Red Sky At Morning - DK4

by Melissa Good

  “Son of a bitch.” Mike rocked back and forth on uneven chair legs.

  “The brass on base must be ready to have a heart attack.” He poked a finger at Dar. “I still remember the day you redone the base telecom and sent all them private notes of the CO’s to the staff fax machine.”

  Heh. Dar snickered. “I remember that, too. Guy was an idiot to be using base mail to send love notes to that girl he picked up in Chicago.”

  “Yep. You were a hell raiser, for sure,” Mike chuckled. “Bet you still are.”

  “That’s what they say,” Dar demurred. “Only now they pay me for it,” she added.

  Chuckie cocked his head curiously. “You’re still working for ILS, right?” He waited for Dar to nod. “So, what kind of money do they pay for what you do?” He noticed Dar’s lifted eyebrow. “Round numbers, I mean. We always figured you’d do all right, because you got more brains than half the earth, but for real, Dar...did you end up kicking ass?”

  Dar glanced around the weather-beaten bar and caught the interested looks from her old pals. They’d all done well in the Navy, and all of them, even Mike, had grudgingly admitted to being career sailors. “Well,” she took a swig of beer and rolled the beverage around in her mouth before swallowing. “I’m the chief information officer of the largest IS company in the world. My base is seven figures, if that’s what you’re asking.”

  They all looked at each other, then back at her. There was a moment of stunned silence.

  “Well.” Chuckie rubbed his jaw. “God damn.”

  Dar smiled. “So I guess I’m buying then, huh?” she remarked dryly.

  “See? You shoulda dragged me out to someplace nicer.”

  “Son of a bitch.” Mike started laughing. “Son of a bitch. You’re actually one of them corporate big shots?”

  “’Fraid so,” Dar agreed solemnly. “Got me a big office, floor-to-ceiling glass windows, teakwood desk, the whole nine yards,” she told them. “Everyone running around scared to death of me, you name it.”

  “Wow.” Chuckie shook his head. “I can believe the last part, ’cause you can be a scary individual when you wanna be, old buddy, but thinking of you in an ivory tower’s givin’ me a headache.” He slapped Dar’s knee lightly, then poked the spot. “You don’t spend all your time behind that desk though, d’ya? You don’t look much like a cream puff.”

  Red Sky At Morning 119

  “No more than you do.” Dar let a mildly evil grin touch her lips as she curled a foot around the leg of his chair and jerked hard, nearly sending him sprawling backward. “Spending your time sitting in that nice comfy chair on the bridge.”

  “Uh-oh...here we go.” Mike burst into laughter. “I knew it was just a matter of time. The two of you ain’t changed for shit.”

  “You—” Chuckie grabbed for the edge of the table to keep from tipping over, but the surface moved, sending the two mugs of beer on it flying. “Yow...sonofa—”

  “Hey!” Mike yelped and leaped to his feet, only barely avoiding being soaked. “Cut that out, bilgebrain.” He pointed a finger at Chuckie. “Don’t you start, either. You never have gotten over getting your ass kicked in that obstacle course the night we all graduated.”

  Chuckie snorted. “Get out of here. I don’t even remember that.”

  “I do,” Dar drawled, with an even more evil grin. “But since I was the one doing the kicking, I guess that’s natural.” Oh, she certainly did remember that night. They’d had a beer or two way too many, and she’d been just at the very top edge of her best physical conditioning, seriously intent on getting herself into BUDS training and only too happy to prove that to any other Navy brat who questioned her. Twenty of them had straggled out of their graduation party, and bets had started flying.

  “That was then,” Chuckie reminded her pointedly.

  The words came out before she had a chance to think about them.

  “C’mon, Chuckie, I could still kick your ass on that course.”

  Now he grinned. “Oh yeah? How much you wanna bet?”

  Mike groaned. “Oh no...not again. For Pete’s sake, you two! You’re furking adults now!”

  “Hundred bucks!” Chuckie leaned forward eagerly. “C’mon.”

  She was out of her mind, Dar dimly realized as she watched herself rise to the challenge, almost as though seeing someone else do it. “How about a thousand?” she drawled softly. “C’mon, tough guy. See if you can lift anything but binoculars now.” A tiny voice cleared its throat internally. Hope you know what you’re doing, big shot, or you’re gonna be picking splinters out of your ass for a week. “How about it, Chuckie?”

  His eyes glinted and his well-shaped nostrils flared. “You got it.

  Let’s go. I got a lot of things I could do with a thousand bucks.”

  Dar set her bottle down and stood. “After you?” She held a hand up and pointed to the door. She gave the rest of the group, who were muttering and shaking their heads, a smile. “C’mon, guys. After this, I’ll treat for dinner. How ’bout it?”

  “You ain’t gonna be in any condition to treat anyone,” Chuckie warned with a big grin.

  “Save your breath.” Dar booted him in the butt before he could move, then booted him again when he tried to evade her. “You’re gonna need it.”

  120 Melissa Good

  “Hey!” Chuckie slapped at her leg with his uniform hat. “Cut that out, or I’ll...I’ll...”

  “What? Tell my daddy?” Dar was enjoying herself thoroughly.

  “Last time you did that, I got a banana split out of it.”

  “Wench.” Chuckie started laughing. “God damn you, you’re such a wild weasel. Ow!” He slapped at Dar’s boot again, which had just impacted his butt. “I am gonna push your ass so far down in that mud, you’ll have to call a deep-sea diver to go find you.”

  “Careful, hairball,” Duds rumbled softly. “If’n that deep-sea diver’s her daddy, your ass is gonna be flying over the mess hall by morning.”

  They all laughed and jostled out the door into a still-drizzling evening. “How is yer old man doin’, Dar?” Mike asked, lowering his voice a little and getting serious. “Man, I was glad they got him back.”

  Dar exhaled. “He’s fine,” she replied. “He and Mom got this fifty-some-foot Bertram, and they’re having a blast on it. They’ve been out to Bermuda twice, and I can’t remember ever seeing him so happy.”

  “Wow.” Mike smiled. “That’s way cool.”

  “He got a boat?” Duds asked curiously. “Man, that musta been some pension...or did you get that for him?”

  Dar smiled and ran a hand through her now damp hair. “What do you think?”

  Duds laughed. “Daddy’s girl all the way, that’s for damn sure.

  C’mon, let’s get this damn thing over with. I’m hungry!”

  “You’re always hungry, mouth on wheels,” Chuckie chided, giving him a backslap in the belly. “That’s why you’re outgrowing your uniform. Lookit that.”

  “Cut that out!” Duds nudged him. “Leave my buttons alone, y’pervert.”

  “Butthead.”

  Dar sucked in a wet breath, overcome with a wash of giddy enjoyment, looking ahead to the dark, mud-spattered challenge in front of her. So it was crazy.

  That was all right.

  Everyone had to have a crazy night now and then, right?

  KERRY LEANED BACK in the seat of the stolid gray pickup truck Andrew was navigating through the flooded streets. She had her seatbelt securely fastened around her body, and her feet were braced solidly against the floor, steadying her as the truck moved.

  Andrew wasn’t really a bad driver, she’d decided, just an impatient one; and little things such as sidewalks and divider islands proved little or no impediment to his progress in getting from point A to point B in the quickest possible manner. “Nice truck, Dad.” She patted the fabric seat. “I like it. Dar was telling me about the one she had when she was younger.”

  Red Sky At Morning 121


  Forced by convention to stop at a red light, Andrew sat back and folded his arms. “Ceci tried for some days to get me to agree to drive in one of them Beetle cars.”

  Kerry raised an eyebrow.

  “Well, young lady, that is exactly how I felt about it, too,” the ex-SEAL drawled. “Them are the ugliest things I ever did see; and there was no how, no way I was going to be sitting inside one of them, much less drive it.”

  “I couldn’t picture that.” Kerry shook her head. “It would be like you having a moped, or Dar drinking skim milk.”

  “She hates that,” Andrew agreed. “Even when she was a tot, Cec used to try and get her to drink it, and she’d toss her bottle ’cross the kitchen.”

  “I know.” Kerry closed her eyes as the light changed and Andrew used the opportunity to cross three lanes between four other cars. “I suggested it once.” She paused. “Only because I worry about her cholesterol, and mine; but I got a lecture about cows, and water, and the fact that if she wanted to drink white chlorinated liquid, she’d just add food coloring to the tap.”

  Andrew snorted. “She’s particular ’bout a few things. That’s one of

  ’em,” he admitted. “Got that one from me, I do believe.”

  “Gee, what a surprise.” Kerry peeked at him and grinned tolerantly. “Anyway, I got her to stop having chocolate chip cookies for breakfast, so I figure I’m ahead of the game.”

  Andrew peered through the raindrops and spotted his target. He aimed the truck toward the entrance and proceeded accordingly. “She’s a healthy kid,” he stated. “Always was. Worst thing she ever did get was them chicken pox. Lord, that was a mess.”

  “I heard you got them, too.” Kerry smiled at him, pretending she didn’t see the truck bearing down on them as Andrew crossed the intersection. The pickup darted into the parking lot of the Lexus dealership just in time, though she imagined she could feel the draft of the eighteen-wheeler crossing behind them. They pulled into an empty spot, and she released her safety belt with a sense of relief.

  Andrew leaned on his steering wheel and peered out the window, observing the rows of shiny, if rain spattered, new cars. “You getting one of these damn things, too?” His voice was surprised.

  “Sort of.” Kerry pointed. “See? That’s the one Dar has.”

  “Uh-huh.” Andrew nodded.

  “That’s the one I’m getting.” She indicated a row to the left.

  “Sonofabiscuit. Ain’t that cute,” her father-in-law chuckled softly.

  “All bitty and spunky looking. Figures.”

  Kerry gave his arm a poke. “Hey, at least it’s not a Beetle.” She opened the door. “C’mon, this won’t take long, and I’m hungry.” She got out and grabbed for the doorframe as a wave of dizziness passed over her. “Whoa.”

  122 Melissa Good Andrew circled the front of the truck and put a hand on her shoulder. “You all right?”

  Kerry leaned against the metal frame and took a deep breath, waiting for the world to stop spinning. “Yeah. Like a doof I skipped lunch, and I know better.” Her vision cleared and she shook her head.

  “Low blood sugar runs in my family. I usually keep granola bars around but I ran out, and I meant to stop this morning.”

  “That ain’t a good thing.” Andrew stuck his head inside the truck and rummaged in a bag behind the seat. “Here.” He handed Kerry a banana. “Forgot I had those damn things.”

  Kerry peeled the fruit and took a bite, a little disturbed by the shaking of her hands. “Maybe I was just overstressed today,” she joked faintly, aware of Andrew’s concerned expression. “I had some really confrontational meetings, and I was a little worried about Dar driving down there in this weather.” She swallowed a few mouthfuls and was relieved when the shakiness faded.

  “I do believe we might need to be worrying about you,” Andrew stated. “You’re white as Caesar’s ghost, Kerry. Sit down here.”

  “No, it’s okay,” Kerry reassured him. “I feel a lot better, honestly.”

  She finished her banana and neatly folded the skin, then leaned forward and kissed him on the cheek. “Thanks, Dad.”

  Andrew blushed, faintly visible in the lamplight bathing them.

  “That was a lotta fuss for a little old banana,” he muttered. “You sure you don’t want something else? Maybe an orange, or whatever the hell else Ceci stuck in the back of this here truck?”

  Kerry smiled. “Does Dar know how lucky she is?”

  “Huh?”

  “I don’t think she does.” Kerry pushed away from the truck and straightened her sleeves, then tossed the banana peel into a nearby garbage can. “Let’s go get my new wheels.” She slid her hand around Andrew’s arm and walked with him toward the showroom, where she could see dim forms of hopeful salesmen lurking in wait.

  The door opened as they reached it, and she stepped inside the cool, well-lit showroom to be greeted by a very nice-looking young man in a neatly fitted suit and tie. “Hi.” Kerry smiled at him. “I’ve got an appointment. I’m supposed to pick up a car?”

  The sound of staccato heels made their heads turn to see a woman with dark, frosted hair walking toward them, a warm smile on her face.

  “Ms. Stuart?”

  “That’s right,” Kerry replied.

  “Excellent. If you’d step over here to my desk and sign these papers, I’ll have your car brought ’round.” She glanced at Andrew.

  “Can I get your husband some coffee?”

  Kerry thought her father-in-law’s grizzled eyebrows were going to pop right off his head and stick in the drop ceiling. “Sure,” she agreed cheerfully. “C’mon, honey, sit down here.”

  Red Sky At Morning 123

  “Excuse me,” Andrew barked. “This here young lady is not mah wife.” He pinned the saleswoman with a fierce glare. “What do ah look like to you, some kinda candy-assed cradle robber?”

  The woman’s jaw dropped, and she looked from Kerry to Andrew in bewilderment. “I’m very sorry sir,” she stammered. “I know I shouldn’t assume...I just thought...well, excuse me. I’m very sorry.” She put the papers down. “Ma’am, if you could just sign these?”

  “Sure.” Kerry sat down and slid the stack over, picking up a pen.

  The saleswoman scurried quickly away.

  Andrew snorted and sat down next to her. “Mah God.”

  Kerry giggled. “You’re really funny.”

  “That was most certainly not funny, young lady.”

  She turned her head. “How old are you?” Kerry watched the blue eyes blink a few times. “Well?”

  Andrew sat up straighter. “Ah am forty-eight years old.” He paused. “Why?”

  Kerry leaned closer to him. “’Cause I’m almost thirty,” she whispered. “It’s not that far-fetched, Dad.” She went back to signing her papers, getting through half of them before she heard Andrew sigh.

  “You’re right, kumquat,” he said. “Mah kid has not one clue as to how lucky she is.”

  Kerry felt her face ease into a smile as she finished, putting the pen down and glancing up as the saleswoman came back. “All done.”

  “Here you go.” The woman handed her a set of keys and pointed to where the shadowy form of her new car was just pulling up outside the door. “And again, I’m really sorry, sir.”

  Andrew sighed and stood. “That’s all right.”

  They walked to the door and pushed it open. “You going to kick the tires for me, Dad?” Kerry teased. “Dar wanted me to get a—what are those called? A Hummer.”

  Andrew snorted. “Fer what?” He circled the new car curiously.

  “Damn things steer like a Greyhound bus, and you can’t park them for nothin’.” He opened a door and peeked inside. “Leather, would you look at that? Mah kid is definitely rubbing off on you.”

  Kerry opened the driver side door and sniffed appreciatively. “Oh yes,” she chortled. “C’mon, let’s take it for a test ride. There’s a good restaurant right down the block.”

&
nbsp; Andrew slid into the passenger seat, which he adjusted to make room for his long legs. “Ain’t one of them raw fish stores, is it?”

  “Um...”

  A dark brow cocked. “Tell you what, I’ll go eat them raw fishies if you let me drive on the way back.”

  “Oh boy.”

  124 Melissa Good

  “SONOFABITCH!”

  Dar heard the gasping croak behind her as she reached the last wooden wall and lunged forward, crouching down and releasing her body upward to stretch out and grab the top rail, pulling upward before she could crash against the hard surface. Her boots scraped, then caught a purchase, and she powered up and over the top, releasing her hold and letting herself fall down toward a murky, mud-covered surface.

  Behind her, she could hear Chuckie grunt as he hit the top of the wall, but then her boots were hitting the ground and she almost sprawled forward, barely catching her balance before she hopped forward and starting running toward the ropes.

  Climbing ropes—one of the toughest things for anyone, especially a woman, to do. Dar wiped her palms on her thighs just before she reached them, then took a breath, ruefully acknowledging that she certainly wasn’t a teenager anymore before she leaped and caught the rope, feeling the wet, scratchy hemp bite into her hands. Her legs responded in old memory, curling around the rope beneath her and tightening, supporting her weight as she reached up for a second handhold.

  Well. Dar felt the spatters of rain hit her and heard the clank of the rope next to her as Chuckie tried to catch up. It wasn’t as hard as she had feared. She powered up the rope and released one hand to slap the bell on top, then slid neatly down, wincing a little as the rough hemp stung her hands. She hit the ground and ducked around the edge of the climbing pit, bolting across the uneven ground and leaping over the water that separated the obstacles from the last, long hundred yards every tired, sore recruit had to run over at top speed. Dar heard Chuckie finally hit the bell and slither down after her, but she knew she was home free.

  Running was something she was very used to, something her body, stressed by this unusual tasking long forgotten, was accustomed to doing on a daily basis. She tucked her fingers into a half fist, leaned forward into a powerful, even stride, and just ran.