Strategic Engagement (Wingmen Warriors #5)

Strategic Engagement (Wingmen Warriors #5) Page 11

Unlike himself.

The Squadron Commander's closed door loomed ahead. Man, the old open-door-policy days of Zach Dawson's command were long gone. Just grit through it. Not the first reaming and sure wouldn't be his last. Daniel rapped his knuckles, twice.

"Yes."

Okay, guess that meant enter. Daniel stepped inside the spacious office, stopping short of an oversize wooden desk looming with flags behind it. "You wanted to see me, sir?"

Lt. Col. Lucas Quade didn't glance up from the file in front of him, the subtle put-down not lost on Daniel. He waited. Studied the rows of airplane photos, a C-17 framed alongside a print of the C-141 Quade flew earlier. Cornell diploma. With honors. Figures.

His old man had wanted him to go there. Actually, his father had wanted him to attend Harvard or Yale, but they didn't have ROTC programs, so the prestigious schools didn't even make Daniel's list of possibilities.

Quade closed the file with precision before raising his gaze to Daniel without standing. "Is that how you report in a military manner, Baker?"

Ah, so that's how the guy wanted to play it. Quade's turf, they had to play Quade's way. Just like days of old with Franklin Baker.

Daniel drew to attention and snapped a sharp salute. "Captain Baker reporting as ordered, sir."

Quade returned the salute, no invitation to sit on the sofa followed like with the past commander. This guy wouldn't be pulling a secret stash of Little Debbie cakes out of his desk drawer to share either. Yeah, he'd received a few "chats" from Dawson about how to better balance the secrets ops Daniel pulled with the commander's need-to-know basis. Chats, not this standing-at-attention bulk.

"Baker, I'm sure you realize why you're in here."

"Yes, sir." He kept his eyes on the flag just behind Quade and consoled himself with the fact that a squadron commander usually only held the position for eighteen months to two years.

About how long it felt like this "chat" would last.

The commander jabbed a finger on the closed file with a red cover sheet declaring "Secret." "You're lucky you covered your ass planning this one."

Daniel didn't bother making excuses. Air Force Academy days had picked up where Mary Elise left off in drilling some caution into him.

Quade continued, "I don't question the mission's importance. And I know damned well there are times you can't be straight-up about where you're going. But, Captain, that was my plane and those were my flyers. No matter how much paperwork you filed or how many strings you pulled, their safety is still on my shoulders. You should have placed a courtesy call to me."

The past blended with the present, too many such confrontations with his father hammering his memory at a time when the last thing he wanted was to think of his old man currently dead in the ground.

Quade blinked slowly. "Answer me one question. Would you have given Dawson a courtesy call?"

Nailed. The question and its obvious affirmative yanked Daniel right back to the present, a not so comfortable place to be. He kept his eyes forward and mind centered on the shopping trip he and Mary Elise would make with the boys.

The Squadron Commander released him from answering by planting his hands on the edge of his desk and standing. "You didn't call me because you didn't want to risk my having a different take on your plan."

Silence seemed the wisest course of action. Bunk beds. They would shop for those first and then pick out sheets. Austin said he wanted sailboats. Fine. Mary Elise would help Trey open up enough for the kid to choose what he wanted, too.

Quade pushed a paper across the desk. Daniel glanced down. The guy couldn't actually intend to write him up without grounds? Daniel looked closer and found … leave papers. The commander was giving him two weeks vacation.

"Get your household in order."

Confusion shifted the ground under his feet. He'd expected to have to beg for leave. "Thank you, sir."

"Don't thank me. This isn't some kind of personal favor. You're no good to my squadron if you're distracted." He clipped through the words, snagging a fresh file to open. "Dismissed, Baker."

O-kay. Daniel spun on his heel to leave, the prospect of bunk-bed shopping suddenly not so daunting after all.

"Baker?"

Slowly Daniel turned.

Quade stood with his back to the door, shuffling pages in the file as if Daniel only warranted half of his attention. "Boundary pushing is necessary to expand the airframe's capabilities. Confidence in the air is admirable." He tucked another page to the back. "Intellectual arrogance, however, will put you face-to-face with an enemy missile someday."

The words chaffed more than any right-sideout T-shirt. Quade reached for the file cabinet. "Close the door behind you."

Daniel stepped into the hall, shoulders tensed just as after countless confrontations with his father. Hell, yeah, he had trouble with authority figures. Didn't take a freaking Sigmund Freud to figure that one out. Still, he managed. Pushed his boundaries, stayed alive and kept his career on track, accepting the occasional chewing out as the price to pay for freedom.

What baffled him, however, was how easily he'd fallen into the old habit of keeping his temper in check with the promise of seeing Mary Elise.

Much more "seeing Daniel" and she would lose her mind.

Mary Elise plastered herself against the truck door, the back now full of bunk beds, linens, enough food to feed an army, four bags of kids' clothes and two bags for her.Never had he grown impatient, even when Austin had screamed himself purple with a temper tantrum in the Base Exchange. Not once had Daniel snapped or glanced at his watch, darker emotions apparently shunted away. Playful Danny had reemerged with a charm and ease that simultaneously dazzled and tormented her. He slid into the family routine without a misstep, as if he lived to purchase new video games and supersize an order at the golden arches.

Which of course he did.

Palmetto trees whizzed by the window along the barrier-island road. Sailboats, a barge, a shrimp trawler bobbed in the distance until she lost herself in the hypnotic regularity. What if she and Danny had stumbled on each other again through a simple passing on the Street, no dangerous ex-husband lurking in her past? Could they meet for coffee and discuss their engagement and lost baby with adult perspective, then slide back into their old friendship? Maybe something more.

But she had met Kent. Married him. And knowing him had marked her—transforming her into a different woman, one as incapable of committing words to paper as she was of committing herself to another person.

Threat or no threat, she'd changed. Not for the better. Even if she scraped deep inside herself for the pieces to try, the risk wouldn't be hers and Danny's alone. Echoes of Austin's screaming fit still reverberated in her head, his anguish because he'd lost sight of her for seven seconds when she stepped around an aisle. She wouldn't mislead those two grieving boys into expecting her to stay. They'd lost enough.

Two grieving boys in the process of beating each other to death with blow-up baseball bats that had been on special with the kids' meals at the Base Exchange food court.

Austin thunked Danny on the back of the head.

Daniel ducked. "Hey, short stuff, you're gonna land us in a ditch. Hold off another minute while I park the truck and we can cross swords on the beach."

He wove the truck past an unusual abundance of cars lining the street leading into the complex. He crept past every full visitor spot and finally nosed his Ford into a tight space on the end.

"Someone must be throwing a party," he noted offhandedly as he reached back to unbuckle Austin.

Mary Elise couldn't help but think how a week ago he would have likely been joining the party. Still, he didn't say a word or show even a hint of the frustration he must be feeling.

Don't be so wonderful, Danny. Please.

She stepped out of the truck just as one of the second-floor condo doors flung open to emit music and laughter.

Spike strode onto the balcony, his arm hooked over his fiancée's shoulders. "Come on up, Crusty. Most of the squadron's already here and ready to party."

Daniel pulled Austin out before shouting, "Thanks, man, but I need to unload the truck and start putting together furniture so we're not bunking on the floor again. Besides, uh, I've got the kids."

"No problem," Spike insisted, tucking a bathing-suit-clad Darcy Renshaw closer. "There are plenty more rug rats here."

A carrot-topped little girl crawled between Spike's legs seconds before a linebacker-size man plowed past to scoop her up. Mary Elise forced herself not to wince at the sight of a baby that too easily could have been hers and Daniel's.

Darcy stepped forward to lean over the balcony. "Didn't you hear us, Crusty? Most of the squadron's here. Surprise! We're throwing you a baby shower."

Chapter 7

Three hours later, Mary Elise dangled her feet in the pool and tried to soak away the tension of attending a "baby shower" eleven years after the fact with Daniel. Actually, a truly thoughtful gesture on the part of his squadron friends, and she refused to allow past baggage to taint it.

And man, did these people know how to party.Chlorine drifted along the salty air while Mary Elise kept guard over Austin splashing nearby in the shallow end with his newly christened pair of inflatable water wings. Tables and loungers filled with adults and kids, the pool packed with squadron guests bearing gifts of toys, clothes, even a surprise extravagant present of two bikes.

Three couples strayed beyond the fence to the marshy coastline, gushing tidewaters surging against the beach with circling gulls and herons overhead. Darcy and Spike's condo had overheated quickly with the press of people inside until they'd moved the party, complete with Bo's guitar entertainment, to the pool in hopes of cooling off.

Feet swishing through the lukewarm water, Mary Elise watched Danny step under the pool shower. Cutoff jean shorts rode low on his slim h*ps until she could count every ridge of his six-pack abs. Spray streamed down his face, between his defined pecs in a trail southward that left her swallowing hard.

She jerked her gaze away before it followed that water straight down. Geez, how totally embarrassing, not to mention insulting. She liked to think of herself as a normal woman with healthy urges, but also a thinking woman and not an out-of-control bundle of hormones.

As she'd once been around this man.

Gentle guitar pluckings floated along the ocean breeze in a sensual serenade. Great. Apparently, bad-boy Bo had decided to turn his talented fingers to a sappy love song as he sprawled in a chair at an umbrella table. No doubt playing in hopes of luring the splashing hot tub mermaid back to his place.

Couples. Couples. Couples everywhere. Ugh.

At least she and Daniel wouldn't be swimming together half-naked as they'd done so often in his parents' pool. Darcy had offered to share an extra bathing suit with her, but Mary Elise found lazing by the pool the perfect way to end a draining day.

She accepted that some of her lassitude could be attributed to her lack of medicines since her supply now sat useless in her cabinet back in Rubistan. She would have to check in with a doctor soon about new prescriptions. At least the over-the-counter, iron-fortified vitamins she'd bought would help with the anemia that accompanied endometriosis in full tilt.

Her body chemistry might be out of whack, the building pain only mildly numbed by extra-strength Motrin. But she'd lived with the fallout of her illness for so long, she refused to let it rule her anymore. She would enjoy the moment before her life shifted into another unknown direction.

Besides, since Austin had a conniption fit any time she stepped too far out of his sight line, napping back at Danny's condo wasn't an option.

Across the stretch of cement, Danny yanked the shower chain, ending the spray in a trickle. Shaking the droplets from his hair, he strode toward Mary Elise, the loose-hipped grace of his walk leaving her longing to trace the band of those low-riding cutoffs.