No Quarter Given (SSE 667)

by Lindsay McKenna

  Dana squeezed fresh lemon into her tea and sat down with Maggie. Her friends were both still in flight suits. She was glad she’d changed into a pair of yellow shorts and a sleeveless white blouse earlier. “It’s a start.”

  Molly was sitting at the mock-up. She looked toward them. “Is Turcotte married?”

  Dana shrugged. “I don’t know”

  “Intriguing question,” Maggie said. “You know Manny’s a real gossip. I’ll ask him to do some snooping around for us.” She jabbed a finger at Dana. “I asked my IP today about Turcotte and he got real tight-lipped. All he’d say was that he was tough as hell. I think if we give you our experiences this week in the cockpit, we can help you prepare to start flying with Turcotte next week.”

  “Not only that,” Molly added excitedly, “but you’re going to blow him away when you have cockpit start-up and shutdown procedure down pat. He won’t expect you to know that, Dana.”

  “Probably thinks I’m out getting a tan, partying and playing around,” she agreed.

  Maggie got up. “Well, it’s my turn to cook, ladies. How about Swanson Hungry Man frozen dinners?”

  With a groan, Dana laughed. “At the academy, we had three squares a day over at the chow hall. Here, we’ve got to get into the routine of fixing our own meals. What a drag. Are we spoiled?”

  The laughter lightened the kitchen, and Dana got up and out of Maggie’s way. They had set up a roster of duties. Each woman had her own particular chore to complete each day. The camaraderie was binding, just as it had been at Annapolis. They were a family, believing deeply in one another and relying on each other’s abilities.

  Moving to her bedroom, Dana changed into her swim-suit, and pulled on jeans and a blouse over it.

  “Going to swim in the gulf?” Molly asked, poking her head around the open door.

  “Yes. It’s the only way to get rid of tension, as far as I’m concerned.”

  Frowning, Molly leaned against the doorjamb, her arms crossed on her chest. “It’s really tough luck drawing the Turk. I’m sorry, Dana. Maggie and I have super instructors. Neither one is a screamer. Our first flights were nerve-racking but exciting. I got a 2.1 and Maggie got a 2.2.”

  “Somehow, I don’t think it will be wonderful for me next Monday. Griffs not interested in teaching me how to fly. He only wants to see me fail.” Grimly she pressed her lips together as she picked up her colorful towel. “I’m going down to the beach for at least an hour.”

  “Okay. Be careful. I hear there are a lot of sharks and jellyfish in the water around here.”

  With a laugh, Dana slipped past Molly. “I grew up on the Pacific Ocean, remember? I’ve had my brushes with sharks and been stung by enough jellyfish to become one. I’ll be okay. See you in an hour or so”

  ***

  Griff walked the lonely beach on Santa Rosa Island, hands deep in the pockets of his ragged cutoffs, his bare feet sinking deeply into the sand. The gulf was glassy smooth at this time of the evening, with the tide moving out. Hunter’s Point was his favorite getaway spot, a place where he could think without being distracted by a lot of tourists crowding the long sandbarlike island that stretched endlessly in a slight crescent, parallel to the Florida coast. The white sand met the blue-green water, the waves small and frothy. His shoulders fell and relaxed as he allowed the lap of the water and the cry of the sea gulls to take away his tension. It had been one hell of a day.

  Scuffing his toes into the damp sand, Griff watched as the sun, low on the horizon, dipped behind towering cumulus clouds. His mother would have commented on what looked like the face of a dog in the clouds. Carol wouldn’t even have noticed it. What would Dana have said? Disgusted with his meandering train of thought, Griff spun around, allowing his chin to drop toward his chest, introspective.

  Dana. What was he going to do about her? This morning, she’d displayed the kind of eagerness that he liked to see in a student, but didn’t often get. Her melting blue eyes haunted him. He knew she was in pain from the black eye. Having collected a few shiners in his seven-year naval career, Griff knew they ached like a son of a bitch for at least a week. It hurt to talk, to chew food and to smile. Dana wasn’t a complainer as Carol had been. If Carol cut her finger slicing a tomato, she acted as if he should take her to an emergency room.

  Mulling over the comparison, Griff stopped and turned, facing the ocean. The horizon was turning a peach color, the sun behind the clouds lining it with blazing gold edges. He’d seen gold flecks in Dana’s eyes when he’d begun teaching her about the walk-around. Did gold mean she was happy? With a groan, Griff rubbed his face and tried to erase Dana from his mind and heart.

  A movement caught his attention. Squinting, he saw a lone woman about half a mile up the deserted beach. His heart thudded. It was Dana. Wading into the ocean in a dark blue one-piece bathing suit, she didn’t seem aware of his presence. Hunkering down, Griff rocked back on his heels and watched her. He was sure she hadn’t seen him. She had left a bright, flowery print towel on the beach and was moving her arms in warm-up motions. That’s right, she’d been the captain of the Annapolis swim team, he remembered. Quirking his mouth, Griff hated the thought that his brain had retained everything in Dana’s file.

  She was incredibly slender, Griff observed almost with alarm. So small and graceful as she leaned down, cupping the water and sluicing it across her body. Her thighs were curved and firm, the calves tightly muscled and slim. His gaze ranged higher, to her small waist and breasts. Women would probably die of envy for her waist, Griff thought. It couldn’t be more than eighteen inches. He sat down in the sand, enjoying the sight of her economical movements. Warming up before swimming was to be applauded.

  When Dana dived into the water, Griff’s breath lodged in his throat. She reminded him of a sleek, shining dolphin. When Dana resurfaced, she was nearly a quarter of a mile out to sea. She had incredible lungs to swim that far without air. Griff kept forgetting she had captained the swim team. With each stroke, she moved farther and farther out across the rose-colored mirror of the gulf, tiny ripples forming around her with each clean, slicing stroke. Shading his eyes even though he wore aviator sunglasses, Griff could barely keep Dana in sight. Worry nagged at him. She was a good mile out from the coast.

  Standing, he cupped his hands around his eyes. The little fool! There were sharks out there. In a calm sea like this, her swimming motion would draw them. She might be a big-time swimmer in a pool, but it was obvious she had no inkling of safe conduct in an ocean.

  “Damn her,” he growled, jerking off his polo shirt and throwing it down. Dropping his threadbare tennis shoes, Griff stuffed his dark glasses into one of them. Without hesitation, he jogged down to the shore and into the warm water.

  “Dana!” he hollered, his voice carrying strongly. She hadn’t heard him. Worried, Griff lunged through the shallow water. When it was waist deep, he dove in. He might not be a champion swimmer, but he’d been in Florida for two years, and he knew plenty about the gulf from his weekly swims. Taking large, clean strokes, he aimed toward her. Yelling at Dana would be futile. He’d have to get her attention another way. Anger fueled his strength, the water exploding around him as he swam in her direction.

  Dana languished in the salty water, slowly turning over on her back for a moment. The freestyle swim had taken the edge off her worry about her potential flying skills. The water was like a mother, cradling her protectively in a safe and loving embrace. Laughing, Dana rolled again, feeling like a porpoise, then dove downward, enjoying the rush of water surrounding her like a friendly welcome. The goggles she wore to protect her eyes from the salt water hung around her neck, and she dove blind, her eyes tightly shut, feeling the pressure build around her as she went deeper and deeper. She could hold her breath for nearly four minutes without having to resurface. The reassuring pressure against her body was something she gloried in. Mother Ocean, as she had always called the sea, would never harm her. Here, she was safe. Safe.

  A viselike
grip encircled her waist. Startled, Dana released the last of her air, twisting around. Her eyes flew open. At first she thought it was a shark, pain rearing up through her lower ribs as she was hauled surfaceward. And then, to her surprise, she realized it was a man. The salt water stung her eyes. Out of air, Dana had no resource, unable to fight his powerful grip.

  They erupted from the water simultaneously. Blinded by the salt water, she struck out at her unknown male assailant, trying to jerk free. Her fist gave him a glancing blow alongside his head. She gulped water and choked, lifting her feet and shoving them hard against his chest. In seconds, she was free.

  “Dana!” Griff croaked, flailing, shocked by her attack. “It’s me, Turcotte! Hold still!” He lunged for her arm, but she slithered free.

  Coughing up seawater, Dana rubbed her eyes, clearing them. Griff Turcotte trod water a few feet away, his face a thundercloud of anger. “What,” she choked, “are you doing out here?”

  Angrily, Griff jabbed a finger at her. “Trying to save your neck, that’s what!” he roared back. “What the hell do you think you’re doing? The ocean’s flat and calm. Swimming out this far under those conditions can attract sharks. I came out to bring you back before you became dinner for one of our great whites, you idiot!”

  Gasping, Dana laughed. “You came to save me? Oh, brother, Lieutenant, that’s a real laugh.”

  Stung by her ungratefulness, Griff glowered at her and swam closer. “Okay, so you’re a feminist and I’m still back in the caveman era. But I’ll be damned if you’re going to become a steak for some patrolling shark on my beach.”

  He was serious! Dana blinked, shoving the hair off her brow. “Your beach? For your information, this is a public beach, Turcotte! I came down here to swim! You had no right scaring the hell out of me! Just who do you think you are?”

  Griff clenched his teeth, impressed in spite of himself at her spunk under the circumstances. “Just because you were swim captain at Annapolis, Coulter, doesn’t mean you have an ounce of brains about swimming in the ocean. Did it ever occur to you that sharks are drawn to flailing sounds on top of the water? They signal a meal waiting to be eaten.”

  Dana began to laugh. She couldn’t help herself. It was all so ridiculous! “You’re something else, Turcotte. I was on this beach minding my own damn business. Did it ever occur to you I know what I’m doing?”

  Griff momentarily lost his anger. When Dana smiled, he felt some old, heavy burden buried in his heart dissolve. Her laughter was rolling and contralto, like a song of a beautiful bird. And her eyes… Sweet heaven, but he wanted to capture that smiling mouth and feel her move sensually against him. The water glinted off her neck and arms like jeweled sunlight. The gold flecks were back in her eyes, and he knew now, without a doubt, she was happy. Just the graceful way she moved in the water told him she was ultimately at home within its grasp. Her incredible beauty nullified his anger.

  “I was worried, that was all.”

  Her eyes crinkled. “I wouldn’t think you’d care if I did get eaten by a shark. After all, you don’t want me as a student.”

  Griff ignored her comment.

  “Besides,” Dana added lightly, stretching out on her back on the water’s surface, “I was born by the ocean, Lieutenant. When I was three, I was swimming with my mother in it.” She twisted her head in his direction, noticing his straight brows drawing into a frown. “I’ve had plenty of head-ons with sharks, jellyfish and other denizens of the deep. Once, a six-hundred-pound grouper attacked me. I just hit him with the hammer I carried in my diving belt. I was looking for abalone off the coast of San Diego when it happened. He got the worst of the deal.”

  “You’re qualified for scuba diving, too?”

  “Up to two hundred feet. I’ve had diving certification since I was fourteen years old.”

  Griff felt heat crawling into his face. He got the message: Dana was extremely capable of taking care of herself in any ocean situation. Embarrassed, he rubbed his jaw where she’d struck him earlier. When he’d seen her dive suddenly, he’d thought she was drowning and had gone in to rescue her. Griff knew better than to own up to that admission. When he looked over at Dana, he expected her to be laughing at him, but she wasn’t.

  Dana relented, touched that Griff had cared enough to come after her. “Did you come to my rescue because you thought I was too weak to swim back to shore?” she teased lightly. The water cascading down the hard planes of his face increased his rugged intensity. The color of his eaglelike eyes grew charcoal. She wasn’t sure if it meant he was angry or pleased.

  “It’s obvious you don’t need any help at sea,” Griff bit back. “But the air’s my domain, Coulter. Not yours.”

  She shrugged, silently wishing he’d lose the chip on his shoulder toward her. “The air belongs to everyone, Lieutenant, just like the ocean.” She spread her arm out in front of her, fingers lightly skipping across the surface.

  “You made a mistake coming to Whiting, Coulter.”

  “Oh?”

  “You’d have been better off staying in the ship part of the Navy—it’s obvious you like the water.”

  Smiling, Dana rolled gracefully in a complete circle, surfacing on her back and floating. “It’s not my nature to do what’s easy. I like a challenge.”

  Grudgingly, Griff prepared to swim back to shore—by himself. “Come next Monday, you’re going to face the biggest challenge in your life, Coulter.”

  Her smile disappeared and she held his dark eyes. “Lieutenant, nothing you can throw at me will ever equal what I’ve already survived. Nothing.”

  Dana lunged past him, swimming strongly toward shore. Griff stared at her, assimilating the low tremble in her voice and the rebellion in her azure eyes. He trod water, wondering what she was talking about. Bothered, he began a leisurely swim back to shore. His threats rolled off her like water off an otter’s back. Dana was no more afraid of him than she was of this ocean. She didn’t scare easily. It had to be a facade. There was no other explanation. Underneath, Dana was just as weak and brittle as Carol had been.

  The water sloughed away the rest of his anger. By the time his feet touched the sandy bottom, Dana had already retrieved her towel and was walking toward the parking lot. Flinging his head from side to side, Griff went in the opposite direction to retrieve his shirt, shoes and sunglasses. Running his long fingers through his hair, he got rid of most of the water.

  He turned and looked over his shoulder. Dana had disappeared, and the beach once more was deserted. What had she survived? Needled, Griff shrugged on the black polo shirt and slipped on the sunglasses. He sat down, brushing the wet sand off his feet, struggling to put his tennis shoes back on. Dana’s words echoed in his head: “Nothing you can throw at me will ever equal what I’ve already survived. Nothing.”

  Was she referring to the rigors of Annapolis? God knew, it was a hellish place for a man, much less a woman. Ring knockers were a brotherhood, and didn’t take lightly to newcomers in their ranks. The first two years at Annapolis were the most grueling challenge Griff had ever faced.

  Jerking his shoes onto his feet, he got up, dusting the sand from his wet shorts. Griff mulled over Dana’s low, trembling voice. Something told him she wasn’t talking about Annapolis. But what? A marriage and then a divorce, possibly? Her file said she was single, but it didn’t say if she’d been married previously. And what about her comment that this wasn’t her first black eye?

  Stymied, Griff headed across the dunes to the parking lot. Dana Coulter was an enigma; a mystery of the first order. His forte was solving mysteries. Irritated by his own curiosity, Griff consoled himself with the thought that come next Monday, more would be revealed about Dana. His method of instructing was sure to garner a host of reactions that would reveal a great deal more about her. And when he had her figured out, he’d make sure she’d never graduate as a pilot. Toby was dead, and he was damned sure he wasn’t going to be some woman’s next victim.

  Chapter Four />
  Dana was in the ready room where all the students who were going to fly met their IPs. It was 0700, and she wiped her damp palms against her thighs just as Griff entered. A number of the other students gave her sympathetic glances as her instructor appeared. If Dana read their looks accurately, she was seen as a lamb going to slaughter. Despite the fear sitting in the pit of her stomach, her heart responded strongly to Griff. There was something different about him from any other man in the room.

  Dana stood as he walked toward her. She searched his clear gray eyes and found them icy, without emotion. His mouth, always an intriguing part of his face, was grim. The dark blue garrison cap sat at a cocky angle on his head. She noticed the way the olive-green flight uniform fit his tall, tightly muscled body.

  Dana shook her head, wondering if the nervousness over her first flight was making her crazy. Ordinarily, she never looked at men this way. The fear of how they could harm her always came first. With Griff, it was different. In some part of her, she instinctively knew he’d never raise a hand to physically hurt her—even if he was bound and determined to wash her out of flight school.

  I’m crazy, Dana decided, unable to explain logically her reactions to him. Maybe the four years of grueling strain at Annapolis were catching up with her. Rising from the table, holding her new flight log, Dana held Griff’s eaglelike gaze.

  “Ready, Coulter?”

  He couldn’t even say “Good morning.” Dana fought to regain that familiar sense of control, to protect herself from the inevitable pain of opening herself to caring what he did or thought. “Yes, sir, I am,” she replied coolly.

  Griff frowned. She’d been smart enough to get a flight logbook. He’d planned on berating her for little things right off the bat—things she was responsible to get and have ready when he arrived. It had been six days since he’d last seen Dana. For the most part, her black eye had disappeared. Her cheekbone was back to normal, and only a slight yellowish color beneath the left eye still showed. Her black hair was thick, glinting with bluish highlights beneath the fluorescent lights. Drawn to her azure eyes, thickly fringed with black lashes, Griff felt a hypnotic pull to simply lose himself in them.