Call of Duty [Class of '93 Trilogy Book 3]

by Felicia Forella

  "Wook, Mommy,” he whined.

  Jackson was right, his favorite Blue's Clues tape was nowhere to be found. She specifically remembered putting it away when he watched it before his afternoon nap. She could still hear the whirring sound as the tape rewound and the thunk when the VCR spit it out. Jackson had been waiting impatiently in his bedroom for his hug and kiss while she stowed the tape back in the cabinet. Her mind may have been preoccupied before work that night, but she knew he hadn't taken the stupid thing over to Jan's, since she had copies of his favorites on DVD.

  Where could the dang thing have gone? It's not like it sprouted legs and walked away.

  She knew exactly where the tape had to be. It was with the two other tapes that had vanished into thin air during the past month. She had assumed the first two would turn up once she stopped looking for them, as always seemed to be the case. Instead, another one had taken off after them. It was just bizarre.

  Almost as strange as her missing Barbie doll and the missing figurine. Jan had a reasonable explanation for the absent collectibles. Jan suggested that she'd put them away and taken out new ones, as she did frequently. She enjoyed bringing out “new” stuff to look it. It made her feel like she had new treasures, without the expense. With everything coming to a head with the divorce proceedings, Jan logically assumed she had forgotten about the switch. After all, keeping tabs on one hundred plus collectibles taxed the brain.

  She half-heartedly bought into Jan's idea about her knick-knacks, but that still did not explain away the videos. Jackson watched his favorite tapes ad nauseum so she knew she hadn't put them away. As much as she might like to.

  Artful coaxing convinced Jackson to watch another video, one he only watched once a day instead of as many times as he could get away with. Once assured he was engrossed in the tape, she returned to the kitchen to call the police. As much as she hated to admit it, something mighty strange seemed to be going on. Things just didn't disappear without a trace.

  Once she placed the call, she returned to the sofa to watch Bear's antics with her son. She undoubtedly had plenty of time to spend with him since an unspecified crime with no dangerous overtones wouldn't rank high on a list of priorities. She knew something suspicious was going on in her home and right under her very nose. She trusted the police to make the discovery of who and why even though an unwelcome suspicion was beginning to form.

  The tape ended and she moved to the floor to play Hot Wheels with Jackson. Her car received the royal treatment at the garage and the car wash, her son directing the play as they sat together. He pulled a red Corvette out of his case, her heart skipping a beat when he handed it to her.

  "This is just yike the car that man has, the one who promised to take me for a ride. What's his name again?"

  "Major Monroe.” Marilyn. “But, honey, I'm not sure he'll be able to take you for a ride. He's a very busy man."

  "But, Mommy, he promised!” He stomped his little foot with righteous indignation, his hands fisted on his hips.

  She bit back the laugh welling in her chest as she stared at her son.Luckily, Jackson didn't know yet about men breaking promises. She promised herself that he wouldn't know, either. He was too young to remember the broken promises his father made to both of them. Jackson just assumed his father was on one of his numerous TDY assignments. Brian had been away more than he'd been home ever since Jackson's birth. Since Brian's permanent departure, her father provided the only constant male influence in his young life. And she'd be more than happy to keep the status quo.

  "I know he promised, sweetheart, but things happen. Grown-ups get busy."

  "He promised, Mommy."

  She refused to argue with her son. She would simply reiterate her point when he brought it up again. With her son's stubborn streak, it would most likely happen sooner than later. Gee, I wonder where he got that trait from. Brian had often complained about her mule-like tendencies.

  More than an hour after she called the police, a knock at the door interrupted their play. Two uniformed officers from the North Las Vegas Police Department flashed their badges and introduced themselves. An hour after that, the officers departed, making her feel as if she were losing her sanity. There were no signs of forced entry, no clues, probably no fingerprints. They dusted for prints, took descriptions of the missing items and promised to be in contact if they learned anything.

  She seriously doubted she'd ever hear from North Las Vegas’ finest again. Neither officer said anything to her face, verbally anyway. But the expressions and the gestures revealed their true feelings. They didn't see any evidence of a crime, therefore, none had been committed. Just some ditzy blonde misplacing some things.

  Hell, she couldn't blame them. Even she thought she was losing her mind the first time or two things turned up missing. Now she knew something wasn't right. She just didn't know for sure what that something could possibly be. The men in blue may not be up to the task of solving the mystery, but that didn't mean she wouldn't give it her best effort.

  Jackson paced the room, his expression serious, his hands behind his back. He had followed the police officers every move, watching them with an eagle eye. For all their faults, the two men had been nothing but kind to her son, allowing him to shadow them. Now he mimicked their actions with an eerie similarity. Hopefully, he would be free of the spell of Major Chad Monroe and his Corvette now.

  Too bad she couldn't say the same for herself.

  "I think it's time for lunch.” The youthful voice distracted her from wandering off into dangerous territory. Apparently, investigating her nonexistent crime worked up an appetite.

  "Oh you do, do you? Then I guess I should make sandwiches with that egg salad I made earlier.” A teasing smile lit up her face as she looked at her son, who nodded vigorously at the suggestion.

  Jackson raced into the kitchen and pulled the loaf of bread out of the drawer. He flopped it on the counter and waited for reinforcements to arrive. Casey handed him two plates from the cupboard beside the refrigerator and he promptly set them on the table. He trotted back to get the cups before sitting at the table to wait. She loaded up the middle of the table with the rest of the supplies necessary for lunch and sat down to enjoy the meal with her son.

  The four year old sat with his feet tucked underneath him and an empty plate—except for the crusts—in front of him as he rubbed his eyes. “Mommy, do I have to take a nap? I'm not tired.” A huge yawn muffled the last word.

  "I know you're not, sweetie, but Mommy is. Would you lay down with me for a little bit?"

  He slid off his seat with a sad little nod.

  "Go potty and then go lie down. I'll clean up and then be right in."

  Leaden feet shuffled out of the kitchen and across the living room. Five minutes later, she curled up on her bed with her son, who lay hugging his favorite Mickey Mouse blanket.

  She wasn't sure how much time passed before she roused from her room to respond to a knock at the door. She slowly rolled to her stomach, sliding her feet to the floor, watching her son as she moved. Once assured he wouldn't wake up, she pulled the door behind her as she left.

  The knock became louder and more forceful as she approached the door. She swung open the door to find her father's fist suspended in midair.

  "Daddy. What are you doing here in the middle of the day?” She eyed him suspiciously.

  "What took you so long to answer the door? I was about to have a heart attack."

  "It's nice to see you too, Daddy.” She leaned forward to kiss the older man on the cheek.

  A smile softened his countenance as he folded her in his arms. He nodded toward the apartment and propelled her inside with a proprietary hand at her back. She kept a sharp gaze on her father as he sat down across from her. The only other time she knew her father to leave work in the middle of the day had been the day her mother died. Waves of nausea battered her stomach as she clenched and unclenched her fists. She didn't have to wait long at all for the verdict.

/>   "Why didn't you tell me you thought someone broke into the apartment?"

  "It's my problem to handle, Daddy. Besides, according to the police, I don't have a problem.” She felt the butterflies vacate the general area of her stomach only to be replaced with anger. “How the hell did you find out about this anyway?"

  "Don't curse at me, young lady."

  "And don't avoid the question, old man.” She raised her eyebrow in challenge.

  "You know the story ... I have a friend who has a friend who has a friend on the police force. He thought I should know. No, let me rephrase that, he thought I already knew."

  Her father fixed her with a stern glare, one that never failed to put her in her place. She wasn't quite ready to let that happen yet. “I'm capable of living my own life, Daddy."

  "Don't start with me, Cassandra—"

  "No, don't start with me, Daddy. I've been on my own for over a year now. And I think I've managed to hold my own quite well. I stayed here in Las Vegas after Brian left because you and mom PCSd here and I thought it might be nice to have you close by. Not to run my life, but for support. Please don't make me regret that decision now."

  She stared at her father, still arguably one of the most handsome men she'd ever known. His graying hair only added to his distinguished looks. Concern for her and the loss of his wife added fine lines across his forehead and around his eyes. A short year from retirement did not diminish the power and dignity he radiated in his dark blue military uniform. She knew how much he loved her and cherished the support he'd given her since the asshole took off, plus the moral support they'd given each other when her mother passed away. But she had to live her own life, refusing to rely on his interference. She watched as her father relaxed against the back of the sofa and knew the time had come to tell him about the mysterious goings-on. Not that there was much he probably didn't already know.

  "I will respect your decision to handle this whatever it is with the help of the police. I just have one thing to ask."

  "What's that?” Part of her dreaded the condition.

  "Please tell me what's going on from now on. Do you have any idea how humiliating it is to have strangers know what's going on in your daughter's life before you do?” The laugh lines at the corners of his eyes crinkled up but she could tell her father was serious.

  "I promise, Daddy.” She joined him as he stood up, giving him a bear hug.

  "Now, I have to get back to work. With the next round of training gearing up to start in a week, I have quite a bit of work to do."

  "Go back to your base, Daddy.” She escorted him to the door. “We both know it can't survive without you,” she teased him.

  "I love you, Casey. And give my grandson a big hug for me. Will I see you for dinner on Friday?"

  The family had a standing date at the Officer's Club every Friday evening. Her mother's passing hadn't changed that. “We love you too, Daddy, and we wouldn't miss it."

  Casey sighed deeply as she watched her father climb into his car. At least one man didn't think she was a raving loon misplacing items.

  * * * *

  The cares of the earthbound world mattered little to Chad as he raced across the clear midday Nevada sky. The sun reflected off the black visor; he could hear himself breathing through the accordion-pleated air hose. His anti-g suit worked to keep him from passing out, and despite the air conditioning, he sweated underneath all the equipment required to sit in the cockpit of his Eagle.

  But despite all that, the exhilaration of zooming high above the earth at more than fifteen hundred miles an hour was enough to give a man a hard-on.

  Chad chuckled as he thought of one of his favorite sayings, “Have a sustained airgasm, fly an F-15". He'd actually had that on a bumper sticker on his old Corvette.

  The air around him shifted, causing him to survey the sky around him. Twelve years of experience told him another jet was invading his airspace. Almost as if on cue, a fellow Eagle screamed through the sky above him. His communications system squawked in his ear as the flight leader pointed out a landmark below them.

  "Roger, Rebel.” He anchored his jet over the landmark, flying in low circles as the team waited to launch an ambush.

  Training operations were scheduled to begin in earnest a week from Monday. This week marked the wing's final chance to familiarize themselves with the playing field and their fellow team members, to take a fam hop, as it was commonly known. Next week consisted of refining battle plans and offered minimal jet time.

  He reveled in the complete concentration necessary to keep the multi-million dollar bird in the air. The rules of give and take were clearly defined when he strapped a fighter jet to his ass. His jet didn't expect any more from him than to fly it safely. He couldn't disappoint his jet; he couldn't let it down. What he could do was fly to the best of his ability, take the jet through its paces with masterful skill. No arbitrary expectations marred his relationship with his jet.

  Wayward thoughts drifted in the general direction of Casey as he waited for the command to press the attack. He attempted to force his focus back to the gauges and dials surrounding him. Distractions led to deadly mistakes. Even when flying the friendly skies.

  But the image of Casey as she hustled around behind the bar continuously supplanted itself over everything else. So much for complete concentration in the cockpit.

  What was it about her that drew him in?

  Whatever captivated him had to be ignored. She didn't fit the mold, resemble the other women he dated. Women who knew that he had nothing more to offer than a really good time for a really short time. A woman with a kid would want more than a brief fling. Something he wouldn't, couldn't give. Not any more.

  And then the issue of her son intruded. The little boy dragged painful memories to the light of day, memories better off buried. So why had he gone and promised to spend time with the kid?

  The intercom tucked inside his helmet crackled with static, sending his body to an instant readiness. Mercifully, all thoughts disappeared except those instincts necessary to complete the practice mission. He cocooned himself in his safe world as he immersed himself in his work.

  What seemed to be a short time later, he followed the instructions of ground crew to a parking space. Sweat trickled down his back and his hair was plastered to his head as he pushed the bubble up and away from the cockpit. His legs cried out as they stretched out for the ladder, forced to support his weight as he climbed down from the plane. He tucked his helmet under his arm when his feet touched solid ground, and swung around to the building. The need to strip off the hot suit overwhelmed him.

  "Sir."

  He paused long enough to realize that the young member of his ground crew addressed him. “Yes, Sergeant?"

  Now that the airman had the his attention, he snapped a salute. “The general has requested your presence as soon as you landed, sir."

  It was then that he noticed a transportation van waiting for him.

  "Thank you.” He returned the salute and climbed inside. I guess I'll be uncomfortable for a little longer. He usually stripped off the anti-g suit as soon as his feet hit the ground.

  The clomp of his boots announced his presence before the general's secretary had the opportunity. The heavy tread echoed down the hall, his trepidation growing with each step. He hadn't expected any action on his special mission for at least a week or so. Hell, the jet had only just arrived. Despite racking his brain, he couldn't come up with any other reason to be summoned to the general's office.

  Well, he knew this time would come when he signed on. So why on earth was he so nervous now that the moment of truth finally arrived?

  Chad saluted his superior officer as he reached the office door and received a salute in return. The general gestured inside then stepped out of the way to allow Chad to proceed him.

  "Make yourself comfortable, Major."

  "I'm afraid that will be next to impossible until I know what's going down.” Regardless of the comment, h
e settled himself into one of the chairs in front of the general's impressively large desk while the other man moved behind the piece of furniture to sit down.

  "I have a favor to ask of you, Major. A very important favor."

  "I'm confused, sir. I assumed you called me here to discuss the special ops mission.” He planted both feet on the floor and leaned forward.

  The general's face scrunched up with remorse. “My apologies, Major. That would be your first impression, wouldn't it? Actually, this favor has nothing to do with work whatsoever. It's of a personal nature."

  "With all due respect, sir, why me?"

  "Because you're one of the best special ops men around. Because the Air Force trusts you to steal a hundred-million dollar jet and an incredibly important mission. With credentials like that, I know I can trust you with my daughter."

  "Now I'm really confused, sir."

  "Let me start from the beginning. My daughter's name is Casey Wilkes and I would really appreciate it if you could keep an eye on her while you're here."

  Chapter 6

  What's the difference between a fighter pilot and a jet engine?

  A jet engine stops whining when the plane shuts down.

  Chad fought the urge to groan as his commanding officer continued. He couldn't possibly have heard the man correctly. He had to be suffering some ill effects of the g-forces he pulled earlier. Lack of oxygen. Yeah, that's the ticket. The air surrounding him certainly felt thin all of a sudden. He tugged at his flight suit zipper and swallowed hard.

  His ears had to be deceiving him. There was no fucking way the man sitting in front of him, General Covington, a man he respected, had just said he was Casey Wilkes’ father.

  He had the hots for the CO's daughter. Fate must be laughing her ass off at this one. It ranked right up there on a list of all-time cruelest jokes played on him. He had been desperate for a foolproof excuse to stay away from her. Now he was being asked to watch out for her, which meant being near her. Whenever he was near her, he wanted her...