Operation Dolphin Spirit

by Kimberli A. Bindschatel

  “I’m sorry,” I said. “I’m sorry all that happened to you.”

  He shrugged it off. “It’s the risk you take when you love someone. You give that person the power to hurt you. Being in love means being vulnerable. The two go hand in hand.”

  He was staring at me now, with those eyes. I felt like a butterfly, pinned to the wall. Was he telling me about loving him? That I needed to let go, be vulnerable? But that’s what always got me in trouble.

  “That’s all in the past.” He rose from the bed, took my hand and pulled me to my feet. “I’m not afraid to love again. And I’m not afraid to say it. I love you, Poppy McVie.”

  You…what? My mouth hung open. That came right out of left field.

  His eyes held mine. “I love the way your cheeks are all pink and rosy when you wake up in the morning. I love how you plunge into a mission with heart and soul, no matter the cost. Though that also drives me crazy. I love your sass. I love that you can’t stand the rules.” He reached up and stroked my cheek, then pushed a curl behind my ear. “You know what I love most? Your idealism. I love how you see the world with an unwavering optimism.” He kissed me, ever-so-softly. My breath caught. “And if you don’t want to acknowledge our relationship during an op, I’m fine with that. I can wait. Whatever you need. All I ask is that you be honest with me, and with yourself. Tell me you love me, too.”

  My heart thrummed in my chest. “Well, I—I mean, it’s not that—of course I—” Love? What was he saying? Love, as in, let’s run off into the sunset? Drive away with cans tied to our bumper? Little house in the country with… little ones? With diapers and dirty faces? No. No. That’s not me. I— “Aren’t you worried—I mean, don’t you—are you sure?”

  His eyes softened with amusement. “I’ve never been more sure. I love you. I know you love me. Nothing else matters. If it becomes a problem with our jobs, we’ll work it out.”

  “Yeah, but—” I slouched onto the edge of the bed. This was happening too fast. It was supposed to be just fun. Sex. Blowing off steam. That’s it. Now he was throwing around the L-word. My hands started to shake. That would be, like, forever. Tied. Tethered. Like errant children.

  “That’s it.” I shot to my feet. “The dolphins. They’re tethered, by their trackers. They can never escape.”

  Dalton stepped back. His usual stalwart demeanor dissolved before my eyes. His eyes turned sad, and he had an expression I’ve never seen before. Grief? Disappointment?

  “I just…”

  He cocked his head to the side. “That’s what comes to your mind when I tell you I love you?”

  “No. Yes. I mean, I’m sorry. It’s just…if we get the trackers off of them, they can truly escape.”

  “Right.” He shoved his hands into his front jeans pockets and took another step back from me.

  I stepped toward him. “It just popped into my head right then. That’s all. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean…it’s just my brain. The way my brain works.”

  “Uh-huh.” He stared at me for a long moment, his brow furrowed, then turned and walked out the door into the storm.

  Chapter Fifteen

  I grabbed my raincoat from the bathroom and ran out the door after him, but he was gone.

  Dammit! Why’d I say that?

  Droppin’ Skirts was in the marina today because of the storm. Would he go there? Or find Deuce and the guys, his old friends. He’d probably head somewhere where he could be alone. Maybe I should leave him to do that but I had to explain, make him understand.

  Wind whipped my hair into my face as I ran down the street, dodging puddles, and then out onto the slippery docks. I’d check with the guys first, just in case. I had to find him. I couldn’t let him think I didn’t…love him. He’d gone and sprung it on me. That was all. How was that fair? Right out of the blue. I love you, Poppy McVie. What was I supposed to say? I mean, yeah, but, I don’t know. It’s not a word to just throw around.

  Gaspar’s Revenge was nowhere on the docks. I found Droppin’ Skirts at the end of the dock. I hopped over the gunwale and pushed through the door to the salon. Dalton was aboard, sitting in the corner of the dinette with his feet up, a cup of coffee in his hand. He wouldn’t look at me.

  Tom eased next to me. “Coffee?”

  “What?” I turned to him and suddenly realized I needed to get my head on straight. “Yeah, sure.” I gestured toward Dalton with my thumb. “Did he fill you in?”

  “Not yet,” he said, concern in his eyes. “He just got here.” He looked from me to Dalton, then back to me. “You alright?”

  “Yeah, yeah,” I said. “Just…frustrated. We’ve only got a couple days to figure this out. And with the storm…”

  A gust blew through the marina and the boat rocked in the slip. I took a seat.

  “The National Weather Service is calling this the worst non-tropical storm in the Atlantic in fifty years,” Mike said, pouring a cup of coffee. He handed it to me. “It doesn’t have a name though.” He paused. “I’ve never understood how that naming-thing works.”

  “We need to check in with Hyland,” I said, then held the cup to my nose and breathed in the calming aroma of roasted Colombian beans before I took a sip.

  Tom shook his head. “Phones are down. Internet. Half the island doesn’t have power.”

  “Could be for days,” Mike added.

  “Well, we can’t wait,” I said, setting my cup down.

  “Why? What’s going on?”

  I told them everything we knew without mentioning the SEAL team incursion. I implied Dalton went alone.

  “Impressive,” Tom said to Dalton.

  Dalton shrugged it off.

  Tom sighed. “So, what are you two thinking? What next?”

  Dalton said, “This was a seek-and-learn mission. We have no other directive.”

  He sounded like a broken record. I swung around to face him. “But we can’t just stand by and do nothing. Those dolphins are—”

  “We’re not going to sit on our hands and do nothing.” He still wouldn’t look at me. “The Navy is going to want to know exactly what the Russians have been training these dolphins to do.”

  “But you heard Kerrie. We have no way of knowing those things by observing the dolphins. We’d have to—”

  “Capture the Russians and interrogate them.” His voice was monotone.

  “You’re not suggesting we do that?” Tom asked, incredulous.

  Dalton shook his head. “Not without an explicit directive.”

  “Do you think that’s what we’ll get?” Mike said. “When we call it in?”

  “No,” Dalton said, disappointment in his voice. “That would be too heavy-handed.”

  “What then?” Tom asked.

  Dalton stared at his coffee cup, spun it side to side by the handle. “I think Hyland will want to capture the dolphins.”

  Mike was nodding. “Makes sense. They’ve already escaped. It would be believable that they slipped away. Russians might not suspect U.S. involvement at all.”

  Tom added, “Then Navy trainers could evaluate the dolphins, see what they can figure out.”

  Dalton nodded. “Shouldn’t be too difficult. I’m sure we can hack the satellite transmissions to find the dolphins ourselves. We can use the acoustical equipment to listen in on their whistle calls before then.”

  “Wait.” I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. “Are you saying that you think the plan, all along, was for us to get confirmation, so the U.S. could kidnap the Russian dolphins, and take them to another captive facility to interrogate them? The dolphins?”

  “Most likely,” Dalton said, still not making eye contact.

  “Well, that’s not—” I shook my head. “No. These dolphins already escaped once. No way. Besides, you’re making a lot of assumptions there. Kidnapping the dolphins? Without the Russians knowing? If JP and Skylar were correct, it would take a long time to train them to haul out on floating mats so they could be transported, not to mention what it would ta
ke to transport them. How could that happen with the Russians right here?”

  There was an awkward silence. Then it hit me. Of course it wouldn’t happen that way. The Navy handlers wouldn’t bother with the training. They’d dart them, drag them aboard in nets, then hope they could resuscitate them later.

  I frowned, frustrated. “Well, like I said, there’s a lot of assumptions there. Maybe Hyland wants us to expose them to the Bahamians. Maybe we’re supposed to put a wrench in the program, set them back, help the dolphins along in getting away. ”

  “And leave all that intel on the table?” Dalton shook his head. “No. This is a matter of national security. The information we get from these dolphins could save the lives of many SEALs.” He finally looked me in the eye. “My brothers.”

  “Possibly. But it’s a long shot. More likely they’ll all die in transport and even if they don’t, it’s highly unlikely that we’d learn anything from them. Kerrie said—”

  “I don’t care what some civilian scientist thinks. This is way bigger than that.”

  My head was spinning. This couldn’t be. We were an elite unit. Brought together to fight for animals. For animals. Not this. “It’s too big of a risk for the dolphins.”

  “I’ll take that risk,” Dalton said with a fierce edge. “The lives of five dolphins over the young men and women who dedicate their lives to fight and die for this country. Hell yes.”

  “But we don’t even know—”

  “We know enough,” he snapped. “That’s your problem, Poppy. You can’t see the big picture.”

  “Oh-kay,” Tom said, his hands up in the air. “Let’s all take a deep breath.”

  Dalton looked at Tom, let out his breath.

  “Yeah,” said Mike with a side glance at Tom. “We need to figure out how to get a call to Hyland.”

  Tom leaned back on the counter. “Except we’re on a remote island in the middle of the Atlantic in a tropical storm.”

  “We should’ve brought a satellite phone,” Mike said.

  “We can work on getting all the information compiled to report,” Dalton said. “And a plan as to how we can assist. We’ll need to distract the Russians somehow. We have to…”

  I didn’t hear any more. Dalton was making a plan to help capture the dolphins. I couldn’t listen.

  “Poppy, didn’t you say this happened in Gulfport?” Tom asked.

  “Yeah,” I managed.

  “We’ll need any info you’ve got on how they recaptured those dolphins.”

  “Right,” I said.

  Dalton kept talking, planning. I couldn’t believe what I was hearing.

  I got up. “I need to check on something,” I said and was out the door.

  Three strides down the dock and Dalton was right behind me, his hand on my arm. “Hey.”

  I came to a halt, but didn’t turn. The wind whipped at my back.

  “Hey.” He came around in front of me, stared into my eyes. Rain blew into his face. He didn’t flinch.

  I crossed my arms. “What?”

  “I know it’s not want you wanted to happen, but we’re talking about wartime intel here.”

  “You’re making a lot of assumptions about what Hyland would want.”

  “So are you. But I have more experience with—”

  “Oh, you’re not going to pull out that one.”

  His expression didn’t change. “With military issues, is what I was going to say.”

  “We don’t work for the military.”

  “We work for the President, Poppy. What do you think that means?”

  I stared at him. Thinking. Finally I said, “I work on an elite task force, formed to investigate animal issues. It seems to me that maybe you’re the one who’s lost sight of that.”

  He drew in a breath to respond, but I cut him off. “We could call Hyland. With all that equipment on board Gaspar’s Revenge, there’s no doubt Jesse has a satellite phone. But you’re determined to do this. You want a full plan to present to her.”

  He stared at me. I was right. “What if I have a different plan?”

  He crossed his arms. “I guess we’ll have to agree to disagree.”

  “I guess so. You gotta do what you gotta do. And so do I.”

  I pushed past him.

  I leaned into the wind, holding the hood of my raincoat over my head and made for the road where I flagged down a car and asked for a ride to the Hilton.

  I found Chris, sitting in the lounge, drinking a Cosmo, clicking away at his knitting.

  “I’ve been trying to call you,” he said, dropping the ball of yarn on the couch next to him as he got up. “But the phones are down.”

  “Power’s out, too,” I said. “The whole island. Except this building, of course.” It was lit up like the Vegas strip.

  “Sit down, sit down,” he said, ushering me toward the neon green couch.

  I plopped down and exhaustion came over me.

  “Girl, you look like shit.”

  “Well, at least that’s consistent with how I feel.”

  “What’s happened? You and Dalton still doing your—”

  I held up my hand. I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t talk about it.

  “That bad, huh?” He spun around and raised his hand, waving for a server. “My friend needs a drink. Asap.”

  A young lady in a pressed uniform arrived, smiling. “What can I get you?”

  I stared. I had no idea.

  “A Bahama Mama,” Chris said.

  I frowned.

  “Make it a double.”

  She nodded and retreated.

  “Tell me what’s happened,” Chris said, sitting down next to me.

  “Do I have to?”

  “No. But I know you. You’ll feel better.”

  I laid my head back, stared up at the ceiling. “I know you really want Dalton to be the one. But he’s not. He’s just not the one.”

  Chris sat back. “Okay, what’s happened?”

  “Nothing. He’s just—he’s not the guy I thought he was.”

  “Hogwash,” Chris said. “Tell me what’s happened.”

  I rolled my head to the side, then leaned forward, whispered, “He wants to capture the dolphins. Not save them.”

  “Okay,” Chris said. “There’s no doubt in my mind that there is more to that story. Which I’m sure I’ll learn at some point. But something else has happened. Obviously. Tell me what.”

  I huffed. “So, you’re a psychologist now, that it? I knew you were thinking about a new career.”

  “Does it have anything to do with this ex-wife?”

  “What? No.”

  “Not even a little?”

  “I talked to her. And…”

  “And?”

  “And I like her. She’s sweet. I mean, I wanted to dislike her, you know. But I can’t. She’s kind and all that, even though…”

  Chris’s eyebrows raised. “Even though…?”

  “Even though she cheated on him.”

  Chris sat back. “Shut up.”

  “Told me herself.”

  “Oh, that man…”

  “If she hadn’t, they’d be living in Montana right now, in a cute little house with a couple of kids and…”

  Chris gave me a strange look. “You say that like it’s a death sentence.”

  “Yeah, well…” My drink arrived. I sucked down half of it.

  Chris took it from my hand, set it on the table in front of me. “Yep, this has gotten out of hand.”

  “Out of hand is right. He said he loved me. Ha! Lovvvvvve. Can you believe that?”

  “Love!” Chris sat back, shook his head. “I knew it had to be something serious. Yes, this is definitely a problem.”

  “Don’t make fun of me.”

  “Okay, back up the truck. Start at the beginning.”

  I reached for my drink, downed the rest of the glass.

  “Hurry up and talk before that rum gets to your head.”

  “We were talking about love
. Actually, we were talking about his ex wife. You know, how she cheated on him. And he said you have to let go, be vulnerable, something like that.” I leaned in again. “The next thing I know, he’s listing all these things about me, my pink cheeks, my sassy personality, then bam, right out of left field, he says he loves me.”

  Chris stared at me, waiting. “And?”

  “And I…I stuttered a lot. I started picturing the little house, the kids, dirty diapers. I swear, I was hyperventilating.”

  “No doubt.”

  “I mean, Chris. Can you see me in an apron?”

  “No dear, you don’t have a domestic bone in your body, but—”

  “I saw this white picket fence, and it was closing in on me, like in the movies, you know, those horror films, where you’re paralyzed and stuff gets all out of shape.”

  “Okay, so the rum is kicking in.”

  “I mean, you gotta be a grown up yourself, you know.”

  “Yeah?”

  “You should’ve seen him, with those eyes. And that chest. I mean, you know Dalton. God, he’s so…”

  “Um, yeah.”

  “And I’m standing there like a dope, stuttering away. And he’s going on about how everything will work out, we can conquer anything.” My head felt a little dizzy. “He said he knows I love him too, to just say it. And then I realized what we need to do to save the dolphins.”

  “Wait? What? So you didn’t respond? You didn’t say you loved him back?”

  “I said…I mean, it all happened so fast. The dolphins popped into my mind, how they’re tethered, you know, tied down, and I said, hey, we can help them escape and—”

  “So, you changed the subject?”

  “Well, no, I mean, yes. I guess.” I clamped my hands into fists. “You know how my brain works.”

  He had that deadpan look. “Yeah, like a jigsaw puzzle in a blender.”

  “I know, right?”

  “What the hell is wrong with you?”

  I sighed. “I know.”

  “So, then what happened?”

  “He left.”

  “Oh, man.” He thought for a bit. “Okay. This is Dalton. He’s not going to go all nut job on us. He knows you’re a…you’re you.”