Staggered Cove Station

by Elle Brownlee

  “Dan?” Karl warned more than asked.

  He grinned to play it devil-may-care and twisted side to side in preparation. “Is Curtis the murdering type or the ‘clean the bathroom with a toothbrush’ type?” He widened his grin to hide how his heart skipped a beat, and then dove into the ocean without waiting for an answer.

  He lost his breath to the shocking cold, but he expected that. Training took over, and he moved automatically, kicking and stroking until he found a rhythm. He began to carve a path to the boat. The waves pushed him around more than he was ready for, but he dug in, and, as he pulled away from the shore, they leveled off and allowed him a steadier, stronger swim.

  There could be more than toothbrush duty in it. He could get busted down. Worse. There were plenty of reasons against doing it, but he had to risk it. Curtis ran a tight but fair-minded ship, and pranks happened, so he decided to trust that Curtis wouldn’t wreck him for it.

  As long as he didn’t cramp up and require rescue.

  Dan was more worried about Karl. Karl wasn’t a prankster or anything less than his serious-and-best out there. He hoped it didn’t make Karl wary of him, or worse, lose him Karl’s respect completely.

  The thought crushed him, but he didn’t have the luxury to examine why. He shut off his angry brain bees and concentrated on the swim and the syncopation of his movements as he fought the cold and the currents. Mind cleared, his body displayed natural, machine-like command of the water.

  He checked his progress and trajectory and timed his strokes. Halfway, and the boat had turned toward him. Dan was in his element and responded with confidence and clarity of purpose. His heart pumped, and he needed a lot of air, but his strength didn’t wane. Triumph surged as he neared, and he knew he’d make it without issue.

  Dan swam to portside, gripped the protrusions on the boat, and clambered up. Hands grabbed him and helped haul him onto the deck.

  “Hiya,” he panted with a grin.

  King was senior officer in charge. He presented a funhouse mirror reflection of Curtis, with his stout physique, face like a knot tied around beady eyes, and a shock of white hair that striped down his temples as sideburns that almost met his still-red mustache. He stomped down from the bridge and stood, hands on hips, in front of Dan. “Wanna explain this, meathead?”

  “I needed a ride.” Dan caught the towel someone threw at him and wiped down. He wrapped it around his shoulders and made a face like butter wouldn’t melt.

  “I only wish I could still be surprised at this point in my career.” King’s nostrils flared, and he pointed at the cabin. “Get in there so you don’t die of exposure on me. And don’t drip on anything.” He shook his head and muttered about insane swimmers and putting up with their hotdog bullshit for too many years.

  Dan quickly shed body heat, and violent shivers wracked him. He knotted the towel around his waist, pulled off the tank top, and stepped from his sopping shorts. The cabin seemed like a furnace compared to the water and wind on his wet, bare skin, but he still pulled his arms in and bent at the waist to conserve heat.

  “You don’t deserve this, but here.”

  Boat and helicopter crews didn’t mix much, but Dan recognized Fields from her enthusiasm on the obstacle course in the yard. Her take-no-prisoners attacks saw her beating everyone else by a mile more often than not.

  Fields pushed a coffee into his hands but graced him with a pretty smile, her pale blue eyes sparkling. She wagged a finger.

  “So, am I mostly dead? All dead?”

  She shrugged. “Given the givens, I think Curtis will decide he can’t do worse than make you swim that distance in this cold water, but you’ll still pull some shit duty. I also think, after he gives you a piece of his mind about safety, responsibility, and unfair risks that your actions have burdened the whole station with, he’ll close the door and laugh. Not out loud of course, but one of those low, ‘I was that asshole once’ laughs.”

  Fields had many years in at the station, so Dan figured she knew. He kissed his hand to the sky.

  “Kudos to you that you survived without the need for intervention. Of course, if you cramped and almost drowned, we could all feel bad for you as well as being pissed.” She reached into an overhead bin and threw him another towel. “Good luck.”

  Dan checked the time. It added up to doable in the window he’d calculated. He finished his coffee and dried between his toes and the wet line along his spine and scrubbed his hair. The boat came alongside the dock, and he didn’t wait for them to invite him ashore. He grabbed his clothes and boosted onto the rail as Marcum steadied his jump down to the dock.

  Everyone had stopped working to watch his swim, and they broke into hoots and applause. Dan took a quick bow and accepted their ribbing while he ignored how Karl continued to paint.

  “Damn, son. You put on quite a show.” Trask shook his head. “Nice knowing you. You’re wanted inside.”

  Dan played it light and let them tease and jostle his walk up the dock. His legs and arms were jelly, and his abs and back protested in overheated fatigue. But he’d made it. Bennett and Jameson watched his progress to the adjoining hall, but their easy smirks reassured him that nobody was super pissed about it. He didn’t want to alienate himself from the station, but his stomach churned over the likelihood that he had alienated the one person he didn’t want to.

  He wrapped his sopping clothes in the towel from around his neck and knocked on Curtis’s open door.

  Curtis grunted, beckoned him in, and leveled Dan with an unflinching stare. He could almost hear the “I’m not mad I’m just disappointed” it conveyed.

  “Well. We all know what you can do now.” Curtis raised an eyebrow.

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Seen you in action, and you had your fun.”

  Dan resisted licking his lips or fidgeting. “Yes, sir.”

  “So then, I’d say we don’t need another such display. Agreed?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “This doesn’t seem like you, Farnsworth. Yeah, you horsed around a little, same as anyone, but this was a big, unnecessary risk. Your actions burdened the station and my crew, not just you. And you know it. I hope I’m correct about that.”

  “My gramps was in the Navy. He used to love telling me about when things were quiet on ship, the boys would jump in and have a swim, get to enjoy the water a little.” Dan shifted in place. “It was inspiring.”

  “Since I think we can agree there’s no justification, spare me.” Curtis’s mouth flattened. “I’m not interested in getting disciplinary involved, but you’re going to enjoy a lot more than the water for a while.”

  Dan didn’t let his relief show. “Yes, sir.”

  “And if you do anything half as stupid again, I’m coming down on you twice as hard as I should for it. Get me?”

  “Loud and clear, sir.” Dan hated it. Curtis was right that he had a reputation for messing around, but it was always just pranks and mischief. “I’m….” He swallowed an apology. Curtis wouldn’t want it. “Thank you, sir.” He looked at the puddle he had dripped onto the floor and grimaced.

  Curtis waved him away. “Get warmed up and some fluids in you. Far as I’m concerned, you’re still on duty. Check the roster sheet in an hour for all your new assignments. And close the door behind you.”

  “Sir.” Dan saluted. As the door closed, he heard Curtis’s low, dry crack of laughter. He didn’t indulge in appreciating it.

  Okay. So he wasn’t dead, and neither was his place there or his career. But he had to face up to the real plausibility of a theory that’d been knocking around his brain. And Karl.

  “Whew, you lucky dog.” Bennett whistled.

  Bennett and Jameson hadn’t moved.

  “We’ve worked out whose laundry you’re doing first. I like my shirts folded retail, sleeves sharply perpendicular and then parallel.” Jameson held out a piece of paper. “We made a schedule. Help you out a bit.”

  Dan scanned the list—everyone who l
ived at the station, several a day for the next month. He laughed. He might just end up having to do it, and he wouldn’t grouse about it.

  “What, no spreadsheet?”

  “I’ll have it to you oh-five-hundred tomorrow,” Jameson deadpanned.

  “Perfect. Come look for me in the showers. I’ll be cleaning the grout with a Q-tip.”

  Jameson shook his head. “Hell of a swim, Worth. Between us, makes me glad you’re on the team up here.”

  “Hey, thanks. I’m glad to be here.” Dan found he meant that, in spite of what brought him.

  He grabbed two sports drinks and a handful of protein bars from the mess and went to his room. It’d be really good to get dry, changed, and back to work ASAP somewhere far from Karl. So of course he walked in to find Karl glowering in the middle of their room.

  They squared off in tense silence, and Dan was suddenly aware of his near nakedness. The towel at his waist was split deeply up his thigh and barely covered everything. He had no shame or modesty. Years changing on the beach or out of the back of his car to surf and swim had inured him to it, and whatever might have been left was snuffed in the Guard. But standing under Karl’s glare, exposed in so many ways, twisted him all up.

  As though to emphasize his vulnerability, Karl’s gaze dropped to his bare feet, lingered at his waist, and dragged slowly back up. A skittering dance of itchy heat raced across Dan’s skin, which was already chafed by the cold water and dried salt. His scalp tingled, and warmth pooled in his belly and oozed lower to his groin.

  Karl’s jaw worked, and something Dan couldn’t pin down flitted in his eyes.

  “What the fuck kind of stunt was that?”

  For a breathless moment, Dan almost told Karl everything. He fought the impulse and forced an easy grin instead.

  “Not a big deal, is what.” Dan loomed enough to push past Karl and throw the wet stuff in his hamper. His chest brushed Karl’s shoulder, and his mouth went dry.

  “I’m sure Curtis agreed with that shit assessment.”

  Dan picked up his shower bag and dropped it again. “You know he didn’t. But whatever. It was just in fun and no harm done.”

  Karl wrenched him back around, and his hot grip dug into Dan’s arm and snapped with electricity. White lines bracketed Karl’s mouth.

  “I’d hate to have seen if it did harm.”

  Emotion rose and flutter-cut its way through Dan’s senses—hope, elation, and something more he couldn’t quite name but felt to his bones as he looked at Karl’s lips and the darkening color of Karl’s eyes. They already stood close together, but it drew him in nearer until Karl’s angry exhalation teased his skin.

  “Water that’s barely at temperature to survive in and a coming squall. Forget the stupid showboating. You could have….” Karl shook his head and seemed lost for words. He looked at Dan searchingly.

  “Hey, I’m fine. It’s fine.” Dan eased his arm to turn in Karl’s hold and caught Karl’s elbow with his hand.

  Karl flexed his hand, and Dan leaned in another inch to skate his hand over and squeeze Karl’s shoulder. He trembled at the contact—maybe Karl did—the heat between them palpable against his flesh. The continuing tease of arousal he obstinately tried to ignore threaded that heat, and lack of modesty or not, he’d have to get into something else soon or the barely there towel would give him away.

  “No use borrowing trouble. I’m okay, and I got the shit duty I deserve as punishment. Everyone got a good laugh. It’s over.”

  “No use?” Karl’s eyes spit fire, and he shook Dan. That indefinable light in Karl’s gaze came and went again, and he pulled back. “What if we had to rescue you? What if you put us in danger? What if there were another emergency somewhere and we couldn’t get there fast enough because we were tied up saving your fool ass?”

  Karl’s accusations washed over Dan, colder than the water he’d just endured, and froze him to the core. He straightened and shook loose from Karl’s grasp.

  “Ha-ha, wow.” Dan sounded bitter. “For a minute there, I thought you were worried about me.” He sidestepped Karl’s outstretched hand as something hardened in him, and he flexed his biceps showily. “But hey, no need. I killed it out there. Easy.”

  “Easy? Goddammit. That’s not—”

  Karl didn’t get the chance to finish.

  Dan snapped into action at the sound of the alarm, grabbed his gear and ran for the locker room without even noticing that the towel fell away somewhere in the hall. As he got suited up, he stuffed the confrontation with Karl and its turmoil down, down, down and told himself he was relieved and glad that he didn’t have to hear whatever Karl was about to say.

  KARL scanned the shoreline. Sea kayaks were not on the short list of easy-to-spot targets. They were like swimmers in absolutely no safety or identifying gear, out in the middle of the fucking stupid goddamn ocean, floating in tiny flimsy shells.

  He bared his teeth and made tight fists to channel a spike of temper. Karl sensed Dan’s gaze on him. He glared over, motioned toward the water, and tried to train his thoughts to the rescue.

  When Dan pulled his stunt and dove from the dock, he’d cursed a blue streak but was unable to move or take his eyes away. He was afraid that, if he did, Dan would falter, go under, be lost. The others had hooted and hollered, and Trask had run inside for binoculars and gear—the binoculars to pass around, the gear just in case.

  Karl couldn’t remember the last time he’d been so angry. Everyone knew about and respected his temper, which burned hot and spent itself fast, but this was a slow, seething burn that still roiled in his gut.

  Dan’s attitude and swagger did nothing but sharpen his fury, along with his relief when the boat hauled Dan aboard and signaled all clear. Then the sight of Dan in that ridiculous towel made him forget his anger and just about everything else.

  He’d seen Dan naked and couldn’t resist the temptation to get a good look. He liked what he saw. He could appreciate Dan’s musculature, slightly bowed legs, light body hair, and the dimples over Dan’s ass. He didn’t have to go full-bore creeper—or allow it to distract him otherwise.

  But something changed in their room just then, between his anger, Dan’s hollow-eyed bravado, and that too-small towel that made him want to snatch it away and expose Dan, kiss him senseless, and fill his hands with hard curves and cold-chafed skin. Get at whatever Dan was hiding.

  “What’s that? Between two and three.” Scobey’s voice crackled on the mic.

  Karl started back into the moment. He widened his eyes, took a deep breath, and banished the image of Dan, bare and crowded so close their body heat transferred.

  He shifted his crouch to peer out the door in the direction Scobey indicated. Two miniscule colorful dots bobbed in the chop. He grabbed the binocs and found them again. The indistinct dots became a pointed willow leaf shape with waving appendages.

  “Good eyes, Scobey,” Karl confirmed. “And they’ve seen us.”

  “Copy. Heading over. Cove, we have the adrift kayakers spotted.” With easy precision, Lang tilted the chopper against the wind and dropped low on the approach.

  Jameson confirmed their coordinates and relayed updates through Lang. Karl readied the rescue basket, gave everything a cross-check, and looked at Heber and then Dan. Both gave thumbs-up.

  Karl triple-checked that his lifeline was clipped in and perched on the deck to maintain optimal eyes on the kayakers. He had an ingrained habit of measuring distance using his feet for relative size, just a nonsense scale he’d developed from years of rescues, and he kept the kayakers framed in the vee of his dangling boots. The chopper maneuvered, and he called out small corrections and helped Scobey keep their bearings on the small crafts as they were tossed about and changed position in the water.

  The coastline was visible from there but deceptively so. Those kayakers had been sucked out to open water along one of the wicked, spiraling currents that eddied along the jagged shore and through the rocky reefs invisible far below the s
urface. They couldn’t fight the current, although apparently they’d tried for hours. When heavy weather loomed to the west, they finally called a mayday. Karl took them for adventure-sports tourists. Locals usually didn’t kayak that difficult stretch, and if they did, they knew to paddle way out and dig hard going north, past the breakers that fed the current.

  They stopped waving, and Karl saw their exhaustion. Time to get them to safety.

  “We’re set.”

  “Copy. We’re at hold.” Lang kept up low-key chatter as the rescue team sprang to action.

  Dan wedged next to Karl and held on to the grips while Karl got him secured to the winch. He nodded, turned, toed the edge of the deck, and made to push clear of the chopper.

  Karl kneed Dan’s side and caught his arm, and Dan’s eyebrows shot up.

  “They probably won’t want to abandon the kayaks, but they’ll have to. Colors look custom—probably dragged here from who knows where.”

  Dan nodded. “Med assessment first, diplomacy second, rescue last.” He smiled at Karl’s low laugh and patted Karl’s leg. “Got it.”

  Karl let him go and guided the line as he lowered Dan to the water.

  “Visible cloud-to-cloud lightning to the southwest. Wind starting to pick up. Pressure is dropping.” Scobey ticked off current conditions, but Karl didn’t look away from Dan and the kayakers. There could be a coming storm or a lot of bluster that stayed at sea.

  “I have contact. Two male kayakers, both conscious. Mild exposure, dehydration, one is sunburned to a crisp.” Dan signaled with a few quick gestures. “Don’t like the conditions I have here for the basket, and these guys are in good enough shape to hold on. I’m staying tethered and carrying the lobster up.”