They all looked up and nodded a somber greeting; the two helicopter pilots from the Marathon Coast Guard Group, still in their Dress Blue uniforms from the memorial service, and dark-skinned and leathery Tim Lewis, who ran a deep sea fish and dive charter boat for the tourists. Tim looked even more uncomfortable than Dirk in a shirt and tie, his suit coat hooked on the back of his chair, his tie pulled defiantly askew. The one aching difference, that Micki's gaze tried to ignore but was drawn to all the same, was Razor's conspicuously empty chair.
She hung her jacket on the closest chair back, and then put her helmet and gloves on the floor as she slid into her usual seat. Trying hard to accept that Razor, the kid brother she never had, would never again breeze in with a joke and a smile, she focused on the conversation in progress.
"All I'm sayin' is, Dirk better watch his six," Lieutenant Everett 'Tex' Mason drawled. His voice was pitched low to keep the conversation from Tourist Territory.
Surprised, Micki regarded the sandy-haired Texan. Her Australian accent a direct contrast to his heavy southwestern inflections, she asked, "How so? What's going on?"
The Coast Guard pilot shrugged. "Well, he's the grease monkey. Scuttlebutt is, he worked on Razor's helo just last week. If anyone's under suspicion it's gotta be him."
"Suspicion? Of what?" Micki glanced back at Dirk, watching him joke with Bert the bartender as he waited for their drinks.
She had met Dirk Jurgensen three years ago when he was new in town, and the chemistry between them had been spontaneous and electric. He was an ex-Marine pilot turned freelance mechanic; the man responsible for keeping Marathon's civilian and military aircraft in the sky. Their relationship had lasted almost a year and it was still easy for her to see why she had fallen in love with him.
Dirk was a good man. He would have done anything for her, anything except allow her to be herself. His possessiveness and controlling ways meant that everything became a bitter battle of independence. When he slammed her door that last morning, she never expected to see him again, but she hadn't counted on their mutual social circle throwing them together.
Whether it was the casual banter, the good times, or the simple companionship within the group she'd never really decided, but something improbable happened after she and Dirk broke up—they became friends. He was, perhaps, the only human being in the entire world who looked out for her interests, and so the implication that he was somehow involved in Razor's death was both preposterous... and unsettling.
Micki frowned. "You mean now they're saying Razor's crash was something other than pilot error? But they haven't been able to dredge the crash site yet, have they?" Unsure, she glanced at the other Coast Guard pilot for explanation. "You're kidding, right? You don't really think Dirk...?"
"Dunno, Mick," said Jake 'Padre' Pastorelli, deadpan. "But you should never trust these tall, dark and silent types."
"Yeah," Tex added, "next thing you know we'll have some hotshot JAG investigator down here, snooping about."
"JAG?" Tim asked.
"The Judge Advocate General," Tex told the civilian boat captain. "They're the military version of those shyster lawyers who make a living out of nailing people's butts to the wall." A cocky flyboy grin crept across his face as he turned back to Micki and changed tack. "What you need, darlin', is to start hanging around better company."
Micki knew flirting when she heard it. Tex had been trying to get into her bed ever since she'd kicked Dirk out of it, albeit not real seriously considering all the women she'd been introduced to as his significant other. Despite the rough and tough I'm-as-good-as-any-man exterior the world saw, Micki had to admit that a little male recognition sometimes really made her day.
Sometimes, but not tonight. Tonight there was an undercurrent of grief among them that even a seasoned boat captain like Tim was having a hard time navigating. They had lost one of their own, and all this reverting to macho habits because they didn't want to, or know how to, deal with it wasn't fooling anyone. What she had just heard was a pick-up line designed to catch her off guard, and it had nearly succeeded.
"Better company? You mean with the short, blond, blabbermouth types." She tempered the retort with a friendly smile. "Like yourself, huh, Tex?"
Padre chuckled. Even Tim Lewis joined in.
Tex feigned hurt. "Darlin', you wound me."
"I'll do more than wound you if you don't quit calling me that." Leaning across the table, she punched him on the arm. "You're drunk," she concluded.
"Not that drunk," Tex said, eyebrows twitching meaningfully.
Feigning a scowl, Micki turned her attention away from the table, in time to watch a dark-haired man saunter through The Sandpiper's front door. It was, she realized as an involuntary flush shot up to her cheeks, the stranger from the parking lot.
With a snort of disgust, she deliberately turned her head. A smart-mouthed tourist who couldn't drive was something she didn't need, especially tonight. Her reaction drew a questioning glance from Tim Lewis, who then turned to check out the situation for himself. He grinned at what he saw.
"Tourist alert." He whistled softly. "And from the looks of this pigeon, he's loaded."
Micki stole another quick glance, curious despite herself, and decided Tim was probably right. Now that she wasn't so furious she could see there was something about this guy's style; his confidence—and his gold watch—normally would have made her sit up and take notice. Not to mention, she admitted grudgingly, he was extremely good looking.
She scowled to cut off the traitorous thoughts. Sure, he was much more charming when he wasn't wiping people out in parking lots. A regular prince. Well, she wasn't falling for any lounge lizard act. It didn't matter how loaded, or attractive, he seemed. This joker was bad news.
Micki snorted again. "The creep. He was backing into my spot." She grimaced expressively and fought a twinge in her bruised shoulder. "Made me wipe out. I hope it rains the whole time he's here, the snake."
Her male companions chortled, but only Tex was brave enough to speak up. "This guy beat you out of your spot? He must be tough to still be standing."
Micki drilled him with a smoldering glance. "He didn't get my spot. I'm in my spot." She didn't see fit to enlighten them on the fact that the guy had gotten the last word. "I don't want to even look at him. I might end up strangling him."
"Hmmm." Tim focused somewhere over her shoulder. "He looks like a good fare to me. Bet there'd be plenty for both of us. This guy wouldn't blink twice at hiring both a scenic flight and a deep sea fishing expedition. But if you're not interested—"
"Not even if he offers double rates," she said adamantly. Leaning forward, Micki stubbed her finger on a coaster to make her point. "Not even if he pays cash up front and a hell of a tip. Got it?"
Tim grinned, part of his attention still focused behind her. "Got it. Just wanted to know where I stand, Micki, 'cause Dirk's hauling him over here as we speak."
"What?" She swiveled to see for herself, then groaned. "Oh, great."
"There's someone you guys should meet," Dirk said as they approached. His words may have been generalized for everyone at the table, but his gaze fell on Micki as he handed her a shot glass from his tray.
There was a flash of gold off the stranger's Rolex watch as he lifted his beer bottle in a friendly gesture.
"Evening gentlemen," he said. Micki frowned, not because his dark eyes had settled on her, but because of the way his lips curved into a smile that indicated unmistakable male interest. "And lady. I hope you're not still holding a grudge over that little misunderstanding in the parking lot."
Claiming the seat next to Micki once the drinks were delivered, Dirk asked, "Misunderstanding?"
Micki shrugged and met the chauvinist tourist's gaze. Here was her chance to act like his parting shot hadn't bothered her at all.
"It was no big deal," she said, finding it hard to hold his gaze. Her stomach gave a quick flip-flop, and an unexpected hollowness in her gut had her lowering he
r eyes. What the hell was the matter with her? There was absolutely no reason why this guy should make her... nervous.
"Well, hey, have a seat," Dirk offered, since no one else seemed about to.
"Thanks."
Striving to school her expression, Micki regarded the stranger as he took up a somehow taboo position in Razor's empty chair. When his gaze swung to her and wandered provocatively over her scoop-neck tank top, she hoped her face didn't show her disgust.
You've got a real Don Juan here, Micki. Taking him down a few pegs won't just be a pleasure, it'll be a service to women everywhere.
"Your friend here says that maybe you can help me out," the man said. His attention was riveted on her despite all the other bodies at the table, and she bristled at his automatic assumption that she was going to forgive him without comment. "I'm looking for a guy named Mickey Jacinto."
A ripple went through the group but did not quite surface.
This could be good, if she didn't blow it. Maybe Tim was right. If she could just keep her famous Jacinto Temper under control, then maybe she could salvage her ego... and make a little profit too.
"A guy named Mickey, huh?" She looked him up and down like she was returning the physical curiosity. "Why? What do you want with Mickey?"
Obviously thinking he was onto something, the stranger put both hands on the table and cupped them around his beer bottle. "I was talking with a guy over at the Islander Resort, where I'm staying, and he told me to check this place for Mickey Jacinto about a scenic flight over the Keys."
The flirtatious look he directed her way was not lost on anyone present, and caused Dirk to stretch a proprietary arm across the back of her chair. Determined not to show a reaction, Micki leaned forward to escape her ex-lover's ownership.
"If you want to see the Keys by air, mate, then you're talking to the right person. How many passengers and when do you want to go?"
"Just me. And tomorrow would be great, if the weather cooperates."
True, the weather hadn't been cooperative for weeks, but the worst of the August thunderstorms sprang from the heat of the afternoon. There was always a fifty-fifty chance of a few profitable hours of sunshine before lunch.
"No problem," she said, adding a winning smile to her pitch, which befuddled Tim Lewis to no end. Micki discreetly kicked him under the table to warn him not to comment. She drew the stranger's attention with a flirtatious glance that had him completely snowed. "We might get some rain tonight but it'll be gone by tomorrow. You watch, tomorrow morning will be great flying weather."
Romeo grinned back. "So... can you set it up for me, beautiful?"
Micki turned on her charm. Just wait. This chauvinist wasn't going to be smiling when he realized that 'the sweetheart' was Jacinto Scenic Flights' sole proprietor. That look was going to be worth even more than that gold watch on his wrist. "Can do."
"Great. So is this 'Mickey' your dad, then? Or your husband?" The condescending smile was his fatal error. "Boyfriend, maybe?"
Aware that the guys were struggling to sustain some cover-blowing guffaws, Micki's smile didn't falter. Dirk, on the other hand, looked ready to intervene with either a jealous caress or a bucket of cold water. She ignored them all.
"All the pilots who fly for Jacinto Scenic Flights are FAA certified and experienced in the changing weather conditions we get around here. You'll be in good hands, and you'll get a great view."
"Perfect." He reached across the table and offered his hand. "My name's Luke, by the way. Luke Hardigan."
"Nice to meet you Luke Hardigan," Micki returned in deliberate ambiguity, gripping his hand firmly in an all-business shake. "I guess you already know where the airstrip is, since you said you flew in this afternoon. Just follow the signs past the General Aviation terminal and you'll find the charter hangar."
"No problem," he echoed with a cocky smile that put Tex's best to shame. "Do I detect a bit of an accent there? You're Australian, right?"
"Right," Micki agreed with forced patience. That was a statement of the perfectly, painfully, glaringly obvious if ever she heard one! Getting to her feet, she caught up her jacket and shrugged it on. "Be there at 9:00am, if that's not too early for you. The plane is a white Cessna with green and gold stripes. You should be able to spot it easily enough."
"Sure thing, beautiful."
Again with the patronizing names. She was really going to enjoy showing this guy a thing or two.
Micki knocked back her shot of scotch, and stamped the glass on the table. The expression she threw her companions, masked as a goodbye, was clearly a warning for them to keep their mouths shut, or else. "See you blokes later. And the first round is on me next time."
Luke Hardigan smiled and gestured expansively. "Hey, c'mon, the evening's young. Why don't you stay a while?"
Micki met his eyes in irritation. "Because I've got to get home and check on my dog."
"Really?" He took a sip of beer. "What sort?"
Wondering if this bozo were for real, Micki answered in overdone patience. "A border collie. Any other questions?"
Luke shrugged. "Just wondering. I've been thinking of getting a bulldog. You wouldn't know where I could find one, would you?"
"No." Micki let her curt tone indicate the conversation was over. She was only willing to let him push her so far. "G'night, everyone."
The guys nodded, except Dirk, who also got to his feet. "I'll walk you out."
As she bent to collect her helmet and gloves, her gaze once more fell on Luke. He was watching her and Dirk, as if considering their relationship and what his own chances were. It struck her then, that despite all the possible male contenders at the table, the rookie still had the nerve to try to pick her up.
"Tomorrow, Yank," she said, falling back on Aussie slang to distract his attention from her personal life. "Bring your camera, but don't be late or you'll miss some of the best light. And if there is a change of plan because of bad weather, I'll leave a message at the Resort's front desk."
"Okay. I'll be there."
With a last nod to the rest of the table, Micki turned to walk away. As she left, she heard Tim speak up. "So, Luke. Fish, do you? I can take you on a fishing trip that'll knock your socks off..."
Micki reached the front door of The Sandpiper with Dirk trailing two steps behind. Opening it to a deluge of rain, she stopped. A flash of lightning, followed closely by thunder, made her throw an uneasy glance at the overcast sky. Tomorrow's gamble for sunshine was one thing, but right now she had to dig up the courage to ride home in that storm. It wasn't the thunder that bothered her, but the lightning; a childhood fear born the night it struck the tree outside her bedroom window and set it ablaze.
"Well," Dirk said knowingly, looking over her shoulder, "we could always load your bike into the back of my truck and I could drive you home."
Startled, she almost flinched when his hands rose to caress her upper arms.
His breath was warm on her ear as he continued. "Then maybe I could... stay a while?"
Micki turned, which neatly removed his hands, and gave him a cocky smile. "Hey, it's just a little rain." Her flippancy faded when she saw the genuine disquiet in his eyes, and she softened her tone. "Thanks, but I think I'd rather be alone tonight. You know?"
Dirk nodded reluctantly. "Okay, but I'll be dropping by your hangar in the morning." He grinned suddenly. "Because I want to see the look on that guy's face when he finds out you're 'Mickey.' It'll be priceless."
"I'll tell you what's priceless, Dirk." Her eyes strayed past his shoulder to catch a glint of gold off the stranger's watch. "Did you cop an eyeful of that Rolex?"
"It's a fake," Dirk said easily.
Turning up the collar on her jacket, Micki shot him a curious frown. What on earth had prompted him to say that?
He shrugged in response. "I mean, it's probably all show. You know the type."
She donned her helmet and flipped up the visor as she buckled the chin strap. "Yeah well, after I've given
Romeo the deluxe tour, we'll see who's all show." Pulling on her gloves, she turned to assess the storm.
Dirk chuckled lightly. "Micki, you're a demon in disguise."
Having counted all the way to ten without seeing any more flashes, Micki steeled herself for a quick run to her bike before her nerve deserted her. Flipping down her visor, she touched Dirk's arm in farewell and darted out into the rain.
"That's why I still love you," Dirk muttered as he watched her go.
Micki, running for her bike, didn't hear him over the drum of the rain.
***
The ride to her trailer took less than ten minutes, and after parking her bike, Micki was chased to her front door by a very loud clap of thunder. Inside, in an attempt to focus elsewhere and defeat her phobia, she knelt to greet the dog that came to meet her.
"Hi, Fizz," she said fondly, ruffling the ears of the two-year-old border collie. Fizz had come to live with her after Dirk had found him as a pup, shivering, flea-bitten, and starving, in a ditch just off the airport. He was her best friend and constant companion; he even rode pillion on her bike, thanks to a special 'seat' the guys had constructed. "Did you miss me, boy?"
At the lick she got in response, she smiled. "Right answer, or it would've been out on the street with you."
Not buying it, the black and white dog thumped its tail on the floor, gazing at her soulfully. Giving the scruffy neck a final tussle, Micki went methodically around the singlewide trailer, pulling all the blinds to shut out the storm.
That accomplished, she turned the volume on the television up loud enough to mask the thunder, and sat to comb out her braid. A pair of comfortable cotton knit shorts, and a large man's t-shirt served as pajamas, Micki Jacinto style. The first time Dirk had seen them, he'd come around the next day bearing gifts of the sexy negligee sort, which she had politely but firmly refused. Micki just didn't go in for all that frilly 'girlie girl' stuff. If she couldn't out fly, out fight, or out drink a man in an honest contest, then she certainly wasn't resorting to using sexy clothing to win.
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