"JAG officer? Is that some kind of Coast Guard slang?" Luke looked at her as he crossed back to the blanket, but his gaze didn't quite hold hers long enough to be convincing.
"The Judge Advocate General. You're a military lawyer, and my guess is you're here undercover to investigate Razor's crash." Pulling the beaded chain from under her sweatshirt, she pitched the dogtags at him. "The Navy didn't have enough planes to check out these guys, so they decided to sacrifice mine?"
Luke hesitated a moment. "Yes and no," he finally admitted, slipping the ID tags about his neck. "I am Navy JAG, but I'm not here officially—just following a hunch. NCIS would be crawling all over this place otherwise." He pulled the blanket around his shoulders again, meeting her gaze directly. "Besides, they wouldn't give an investigation like this to a relative of the deceased."
The grief in his expression stayed Micki's retort. Leaving him to his thoughts, she took the first aid kit and settled back under the blanket. She swiveled to look at the man sharing its warmth, unaware the movement brought the outside of her thigh snugly up against his. "What made you first suspect it wasn't 'pilot error' that killed Ray?"
Luke hiked up his knee and rested his elbow on it. The light was failing steadily, cloaking them with twilight brought on early by the storm, but from her close vantage, Micki could still see his unguarded expression. When he finally spoke, his answer seemed to neglect her question.
"You know how Ray just took things as they came, with a joke or a line so thin no one in their right mind would fall for it?"
Micki smiled faintly, recalling the night at The Sandpiper when Razor's easygoing manner had saved Tex and Padre from a stomping by a group of visiting Key West jet jocks. "I remember."
"Well, there's another side to him too." Luke's lips tightened slightly as he corrected his statement. "There was another side to him. I never once saw him lose his head in an emergency. If there was one thing he took seriously, it was flying. The moment I heard about the crash, I just knew in my gut that Ray couldn't have possibly panicked and lost control the way they said he did."
"Me neither." Looking down, Micki selected a packet containing an antiseptic swab and tore it open. She needed something to do—anything to give her an excuse not to look at the pain in her companion's eyes.
Luke's gaze was on her hands but it was obvious he wasn't focused on what she was doing. "Pilot error did not down that helo, Micki. They were twenty feet above two men in the water. I think Ray knew he was going down, so he ditched as far from them as he could. He saved their lives, at the cost of his own."
"How'd you know about those engine spacer things? You said you'd seen stuff like that before?"
"Yeah. My department has prosecuted other aviation crashes involving sub-standard bearings and spacers. I never made the connection until after Ray..."
Micki spared him from having to say the word again. "What connection?"
"This," Luke said, moving the arm still balanced on his knee and indicating the gold timepiece on his wrist. "Your pal Jurgensen was right, you know, it is a fake."
"I don't get it. How is that a connection to anything?"
"Ray gave this to me," Luke said of the watch. "He told me he bought it from a friend for a really good price. I think he believed it was the real deal."
Not liking the implications of that, Micki reached for Luke's right hand. She still refused to believe that Dirk was anything other than misjudged.
Turning Luke's palm up, she examined the damage the oars had inflicted. As she gently applied the cool cleanser to his blisters, she said, "I guess you mean he gave that to you when he went home a couple of weeks ago, for his big brother's birthday." She looked at him as it dawned. "Wait—it was your birthday."
"Yeah, and I have to admit, fake or not, Ray's present was the talk of the evening. Mom and John were real impressed." Luke flinched as she swabbed a tender spot but did not reclaim his hand.
"You got together with your folks on your birthday? Wow, that's nice."
"All my brothers were there. And my sister-in-law. Birthdays are a big deal in my family."
Micki felt a pang of jealousy that surprised her. A beer party with the guys in Dirk's backyard had celebrated her last birthday. It had been a 'big deal,' but nothing like the images Luke's family gathering conjured up. Keeping her eyes diverted from his, she reached for his other hand.
Luke looked at his watch and continued his story. "I never told him or anyone. Didn't want to spoil his present. But after the crash, I knew I had to get down here and do a little snooping. So I took some personal leave and... here we are."
Micki traded the swab for some antibacterial ointment. "There'll be a thorough investigation, Luke, just as soon as the weather permits. When they dredge the helo, they'll find the same evidence you did and then Ray's actions will make sense. They'll change the ruling. I know they will."
"Yeah, I know that, too. I just hope they're not too late." He gestured at the empty shanty around them. "These guys are clearing out, and I want to make sure the right people go to jail."
"You will." Careful not to hurt him, Micki smoothed the ointment over his left palm and then covered it with sterile gauze.
Luke's eyes followed her progress as she bandaged his hands. "I'm sorry I got you into this, beautiful."
"Don't call me that," Micki returned automatically. She concluded her ministrations with a teasing smile to show she wasn't really angry.
Luke held her gaze with a sincerity that stirred her inside. A retreat to establish distance seemed a good idea, but before she could move away he caught her wrist and turned her palm up for a look.
She protested at once, trying to pull her hand free. "No, don't... it's not too bad. I can take care of it myself."
"It's getting dark in here. You won't be able to see what you're doing." Luke caught up the flashlight at his side, flicked it on, and handed it to her. "You hold this with one hand while I work on the other."
Micki wanted to refuse but he had a good point. Reluctantly, she stayed put. Luke's touch was gentle and, in the semi-darkness, it seemed all her focus was on the soft feel of his fingers on her skin. Her breathing quickened as he applied the antiseptic ointment with feathery strokes. His ministrations were cooling one fire, but kindling another of quite a different kind. Worse, she couldn't pull away without letting him know.
When he had bandaged the first hand and indicated she should switch the light over, she made sure to keep the beam well away from her face. The darkness was her only defense, the only way to hide the color he had brought to her cheeks.
Luke was about halfway through attending her other hand when the closeness grew uncomfortably intimate. He'd been so talkative while she was tending his blisters; why didn't he say something now? Why was she so tongue-tied? Micki forced her gaze from her hand being held in his strong fingers, but the feel of him smoothing ointment across her palm with the ball of his thumb made her want to wriggle in delight.
Desperate, she tried to defuse the rush of temptation with some idle banter. "I sure hope the Navy is offering some kind of reward for catching these creeps. As it is now, Jacinto Scenic Flights is permanently grounded. I need a new plane."
Luke grunted, unfazed. She caught sight of his profile as he reached for some sterile gauze... and had a sudden, insanely passionate desire to kiss him. How could he be so blind to what he was doing to her?
Securing the bandage, Luke lightly slipped his fingers around her injured palm. "There now," he said, taking the flashlight from her and flicking it off. In the dimness, Micki watched him lift her hand to his lips for a gentle kiss, and was captivated by the thought of his kisses falling elsewhere. "All better."
His breath was warm on her cool skin, making her shiver. A moment stretched between them, changed, and became mutually understood. Suddenly they both wanted the same thing. Micki wasn't sure which of them moved first, just that they were both slowly leaning toward each other. The anticipation of feeling his lips
on hers was almost unbearable when, from one heartbeat to the next, she realized what she was doing. She was supposed to be maintaining distance here!
Pulling away, Micki scrambled to her feet and switched on the flashlight. She glanced at Fizz, who whined and cocked his head to one side as he studied the situation. "I've, um, got to put these supplies away."
Equally flustered by what had almost happened, Luke began gathering up the bits of trash left from their meal and the first aid supplies. "I'll help you."
For several moments, there was no conversation. Micki crossed to the table and there, from a safe distance, reorganized the first aid kit. Luke neatly compacted all the trash into a small pile then went to check on the storm through the shutterless window near the sink.
Sneaking a look at his back, Micki hoped that rescue was as close as the morning light, because her instinctive dislike of Luke Hardigan seemed to be fading as fast as the twilight. She had thought the day had been a long one. The way things were shaping up, the night promised to be even longer.
***
The storm peaked fifteen minutes later, with thunder like the rustle of sheet metal, sky-splitting forks of cloud-to-ground lightning, and enough rain to float The Ark.
Hovering over the rusty sink, Luke gazed out through the only window without a shutter. Lightning allowed him only subliminal images of the tiny key taking a pounding, making him hope that, in the morning, their sole way off that spit of land would still be tethered where they left it, and in one piece.
Grimly, he decided he didn't like the odds, but they would deal with that situation when they got to it. Right now, they had to deal with the current one. Correction: he had to deal with the current one, namely the hot-blooded yearning that the simple act of tending Micki's blisters had summoned forth.
Groaning to himself, Luke used the cover of darkness to glimpse his seemingly unflappable companion. She had unpacked her survival gear onto the rickety table and proceeded, under flashlight, to reorganize the contents with stoic military efficiency. Not, judging from the present disarray, that she was doing a real good job of it. What she was doing was handling the situation a hell of a lot better than him. Clearly, their almost-kiss hadn't breached her inner defenses the same way it had his. She was still secure behind that wall of hers, having patched the cracks caused by his momentary nearness with some more rock hard Jacinto Stone.
The lightning flashed at the small window at Luke's back and he watched Micki stiffen until it passed. Whatever she said, however much she denied it, lightning was the one thing that could crumble her private wall to rubble.
And his. The pure elemental fury of the storm made her look so afraid that every time she balked, he wanted to take her in his arms and never let her go. Luke wanted to fight the demons that hounded her there in their lightning-torn refuge, if only she would let him. All around raged forces that dwarfed them with their immensity and, if that weren't enough, somewhere within the dark maelstrom were men who wanted them dead.
At the thunderclap, Micki shuddered so violently that even Fizz lifted his head with a soft sound of concern.
"It's okay, boy," she said to him, a telling quaver in her voice. "We'll be all right."
"What do you say we try to get some sleep?" Luke suggested. Leaving the window, he crossed back to where they had left the thermal blanket after their meal. She'd come to his side once before, although she had denied it was for anything other than warmth. Perhaps he could again ease her distress under the pretense of a sensible idea. "Nobody's coming out in that—the Good Guys or the Bad Guys. We may as well rest while we can."
Micki looked up from the chaos that was spread from one end of the table to the other, and wearily blew a lock of loose hair from her eyes. "Yeah. Maybe you're right."
"Well, what do you know?" Luke said to Fizz. "The lady actually admitted I was right about something."
Micki eyed him with mock affront. "Don't push it, Yank."
Shaking out the Mylar blanket, Luke chuckled. He settled himself on the floor, covered his legs, and patted the floorboards beside him. "Come on, we can keep each other warm."
His hopes rose to a breathless high as he watched her give serious consideration to the invitation, then took a nose dive straight into cold rejection when she gave him a smug grin.
Micki gestured at Fizz's makeshift bed of rags. "Fizz and I will sleep over there."
As she moved over to her dog, Luke rose to his elbows with a frown, choosing to take offense than to give in to the more dangerous emotions that beset him. "What? You don't trust me to be a perfect gentleman?"
"In a word, no."
When the lightning flashed again, drawing her attention to the window above the sink, Luke knew that despite her words, there was nothing she would like better than to creep into his arms for protection. Her set shoulders also told him it was absolutely the last thing she was going to do.
"I've heard that 'keep each other warm' line before," she said flippantly, making herself comfortable alongside the dog.
A stab of real jealousy hit Luke from somewhere out of left field. "From Dirk Jurgensen, I suppose."
Micki scowled at him. "I told you, he's just a friend."
But Luke couldn't let it go. "Seems to me you're getting awfully bent out of shape about this if he's 'just a friend.'"
"I'll thank you to stay out of my personal life."
"The guy's a crook, Micki. I don't want to see you accused of anything, just because you and he are 'friends.'"
Micki rose to her elbows, too. "What's that supposed to mean?"
"You really don't have any idea, do you?"
When she shook her head, Luke sat up. He dug several sheets of damp, folded paper out of the side pocket of his camera bag and tossed them to her. She flipped through them, and he watched her expression shift from curious, to bewildered, to just plain mad.
"These are... copies of my business ledger. And my log book. When did you—? You stole this information from me!"
"That's why I came to Marathon, to gather evidence. And those," he said, gesturing at the photocopies, "go a long way to proving your involvement in all of this."
"But I..." She shuffled the pages back and forth, confused. "I don't understand."
"Have you ever heard of Marion's Trinkets, up in Miami?"
"It's Dirk's retired old aunt's junk shop," she confirmed. "He collects odds and ends for her down here, and pays me to deliver them to her. What about it?"
"Jurgensen doesn't have an Aunt Marion, Micki—old, retired, or otherwise. The junk shop is a front for a nationwide distribution center, and what you've been delivering are some of the counterfeit goods he illegally imports through the Florida Keys."
She threw down the copies. "That's ridiculous. Dirk... I know him. And I'm telling you, you've got the wrong man."
"Why do you think I singled out Jacinto Scenic Flights?" When she opened her mouth but made no comment, Luke pressed on. "Washington has suspected that shop for some time now. We had a name—Bulldog—but nothing to tell us who that was or where he was located. My own brother turned out to be the missing link. When he died, this—" Luke touched his watch "—made me turn my attention to Marathon, and consequently, to your charter business."
"But—"
"And when they dredge that helo and find those counterfeit spacers," Luke insisted, "Washington is going to suspect you for the same reasons I did—because of your 'friendship' with Jurgensen. Damn it, Micki, you have records of trafficking the stuff for him!"
"Stop... accusing him, okay?" She screwed her eyes shut for a moment, composing herself. When she opened them and looked back at Luke, there was pleading in her expression. It was admirable of her to refuse to believe her 'friend' was a crook and a killer. Admirable, but wrong. She was silent for a moment, as if digesting it all, then asked, "So, am I still a suspect?"
Luke studied her in a flash of lightning. "No, not anymore. I believe you had no idea what you were really transporting. And I'
m willing to testify to that when this thing finally goes to court."
Instead of looking relieved to have his support, she looked miffed. "That's what the gun thing was all about this afternoon, wasn't it. You wanted to see what I'd do with it. If I was guilty, in with the Bad Guys." She picked up the damning photocopies and threw them at him. "I saw you take an empty clip out, so don't deny it. You let me have an empty gun to test me."
Luke reclaimed his evidence. "Well, look at it from my point of view—"
"Your point of view?" Furious, Micki sat up and glared. "It seems to me that this whole shebang is about your point of view. Didn't you ever stop to consider my point of view? I mean, these maniacs shot us out of the sky and almost killed us, and what did you do? You dumped me on a sandbar in the middle of the ocean, and left me!"
"I came back."
Micki wasn't listening. "And now you're telling me that I might go to jail for trying to help out a friend?" Groaning, she lay down on the bed of rags and put her back to him. "I don't want to hear anymore."
"Come on, Micki, I said I believe you."
Peeved silence reigned.
"Okay, look, I was completely wrong about you. I never should have jumped to conclusions, and I'm... sorry for not trusting you sooner."
Lightning and thunder crashed about them, making her twitch despite her anger. Even with a temper, the forces of nature still scared the life out of her. Luke watched her try to suppress a shudder, and guessed it was as much from fear as from the temperature. He may not be able to do anything to soothe her apprehension, but he could abate her chill.
Bundling the blanket, he tossed it across to her. "Here. Take this."
Micki tossed it right back. "Keep it."
"But if you're cold—"
"But nothing. I can see now that what we have here is a business arrangement. I'm the owner of Jacinto Scenic Flights and, as you've been so fond of reminding me today, you're the paying passenger. It's my job to look after you, Mr. Hardigan, and that means if there's only one blanket, then you take it."
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