“Things happened too fast—”
“And you forgot to call. Sure you did! Like you always do. This is it, Gil. I’ve had it. No more wondering where you are or for how long. I’m through worrying about you. For all I know, you could’ve been drowned on a SAR case!”
He tried to shake off his fatigue and held up his hand. “Wait….Eve, a lot has happened tonight. Paula—”
“You bet it has!” she whispered, walking up to him, her eyes blazing with torment.
He leaned against the wall, exhausted. “Look, dammit, Paula has—”
“I don’t want to hear about Paula or the Coast Guard! I want to talk about us! Our problems! This is the last time that you’ll—”
Gil grabbed her arm, jerking her to him. Her neck snapped back and Eve opened her mouth to scream. “Paula,” he sobbed, “is dead!”
He released her, disgust written on his drawn face. Gil shouldered by her, stumbling toward the bedroom.
Shocked by his unexpected outrage, Eve rubbed her bruised arm, pouting. “I don’t care!” she shrilled, her cry echoing down the hall. “Do you hear? I don’t care anymore! Not about you or your precious Coast Guard family!” She began to follow him, her voice rising to a crescendo. “I’m sick and tired of playing second or third fiddle to whatever you think is more important than me!” She took a breath to launch a second verbal assault at him when Gil rounded on her.
It took every vestige of his control not to strike her. “This is it,” Logan rasped. “I’m divorcing you. I can’t take this emotional merry-go-round you like to ride, Eve. My best friend’s wife just died. I feel like hell.” His eyes watered dangerously with tears, and Eve’s taut features wavered before him. He pushed her away.
“I’m going to pack a few things and get out of here. I won’t be back. Whatever we had is dead. I’m too tired right now to figure out how it happened.” Turning, he trudged into the bedroom, hunting for a small satchel. Gil would drive over to Reno’s house and stay the night. Tomorrow, his head would be clearer and he could think—maybe.
Eve glared down the hallway. “Fine,” she shrieked. “I can hardly wait till you tell your precious parents, who have a thirty-year marriage going, that you failed! You didn’t marry me, Gil Logan, you tried to live up to their idea of what a marriage should be! That’s where you made your mistake, damn you!”
Whirling around, Eve ran down the hall, sobbing.
When Rook pulled into the driveway of her apartment building, Jim Barton was there, waiting in his car. He got out and came around to her vehicle, opening the door for her. Crouching down, Jim studied her face.
“What’s happened, Rook? I tried calling the station, and they said you left at two in the morning. I got worried when you didn’t answer your phone at home a half hour after that.”
Rook sat there, absorbing his concerned, drawn features. “This has been the most hellish twenty-four-hour period I’ve ever experienced,” she admitted slowly, “except for when my mother died.” Her voice cracked. “Paula Welsh died this morning. Gil and I were with Tag until just a while ago.” She stared at her watch. The luminous dials indicated it was four-thirty.
Jim nodded and rose. He took her arm. “Come home with me, Rook. Let me take care of you tonight.” Jim saw her begin to protest. “We can stop by your place and get you some clean clothes on the way. I don’t want anyone at the station to be able to call you. Right now, you need plenty of rest.”
Beyond exhaustion, Rook agreed in a hushed voice.
Inside her apartment, Jim turned on one of the lamps in the living room and sat down on the couch while Rook packed an overnight bag. When she rejoined him, Jim placed his hand beneath her chin, forcing her to look at him. He wanted to say, I/know you’re fragile, Rook, even if you don’t. And you scare so easily. Instead, he murmured, “Okay, let’s get going.”
Rook was unable to sleep on the way over to Jim’s house. She’d never felt like this before; her nerves were taut and screaming. Jim guided her into the house, taking her directly to the guest bedroom. While he hung up her uniform, she stood forlornly in the room, watching him.
Turning, Jim walked back to Rook. She was in shock, he realized. Taking her into his arms, he saw tears form in Rook’s eyes and trickle down her cheeks.
“Tell me everything,” he commanded softly, caressing her damp cheek. “Get it out, sweetheart, before it eats you up alive.”
Words came haltingly, at first, wedged with Tag’s pain and loss. And then, Rook voiced her concern for Noah’s predicament. Her emotions had left her raw and aching.
Gently using his thumbs, Jim dried her cheeks of tears. He looked deeply into her eyes. “Honey, you need to sleep.”
“I have to be back over at the station at eight, Jim.”
“All right.” He kissed her brow, trying to ease the explosive tension he felt within her. “First, I want you to get washed up. Go put on your nightgown. I’ll wake you up at half past seven, make you breakfast and then drive you over to the station.”
“Thank you, Jim.” Rook leaned tiredly against him and he pressed a kiss to her hair.
“You’re in shock, Rook, from everything that’s happened. That station is rocking with disasters from one end to another, and you’re caught in the middle of it all. If you need anything, call. I’ll be in the den for a while.”
Rook didn’t have the strength to argue. Gratefully, she nodded. “Okay.”
The hot shower didn’t help her any. When Rook was done, she stood on the rug, water dripping off her. Every movement became an incredible physical effort. The numbness she was feeling began to disappear, and in its place, trembling began. Alarmed that she had no control over it, she sat down at the vanity, the huge pink bath towel wrapped around her.
The first sob caught her off guard. Miserably, she looked at herself in the mirror. The face that stared back at her wasn’t the Rook she knew. There was such devastation in her eyes. The second sob came, and Rook was powerless to halt the building storm about to break within her. Tears jammed into her eyes and she buried her face in one hand, letting the torment run through her.
Jim heard Rook’s weeping. Earlier, he’d taken a shower and put on his pajama bottoms. Too upset to sleep, he was in the den reading over some business contracts when he heard her begin to cry. He hurried down the hall, opening the bathroom door. His heart wrenched. Rook leaned sobbing against the vanity. The pink towel was pressed against her breasts, pooling around her thighs, her naked back gleaming beneath the lights.
“Rook…” he whispered hoarsely, going over, gathering her limp, shaking form into his arms.
“Oh, Jim…” She wept, looking up at him. “I-I don’t know what’s wrong. All of a sudden I felt the numbness go away and I started shaking and crying uncontrollably.”
He realized the traumatic emotional events had finally broken even Rook’s stubborn reserves. “Sshh, it’s all right, honey. You’re just having a good old-fashioned letdown.” In one easy motion, Jim lifted Rook into his arms. Like a hurt child, she collapsed against him, head tucked beneath his jaw, arm moving around his neck. “Everything’s going to be fine. Just keep crying….” And he carried her across the hall to her bedroom. The bed stand lamp cast a small circle of light into the lavender room. Depositing her on the bed, Jim swung himself over to Rook’s side and pulled her into his arms.
“Let it go,” he coaxed, caressing her damp back with his hand. Her flesh was firm and pliant beneath his fingers. He held Rook tightly against him, feeling each sob rack through her like a brutal ocean wave pounding against the beach. Words started to flow from him—words meant to soothe and heal her—as he kissed her temple, cheek and finally her mouth. Jim tasted the salt of her tears, evidence of the incredible pain that she’d borne so valiantly. The instant her lips molded to his, a groan tore through him, dissolving all his carefully monitored control.
Blindly, Rook absorbed the strength of Jim’s mouth. She felt directionless, in a pit of nothing but pain
and loss. She clung to him, focusing on his arms around her naked form, his callused hands arousing far greater needs within her. Her breath became chaotic as she unconsciously revolved away from all the agony within her and moved toward the sunlight of his strength and tenderness.
Her fingers slid along the expanse of his chest, and her mouth hungrily matched his. The fresh scent of her recently washed hair and the taste of her skin as he ran his tongue across her bare shoulder culminated in a fiery splendor of fragrance coupled with texture. Pulling the towel from between them, he pressed her length against him and felt her tremble violently as they met and molded together.
“Jim,” she whispered raggedly, finding his mouth.
“Are you protected?” he rasped, gazing deep into her eyes.
Rook nodded. “Yes, it’s all right….”
He removed his pajamas. His urgency mounted. Each time he kissed her she wildly returned his ardor, her body pressed pliantly beneath his. Her long, curved thighs opened and he felt her fingers dig deeply into his shoulders, silently begging him to complete the union.
As Jim’s hand slid beneath her hips, lifting her, Rook abandoned herself to him. His callused fingers opened her more, grazing her wet entrance. She moaned, her hips bucking against his hand, wanting him. She was so ready for him.
“You’re mine,” he rasped, leaning forward, his lips capturing her nipple, suckling her.
Rook cried out, pleasure rolling through her, womb contracting, aching, needing Jim.
He released the nipple, taking her lips, cherishing her and used his knee to open her more. It was so easy to kneel between her damp thighs, his hands sliding over her flared hips, his gaze locked on her sultry eyes burning with arousal.
Jim knew Rook hadn’t had a sexual partner in years. He moved to her entrance, bathed in the sweet, thick liquid telling him she was more than ready for him to enter her. Watching her closely, he eased into her, barely.
Rook’s breath hitched. There was burning, stretching and then pleasure moments later. Moaning, she encouraged him, moving her hips upward, asking silently for him to move deeper within her. He thrust deeper, thrusting slowly, repeatedly, into her. A cry slipped from her parted lips as she absorbed his masculine strength, flowing rhythmically into each powerful thrust, burning away all the darkness that had claimed her soul.
Her body slid wetly against his as they became two animals locked in a primal coupling that tore away the veneer of civilization and carefully shielded emotions. Rook lost herself within the ever-spinning vortex of taste, smell of Jim, drowning in the fire growing quickly within her. A building pressure quickened deep within her, and she whimpered, sensing that the sunlight enveloping her was becoming brighter, more blinding. Fingers sinking into Jim’s bunched shoulder muscles, she cried out, stiffening within his arms as that pressure became a volcanic release of scalding heat throbbing rhythmically through her like molten sunlight. She felt him tense, growl and grip her hips as he thrust and tensed. She felt a flowing in a river of scorching heat between their fused bodies.
Gasping for breath, Jim rested heavily upon Rook in the seconds after his own release within her. She lay limp beneath him, and he lifted off her and eased to one side, gathering her against him. He reached over, shutting off the light. Sinking against the pillows, he buried his face in her fragrant hair. He almost told her he loved her, but something warned him not to—not yet. Instead, Jim simply held her, smoothing the perspiration from her back and shoulders.
Exhaustion stalked Rook as she lay limply against him. It was impossible to talk, only feel. His pounding heart sounded like a sledgehammer beneath her ear as she nestled her cheek against the wiry texture of the hair on his chest. Sleep…I have to sleep….
And Rook spiraled into darkness.
Rook jerked awake. She froze when she realized Jim lay at her side, his arm draped across her hip, still sleeping. What had she done? Why? Panic set in as she lay there in the dawn light. Gradually, the events of the last twenty-four hours sank into Rook. Her heart began a painful pounding in her breast. It was six o’clock.
She closed her eyes, turmoil mixing with her newly awakened feelings. My God, what had she done? They’d made wild, hungry love. Last night, Rook had felt as if she were drowning in a morass of hellish feelings. The grief she felt over the death of her mother had been triggered by Paula’s death and Tag’s reaction. Noah’s predicament had forced her to realize that she didn’t hate him and that there was still love that bound them to each other.
Groaning inwardly, Rook carefully sat up. She looked down. Jim’s face was shadowed by his beard, and his hair was tousled. He looked boyish. Panic began to eat away at Rook as she got up, moving quietly about the room to pick up her belongings. How could she face Jim? What would he say about last night? Something kept telling her to run from him.
Torn, Rook hesitated at the open door to the bedroom. The dawn cast gray shadows about the room. Memories of her other two affairs smashed back into her barely functioning mind. They had been swift, impersonal couplings designed to satisfy the man, not her. Last night had been different. Something beautiful had blossomed and then been released within her when she had allowed Jim to love her.
Unable to sort through everything, Rook left to take a shower and then dress. Realizing she needed a ride to work, she called a taxi. Sitting at the table, she wrote Jim a note and placed it on the drain board, next to the coffeemaker. Then Rook hurried out the front door, the need to escape overwhelming her.
At five-thirty in the morning Ward had been called and told Paula Welsh had died. He stared down at the note on his desk from the senior duty officer on watch that said the same thing. Tag Welsh had requested he say a few words at her funeral, which would take place in three days. Rubbing his recently shaved face, Ward took a deep breath. There was a lot to do—not only for the funeral, but for Tag, as well. He was about to buzz his secretary when Gil Logan appeared at his door and knocked softly.
“Gil. Come in.” Ward saw the dark circles beneath the pilot’s eyes. Had he slept at all?
“Captain, I just wanted to let you know that Paula Welsh died last night. With everything up in the air, I didn’t know if Tag had called you yet.”
Ward lifted the note from the desk. “Yes, I was called earlier. Thanks, Gil.”
Fighting bone-deep exhaustion, Gil murmured, “Rook and I arrived there right after Paula died. We stayed with Tag until about four this morning. The doctor gave him some tranquilizers.” He looked down at his watch. “He said Tag would probably sleep until noon today.”
Ward critically assessed his pilot. “You haven’t had much sleep yourself.”
“No, sir.”
“I understand.” That meant Rook Caldwell was in equally bad shape this morning. Neither would be of any use to the investigation effort, in their condition. “I want you and Rook to go home right now and get some decent sleep.”
Gil couldn’t hide his surprise. The other CO hadn’t cared if anyone lived or died. “Sir?”
“I said, get out of here. I need both of you for this investigation, but awake and alert. Be back here by 1700 today. By that time we’ll have put more together, and you two can take over at that point.”
“Yes, sir.”
“One more thing, Gil. Does Tag have anyone to support him through all this?”
“The people from the local hospice are helping him, sir. There’s a lady there now, a Mrs. Collins, who’s staying over at the house. She’s coordinating all the funeral arrangements the way Paula wanted them.”
“Good.” Ward would make a point of going over to see Tag later today. “Is there anything else we can do from our end?”
“I’m sure Chaplain Moore needs to be notified.”
“I’ll do it. How’s Tag doing?”
Gil shrugged, “He broke down last night when Rook and I were there. Right now, he’s just kind of numb and going through the motions.”
“I see.”
“If we didn�
��t have this damn investigation cranking up,” Gil said, “I would have liked to take some time off to be with him until he’s past this funeral, sir.”
“Is he close to Rook, too?”
“Yes, sir.”
Ward searched his mind for a way around all the problems. “I’ll make it known to the investigators that you’ll be dividing your time, as you see fit, between them and helping Tag during this period.”
Gil’s eyes widened. “Do you think they’ll understand, sir?”
Ward nodded, his, mouth thinning. “I’ll get some temporary personnel in here from Seattle. Also, if Rook feels up to it and wants to volunteer, she can help Tag when you aren’t available.”
“Thank you, Captain.”
“Notify Rook about all this, will you? And tell her I don’t want to see her face in the office when I go down there.”
Logan wanted to smile but was simply too exhausted to do much of anything. “Yes, sir. I’ll call her right now.”
Gil found Rook in her office with a cup of coffee in hand.
Next door, he saw Malone hard at work. He stuck his head in the door. “Hey.”
Rook looked dully around. “God, Gil, you look terrible.”
He grinned tiredly. “Want to place a bet on which of us looks worse?”
“No.”
“Smart lady. Listen, the captain has ordered us to go home. He found out we were up with Tag until four-thirty. Said to show up here at five tonight. How’s that sound?”
“Too good to be true,” Rook murmured.
“Stuart’s turning out to be a pretty good dude, after all. At least the man has some humaneness in his bones. He’s going to tell these commanders that we’ll be splitting our time for the next three days between our office duties and helping Tag. That is, if you want to help?”
Rook brightened considerably and nodded. “You bet I do.”
Gil gave her a warm look, filled with pride. “Welcome to the Coast Guard, Rook. You’re now, officially, a Coastie.”
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