Waiting... On You (Force Recon Marines)

by S A Monk

  “Noticed that, did you?” The wicked glint in his eyes made her blush. When he bent over to pull on his own fins, he unintentionally gave her a very provocative view of his tight buttocks.

  “Ready for your air tank?”

  His question snapped her eyes back to his face. “Ah... yes.”

  “Come here. I’ll put this on you.”

  Hanna pushed to her feet and waddled over to him, penguin-like, in her fins. He lifted one of his Draegrs and slipped it onto her back, then secured the straps. After strapping on his own air tank, he slipped his knife into a strap around his thigh.

  Finally, he handed her one of the spear guns. “Can you use one of these?”

  “I never have.”

  He gave her brief instructions. It was powered by CO-2 cartridges. The dart it fired was about ten inches long. It didn’t have a long range, but it was simple enough to use if they had to. Considering Dylan had lost his life and Lance had disappeared near where they were diving, Nick thought they should be prepared. Hanna agreed, although she figured Nick would be more capable of defending them against trouble than she would.

  When they were completely suited up, they went over the side of the anchored Zodiac and swam down to the bottom of the bay. Nick was a more powerful swimmer than she was; he’d told her once that he’d had to swim five miles to qualify for Recon, but he slowed his pace to wait for her. They communicated with one another through hand signals. Hanna had made enough dives with Lance to understand all of Nick’s.

  When they reached the crab pots on the bottom of the bay, Nick checked half, and Hanna checked the others. To her disappointment, they found nothing but Dungeness crabs trapped in the cages. Someone was going to have a good dinner, but there were no clues to Dylan’s death or Lance’s disappearance. It had probably been a long shot anyway, Hanna thought.

  When they finally resurfaced, Nick swung onboard the RBI first, then reached down, grabbed Hanna by the forearms, and pulled her up and over the high inflated side. She tumbled in clumsily and landed partially on top of him, then fell off him onto her back on the floor of the boat to pull off her diving mask.

  “Geez! How do you get over the side of this thing without help?”

  “Practice.” Nick rolled to brace himself above her. He took her diving mask from her fingers. “Let me make sure your contacts aren’t floating inside.”

  “You know me too well,” she remarked, on her back, staring up at him.

  He was wet and dripping all over her, so he ran a hand over his face and through his hair, sending the water droplets away from her.

  Hanna went absolutely still, wondering if he was going to kiss her again. He was staring at her intently, his gray eyes focused on her mouth, his big body mere inches from hers. In this high-sided, 15' by 6' boat, they had a lot of privacy. Visions of him doing that and more had her curling her toes.

  “I’d like to know you a whole lot more, Hanna Wallace.” He ran a single finger down her nose and over the center of her lips, lingering for a fraction of a second on her lower lip, separating it from the top one.

  Hanna let the end of her tongue touch and linger on his fingertip. She watched his eyes darken. The spell between them was powerful, mesmerizing. Her teeth caught his fingertip for the briefest of moments.

  He sucked in his breath, then shook his head as if to clear it. “Come on,” he said, pushing himself to his feet, then pulling her to hers with a quick wink and a rueful grin. “We have more crab pots to investigate.”

  They headed south, to the lower end of the bay. There were several smaller coves to investigate, which they did one-by-one. An hour later, they stopped to eat the lunch Jessie had packed for them, grounding their dingy on a sand spit so they could sit back against the high sides, enjoy their picnic, and relax.

  Afterward, they headed over to the western side of the bay, and followed the coastline, toward Mynard. At Hanna’s request, Nick navigated the Zodiac into the spit-protected cove where her sailboat was moored.

  The Mynard Marina was a modest-size one, with a wide variety of boats anchored to its wooden docks. Most of them were sailboats, and Hanna directed Nick to the far end. She hadn’t had her sailboat the last time he’d been home, and she was anxious to show it to him.

  Nick steered the inflatable in between the network of wooden docks until Hanna pointed out her boat. Her single-masted, twenty-eight foot sailboat sat at the end. It was painted white, trimmed in dark teak wood with polished brass detailing.

  Nick docked behind the boat, tied off his Zodiac, then hopped out and helped her step over the high rubber side. Standing on the pier, he inspected her wooden sloop, from stem to stern, knowing the woman beside him was anxiously awaiting his judgment.

  “Very impressive.” Following her onboard, he trailed his fingers over the shiny brass railing. “Someone did an excellent job of restoring it.”

  “Your brother,” Hanna informed him, beaming with pleasure. “He’s so skilled with these old wooden boats he salvages and repairs. He gave this one to me.”

  Nick shot her an astonished glance. “He gave this boat to you?”

  “Yeah, for my birthday last year.” Her face was full of loving admiration as she stopped at the helm and ran her slender fingers around the rim of the big brass steering wheel. “He picked it up for practically nothing at an auction, then refurbished it. I loved it from the moment I saw him working on it. It’s got so much character. And it sails like a dream. I can handle it by myself, it’s so maneuverable and seaworthy.”

  “That’s some birthday present. It must be worth quite a bit of money now that it’s restored. Wooden boats are highly prized by a lot of sailing enthusiasts.”

  “Oh, I’d never sell it,” she said, unaware of the veil of displeasure that had settled over Nick’s features.

  She pointed toward a small door that was the entry to the cabin below deck. “Want to see the rest of it?”

  “Sure.” Nick followed her below, angling his wide shoulders through the narrow doorway and down the short companionway.

  Below, there was a small functional galley that consisted of a three-burner stove, a refrigerator, sink, counter space, a few cupboards, and a table with bench seats that folded down into a double bed. Behind one of the bench seats, there was a small, drop-down, navigational desk, with some rather expensive electronic equipment. A head, complete with a small shower was wedged into one corner of the cabin, near the stairway.

  Beneath the foredeck, there was a master bedroom or bunk. Hanna showed Nick where she slept when she took her boat out overnight.

  “By yourself?”

  She looked back at him over her shoulder, bemused. “I’ve never spent the night on her with anyone.”

  He was behind her, close behind her, scanning the room. Essentially, it was all bed, designed to fit the triangular, trapezoid shape of the bow of the boat. On either side of the room’s louvered double doors, there were two long narrow clothes closets. Hanna opened them to show him that one was for hanging clothes, and one was fitted with drawers for folded clothes. The walls, ceiling, cabinets, and doors were all made of teak wood. The fixtures were brass. On either side of the bed, there were portal windows that could be opened to let in the sea breeze.

  The late afternoon sun was filtering through them at the moment, casting the room in a warm rich glow. The highly polished brass accessories caught the sunlight in glinting gold tones.

  Hanna moved to sit on the end of the bed with a big smile and a wave of her hand. “She’s lovely, isn’t she? I never get to spend enough time on her.”

  Nick was more enthralled with the woman than the boat. “She, huh? What did you name her?”

  “The Emerald Mermaid.” She searched his expression for his reaction. “Do you like her?”

  He chuckled. “Yeah, I do. It fits you.”

  Her smile widened to create two small dimples in her flushed cheeks. “So when do you want to take her out?”

  He stared at her, wa
nting to take her, not her boat. She had taken her wetsuit off once they were finished diving, and she looked sexy as hell in her low-cut red bathing suit, although she’d put her shorts back on. She was as irresistible and as tempting now as she had been four hours ago. A vision of pressing her backwards onto her bed and covering her slender body with his made his hands clench in his pockets.

  Summoning some hard-won discipline, he turned toward the main room, away from her and temptation. “How about tomorrow? We could sail her to Shelter Island.”

  Hanna got up off the bed and followed him. He was standing at her navigational desk, looking at her electronic equipment. “That’s not far enough to really open her up and let her fly.”

  He heard the disappointment in her voice, and turned to look at her. “Guess we’ll have to sail her to Seattle then. I need to talk to Kurt soon anyway.”

  “How about this weekend?”

  “That sounds good.”

  Pleased, she climbed the stairway to the upper deck. Nick followed her up, so completely distracted by the motion of her curvaceous bottom, he banged his head on the low ceiling.

  Hanna turned when she heard him curse. “You have to remember to duck. You okay?”

  “I’m fine,” he grumbled, emerging behind her. Good lord! What an idiot he was! He’d been on numerous boats before, and he should have remembered to duck even if the view ahead of him had been distracting.

  She smiled, then walked around to check her rigging straps and give everything one last loving survey before disembarking.

  Nick watched her captivated by the way the sun reflected the lighter shades of gold in her hair. The ocean breeze was playing havoc with it, blowing the fine strands across her bottle green eyes, which were sparkling with pleasure as she inspected her sailboat. She took his breath away, she was so lovely.

  Images of the two of them naked together in that big odd-shaped bed under the foredeck hit him with such a powerful punch of desire, he guided her off her boat before it got too strong to resist.

  “Do you still have your two-man dingy?” His question about her two-man sailboat got his mind off pulling her into his arms and kissing her senseless.

  “Yes. I keep it in the barn at the house. Since I’ve gotten this, I haven’t used it much, except to give Christopher sailing lessons.”

  They were back at the Zodiac. Nick assisted her over the side, then untied the rope from the cleat bolted on the edge of the dock. At the cockpit, he started the engine, then steered the rubber boat out of the marina, toward McHenry Point and home.

  “How’s Christopher doing?”

  “With?” Hanna took a seat on the floor again and pulled on her sweatshirt since it was getting noticeably cooler.

  “Sailing lessons, school, life,” he clarified.

  “He’s going to be a sailor, like everyone else in our two families.” Her smile was a revelation of her love for Lance’s son. “He’s in special education classes at school, and he does fairly well. His speech and academics are significantly delayed, but he’s a happy, well-adjusted, little boy. That’s what counts.”

  “You’re right,” he agreed. “Was it the cocaine Elaine was sniffing that caused him to be delayed?”

  “Yes.” Hanna shook her head sadly. “There isn’t a day that goes by that Lance doesn’t feel guilty about that, too. He blames himself for not knowing about her habit earlier.” Hanna looked at Nick, her green eyes full of sadness. “How can a mother do that to her son?”

  “I don’t know, Hanna. I don’t understand it any more than you. And does she even miss him, or care what a great kid he is?”

  “I guess not. She’s never tried to contact him or Lance. She could be dead for all we know. It’s so sad. That’s why the sheriff’s theory that Lance went in search of his ex-wife is so ridiculous.”

  “You’re pretty close to Christopher I take it?”

  “Yeah, I really love that little guy.”

  “And his Dad?” Nick threw the inquiry out, hoping to better understand his brother’s relationship with Hanna.

  “Oh, Heavens, Lance adores Christopher. And vice versa.” Hanna looked out across the water. “We’ve just got to find Lance alive and well. I can’t bear to think of him dead!”

  He studied her quietly, wishing he’d had the nerve to ask her straight out if she was in love with his brother. But whether she was or wasn’t, he wanted to find Lance alive and well as badly as she did.

  On the way home, Nick made one last dive into a small cove just south of McHenry Point. The crab pots he inspected were as unrevealing as the ones they had investigated earlier, except that he found two more fishing rod tubes, partially buried in the silty bottom. They were both like the one Hanna had found lower in the bay nearly a week ago. They were just as empty, too. Strange, though, that they should look exactly alike and be found in two separate locations.

  At dusk, hungry and tired, they headed home and made plans to head back out tomorrow to explore Shelter Island.

  CHAPTER 10

  HANNA’S EIGHT-FOOT, TWO-MAN DINGY was an uncomplicated way to learn to sail and to enjoy the essence of sailing. Hanna had owned the two-man dingy for years and kept it in good repair. She seldom used it anymore, except to give Christopher sailing lessons, but she couldn’t bring herself to part with it.

  Made of fiberglass, it was lightweight enough that she and Nick were able to carry it from the barn to the beach. Once in the water, Nick took the rudder position in the rear, and Hanna sat near the bow and handled the two sails. They were seated in the same positions they had taken as kids when they had sailed the family dinghies up and down the coastline, from McHenry Point to Port Angeles.

  That was so long ago, and yet it seemed like yesterday, Hanna thought as she looked down the boom at Nick. They would pack a lunch, sometimes sleeping bags, then sail off like great adventurers. Neither family had ever worried much about their safety, and Colleen had trusted the boys completely with her granddaughter’s. Their adventures had always been so exciting. With the boys, she’d felt normal. They had treated her like one of them, and she’d loved it.

  Of course, even then, at eight, she would have followed Nick Kelly anywhere, and she had, devotedly. He had been her hero, her champion, her friend. And she had been his shadow, rather like Christopher was now. By thirteen, she had also desperately wanted him to be her boyfriend, but at seventeen, he’d been too busy with girls his own age. So, Hanna had settled for simply friend. Their senior prom was the closest she’d ever come to having him as a boyfriend.

  So why was it, she wondered, that she still hoped he might one day be more than a friend? What fed that hope? Was it the fact that he had written to her so faithfully over the last twenty years? Or that when he was home, he always made a point of spending time with her? And what about the last time he’d been home? For a brief night, he’d been more than a friend. Had their interlude meant anything to him? Did he relive it over and over the way she did? She’d been scared to death to even bring it up in the past three years. Nick had alluded to it occasionally in his letters, but she hadn’t been able to bring herself to write about it long distance.

  Maybe some of her eternal optimism had to do with the fact that he had never married or been serious about a woman. Until that happened, she could still wish that someday he’d come to realize that she was in love with him, and that maybe he could fall in love with her. The plain fact was that she was probably holding on to a foolish dream that had a snowball’s chance in hell of ever coming true. But, oh when she was with him like this, she couldn’t stop herself from indulging in the fantasies!

  Halfway between McHenry Point and Shelter Island, their destination came into clear view. Shelter Island was mostly a wildlife preserve. It was home to hundreds of species of birds, a large colony of harbor seals, some sea lions, and the playful otters that swam the waters at this end of the Olympic Peninsula.

  Hanna looked around the billowing sails to the island. They were coming up fast on
it. On a clear day, you could see the island from her second story bedroom window. No diving today, though. Just spying, she thought with a whimsical smile.

  “What brought on another one of those secret little smiles of yours?” Nick asked as he stared across the little boat at her. “You have to give me at least give me a clue.”

  He looked so adorable trying to wheedle the information out of her that she couldn’t resist telling him this time. “I was just thinking what a bad influence on me you are,” she teased, ogling him behind her dark prescription sunglasses. He was wearing his swim trunks and an olive-green Marine issue t-shirt, with the sleeves cut out again. As always, he looked so gorgeous he made her pulse do double-time. “You’re going to teach me how to become a spy today.”

  “You’ll probably love it,” he assured her, his eyes unreadable behind his own dark glasses. “You were always putting stories to our adventures when we went exploring as kids.”

  “And you were our fearless protector, the captain of our crew.” She adjusted the sails to match the adjustment of the rudder he made.

  “I don’t know about fearless,” he chuckled. “I was just trying to keep your brother and mine from getting us into too much trouble. Those two had a knack for mischief.”

  Hanna agreed with a nod and a smile. “Your good judgment saved our butts more than a few times us, though. I’m sure that’s why grandma let me tag along with the three of you. She knew you’d keep us all safe.”

  Nick gave a short, self-depreciating laugh. “I haven’t done much of that recently, have I?”

  “We’re all grown up now. We’re not supposed to need you. We’re supposed to take care of ourselves.”

  Hanna tried to believe what she said. She wasn’t supposed to need Nick. But she did. Then she thought of her brother. He certainly had been able to take care of himself, but whoever had killed him, hadn’t given him the chance to defend himself, not if they’d hit him on the back of the head.

  Even if they did find out what happened to him, they couldn’t bring him back. The finality of his early death was something that she was never going to completely get over. It had been six weeks since he had died, but she was still deeply grieved over his loss from her life. Sometimes it hurt so bad, she wanted to cry out in pain and anger. The injustice of it was like a wound that refused to heal. And she was so very frightened for Lance, too. She prayed all the time that they would find him alive.