The Siren, the General's Daughter Book One (18 page)

“Should we call your father?” a tech asked, helping Sam wrap the bandage snugly around his ribs. “Something might be broken.”

“Yeah, my neck if he finds out about this. No. I’ll be ok.”

“I’ll get you some meds, Mike. The corpsman won’t say anything,” another team member offered.

He nodded gratefully. “I gather they all know when this happened to you?” Michael asked, painfully pulling his cammies over his wet swim trunks.

“I wasn’t as bruised up as you are. Besides, they know how to keep secrets. And they wanted to protect my butt from your fury.”

“Literally,” several of the Allegro men said at once. “Speaking of which, are you ok, Sam?”

“Nothing happened. Yet. Ok, this is my plan….” She shared the wager with the team.

Recon walked in during the talk. “Sammi, we heard some rumors about the seal unit. Is it true?”

“What rumors?” she asked.

They relayed the event from that morning. Apparently, several ears were privy to the confrontation and bets were being placed over the entire base. “I wish we could say that the majority is in your favor, but not so. The enlisted are all siding with the Master-Sergeant and it sounds like the officers are betting that your Dad’s gonna get reassigned. I guess he said something a little threatening after you two left.”

“Really? Uncle Scott is usually the one to blow.” Michael commented, seeing his sister nod. One of the men repeated the words said and both Quimby’s nodded.

“Yeah, that sounds like Daddy.”

“Scott would have threatened to shove a pineapple up his ass or something just as delicate. Don’t worry, Dad isn’t going anywhere. We need your help, though. I have a little Recon work for you, but it has to be off the record,” Mike said, rubbing his throbbing arm carefully.

“Oh no, and it begins,” groaned one of the Allegro crewmen as the Recon team nodded eagerly.

Michael nodded with approval as he carefully bent his leg to sit on the desk. “Here’s what I need you to do. Just don’t get caught or we are all busted.” He spelled out his plan and the team snickered joyfully. Michael accepted the Vicodin and glass of water handed to him, wincing as he lifted his bruised right arm. “Remember, we have to make it look real. He doesn’t know about her secrets. You’ll have to watch your timing so the items won’t be missed.”

“Mike, for this to work, he’ll need to be in the water,” his sister said, placing an icepack on his arm.

Michael kissed her cheek. “Thanks, baby. I’m pretty good at reading people. His pride would insist upon it. He’d want the front seat in seeing you fail.”

***

“Um, I think things may have gotten a bit out of hand this morning. I need to apologize,” Dr. Quimby said on the way home. He shamefully admitted to, what he considered, losing his temper

Scott laughed heartily. “You need to stop being so self-controlled. You were not out of line. So how are you planning on winning this wager, my dear?”

“Are you talking to me again?” she asked, still confused.

Both men nodded as Scott turned around in the seat to look at her. “Dad and I agreed that we all over-reacted. We have to accept that what your brother said was right. You are still grounded for a month, though.”

“Um, could I opt for something different?” she glanced at her brother, who smiled warmly.

“No, not this time,” Dr. Quimby said, eyes glued to the road.

“I would like to suggest a compromise,” Michael chirped. “Two weeks restriction and a good, hard paddling. No strap or ruler. I was there, you weren’t. And have restriction start after she wins the wager.”

“I’ll think about it,” Dr. Quimby said. That usually meant ‘yes’, where Scott’s meant ‘no’. Michael looked pleased with himself as he ignored his sister’s glare.

The conversation changed to work. Sam, still annoyed with her brother, innocently asked about how they were going to deal with the Master-Sergeant, especially since he was so insulting to the family. Dr. Quimby commented that there would be no retribution. Scott additionally stated that things would be handled professionally.

“So, I gather that he will get away with everything he said and his chauvinistic attitude? That doesn’t seem right,” she ignored Michael as he kicked her leg. “I mean, he seriously needs an attitude adjustment.”

“You winning this wager will serve its purpose. No pranks!” Dr. Quimby ordered, knowing her quite well.

“Oh, Daddy, I won’t have time for pranks. Mike,” she slapped his bruised right thigh and watched him cringe with pain, “and I have a lot to prepare for. Don’t we, big bro?”

“Yesssss,” he clenched his teeth as she pummeled his right arm. She blinked sweetly. “Are you ok? I didn’t hurt you, did I?”

“Samantha, stop punching your brother. No kicking, either. I swear they act like children sometimes.”

“He’s a big boy,” she slugged him again. “He can take it. I know, Mike, there are flies loose in the car. Isn’t that what you always say when I’m punching you?”

“Will you please stop hitting me? I’m
not
in the mood!”

“Well, since you asked SO nicely. Just one more!” she sniggered, knuckling his thigh again.

“That’s enough, you two. Don’t make me pull over,” Dr. Quimby ordered, casting them a sharp look in the rear view mirror. They arrived at the large house 30 minutes later, pulling into the gate and up through the long driveway.

“Who’s turn to make dinner tonight?” Scott asked, stretching as he exited the car.

“Yours, I believe. Mike? You ok? You’re limping,” Dr. Quimby observed.

“I’m fine, Dad, just pulled a hammy today during a dive. Twisted wrong.”

“Oh, ok, let me know if you need anything. Why don’t the two of you go get changed and we can help Scott with dinner. I know you like his BBQ, but we need more than that,” the man suggested, picking up his paper and opening the front door for his children.

“Daddy? I think it would be fun to take a run before dinner. Don’t you, Mike? It might loosen up that hammy.”

“No,” her father interjected, “he needs to let it rest, and I’m tired. And since when do you like running?”

“I don’t,” the girl shrugged. “I just thought it was a good idea.”

“A good idea would be to take care of your brother right now. Put those hands to work and try to rub out the pull.”

“No, Dad, I don’t—” Michael began.

Sam smacked his bruised arm as she hooked her elbow in his. “Nonsense. Don’t be a big baby. Come upstairs, I’ll rub the ‘ow’ right out, just like I always do.”

“You little bitch,” Michael whispered.

“Payback for the compromise. I could have gotten away without getting spanked!”

“You deserve it, and you know it. OW! Damnit, Samantha, stop hitting me!”

Once upstairs, the girl detoured into her brother’s room with him, taking pity on him as she helped him out of his uniform and into loose sweats. The bruises were intense and had markedly worsened, and he experienced sharp stabbing as he painfully took in a deep breath.

She frowned, gently pressing his side. “Lay down, Mike. Shh,” she said as he grimaced at her touch. She bit her lip. “I think you have a busted rib. It’s moving loosely. Your arm is ok, but your quad is definitely torn a bit. I don’t know how long we can hide this from Daddy.”

“I don’t know what story I can come up with to keep you out of it. Sorry. Yeah, this is bad. Fuck.”

“We should just come clean. I’m already in deep kimchee anyway. I really don’t want to add lying. They don’t have to know I was beat up too. Damn, you really got hurt.

I’m sorry. I didn’t know it was this bad. Let me get you some ice packs.”

“Get Dad too, he needs to check this out. If the quad doesn’t heal properly, it will mess me up.”

“A fractured rib piercing your lung wouldn’t be good either. Alright, be prepared for the shouting.”

Minutes later, Dr. Quimby appeared with his daughter. Mike was leaning on his headboard, holding his ribs and trying to breathe carefully.

“Hmmm, this looks like more than pulling a hamstring, son. Who did you get into a fight with? Did you do this to him?” he asked his daughter as he gently probed the rib cage.

“If it were me, he wouldn’t look so good,” she answered lightly, stroking her brother’s hair.

Michael glanced at her. “Neither would you. Let’s just say it was a large, angry guy who I shouldn’t have crossed paths with.”

“Do you think I would let it go at that? No? The truth, Mike, these look like tooth marks.”

“They are, Daddy, from a sea lion. Before you get upset, let me explain.”

“I’m not upset.
Yet
.”

She carefully explained the dynamics of the herd and entry requirements, adding information that made it sound more like research than risk. She inputted comments regarding the thesis and defending a doctorate, aware that her father was intently studying her face.

“You know that was a giant load of shit, young lady. The truth, I am not going to ask again.”

“Just tell him. You suck at lying anyway,” Michael sighed, feeling more comfortable with his ribs wrapped properly. So she did, waiting for the vein to start popping. There it was.

“I’ll be right back. I want to get a support for this muscle,” her father said, slowly standing and leaving the room.

“Wait for it…” Michael warned, listening carefully. “SCOTT! I’m gonna murder her!”

“And there he goes. The epitome of patience and understanding.” Michael smiled, allowing his sister to massage his hand.

Moments later, Scott arrived. “I only got pieces of the story. What happened exactly?” Again it was explained. Surprisingly, Scott kept his temper intact, shocking his niece and nephew. “So you have access to the herd now?”

“Yes, Sir,” they both answered. He moved aside so Dr. Quimby could stabilize Michael’s thigh.

“And you know for certain you can win the wager?”

“Scott! This is about them getting hurt, not your wager!” Dr. Quimby yelled, gently fixing the dressing.

Scott shrugged. “No pain, no gain. Speaking of which, let’s take care of you, little girl, while dinner is in the oven.”

“No, please Uncle Scott,” she begged, allowing him to take her hand and go into her bedroom.

“Yes, Sir, Uncle Scott,” he corrected, “Joe? Do you want to join us?”

“No, go ahead. I want to have a long talk with my son.”

Michael cringed. His father’s lectures always left him feeling like a little boy again.

***

“You might as well just take them off. You won’t need them where you are heading,” Scott informed his niece as he pointed to her cammie trousers.

“Can’t I just keep my wetsuit on? Please?” she pleaded.

Scott rolled his eyes. “Get into your pajamas. Hurry! You have two minutes.”

Sam rushed into her bathroom and changed quickly into her PJ bottoms and long t- shirt. She returned to find him sitting on her bed with a large ping pong paddle in his hand. She felt her stomach turn flip-flops.

“It’s been a long time since we’ve used this. Poor thing, it must feel so neglected being up on that closet shelf all these years. Do you miss me?” he said to it humorously. “Ah, that’s what you really miss, this little bottom. Come on, kiddo, say hello to your old friend.”

“With friends like that, I don’t need enemies,” the girl answered, slowly approaching him.

Scott laughed, pulling her across his lap and raising her shirt. She hated when he was in such a good mood during times like this. It was never good for her, and always amusing for him.

“But good friends like this will always have your back, my love.”

“My butt, you mean. Will you please stop playing around and just get this over with?”

“My, my, grumpy, aren’t we? Now, let’s see… why are we here today reacquainting you with this lovely little paddle?”

“Because you’re mean and sadistic? OW!”

“Tsk, tsk, that wasn’t very nice. Try again, please.”

It was not the worst paddling she had ever received, but one strong enough to leave a lasting impression, a lot of tears, and enough tenderness to last a day or so. Scott, hand resting on her hot backside, announced that he was not done. Of course, he would never let her escape without feeling the strength of his hand.

The spanks were slow and methodical, very well placed and hard enough to raise a sting. She was, as always with him, not permitted to move or it would all start-over. He proceeded to seriously scold her, expressing his feeling about her recklessness and how it had harmed her brother. He added a few extra hard smacks for her attempt to hide what had happened. His spanking continued as he reinforced that deception was nothing more than a form of lying, and lying was never permitted in their household. Truly contrite, she sobbed freely into the material of his pants, her bottom quivering in pain.

He adjusted her pajamas and sat her on the bed while he retrieved some tissues. Holding her gently, he held the tissue to her nose, ordering her to blow like she was once again four. As always, many loving kisses, followed by gentle rocking, calmed her tears and left her feeling safe in. Sniffing, she finally started to calm down, safe in his strong arms.

“Okay, now that this was done, I want more details about your plan, as well as what your brother is thinking of doing to that asshole,” Scott whispered.

She looked up at him with a teary smile, relieved that he had caught her hints. She instinctively knew she could rely on his support in this matter and would not tolerate anyone insulting her right in front of her family. Since this prank didn’t directly involve the office, she knew Scott wouldn’t snitch to her straight-laced and respectful father who would regard it as borderline disrespect. Pure to his old British roots, the quiet father took work seriously and was very firm with his house rules. His attitude concerning manners and etiquette was unwavering and he expected his children to behave like a lady and a gentleman, regardless of circumstances.

Scott’s more boisterous nature surfaced as Sam quietly whispered their plan. He was pleased. “Oh, that will be sweet. If I was really a jerk, or unconcerned about appearing professional and providing appropriate leadership, I would find a way to film the whole thing.”