Authors: Sharon Calvin
His fist closed over the light along with her hand and held tight. Distrust appeared to fight with his inescapable need to depend on an enemy.
“I’ll come back. I promise.”
He closed his eyes and released her. She switched his light on for him and took a deep breath before sinking into the water once again.
The bomb had slid against the jump seats blocking Atwah’s access to the webbing that snared his foot. Near as she could tell, he’d caught his boot on the seat when he’d tried to climb out. Instead of calmly pulling his foot back out, he’d kicked the shit out of the aluminum tubing. And gotten himself really, and truly stuck.
She played her light over the interior looking for materials she needed. Rope and a raft would suffice for now. Orienting herself to the listing interior, she found both items. She secured a clove hitch knot in seconds. Good, because her lungs burned for air again.
A flash of light outside the helo sent a welcome spurt of excitement through Caitlyn. A rescue team. She swung her light back and forth, up and down and received an answering motion. They intercepted each other on her way out.
A navy diver gestured toward the downed Jayhawk and she nodded and held up a finger indicating one survivor below and that he was okay with circled thumb and index finger. She pumped her thumb toward the surface and he followed.
She gulped much-needed air while the navy ensign introduced himself over the roar and pelting water kicked up by a hovering helo. “I’m here to secure the bomb and terrorist. That Coast Guard helo will take care of you, lieutenant,” he explained with a head jerk to the hovering Jayhawk above and to the left of the Navy Seahawk.
“The terrorist is caught but there’s an air bubble keeping him alive. I’ll probably need help moving the bomb out of the way.” As she talked she popped the inflator on the raft and tied the nylon rope to it. The orange raft with its reflective strips would mark the downed helo and keep the end of the rope on the surface. “The line’s tied off to the interior so we can use it to pull ourselves down.
“You’ll need a basket deployed. He’s been wounded,” she shouted.
“There you all are!” a woman’s voice chirped out of the black night above her.
Caitlyn whirled around and sucked in equal parts water and air and began coughing. Then her brain kicked in. It was a very
familiar
woman’s voice.
“Kelly? Oh my God, it is you!” Caitlyn threw herself at her best friend, by then in the water and unhooked from her cable. They both went under.
They surfaced, laughing and spitting salt water. “What are you doing—oh, never mind, that can wait. We’ve got a man stuck below.” She took another breath and jackknifed under. This time she was grinning as she hauled herself down the rope hand over hand and scissor-kicked her legs. Navy-Boy could claim the bomb immediately, if not sooner. Atwah was still her responsibility until she handed him off.
Caitlyn patted Atwah’s leg twice to let him know she’d returned then went to work slicing through the nylon strips holding his boot hostage while Navy-Boy went to work muscling the wooden crate out of their way. They had to surface once more before completely freeing Atwah. The navy gunship had lowered a rescue basket floating on the surface under Kelly’s command.
She gave her friend a quick wave then went under for what she hoped was her last trip. As she kicked toward the glowing lantern she thought of one more prayer she needed answered for her world to be complete. Dr. Perfect and his little sidekick damn well better have survived their stint on that container ship, or she’d, hell, she didn’t know what she’d do without him.
* * *
Kelly’s announcement of Caitlyn’s survival filled the Jayhawk with a riot of noise. Whistles and a flurry of high-fives slowed Stillman’s escape from his harness. He joined Joe at the open doorway. “Let me see.” He held his hand out for the NVGs. Until he saw her with his own eyes, her safety would only be an illusion.
Joe slapped the binoculars into Stillman’s palm, then grabbed a fistful of his flight suit. “I don’t want Kelly fishing you out too.”
Stillman refocused the specially equipped binoculars and the scene below burst to life in grainy green and black. Joe tapped his arm and repositioned him so he was lined up with—Kelly popped into view along with a raft and rescue basket hanging out of the navy’s helo. Kelly was treading water, her face mask lit by the glow of chemical sticks. But she was alone.
“Where the hell is Caitlyn?” He spit out the words like they were poison.
“Underwater,” Kelly’s tinny voice came back, transmitted from her waterproof radio.
Blood roaring through his veins almost drowned out her explanation.
“...saving Atwah’s life.”
What?
Stillman swayed as the helo shifted in its hover and Joe’s hold tightened.
“Don’t you dare fall out. You’ll never hear the end of it if you do,” Joe barked at him.
Stillman looked over his shoulder at the hoist operator. “She’s risking her life for that bastard?”
Joe nodded with a grim look on his face. “Of course, she’s not about to let him off the hook.”
“Navy’s taking the survivor,” Kelly’s voice broke over Joe’s.
Stillman swept the water’s surface with the NVGs and saw Caitlyn surface. Hair slicked back, a grin lighting up her face like a spotlight. She’d never looked more beautiful.
Guts, looks and an effing brain—hell, he sure knew how to pick ‘em. The drowning sensation grew. Now he understood why Caitlyn never wanted to date military men. He moved away from the doorway as Joe prepared the cable for Kelly. How the hell did he get the “normal” life he craved with a woman like Caitlyn?
Chapter Sixteen
Jacksonville,
FL,
Sunday, 25 September, 0023 hours
Valerie eyed her companions around the conference table. Munson looked grim, but somehow hopeful, his junior agent-in-training was half-asleep, his head nodding precariously on his shoulders. A female agent sat talking with head close to her partner, a black man with a ready smile. A newly arrived officer from the Coast Guard sat opposite Munson, talking quietly on his cell phone.
Until Munson forced her to eat dinner, Valerie had been staying in the background, sitting near the window. After their late-night meal, he’d steered her to the seat next to his. Except for her short nap by the window, she’d been there ever since.
Who was she to argue with the FBI’s agent in charge?
“Yes, sir, I’ll be sure and pass the news on to the men and women here. Thank you. The same to you.” The Coast Guard officer snapped his phone closed and looked around the conference table.
Collectively, the room leaned forward. The man’s tone, more than actual words, conveyed good news—
Good News,
with capital letters.
Munson’s hand grabbed Val’s and she had to suppress the urge to link her fingers with his. She was just the researcher in this little drama, he the head-honcho guy.
“As you may have surmised by my side of the conversation, I have important information to report.” He grinned, his sun and salt-weathered face forming deep creases. “We have our pilot back—wet, but very much alive. The helicopter, with bomb intact, is being secured. Hasan Al-Adel, the man you know as Ray Atwah, is being transferred to a military helo as we speak, under heavy guard.”
Valerie leaned forward, not sure she understood him correctly. She ignored the squeeze Munson gave her hand. “He survived? Atwah didn’t drown?” Why hadn’t he died like the rat he was? Was there no justice in the world?
The man cleared his throat, the look of relief slipping closer to chagrin. “Our pilot, the one he hijacked, rescued him.”
Shock, like lightning, flashed over Val. Then an unexpected laugh burst out. My God. Perfect justice. She turned to Munson.
His mouth quirked. “What’s so funny?”
His thumb rubbed little circles on her palm and she shivered. And laughed harder. “Jesus, I want to talk to this woman.”
Agent-in-Training shot her a quelling look. “Why? To tell her she’s a fool for saving the likes of him?”
Valerie grinned with the first real joy she’d felt since this whole miserable affair began. “Hell, no. To thank her. And shake her hand. Think how ironic it is. The little misogynist that killed his mother, planned on killing his brother, and God knows how many others with his radioactive bomb, is saved by a woman. A woman he would have killed without remorse.”
She pulled her hand from Munson’s and tapped her index finger on the table for emphasis. “She not only saved his sorry ass, something that he’ll hate to no end, but she realized drowning was too easy. I want that little bastard to suffer. For a very, very long time.”
The Gulf southwest of Everglades National Park, FL,
Sunday, 25 September, 0025 hours
Caitlyn shivered as the basket containing Atwah inched upward into the belly of the navy helo. Cold and creeping exhaustion sucked strength from her dwindling supply much as the mosquitoes had dined on her blood earlier that day. She had her arm looped over the raft, needing its support while waiting for Kelly to finish her radio transmission.
What the hell was her very best friend in the whole Coast Guard doing in Florida, on a rescue mission? She’d traded in her fins to take an elite training position at the USCG rescue swimmers’ school in North Carolina. They’d talked just last week, when Kelly’d said she and her husband were planning another child.
Her friend ended the call and motioned for the more familiar Jayhawk to return for a pickup. Oh, goody. Caitlyn would get to ride up in a strop with Kelly’s legs wrapped around her like a little monkey. Caitlyn preferred the pilot’s seat to dangling on the end of a thin steel cable. Not that she’d ever let a crew member know she was afraid of heights.
She eyed Kelly’s face lit by the eerie glow of the chemical light sticks. “What are you doing here?”
“Such gratitude. Did I forget to pay my BITCH club dues?”
Caitlyn smacked the water, sending a small wave over her friend. “You know what I mean. Based on our last conversation, you should be in bed working on that next baby.” The words brought a sharp stab of jealousy. Then longing, followed by howling panic.
“Did you hear anything about the men I left on the container ship? There was a doctor and an undercover agent. They—”
“They were both picked up. One of them was shot—”
Caitlyn launched herself at Kelly and they both went down for the second time that night.
Kelly shoved Caitlyn away as they surfaced. “Are you trying to drown me?”
“Which one was shot? Not the doctor. The tall, handsome one?” God, Caitlyn knew something had happened. Why else would she have been feeling such dread since he told her he loved her?
And why the hell hadn’t she confessed she loved him when she had the chance? Hadn’t she learned anything from her dance with death?
“Get a grip. I thought Ryan said you’d sworn off doctors.” Kelly cocked her head to one side and hummed. “He’s fine by the way. Actually, he seemed better than fine. You, on the other hand, look like shit. Should I have Joe send the basket down? You can ride up by—”
“Joe? Joe’s here?” She craned her neck back and waved up at the dark figure backlit in the doorway of the hovering helo. The blob waved back and her heart leaped. Joe was really safe. And here. Could she talk them into taking her to Stillman? Oh God, his
gift.
“Kel, I forgot something on
Fly Baby
. I’ll be right back.” She quickly dove toward the helo before Kelly could try to stop her.
Atwah’s wild shots might have destroyed it. Or when the windshield blew apart and the wind came whipping in, the clip could have torn loose. The water surely destroyed the musical mechanism, but none of that mattered. She wanted that little black and red plane because it meant more to her than a hundred platinum and diamond baubles.
* * *
Stillman stepped back from the doorway, where Joe winched Caitlyn and Kelly up on the cable. It was over. He rubbed his palms on his flight suit. She’d be safe and within reach in seconds. And he had to keep his hands off of her.
Retreating to his jump seat, he watched the Coasties efficiently ready the ship for their last arrival. Caitlyn deserved to be treated with respect—especially in front of the people she worked with. Damned if he’d be part of any rumor that could bite her career in the butt.
Kelly, then Caitlyn eased into view of the open doorway, both laughing like a couple of loons. And he fell in love all over again.
“Stand back, boys, two charter members of my exclusive all-girls-no-boys-allowed BITCH club have arrived!” Caitlyn sang out as Joe hauled her and Kelly into the helo. They fell onto the floor of the helicopter, giggling and snorting under the influence of one hundred-proof adrenaline.
Stillman settled his ass on the web jump seat to watch. Caitlyn needed to see her crew first. She needed to verify for herself she hadn’t killed them, as she’d feared. He’d waited all his life for her; a few more minutes wouldn’t matter.
Joe helped unhook the two women, but before he could pull the nylon strap from around Caitlyn’s torso she threw her arms around him. Then slugged his shoulder with a fist.
“Dammit, you took ten years off my life dying in front of me like that.” She pushed him away so she could run her gaze, then her hands, over him, as if still unable to believe he was really unhurt. “There was all that blood...” She patted his chest twice then swiped shaking fingers across her eyes. “You’re going to ruin my makeup.”
Joe burst out laughing and hauled her up in a bear hug, her feet dangling. “Queen B, you’re beautiful with or without makeup.”
Stillman agreed, but the sight of Caitlyn in another man’s arms squeezed his heart with a surge of jealousy. “Kissing cousin” his ass.
As Joe set her down, her gaze met his.
He didn’t make any attempt to move, and her eyes clouded with emotion he could only hope was meant for him alone. A crooked smile lifted the corner of his mouth and he saluted her. “Lieutenant.”
“Hey, what about me?” Clay said from beside Stillman. Caitlyn shrieked, “Clay!” and launched herself at her young swimmer.
The vise on Stillman’s heart tightened. But that was okay. At forty-two, he’d finally found his way home. And suddenly normal seemed way overrated. All he really needed was Caitlyn in his life.
Clearwater, FL,
Sunday, 25 September, 0418 hours
Caitlyn stifled another yawn. How many times could she repeat the same answers to the same questions asked by interchangeable federal dweebs? Hungry, tired to the point of stupid, and desperate to wash off the dried salt water, she sat with eyes more closed than open. She fingered the tiny airplane she’d salvaged from
Fly Baby
and sighed. One of Stillman’s special massages would be—
“That’s enough. The lieutenant needs sleep,” the flight ops officer said with a voice that brooked no argument. He looked at Caitlyn. “I don’t expect to see you until oh-nine-hundred Monday morning. I’d give you more time, but I know these guys will think of more ways to cover the same material at least another dozen times or so. Get some sleep. See your family. Forget about this mess.”
“Yes, sir.” She stood on shaky legs. A surplus of caffeine and a decided lack of real food had depleted her energy. More than sleep, a meal, or even family, she wanted Stillman. She wanted to know why he’d given her such a cool reception on the rescue helo. Had he regretted his stress-induced confession of love? Was he in full retreat now that the danger was over?
“Lieutenant. You did a good job out there.” The officer saluted her then turned to dispatch the grumbling federal agents.
“Thank you, sir.” Caitlyn didn’t have the strength to enjoy what amounted to high praise from the taciturn leader. Her boots echoed in the deserted hallway as she made her way to the parking lot, each footfall heavier than the last. She felt disconnected. The world had continued on, unchanged by the events that had irrevocably altered her.
Her angry response to fear called into question her ability to lead. In the heat of the moment, with her crew in danger, cool logic had abandoned ship and she’d gone on the offensive. Without a weapon, or any kind of plan, she’d launched herself at Yasin, believing he’d murdered Joe. Then, when Atwah said Stillman had been shot, she’d flown over the ship’s deck in a maneuver that could have killed her, as well as her crew. A painful sigh escaped through parted lips. And if she hadn’t slapped his gun away,
Fly Baby
wouldn’t be sitting on the ocean floor.
Maybe she really didn’t have what it took to be a commander. Maybe she’d been fooling everyone with her ballsy attitude and—
“Caity-did!”
The booming sound of her father’s voice overrode her mother’s softer cry and Caitlyn’s fragile reality shifted again. Her eyes burned and her throat filled when her parents materialized from the dimly lit lobby, enveloping her in tandem hugs.
“God, baby, are you really all right? Oh, look at your beautiful face,” her mother wailed, fingers fluttering over Caitlyn’s cheeks, forehead and chin.
“Mama, Daddy, what are you doing here?” Numbness spread from the center of her brain as she tried to look over her parents’ shoulders. “Where are the kids?” It was late. Or maybe it was way too early? Apparently she’d lost track of time as well as her mind.
“At home. With Sue Ellen. Come on, you need a goodly dose of mothering.”
Caitlyn’s confused protests didn’t slow her parents’ march out the door and into the parking lot. She blinked at the cool mist that hung in golden shrouds around the sodium lights. The children were never left at home without one of them riding herd. Despite being twenty-two and having spent ten years as a member of the Stone household, forcing her parents to leave Sue Ellen in charge was tantamount to abandonment. “I don’t understand. How’d you get here so fast?”
Her mother slipped an arm around Caitlyn’s waist, another surprise. “We came down as soon as they told us you’d been h-hijacked. Daddy and I’ve been staying in your apartment. W-waiting.”
Caitlyn stopped in the middle of the parking lot, her mother’s shaky voice echoing in her head. “What? You’ve been here? In Florida since...” Her brain fumbled for the number of days, time having lost any semblance of regularity. “Three, no four days?”
Her mother’s arm tightened. “Your father and I drove down the night we were told what happened. I wanted to make sure I’d be here when you came back. To see you as soon as they’d let me. And know you were really all right.” Once again her mother’s fingers fluttered over Caitlyn’s face. “The doctor assured us you were. Just a few scrapes and bruises, he said.”
Doctor? A frown dragged Caitlyn’s mouth down while her pulse accelerated. “S-Stillman? Dr. Gray?” She closed her hand over the little plane in her pocket while her mind refused to process her mother’s words.
The shiver turned into a deep ache. She needed to see him. To touch him and make sure he really was unhurt, much as she had with Joe and Clay. Except it was different with Stillman. He’d laid claim to a previously unoccupied and highly vulnerable spot in her heart.
Movement caught her attention. A familiar figure sauntered out the door Caitlyn and her family had just walked through. Stillman had been in the same building she’d been in? And hadn’t tried to find her? He stopped abruptly and despite the dark shadows, she knew he was looking at her. Heat flashed over her like a turbine blast and her mouth dried. Why did she feel so awkward around him? So unsure of herself?
He came to attention and sharply saluted her. Training took over and Caitlyn followed suit. “Colonel.”
“Lieutenant.”
She was halfway to him when blue-white headlights flickered over her like a strobe. The sound of an engine accelerating penetrated, and Caitlyn’s father appeared in front of her in a protective move that would have irritated her a week ago. The fact she cringed scared her as much as the instant comfort his maneuver engendered.