by Rachel Lee
"He's got friends in high places, Jack. He's going to get them working a special review board to see if you qualify to return to active duty."
The idle movement of his fingers stilled. The sleepy satisfaction in his eyes evaporated. Dani had anticipated surprise, maybe even anger that she'd taken the initiative without consulting him. What she didn't expect was the sardonic twist to his lips.
"You're definitely your father's daughter."
Stung, she jerked her head back. "What's that supposed to mean?"
"It means the colonel only understood one way of life, too. For all his heart and courage under fire, he could be as narrow as you are in that regard."
"Come on, Buchanan!" Pushing upright, she gathered the tangled sheet around her. "I know you said you like being your own boss and jockeying around whenever and wherever you please, but..."
"What's the matter, Flynn? A crop duster's good enough to sleep with, but not take out in public, is that it?"
"No, of course not! But you could do more!"
"And maybe I'm doing exactly what I want to do."
His stubborn refusal to admit he was wasting his talents infuriated her.
"Fine! You're doing just what you want to do. So where does that leave us?"
Disengaging, she rolled to the side of the bed and yanked on the terry-cloth robe. Her fists clenched around the ends of the tie belt. She waited, willing him to say something. Anything! When he didn't, hurt piled on top of her anger.
"Sorry we got our signals crossed, Buchanan. I thought we might actually have something going here."
Spinning on her heel, she marched to the open connecting door, sailed through and slammed it shut with enough force to rattle her bedroom windows.
♥ Scanned by Coral ♥
Chapter 6
Buchanan departed the hotel at the crack of dawn the next morning.
Patricia brought Dani the news. Eager to catch up on world events, she'd gone down to the newsstand in the lobby to grab a copy of every news magazine and paper on the racks.
"When I walked out of the newsstand, Jack was climbing into a cab," she informed her sister.
Dumping her armload of goodies, she plopped into one of the chairs set around a square table littered with the remains of a room-service breakfast.
"He didn't look happy," Patricia related. "Neither do you, for that matter. What gives? After the interesting sounds I heard coming through the wall last night, I figured you two would be sleeping in this morning."
"Things didn't work out."
"Things? What things?"
Shrugging, Dani sloshed more coffee into her cup and shoved the carafe toward her sister.
"We have different goals. And different opinions about Buchanan's current occupation."
"Just what does he do? When he's not ferrying undercover agents down to Mexico to rescue their sisters, that is."
"He's a crop duster. He also contracts for some oil spill cleanup and ice-melt."
"And that's bad because...?"
"Because he could probably get a waiver to go back on active duty, but refuses to consider it." Scowling, Dani planted her elbows on the table. "Dad once told me Jack Buchanan was one of the best pilots he'd ever flown with."
"Uh-oh. No wonder the poor man decamped at first light. I would, too, if I had both you and the colonel coming down on me."
Patricia grinned at Dani's offended expression. "I loved Dad as much as you did," she added. "More, maybe, because I wasn't his natural daughter, but he took me straight into his heart, warts and all. I wasn't blind to his faults, though, any more than he was to mine."
"Which specific fault are you referring to?" Dani asked stiffly.
"Dad lived, breathed and slept Air Force. So do you, kiddo. There is life outside the military, you know."
"Oh, that's great coming from the woman who left her fiancé literally standing at the altar. Let's see, what was the crisis that time? Oh, yes. I remember. You had to zip over to China and work an emergency fix to the power grid supplied by the Yellow River Dam."
"Okay, okay. I'll admit that wasn't exactly my finest hour. What does it prove, except that we both need to reassess our priorities? "
"Maybe."
"Maybe, my left foot." Reaching into a wicker basket, Patricia helped herself to a cherry Danish. "Think about it. How many chances does a woman get to have a man like Buchanan teach her aerial maneuvers?"
Not many.
It took Dani several weeks to acknowledge that fact. She spent her nights tossing and turning and generally being hacked at Buchanan Her days she spent at OSI headquarters, pushing paperwork. Her boss had decreed that every field agent had to serve at least one sentence at headquarters, so they'd appreciate their freedom in the field.
She was working her way through a stack of site surveillance reports when one of her fellow agents strolled into her office and hitched a hip on the corner of her desk.
"Hey, Flynn, who was that crop duster who flew you down to Mexico?"
"Buchanan. Jack Buchanan."
"Bingo! I knew I'd heard his name somewhere before."
Dani's inner alarms started pinging. Harrison headed the counterterrorism division at OSI headquarters.
"Before what?" she asked tensely.
"Before I saw the guy mentioned in this morning's operational report. The op rep just hit the In box. You might want to take a look."
"Thanks. I will."
Nodding, he sauntered out. Dani was already at the keyboard. She punched in her security code and waited impatiently while the video input device confirmed her identity. Seconds later, the latest operations report painted down her screen.
She read it through twice. Incredulously the first time. Furiously, the second.
Signing off, she stormed down the hall to her boss's office.
Chapter 7
The bar reeked of spilled beer and old grease. The odors enveloped Dani the moment she stepped inside, along with the stink of stale cigarette smoke. Ignoring the murmurs of interest she stirred among the handful of patrons in boots and jeans, she threaded a path through the tables.
The man slouched at the corner table watched her approach with no sign that he recognized her. His gaze made a slow descent, taking in her pink T-shirt and thigh-hugging jeans.
Dani stopped beside his table. "I want to talk to you."
He tipped his chair back on its rear legs. His whiskey-colored eyes were unreadable.
"That right?"
The deliberate drawl pulled at nerves already stretched wire thin.
"That's right," she snapped. "Outside, Buchanan."
His chair remained at an angle. He made a lazy circle on the table top with his beer. Dani got the message. Gritting her teeth, she ground out a single syllable.
"Please."
He followed her into the Oklahoma night. The hot wind sweeping across the Panhandle had already coated her rental car with red dust. Buchanan didn't appear unduly worried about transferring the dirt to his rear as he leaned against the fender.
Dani planted herself in front of him and cut right to the chase. "Why didn't you tell me you're FBI?"
His shoulders rolled in a careless shrug. "Like you, I didn't go down to Mexico in an official capacity. Who I work for wasn't pertinent."
"It wasn't pertinent?" Her voice spiraled up a full octave. "It wasn't pertinent?"
The fury that had simmered inside her since she'd discovered Jack's real status exploded. She still couldn't believe the FBI had recruited him right out of the Air Force. Or that he used his crop duster cover to travel without the least suspicion throughout the Texas-Oklahoma region. Or that he was the agent who'd recently unraveled a terrorist plot to seed lethal biological toxins into chemicals sprayed by U.S. agricultural aviators.
"Dammit, Buchanan! You let me make a complete fool of myself."
He cocked a brow, forcing her to a grudging concession.
"Okay, okay. Maybe I did that all on my own."
&
nbsp; She dragged in a deep breath, caught between her anger and the need that had brought her back out to this hot, dusty corner of Oklahoma.
"I guess what really torques me," she finally admitted, "is that you let me walk away from you that night in Del Rio."
"I was coming after you."
She tipped her chin, glaring at him in the dim light thrown by the single, bug-speckled light. "Oh yeah? When?"
"When I stopped fighting the inevitable and accepted that a bossy, take-charge, super-efficient undercover operative was about to turn my life upside down."
"Really?" She tapped a foot in the dust. "Are you there yet?"
His mouth curved. "Almost."
Her heart skipped. She felt that crooked grin all the way to her toes. The tension that had wrapped around her neck and shoulders eased its tight grip.
"What's it going to take to convince you?"
"Not a whole lot, green-eyes."
He reached for her then, his big hands folding around her upper arms, and drew her closer. She found a comfortable spot with her knees tucked between his and her hands splayed against his chest. Moonlight winked on the silver bracelet that banded her left wrist.
"Let's start with a kiss," he suggested, "and see where it takes us."
Dani knew where it would take them. She'd been there before. Sure enough, the hard, hungry feel of his mouth on hers sent her right into a spinning, dizzying, stomach-clenching hammerhead stall.
TO LOVE AND PROTECT
Lindsay McKenna
* * *
This story is for the men and women of our armed forces. Thank you for your dedication and patriotism. We have freedom because of you.
Dear Reader,
I was thrilled with the opportunity to write a brand-new MORGAN'S MERCENARIES story for this collection featuring two other great writers of military fiction. I haven't written about the Coast Guard for a while, and so I felt this was the ideal time to do so! As many of you know, I write stories that are close to reality. I've been through volcano eruptions, earthquakes, hurricanes, tornadoes and just about any other kind of natural disaster you can think of. Having had the opportunity to work closely with the Coast Guard over the years-fly in their helicopters and Falcon jets, ply the Atlantic aboard their cruisers and go on SARs (search and rescue missions) with them—I feel honored to write about these brave men and women.
Too, I'm always thrilled to see Morgan in action. In this particular story I sent a man and a woman from Morgan's team to Hawaii, a place I've visited many times. I hope you enjoy this love story, which shows how life can sometimes offer us a second chance in the most unusual of ways.
Warmly,
Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 1
Hell was one word in particular that Lieutenant Brie Phillips could appreciate more than most. Especially now, she thought as she sat on the wooden bench between the lockers of the women officers' ready room, her hands clasped between her thighs. Hanging her head, she stared at her long, thin hands, the blunt-cut nails, her mind and heart churning with turmoil, her stomach tightening. She had arrived at the U.S. Coast Guard station on Kauai, Hawaii, a month ago on a new assignment, not realizing her ex-husband, Lieutenant Niall Ward, was already on board. Up until now she'd managed to avoid seeing him. But she knew it would be inevitable that she'd be assigned to his flight duty roster. There were only so many pilots at the station, and they all flew with one another on a rotation system. Now her number was up and Brie was still reeling from the shock.
Yes, hell had a new and galvanizing meaning to her. Hell was the fact that starting tonight, for a twenty-four hour tour of duty, she'd have to be his copilot on a search and rescue helicopter. Hell was the fact that in about five minutes she'd have to leave the safety of the women's ready room and go out to the mission planning room where everyone was gathering. Hell was having to face Niall again, after all this time.
Looking at the Chase-Durer watch on her right wrist, a timepiece that many military aviators wore because it had many essential features a pilot needed, Brie tried to force out a full breath of air. When she got emotionally tense, she breathed shallowly and her gut tightened.
"Relax, will you?" she muttered to herself between thinned lips. Her eyes narrowed as she looked around at the gray metal lockers. The place was quiet. Painfully so. But then again, it was 1800 on a Sunday evening. No one stayed around the Coast Guard station unless they were scheduled for weekend duty. How she wished she was at her bungalow up near Princeville, on the northern coast of this beautiful, green paradise.
"It was paradise," Brie muttered. Until she'd found out that Niall was stationed here. In the two years since her divorce, Brie had lost touch with him after the first year—on purpose. Having contact with him had proved too painful to her heart. The last thing she wanted now was to be reminded of the awful, crushing agony she'd experienced with him and had barely survived. Yet, somehow, Brie knew, she was going to have to reach into the deepest parts of herself as a woman and bear this new burden.
At twenty-nine, Brie thought she'd been through everything. But this latest twist in her life was one that she could never have conceived: she never imagined she'd be stationed with her ex-husband. Now she would be forced to fly with him.
Worse, Brie had been told there was an emergency search and rescue to fly tonight in the face of a major hurricane that was bearing down on the island chain. The winds were already at fifty miles per hour, and at eighty, their helicopters would be grounded, unable to fly in such furious weather and rain.
Heart thrashing painfully in her chest, Brie unclasped her hands and rubbed the damp palms against the bright neon orange of the single-piece flight suit she wore.
"Get up, Phillips. You've got to act professional at this mission briefing." She wondered how he would handle their first meeting. Shutting her eyes, Brie felt shaky inside. She wanted to cry. Oh, how had her life become so tangled like this? Hadn't enough happened to her?
Fortunately, she had her Native American beliefs to give her strength. Though her father was an Anglo, her mother's side was Cherokee. Raised by her anthropologist father and her medicine woman mother, Brie had grown up in a matriarchal environment where women were encouraged to be anything they dreamed of being.
Right now, she needed to believe that the Grandparents, benefic spirit beings who worked directly with the Great Spirit, had her best interests at heart. Brie recognized her present predicament as a test. Even though she wasn't a medicine woman, she was the eldest daughter of one and would have been trained in those healing arts if she'd desired it. Instead, Brie had wanted to be a buzzard, a bird honored by her people, and spend her life flying gracefully on the unseen currents of Father Sky, far above his beloved Mother Earth. As a child, she would lie stretched out for hours on a grassy knoll in the mountains of North Carolina, where she was reared. Hands behind her head, she would watch through half-closed eyes as any number of buzzards, which flew in a family, spiraled high above her.
Well, she'd gotten her wish to fly; she was now a Coast Guard helicopter copilot. And one of the best. She was due to become a full pilot shortly. Because Niall was a full-fledged pilot, she would have to work with him. And she was worried that if he bore any anger toward her, which was possible, he could stop her from progressing. Would he do that?
"Get up," she commanded herself. Standing, she went through her usual perfunctory preparations. Opening her locker, she got out her life vest, put the knife into its sheath and double-checked to make sure all her gear, such as flashlight, food bars, whistle, emergency radio and beacon, were all there and working properly. It was time to go. It was time to be an SAR Coastie.
Brie quietly shut her locker, then turned and left the small room. The highly polished, white tile floor gleamed beneath the fluorescent lights above. The passageway was empty; the
doors on either side were locked. Everyone was gone who could be gone on this miserable, rainy Sunday night. They were home making sure there were protective boards across their windows, and doing whatever else they could to prepare for Hurricane Eve, which was being forecasted as a level-five storm with lethal possibilities.
Tonight Brie was going on a top secret mission with her ex-husband, in the middle of one of the potentially most brutal hurricanes that Kauai had seen in the last ten years. How could her luck get any worse? And how was she going to handle being in the same room, much less the same cockpit, with Niall after not seeing or talking to him for two years?
Lieutenant Niall Ward tried to still his chafing anxiety. He sat in the mission briefing room, hands tense on the armrests of the chrome-and-wood chair as he wrestled with the idea of the coming confrontation with Brie. Just thinking of his ex-wife sent his heart pounding wildly in his chest. He lifted his hand and wiped at the sweat on his brow. How was Brie after all this time? he wondered. Was she well? He had a hundred questions about her. At war with his anxiety was his anger over the fact that Brie had abandoned him at the most critical moment in his life. He was reminded once again that he could not rely on anyone—not his family, not even the woman he had loved. Brie hadn't trusted him when things turned nightmarish for them. She had asked for a transfer to another station just when things got bad. He would never forgive her for that transgression, just as he could never forgive his real mother for putting him up for adoption. He could trust no one. Even the couple who had adopted him at age two had done nothing to build his faith in others. His adopted father was an alcoholic who'd divorced his wife three years after Niall came to live with them. Niall became a latchkey kid, living with his single adopted mother, who worked long hours to keep food on the table. His biological mother stepped back, briefly, into his life when he was seven years old. A year after that, his biological father had, too, showing up unexpectedly from time to time, like a painful shadow, until Niall had graduated from high school.
