Forget Me Not (Love in the Fleet) (14 page)

“Come on, Daisy. I didn’t know he
died
. Here I’ve been calling him a jarhead-grunt-asshole-son-of-a-bitch and all along he was killed in action. I am so sorry.” He folded her in his arms, kissing her temple. “Can you ever forgive me?”

And right then and there in the parking lot with cars whizzing by on Highway A1A, Daisy Schneider let down her guard. She gave in. Gave up.

And let go.

It felt so good to be held in Brian’s embrace. She felt safe for the first time in two years. No, make that three years. And for the second time in three years, Daisy Schneider lost control.

She hadn’t cried like this since the black sedan had pulled up in front of her house on an August morning a little over two years ago. She realized she was sobbing now. Right here in her parking lot. What if a client…? But she didn’t care. This was what letting go was all about. Really letting go. Not worrying about who was watching or how it looked.

Just. Letting. Go.

He pulled a box of Kleenex out of his truck and dabbed at her nose. “And I’m sorry for calling you the Ice Queen. Can you ever forgive me for thinking you were uptight and joyless?”

“The Ice…? Uptight and…?” She almost laughed at the clueless look on his face. Did he ever think before he spoke? Well, she guessed she probably had come across that way. “Let’s get out of here,” she said, looking around the parking lot.

“Where do you want to go?” Brian asked.

“I assumed ‘home’ meant your place?”

“Negative. I have this brain that goes on autopilot when I have a beautiful woman at my apartment. And that’s not what I have in mind.”

She pulled away to look at him. “What do you have in mind?”

“I told you. You need holding.”

“Then what about my place?”

“Almost as dangerous as mine, but I think it sounds like a plan. I noticed you don’t have the girls with you today, so somebody needs to let your dogs out.”

Daisy didn’t miss the fact that he appeared more concerned about the welfare of her dogs than the possibility of having sex with her. “Thanks for thinking of them, but I let them out at lunchtime. Too many memories at home. Look, you have to take Daisy Mae home anyway. Can’t we go to your place and talk? A couple of fried eggs and a cold beer is just what I need.”

Daisy always found it interesting how an animal couldn’t wait to get
into its cage after she examined it, yet couldn’t wait to get out of its cage once it arrived home. She guessed
the antibiotics were doing their thing, as Daisy Mae scampered under Brian’s bed.

Brian’s bed.

She wondered how many women had scampered
into
Brian’s bed. She’d stake her claim on plenty
.
But what the heck? Maybe that’s what she needed. He knew pretty much everything there was to know about her now. And he’d admitted he was in
love with her, something he supposedly did not say just to get a woman into bed. The look on his face when she’d accused him of
that had been genuine.

And he’d said it before he learned of Jack’s death, so he wasn’t feeling any obligation to her because her husband had died, like he might have for Hallie McCabe. But there was still no question he was only after a romp in the hay. Guys like this didn’t settle down with one woman. And wasn’t that a good thing? She wasn’t planning to settle down with someone again, so why not? Here was the perfect opportunity for her little fling
.
They’d have some good times, and probably great sex, and when he became tired of her and moved on to the next conquest she’d be free to...what? Go back to filling her days and nights with work and volunteer opportunities?

Brian pulled a frying pan out of the dishwasher, turned to her, and said, “It’s clean. We store it in there.” He proceeded to take a carton of eggs and two beers from the fridge and open one of the beers for her.

Daisy smiled over what she’d glimpsed when he’d opened the refrigerator door. He hadn’t been entirely correct. Besides beer, eggs, and cat food there were other vestiges of bachelorhood: ketchup, mustard, barbecue sauce, and any number of Styrofoam take-out containers.

Daisy Mae peeked around the corner, her blue eyes looking daggers at the dreaded vet. The cat arched her back and crab-walked back out of the doorway.

Brian stood at the stove, still dressed in his flight suit, casting a glance over his shoulder at Daisy now and then and smiling nervously. Was she seriously considering having sex with this man this afternoon? Even though she’d told her body she was done with relationships, men, and the like, did it listen? Nooooo. It rebelled and continually cried out for love, affection, sex, and maybe even procreation. Like that day they went kayaking and she’d kissed Brian on the island. And that kiss in the ocean? Right out there in public. They’d been going at it like some kind of lovesick teenagers.

She and Jack had talked about having a family someday and despite trying to banish it from her mind, she still occasionally indulged in the fantasy of a soft, blond baby in her arms. But lately she’d pushed all thoughts of babies away when it smiled and she saw the gap between its two tiny front teeth.

“Over easy?” Brian asked.

Daisy’s mind was still on the possibility of scampering into Brian’s bed, so the words took her by surprise. Oh, right. Fried eggs. He turned to look at her and take a sip of his beer as he waited for her reply. She realized she’d never seen him remain this quiet for this long. Was he nervous? He usually talked a blue streak, sharing every thought in his head as it appeared.

“Over easy is fine.” Daisy set the table. Apparently plastic forks and paper towels were the table settings of choice around here. And paper plates.

Yes, he was nervous about her being here. And she knew he was still feeling guilty for thinking negative thoughts about Jack—and about her. What had he called her? Uptight and joyless? Hmmmm.

“Look, Daisy,” he began, “I’m sorry.”

“Relax.” She reached over and touched his cheek. “You didn’t know.”

“Yeah, but I still feel bad.”

“It’s okay. I kept it from you for a reason. I didn’t want to involve you. Especially after you told me about feeling obligated to your friend’s fiancée. I’ve been trying to move forward, keep going, stay busy and... And I guess you can see why I didn’t want to date
another pilot.”

“Yeah. I get it now.”

“And I’m sorry about the mixed messages. Sorry about kissing you and then being an
ice queen
.” He cringed but she reassured him with her smile. “This hasn’t been easy for me either. Because I do have feelings for you.”

His eyes lit up. “You do?”

“Yes, but I’ve been trying to avoid them.” A slow smile tipped up the corner of her mouth. “You are one persistent guy, though. And, well, I guess you’ve broken down my defenses.”

“I have?” Brian laid down the spatula and took her in his arms. “Let me take care of you, Daisy. Even if it’s only for today.”

“I don’t want you to feel obli—”

He cut her off at the pass, sealing her mouth with a kiss. It started out tender and then heated to a slow sizzle. No, wait. That was the smell of burning fried eggs. Brian reached back blindly, slid the pan off the burner, and turned off the stove. Then he resumed the kiss, more passionate this time. It was as if he’d picked up where they left off in the surf. It felt so good to be held and kissed and backed up against a counter again. He unclipped her hair and threaded his fingers into it, gripping her head, pulling her mouth to his. It felt as if he was trying to climb inside her and she was more than willing to let him.

He broke the kiss long enough to bury his face in her hair and whisper, “I’ve missed you so much. Oh, God, Daisy. You just don’t know.”

“Me too.”

He pulled back and looked at her. “You have?”

“Shut up and kiss me.” Daisy reignited the kiss, sliding her hands down the silky fabric of his flight suit until she reached his butt, then pulled his body to hers so she could feel what the kiss was doing to him. If she was going to scamper into Brian’s bed, she was going to enjoy every single moment of the ride.

As his lips traveled down her neck, he mumbled, “Baby, it’s all going to be okay. I promise I’ll take good care of you.”

She tipped her head back, eyes at half-mast, lips parted, as his mouth worked his way into the V of her blouse. Good thing the counter was there because Daisy was sure her knees were going to buckle at any moment.

“Oh, God, Brian. This feels so good. It’s been so long.”

He unbuttoned her top button and continued kissing her, down into her cleavage, while his thumbs worked their magic over her nipples. They hardened to his touch, which caused her to gasp.

“Please, Brian,
please.”

He returned to her mouth, his tongue searching. His hands now on her ass, pulling her to him, grinding himself against her. The love, affection, sex, and maybe procreation voice chanted rhythmically in her brain and since she was certain a man like this bought stock in condoms, she listened. It had been way too long and Daisy knew she was past the point of no return. She didn’t care if he was a player. She didn’t care if he was in love with her or not. She didn’t care if she never saw him again, which might not be a bad thing. But she knew one thing beyond a shadow of a doubt. Daisy Schneider was not leaving this apartment without some hot-curl-your-toes-knock-your-socks-off-good-for-what-ails-you-mind-blowing sex. And if they didn’t move it to the bedroom mighty soon, they were going to go up in flames right here in the kitchen.

His kisses moved to her neck, behind her ears. “Oh, baby, I want you so much. Oh, God, Daisy. You just don’t know.”

Daisy’s hand moved to the zipper on his flight suit. “
Yes,
Brian, yes.
Please.
Please
make love to me.”

Brian jerked away so suddenly she almost fell over. Near panic on his face, his breathing ragged. He scrubbed his hand through his crew cut once, twice, three times. Then reached out and re-buttoned her top button.

“I’m sorry, Daisy. I can’t.”  

Chapter 14

“What do you mean, you can’t?” Gio Gutiérrez asked his son. “Of course you will learn the business. How else will you take it over some day?”

“Sorry. I can’t,” Jorge repeated. “In all good conscience, I want nothing to do with the business,
Papa.”

“Don’t be ridiculous. This is your birthright.”

“
Evil
is my birthright? Ha!”

Gio laughed just as harshly. “Oh, so it’s
evil
again, is it?”

“Yes, sir. Evil. Do you have any idea of the horrors cocaine spreads around the world?”

“You’ve been there what? A week? You couldn’t last longer than
one week
before you come to me with this
mierda
? Like I’ve told you before, if men are weak it is not my problem.” He puffed on a cigar, then watched the stream of smoke fill the air. “But I will certainly ensure their drug of choice is available to them. If they choose to ruin their lives, it is not my concern. Would you have all the makers of rum stop distilling because there are weak men who cannot handle alcohol?”

Jorge stared into his father’s eyes, unafraid of the set jaw in the strong patrician face—more Spanish nobility than native. His olive complexion blanched in anger at his son and those sharp hazel eyes that made weaker men crawl to do his bidding, were filled with fury. And disgust.

But Jorge would not back down. “How can you kneel at Mass and accept the wine and the wafer with a clear conscience?”

“As I’ve already said, other people’s problems are not my fault.”

“What about the bribes paid to what used-to-be honest citizens? I’ve watched over the years. I bet you and your fellow traffickers have penetrated every political and judicial institution in the entire country. I’ve met many of your henchmen and I can do the math. They seem proud—
proud
—of paying out millions of dollars a year in hush money. Together with all of your cohorts, I estimate upwards of
one hundred million dollars
going for bribes alone. Do you know what that money could do for the poor in this country?”

His father tapped the ashes from his cigar and sipped his coffee. He placed the cup gently in the saucer without commenting.

“Papa, I have seen or heard about bribes to congressmen, judges, army officers, the police. No one is left untouched by this scourge!”

“Son, calm down. Cocaine is a multi-
billion
dollar industry. It brings as much to the economy of this country as all the legitimate goods put together. We employ millions. The money circulates and we keep the economy afloat.”

“Oh, so you rationalize it’s for the good of the country?”

“It is said that every man has his price. There will always be those who will turn against their beliefs when money talks. Again, it is not my fault if men choose to work for me and my colleagues.”

“Even when they
choose
because their arms are twisted behind their backs?”

His father’s grin widened to show perfectly-capped teeth. “They could choose to grow pineapples. They did not have to become judges.”

“And you’re proud of all of this...this power?”

“Not proud. It is what it is.” He leaned across the desk and leveled his son with a look. “Do you think for one minute if I quit
my business
, everyone else would do the same? Look,
somebody
is going to make money off this industry. It might as well be me.”

Jorge threw his hands up into the air and rose from his chair. He paced his father’s office. He paused momentarily, taking in the richly furnished room: the mahogany desk, the leather chairs, the Oriental carpets, and the teak bookcases, filled with books he doubted his father had ever read. Like everything else, so much in his father’s life was for show.

“I can see I’m getting nowhere here. I still don’t understand how you can separate your family, those who you love, from the evil you do to give them these luxuries.” He gestured around the room, indicating the entire villa.

Gio took his time, stamping out the cigar. An unwilling smile pulled at his mouth as he templed his fingers under his chin. “I
compartmentalize.
I have the ability to tuck away that which I don’t care to think about into a separate place in my brain.”

Jorge tapped his solar plexus. “And what about your soul?”

“My soul has compartments as well.”

“Oh, my God!” Jorge began to pace again. “You compartmentalize
your sins
? Do you believe God cannot see into that part of your soul?”

“Do not worry about me, son. God and I are good. Do I not contribute millions to the poor? To the orphanage? To the church? I have already paid for my berth in heaven.”

“You think you can
buy
your way into heaven! You know, for much of my life I thought you were the smartest man in the world, but I have changed my mind.” He stood and placed his hands on his father’s desk, leaning over to make his point. “Only a fool would believe money could be a ticket to the afterlife.” Jorge shook his head in disbelief and sat back down. “Okay, okay. So you ignore the parts you don’t want to deal with. But what about
your family?”

“What about them? I take care of my family. Look at you. Certainly you can’t complain about your life thus far. Do you want for anything? Do your sisters or your mother?”

“No. But what if I don’t want any of it?”

“Your sports car was paid for with what you call ‘dirty money.’ Are you telling me you don’t want it anymore?”

Jorge swallowed hard and said quietly, “No. I don’t want it anymore.”

“Fine, I’ll give it to Elena’s husband. He has worked hard for me. He
appreciates
what I do for him and your sister. What about your fancy college education? I can’t exactly repossess that.” To himself he muttered, “Perhaps it is where all the trouble started. I send him to one of the finest schools in the United States to learn to run the business and he comes home and throws it back in my face!”

“Papa, I have stood by this week and watched the rape of the land. What I have seen
horrifies
me. I saw chemicals poured onto the jungle floor—or worse, poured directly into the river. What wasn’t going up in smoke, that is. Do you think it just
goes away?
I did some research at night and there appears to be
multi-millions
of liters of sulfuric acid, ethyl alcohol, and
hundreds of millions
of liters of kerosene dumped into the ground each year, trickling down into our ground water. Have you not seen the increase in cancers and birth defects? Do you not see a connection? Do you think it won’t affect your own family?”