by Melissa Good
A puckish grin appeared. “The orthopedic surgeon.”
“Tch.” Kerry started laughing. “A lovely specimen, huh?”
Dar chuckled. “Nice muscle tone, huh?”
They both simply laughed for a minute. “Oh my God, Dar, I’m sweaty, and I’m tired, and I want to go home. Are they letting you out yet?” Kerry finally said.
“They’d better be,” her partner replied. “C’mon. Let’s go share a sponge and call Dr. Steve.” Dar stood carefully, and held onto Kerry’s arm as she joined her. “Thought I saw a tube of that bath soap in your bag.”
“The mango one?” Kerry put an arm around Dar’s waist as they climbed up the steps toward the tenth floor.
“Mm.”
“You thought right, my little subtropical perfect specimen.”
Dar snorted, then reached down and pinched Kerry’s butt. “Oh yeah, that’s nice tone all right.”
“Ouch! You wench!” Kerry felt her spirits rise into the bubbly range. “Wait ’til we get to that sponge. You’ll be sorry.”
“Oh yeah?”
“Yeah.”
“SEND HER IN.” Commander Ainsbright twitched his jacket sleeves straight and folded his hands on his desk. Aside from the bandage taped over a gash on his left temple and a bruise the size of a mango on his jaw, he appeared the very picture of composed military dignity. He watched as the door opened and Chief Daniel walked in.
“Chief.”
The chief walked to the edge of the desk and saluted, then stood at ease.“Report,” the commander requested.
“It seems the training exercise caused a great deal of damage in three areas, sir,” the chief replied. “Primarily in the computer center, the telecom room, and the programming center.”
The commander nodded. “And?”
“I expect the systems will be down until we can replace about twenty percent of the hardware,” Chief Daniel said. “Apparently the backup systems were damaged as well, and we lost a good portion of our data storage.”
The base commander leaned back and propped a knee up against his desk. “All right,” he said. “Write up the damages, and I’ll charge the SEAL program for them. They had their instructions. They failed to follow them.”
“Yes, sir.” Chief Daniel kept her gaze firmly fixed on the desk.
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“Anything else you want to report, Chief?”
“No, sir,” came the quiet reply.
“Anyone asks you for anything, we don’t have it.”
“No, sir.”
“Dismissed.”
The chief turned and left the room, closing the door quietly behind her. Jeff Ainsbright sighed and shook his head. The phone rang, and he picked it up. “Yes?”
“Cleanup’s almost done,” a terse voice informed him. “We got lucky. Damn lucky.”
“Tell me,” the base commander snorted. “You get rid of everything? We’ll have a security team down on us at 0700 tomorrow morning.”
“Everything,” the voice answered. “Scrubbed to the bare steel. I brought a dog in just to be sure.”
Ainsbright nodded. “Good.” His eyes narrowed. “I’ve got those guards on court-martial for letting that damn bastard Roberts in here during off-hours. You know how close that was? They were in the goddamned computer center. I just hope we got everything.”
“We did.” The voice held infinite assurance. “She thought she was so smart. That data stream she has won’t tell her anything. We made sure of that.” A chuckle. “Don’t worry, Jeff. All they’ll find is some ruined equipment. I already reconstructed the database. It’s clean.”
“All right.” Ainsbright nodded. “It was too damn close, I tell you.
We should have shut down the minute that bitch came on the base.”
“You were supposed to take care of that,” the answer came back sharply. “You and that kid of yours, remember? He was supposed to distract her. Hell, I thought he’d end up screwing her—”
“That’s enough,” Ainsbright snapped. “Forget about it. We found another solution.” He checked his watch. “I’ve got to go. Chuck’s ship’s leaving, and I want to make sure he’s on it.”
“Right. Out of sight—”
“Out of my hair,” the commander snorted. “Bye.” He hung up the phone and took a deep breath. It had been close. Far too close, and the problems weren’t over yet. He wasn’t stupid enough to think he was rid of Dar Roberts, for one thing. She’d dug enough into the base to report back to Washington, and now it was up to his team to do damage control.
Negligence? Sure. Someone would be court-martialed for it.
Shoddy record-keeping, sloppy processes. Every base had them, and all it would generate was a damn study and recommendations as long as Roberts hadn’t found anything worse.
And she hadn’t. He was sure of it. All he had to do was get Chuckie out of here, then wait for the rep from DC. Thank God the damn JAG
had called to warn him. With a sigh, he put his hands against his desk and pushed himself to his feet, wincing at the ache in his bones.
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Too dark, he’d been told, to see who’d hit him. “Sorry, sir. It was just too dark,” the SEAL captain had maintained stiffly. Yeah? Too dark my ass, Jeff Ainsbright scowled as he circled his desk and headed for the door.
Only to find it blocked.
He stopped in complete shock and stared at the dark blue-clad figure standing silently inside the door. There hadn’t been a sound. How in the hell? He took a cautious breath. “Andy.”
Ice-blue eyes watched him steadily. “’Lo, Jeff,” Andrew drawled very softly.
Ainsbright took a step back. “Didn’t hear you come in.”
Frighteningly, that caused a smile to appear on the scarred face.
“Folks never do,” the ex-SEAL allowed. “That’s how come I stuck around this long.” Andrew moved forward toward the commander with a curiously smooth amble. It combined an economy of motion with an impression of prowling energy that caused the commander to take another step back, then turn and retreat behind his desk.
“What can I do for you, Andy?” Ainsbright forced a tense smile.
“I’ve got a meeting I’m due at.”
“On Sunday? You ain’t visiting the preacher now, are you?”
Andrew asked.
The commander hesitated. “No, no, just a lunch date with my wife.” He was very conscious of the cold menace radiating from his old friend who, though retired and with all that gray in his crew cut, still posed a very potent threat he knew he had no hope of countering.
Andrew had always been like that. A big man, made bigger by weight training and SEAL’s fitness regimen, with lightning reflexes and lethal combat skills. Cool in action, levelheaded, steady, reliable—but with a blind spot a mile wide all centered around his family and that damn stubborn pigheaded bitch of a daughter of his.
Dar was dangerous because she was so goddamned smart. Andrew was dangerous just because he was dangerous, and anything that touched or threatened his kid sent him past reason.
“We need to chat,” Andrew told him. “So sit yer ass down.”
Ainsbright sat down slowly and folded his hands. “Andrew, this ain’t a threat, but I can call the guards and have you taken out of here.
You’re not in the Navy anymore.”
“That’s all right,” Andrew told him. “When I’m done with you, you ain’t gonna be either.” He sat down on Ainsbright’s desk. “So if you have half a brain left, you will sit in that chair and start talking about what you all are doing here.”
Ainsbright looked steadily at him. “Andrew, I have no idea what you’re talking about. I think you need to leave.”
Andrew leaned closer. “Listen, you jackass. How’n the hell you think you got that crack on the side of your haid?”
Unconsciously, Ainsbright lifted a hand and touched it.
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“Ah took that damn gun you had out
of your hands and smacked you ’cross the face with it,” Andrew continued, standing up and circling the desk, his temper rising. “So you will, sir, you will tell me what is goin’ on here that makes a career jack like you point a damn gun at mah kid!” The ex-SEAL’s voice rose to a low roar. “NOW!”
Ainsbright froze, staring at the dark form looming over him, seeing the fire in those pale blue eyes surging toward the edges, ready to consume him. Andrew’s hands were tensed and his body coiled, his center of balance up on the balls of his feet, full of a stillness that bore its own warning.
“Andy, take it easy.” Ainsbright kept his voice low. “I’ll talk.”
“Yes,” a low, fierce growl agreed. “You surely will.”
“DR. STEVE.” DAR inhaled, visibly holding her patience. “They’ve taken enough pictures to star me in the next Sears catalog. I’m fine. Let me the hell out of here.”
Dr. Steve patted her arm as he reviewed a chart. “Just hold on to your britches, rugrat. You’ve still got a ton of swelling up in that rock head of yours.” He made a mark on the chart. “We’re not taking any chances with you.”
Dar peered over the doctor’s arm to where Kerry was curled up on the daybed, watching. Her brow creased as she scowled. “I’m not spending another night in this place,” she decided. “I can sleep just as well at home.”
Dr. Steve didn’t even look up. “Ain’t got nurses there. Though you gave the ones here a story to spread around over the water cooler.”
Dar glared at him. “I don’t give a damn,” she growled. “They can kiss my ass.”
Dr. Steve looked up to see a pair of truculent blue eyes looking at him. “Lord, you must be feeling better,” he teased her, reaching over and chucking her on the chin. “That’s the Dar I know.”
Kerry watched in amusement, resting her chin on her forearm. She could see Dar getting more and more annoyed, and wondered briefly if her sometimes mercurial lover wasn’t better off going home. “Hey, Dr.
Steve?” she called out.
The doctor turned and put the chart down, walking over to her and looking down. “How’d you get that bump, Squeaky?” His fingers touched the side of her head cautiously. “That hurt?”
“A little,” Kerry admitted. “I had a close encounter with a door.
Nothing major.” She took advantage of his proximity. “Dr. Steve?”
“Hmm?” The doctor crouched down and continued to examine her bump. “You feeling all right, Kerrison? You look a little pasty.” Behind him, Dar sat up and peered over, her brow creasing.
“I’m fine, really,” Kerry assured him. “Just a little headache, and I haven’t had my lunch yet.”
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“Mm-hmm.” Dr. Steve turned her face a little toward the light from the window. “Feel a little shaky?”
Kerry sighed. “A little.”
“Uh-huh. When was the last time you had your blood-sugar levels checked?”
That caught her by surprise. “Um...” She took a breath. “I usually don’t have a problem.”
“That’s not true,” Dar spoke up.
Kerry peered around the doctor’s arm, annoyed. “Dar.”
“It’s not.” The dark-haired woman gave a little shrug of her uninjured shoulder. “You get dizzy when you don’t eat, and you know it.”
“That true?” Dr. Steve asked.
Kerry sighed again. “Sometimes,” she said. “I try to make sure it doesn’t.” She met his gaze. “I ran out of granola bars today.”
Dr. Steve fished in his pocket and came out with a package of cheese and peanut butter crackers. He handed it over to her. “Here.”
She accepted them, then changed the subject. “Does she really need to stay here?” Kerry asked quietly. “I think she’d rest better at home.”
The doctor rested his hand on her knee and gave her a direct look.
“Would you go home if I said no?”
Kerry shook her head, opening her crackers and removing one. She put it between her teeth and bit down, chewing the salty snack slowly.
“Where she goes, I go.”
Dr. Steve let out a chuckle, then pushed himself to his feet and returned to Dar’s bedside. “Found you a good match, Paladar.” He shook his head. “Two of a kind, I can see that.”
Dar tore her eyes from Kerry’s face and looked at him. “What?”
The doctor picked up her chart and made a notation on it. Then he looked up as footsteps sounded outside, and a young man carrying an envelope entered. “Ah, that the last of them?”
“Yes, sir,” the man confirmed, handing over the envelope. He gave Dar a professional smile, then turned and left. Dr. Steve removed some papers from the envelope and read them, scanning over the first page and concentrating on the second. Finally, he grunted and folded them over.
“All right, rugrat.” He turned and put his hands on the bedrails.
“I’ll let you go, on one condition.”
Dar’s eyebrows hiked up in pleased surprise. “What?” She glanced over at the watching Kerry. “Name it.” The doctor’s attention to her lover had caused a twinge of unease, even though she knew Kerry was conscious of her body chemistry and usually had little problem with it.
She had seemed a little wrung out when they’d gotten back, but Dar had put that down to her stair-climbing.
“You,” Dr. Steve took hold of her chin and forced her to look at him, “will get your ass in bed and stay there for at least three days.”
290 Melissa Good Dar took a breath to answer.
“Promise me,” Dr. Steve stated flatly. “I mean it, Dar. This is no joke. You want to go home? Well, I’ve known you since you were born, and I know you’ll get more rest there than here with all them nurses poking at you. But you must—I’m saying must, Dar—stay in bed and let your body heal.” His manner was unusually no-nonsense. “Yes or no?”
The blue eyes flickered, then narrowed slightly. “Just stay in bed?”
she countered. “Not asleep?”
Dr. Steve warily eyed her. “Flat on your back,” he qualified. “No gymnastics or anything like that.”
Well. Dar sighed inwardly. That meant three days of using her laptop, but there was probably enough data and crap she had to sort through to keep her busy for at least that long. “All right.” She nodded.
“I promise.”
Dr. Steve looked relieved. He reached over and ruffled her hair lightly. “Okay. I’ll go process your paperwork.”
Dar watched him leave, then looked over at Kerry. “Hot damn.”
Feeling much better, Kerry finished up her crackers and dusted her fingers off. She got up off the daybed and went over to Dar, curling her fingers around the bedrails and leaning against them. “Three days, huh?”
“Three days,” Dar agreed. “You should get plenty done at the office with me stuck at home.”
“Mm.” Kerry made a noncommittal noise. “Well, let’s get you packed up.” She slid her hand through the bars and circled Dar’s wrist with her fingers, rubbing her thumb against the soft skin. “And get you into that waterbed.”
Dar smiled. “Keep me company there?” She waggled an eyebrow.
Kerry grinned back.
KERRY CHEWED ON a carrot as she watched the large pot of soup cook. Discharge had taken less time than she’d thought it would, and they’d gotten home before lunch was served at the hospital.
Which was, she reflected wryly, a good thing, because it was fish.
Now, normally Dar liked fish, and so did Kerry, but as Dar put it, she liked her fish to be of some identifiable species and not pasteurized processed cod-like fishcakes.
Ugh. Even the boiled smell coming down the hallway had made Kerry wince. So she’d been glad when the orderly showed up with a wheelchair to take Dar downstairs. Of course, it’d taken her ten minutes of arguing with her lover to get the stubborn woman to sit in the wheelchair, but they’d finally made it into the Lexus and away from the hospital.
; Dar had been quiet. Kerry suspected she was in some pain, but she didn’t press her on the subject, theorizing that Dar had been poked and Red Sky At Morning 291
prodded and messed with almost past her tolerance the last twenty-four hours and would only resent the mothering.
She won’t resent the soup, though. Kerry poked a wooden spoon in and gave the mixture a stir. The spicy, rich scent of seafood gumbo wafted up, and she felt her mouth water in response. “Mm.” She lifted the spoon and took a taste. “Glad I had a container of this in the freezer, Chino.”
“Yawp,” Chino agreed, peering up at her hopefully.
“No soup for you.” Kerry took a biscuit from the dog jar and tossed it to her. “This would make you chuck up your Labrador guts all night.”
Chino crunched on her biscuit contentedly. “Growf.”
Kerry smiled, then turned and pulled two good-sized bowls down from the cupboard. They were sturdy, a nice shade of bone inside and a pretty cobalt on the outside. She and Dar had purchased them at the Mikasa outlet just a few weeks prior on a rare afternoon’s shopping together. That had been fun, Kerry mused, as she ladled portions into each bowl. Just a long Saturday that had started with breakfast at, of all places, McDonalds, and ended with dinner at the Cheesecake Factory.
“And you didn’t get any of that doggie bag, didja, Chin?” Kerry put the bowls on a small wicker tray and added silverware, then popped the door on the convection oven and removed a few buttermilk biscuits.
“Okay, let’s go bring mommy Dar lunch.” She picked up the tray and walked into the living room, where Dar had resumed her nest on the couch.
“Hey.” Kerry put the tray down on the coffee table. “Hungry?”
Dar lifted her head and sniffed at the bowls. “Is that gumbo?”
“Mm-hmm.”
“Mm.” Dar smiled and settled back against the soft leather. She was dressed in her pajamas, with a fleece blanket tucked around her and her laptop resting on her knees. Now she watched as Kerry picked up one of the bowls and brought it over, settling it into her lap. “Where did this come from?”
“FedEx delivered it,” Kerry answered without a beat. “Didn’t you hear them?”
“On Sunday?” Dar asked.