shook his head. “Take her home. You can extract it there,” he ordered.
Frankie punctuated the words by deliberately stepping on Damon’s foot with the heel of her black vinyl pumps.
“Ouch! Okay, okay.”
“Apologize to her,” Gage piped up.
“And make it up to her with some trinket that does not require batteries,” Frankie quipped.
Gage and Frankie were left alone as Damon went to rescue Amber and Quinton retrieved Isabelle.
“Your catalog, huh?” Frankie said.
“I think I should plead the fifth.”
“I’m not a lawyer,” she teased.
“Yeah, but this feels like a court.”
“I’ll be the judge of that.”
Gage smiled at her. “What are the charges, Your Honor?”
“Contributing to the delinquency of a sex addict.”
Gage raised his eyebrows. “Guilty as charged. What’s my sentence?”
“I thought you were pleading the fifth?”
“I changed my mind.” He moved in and bent close to her ear. “I may be guilty of contributing to a sex addict, but she isn’t Damon. I was shopping for you and we both know it.”
Frankie’s pulse shot through the roof. She blushed, tried to back away. Gage grabbed her waist.
“What do you have to say to that, Your Honor?”
“I think it’s time we left this function while I consider your punishment.”
He gave her an evil grin. “Good idea. I’ve got a long, hard sentence to work off.”
Frankie stifled a giggle.
* * * *
Gage made a right at the stoplight and crawled out onto the coastal highway. Traffic was slow and thick. His mind racing. He needed to ask her something but he wasn’t sure how or where to begin.
“You turned the wrong way,” Frankie advised. “I thought pilots were supposed to have a better sense of direction than that.”
He glanced across the front seat and smiled. Being close to her made him feel infinitesimally weak and inhumanly strong at the same time. It made him feel whole.
“I know exactly where I�
�m taking you.”
“Where would that be?”
“Back to my place.”
Frankie stiffened. “The Admiral only gave us this one night off for the banquet. You look tired and we never get much sleep when we’re in bed together.”
“I’ll sleep when I’m dead.” He reached over to run his hand along her thigh. “Don’t look so worried. I don’t bite.”
“Oh yes, you do.” She tried to sound serious and ended up melting in laughter.
“I nibble. It’s different than a bite.”
Gage slowed to allow another car to merge into the lane ahead of them.
“I want you with me tonight, Francesca. Sleep beside me in my bed. When you’re curled up next to me, I don’t have nightmares.”
“When we’re curled up next to each other you’re too busy nibbling to have any bad dreams,” she replied.
His answer was a near-whisper. “I need to be inside you.”
Frankie blinked against the harsh taillights and cleared her throat. “So is sleeping with me like some cheap form of therapy for you?”
“No,” he shook his head. “It’s not like that at all.”
She relaxed a little, took a shaky breath and inched closer to him. Long minutes passed between them before she softly asked, “What happened to Greg?”
Gage’s body tensed but he didn’t pull away.
“Two days before my wedding, Greg and I were skydiving. He was always after me to take him up and show him some new trick. He loved to skydive. He was a math teacher, thought his life was boring and mine was full of excitement. Whenever we got together he wanted some thrill-seeking experience. I guess I gave him the ultimate one.”
Gage put on the blinker and turned onto the narrow road that bordered his property. A lone white light flickered by the front door of his cabin.
“Greg had about thirty dives to his credit. All of them with the square parachutes I trained him on.” Gage paused for a deep breath. “We planned a stacked formation. It was some simple canopy relative work. We’d done it before without a problem. I jumped first and Greg followed a couple of seconds later. He had an immediate malfunction on deployment. One of his front lines got wrapped around the parachute and pinched it like a bowtie. I was screaming at him to cutaway, open his reserve. He froze up. Shot past me like a rock. I couldn’t do a thing but watch him plummet to the ground.”
Guarding the Coast Page 25
