Forget Me Not (Love in the Fleet) (21 page)

“Who knows? Maybe being so careful prevented other accidents that you’ll never even know about.”

George pursed his lips and nodded his approval at the possibility. “Okay. Go on.”

“And the way I see it, the other purpose you fulfilled in the world was to marry your lovely wife and stay married for—what did you say? Forty-three years? And have five children, who I’m going to assume are responsible citizens in the world today?”

“They are.”

“And how many grandchildren?”

“Nine.”

“See? You brought your kids into the world so you could leave them as your legacy. You were left behind to fulfill your destiny and to make a positive impact on the world through your career and your family. Even if it’s only in your little corner of the world, the world is a better place because you lived, because you didn’t die on the flightdeck that day.”

George stared at him open-mouthed.

“And
you lived so that one day you could take this punk lieutenant aside and teach him a thing or two about life. I mean, you changed my life the other day when you told me that getting married was like joining the Navy. Hot damn! Watch out, Daisy Schneider. And who knows? Maybe we’ll pop out a couple of responsible citizens and it will all be because of you.”

That brought a smile to George’s face. “Thanks, son. I don’t know what to say except, I guess you’re never too old to learn a thing or two and...And I think I’d like that drink now.”

As Sky drove George to the Club for that drink, he realized how much their little pow-wow had helped both of them. He was pretty sure George was feeling better about Joe.

And Sky was feeling better about life in general. It had felt damn good to spill his guts. Cleansing. He felt like a great burden had been lifted. Maybe he’d take his own advice and do what Captain Duncan had done. Get married, raise a family, and continue a stellar career in the Navy. And Daisy would never even have to know that he’d had
issues.
Because Sky knew the secret to survivor guilt, so the dreams would just stop. Right?

Sky was drowning.

He couldn’t catch his breath because his mouth was filled with water. He tried to cry out, but there were no words. Only water.

Daniel was clearly unconscious. Sky had to get Daniel out. It was all he could think about as he fumbled with Daniel’s harness, but his gloves were too clumsy. His hands couldn’t work the buckle. He pulled at his gloves but they were stuck or something. He tried to remove them with his teeth, but that made him swallow more water. He started to choke. He needed air.

Just as panic set in, he heard the pounding on the cockpit window. Sky knew the drill. It would be Jill. She always came and yelled at him to get Daniel out. But when he turned his head, it was Daisy. Lately it kept being Daisy and he knew she wouldn’t let him stay and help Daniel. She always wanted to go kiss in the surf. He knew she would tap him on the nose and say, “Follow me.” Well, not this time, honey. He was going to put his foot down. Getting Daniel out was more important than kissing Daisy.

“Goddammit, Daisy! Leave me alone!” he cried.

“Sky, are you okay?”

When she touched his arm, he jerked away from her. He would not let her distract him from saving Daniel this time. “Leave me the hell alone!” he cried.

“Sky, wake up. You’re having a dream.”

“I’m not going with you, Daisy, go away! I have to get—”

Oh, shit.

Sky wasn’t in a helicopter. He was sitting up in bed, Daisy’s guest room bed. And Daisy was sitting there as well. Staring at him. Daniel did not need saving.

But Sky sure did.

“Sorry. I guess I was…”

“Are you okay? You must have had a bad dream.”

“Yeah.” Was she looking at him funny? He had no idea what he might have said or done. And she wasn’t giving him any clues. She just sat there, looking at him.

“Come here.” She opened her arms to him.

“No, I don’t think so, Daisy. I’m going home.”

“What? Why?”

“Because I don’t think I can handle this sleeping together without sex one more night. I know. I know. I’m the one who said ‘no sex,’ but I haven’t been sleeping well at all.” He tried to laugh, but it came out as more of a snort. “Look, I’m having dreams about it.”

Liar, liar, pants on fire.

“Don’t be silly. I’ll go sleep in my own bed. You can stay right here.”

“No, I’d feel better if I went home. You know, got a good night’s sleep.”

Daisy tried to make light of it. “Are you sure it’s not because your kitty went home last night. You are so funny about her.”

“
Yeah, right.
That’s it.” But he wasn’t laughing. “Look, it’s really important that I get enough sleep. I have to be rested in order to fly.” He slipped on his shoes and tucked his shirt in. “I can’t put my crew at risk by being over-tired. I’ll call you when I get up tomorrow. I still want to go kayaking, but I gotta get some sleep. Okay, sweetheart?”

He kissed her and headed for the door.

Jesus, he’d dodged a bullet on that one.
Sky pulled out of Daisy’s driveway and exhaled deeply. But by the time he arrived home, he’d convinced himself the only reason he’d dreamed tonight was because his conversation with George was so fresh. And yeah, he was horny as hell and not thinking straight. That was it. It would cause anyone to have sleep disturbances.

It had nothing to do with the fact that his alarm cat had finished her medication and gone back to live at his apartment again.

So he’d been walking a tight rope without his safety net.

The weather was turning cooler and the kayak pier would only be open for another couple of weeks. Not that the winters were harsh in Northeast Florida, but business was not strong enough to keep it open until spring.

Daisy wondered whether she and Sky would still be together once spring arrived. She found it symbolic they were using the tandem kayak today. After doing everything solo for the past couple years, it felt good to travel tandem these days. They paddled in perfect harmony this morning, their oars dipping and receding like a well-oiled machine. He was noticeably quiet seated behind her. A rarity. Perhaps he was upset over his hasty departure the night before.

Sky had surprised her in many ways. The fact that they still had not made love astounded her. She never would have expected him to last this long, but she admired him for sticking to his principles. And it allowed them to concentrate on other aspects of the relationship. How rewarding it felt to cook for someone again. They watched the news together and discussed it. They shared their days with each other. How she’d missed sharing her workday with someone. Even when Jack was deployed, she would write to him every night and tell him about her day.

Yes, this thing she had going with Sky was working out better than she had ever anticipated. And had he given her one iota of player mentality? Surely that would show up after the sex started. They’d have a fun
sexual time together and then he’d move on. Well, wasn’t that what she’d wanted? No ties?

Daisy wasn’t so sure anymore. She found herself enjoying every moment with him. Except for last night. That was a little creepy when he’d had that dream. It brought back bad memories of Jack’s nightmares. It was a little weird that Sky felt he had to go home to get some sleep. Poor guy. He probably hadn’t gone this long without sex since he was sixteen. Or since freshman year at the Naval Academy when he was a Plebe.

No. Daisy
smiled to herself. She wouldn’t put it past Sky Crawford to have figured out a way to have sex at the Naval Academy, even as a Plebe.

Or maybe she’d been right. Maybe he couldn’t sleep without Daisy Mae wrapped around his head on the pillow. That would be too funny. The big, bad Skylark needing his security cat. She smiled at the very thought of it as she paddled through the quiet, still waters. And speaking of quiet, what was with the big, bad Skylark that he wasn’t talking today? Maybe he was enjoying the peace and solitude of the end of the season too. Nobody out there to spoil the stillness.

Daisy glanced around at the perfect Indian summer day. It had warmed up since she ran her five miles that morning. Sky hadn’t called until ten. Apologizing for leaving so suddenly the night before. When he showed up, he acted especially loving and devoted this morning. He brought coffee and doughnuts and—

“Daisy,” he called softly from the back of the kayak.

“Yes?”

“I’m ready.”

“Ready for what?” She continued to paddle, unaware he had stopped.

“Daisy, look at me.”

She lifted her oar from the water and rested it across the gunwales. Then she turned and looked back at him. “What?”

“Remember when I said you’d be the first to know when I was ready to make love with you? Well, I’m ready.”

Her heart skipped a beat. Warmth crept up her neck. “Oh, my, Romeo.” She tipped her sunglasses down to better look at him. “You want to turn back?”

“Nope.” Sky pointed his paddle at the scrub-covered island where Daisy had kissed him, until they’d been interrupted by that family. “That’s our island. No bedroom ghosts there.”

“You want to make love
out here
? What if somebody comes along like last time?”

He shrugged his shoulders before grinning
broadly and leaning into his paddling. “Simple. I’ll kill ’em.”

Chapter 20

“Kill ’em? Even if they’re American military? Have you gone
loco
?” Antonio Gonzalez ran his fingers through his thick black hair, trying to calm his nerves. His heart rate doubled at the idea of shooting at the
yanquis.
He was only a poor mule in the cocaine industry—albeit a smart, and so far lucky, mule. “No smugglers have ever shot at the Americans in this region. And if we shoot at them, won’t they come after us? Like a bee after you try to swat it?”

“Antonio, you must believe you are smarter and faster than the entire swarm,” said José Rodrigues, flotilla
El Gerente
for Gutiérrez Export Enterprises. He smiled at his own humor.

“I consider myself to be a smart man, José, but not faster than the U.S. Navy or Coast Guard patrol planes and their armed helicopters or their machine guns.”

A knowing smile broke out on Rodrigues’ pockmarked face. He hooked his thumbs into the waistband of his khaki pants and took a deep breath before continuing. He wore the uniform of a manager, khaki pants and shirt with the Gutiérrez Export logo on the pocket. “First of all there’s an American holiday toward the end of the month so there will be fewer patrols in the skies for a couple of days.
You’ll take the Pearl then.
And with each of your boats outfitted with
three
motors you should have no trouble getting the cargo through, even if the
yanquis
should be in the area. If anyone stumbles onto you, you know the drill. I am confident you can outwit them. That is why I have selected you for this precious shipment.”

Antonio opened the fridge, extracted two water bottles, and handed one to his boss. The window air conditioning unit in the trailer worked overtime, as did the ceiling fan, but it was still too damn hot. He rubbed the bottle across his forehead before opening it. “I am flattered,
El Gerente,
but I am not certain that I am that smart. So far, on all my drug runs, I believe I have been lucky. And I’ve never been asked to shoot at them before. That could be certain death for all the mules on my boat. Why the change in procedure?”

“New faces at the top. The Don’s son-in-law is now his right hand man.
Señor
Sanchez has been promoted because the boss’s son refuses to have anything to do with his father’s business.”

Antonio slugged down more water, emptying the bottle. “Didn’t he attend university in the U.S.?”
El Gerente
nodded. “What an ungrateful asshole. Talk about disrespect. Why, if that was my father I’d be honored to carry on his legacy.”

Rodrigues glanced around, then lowered his voice to Antonio. “Rumor has it the son is joining the priesthood.”

Antonio was stunned. “No way.
Imagine being raised in a life of luxury, then throwing it all away to take on a life of poverty. He’s crazy, man.”

“All I know is,
Señor
Sanchez is now being groomed to take over. He married the eldest daughter and he’s been waiting for a chance to throw his weight around for years.” Rodrigues leaned in conspiratorially again. “Mark my words. There will be more violence. That man is one mean son of a bitch. He is the one who authorized—no,
ordered
—you to fire on any
yanqui
bastards who get in your way. I advise you to do everything you can to avoid shooting at them. But if you have to fire, shoot to kill. You will only get one chance against an American helicopter. If you miss, they will return fire and your whole crew will be dead men.”

Antonio shivered, despite the heat in the trailer.

“However, since the American helicopters have never been fired on down here, they will come in close and give you the perfect shot. Make sure the helicopter splashes and there are no survivors. Leave no traces linking the shoot down back to us. You are smart, Antonio. Which is why you have been given this opportunity to be the boat master for this flotilla.
You have proven yourself time and time again and should have no problem getting the three boats to Mexico. And remember, if you are successful, perhaps more boats the next time.” José smiled at him,
then turned serious. “If you don’t think you have the
cojones
for this run then tell me now so I can choose someone else to lead.”

“It’s okay,
El Gerente.
I can handle it.” But his heart was not following what his mouth was promising. He sucked in several shallow breaths trying to counter his rising anxiety at the thought of firing on the U.S. military.

The Don, Gio Gutiérrez, used all means of transportation for his illegal product: Planes, ships, and small boats, nicknamed go-fasts, because they
went fast.
He could haul close to five tons of processed cocaine in a drug flotilla, a group of three to five small speedboats that could split up and reconvene if necessary. They were often less conspicuous than the hidden compartments on his container ships, or banana boats. And if necessary, they could outrun anything their enemies put on the water—except the .50-caliber recoilless sniper rifles the American helicopter crews used to take out the engines of the go-fasts.

Fortunately for the Don, too much diplomatic red tape existed to allow American military action within his country’s borders, although the U.S. government’s Drug Enforcement Agency frequently found its way in to assist in the spraying of the precious coca crops. But once his boats or planes hit international waters or airspace, they were fair game and susceptible to interdiction by the U.S. Navy or Coast Guard or one of the U.S. allies.

Rodrigues took a sip of water and set his bottle down on the desk. “We cannot risk losing the maiden cargo of Pearl you will carry. I have been heavily promoting our new product to our friends in Mexico and it will be your responsibility to ensure all of it arrives on time. Once you are beyond our borders, that is when it may become necessary to fire on the
yanqui
bastards. You have my permission to kill any sons of bitches that stand between our profits and us. Besides, what is the worst thing that could happen if you succeed in shooting down an American helicopter?”

Without hesitation, Antonio practically shouted, “Firing on the Americans would be a game changer. They and their allies, including all the countries we pass by on the way to Mexico, would treat every suspect smuggler as a potential hostile combatant. We would either be forced to arm ourselves, losing precious cargo space to haul guns and ammunition, or we would be forced to use another method of transport altogether. All future shipments would incur greater risk and getting people to do it would become much more difficult.”

“
Sí, sí, sí,
Antonio.” José beamed with excitement. “You are a fast learner. Suppose the Don was one of a small handful of smugglers that had access to a new method of transport which forced everyone else to accept the enormous risk or pay him to ship their product?”

“He would become a very, very, very rich man, José. What is this new method of transport you are talking about?”

Rodrigues lowered his voice. “Submarines are the wave of the future, Antonio. The Don has crews building them in the jungle as we speak. But you need to focus on this trip and only this trip for now, assuming you still want to lead this expedition.”

Antonio had heard rumors about the submarines, and his pulse quickened at the thought of someday working on them. But first he had to survive this run. “I will carry the Pearl. But how am I supposed to shoot down a helicopter with an AK-47? Surely you don’t expect us to mount larger machine guns on the speed boats.”

“RPG.”

“
What
?”