Strategic Engagement. Catherine Mann
Desire derived from a day filled with life and death stakes licked the air, scorching her even from a distance.
She turned her back on the image and thoughts of partnerships it inspired. “Spike? A nickname because of his hair, I assume.”
“Yeah. Normally OSI guys don’t get their own call sign, but we made Spike an honorary member of the squadron once he and Renshaw hooked up.”
The air whirled with the dynamics of so many relationships, platonic as well as passionate. Her mind and body went into sensory overload after years of deprivation.
Kent had severed ties from people except in the working environment, later taking even that from her, insisting work-related stress caused the miscarriages. The past months in Rubistan she’d soaked up the teaching time with children like a healing balm after enforced distance from little ones. Even so, those relationships were superficial. She hadn’t been a real part of any community for years.
And then it hit her what bothered her so much about this homecoming, why she wanted distance as a buffer from pain.
Daniel had moved on, made a life for himself with new friends, new direction, ever changing and growing. But she’d allowed herself to stagnate, frozen in time. How telling that when she’d needed help running from Kent’s threat, she’d turned to someone from her past. Daniel’s father. Sure, she’d escaped the immediate danger, but she still hadn’t been able to lower the walls that sealed her from experiencing emotions. She’d focused on survival for so long, she wasn’t sure she really knew how to live anymore.
Entering a world full of feelings, like love—anything—again was a scary-as-hell proposition. And not one she intended to attempt with Daniel anywhere near her.
The man of the hour beside her paused, a new tension radiating from him in waves. She didn’t have to look to know. An instinctive understanding of him that had gone dormant over the years roared to life.
Mary Elise searched the windswept stretch of cement for the source of Danny’s tension. She didn’t have to look far. From behind the driver’s side of the truck, a man in a flight suit slid out with cougarlike stealthiness.
She didn’t know much about military rank gracing the shoulders of flight suits, but even she recognized this man’s air of authority. The adversarial vibes between them snapped along the air.
A shiver ripped through her. This sort of antagonistic relationship she had experienced and understood well. While she’d learned to haul butt in the other direction for self-preservation, she couldn’t squelch a driving desire to fling herself between Daniel and the man stalking toward them.
Time for the crap to hit the fan.
Watching the new Squadron Commander stride forward, Daniel passed Austin to Mary Elise and braced his shoulders. Not that he intended to let things fly now in front of the kids.
He saluted the higher-ranking officer. “Hello, sir.”
The last word bit on its way up and out, but he knew protocol. It was just tougher to swallow with some than others.
Damn he missed the boundary-pushing days of flying cutting-edge test missions at Edwards AFB. But he had to exist in a day-to-day flying job to fill time as well as maintain cover between the higher ordered, dark ops missions that periodically came his way. Like the one he’d just completed when the call came through to retrieve his brothers.
Yeah, he missed the freedom of his old job. But even the beginning of his transfer to Charleston AFB as Chief of Training Flight hadn’t been too bad. Until the new boss took over. Lt. Col. Lucas Quade was nothing like their old commander, Zach Dawson.
The past summer had marked the end of Dawson’s reign as Squadron Commander. While he’d opted to stay on at the base for another year for family reasons, Dawson had shifted to Assistant Deputy of Operations for the Wing. Quade had transferred in from the Pentagon to take his place.
Not a smooth transition in the least for the C-17 squadron. Quade lent a darker shading to the squadron motto, Anything, Anywhere, Anytime. This guy was everywhere, all the time, breathing down their necks. His ever-present scowl could melt the paint off an airplane.
Daniel stepped in front of Mary Elise and the boys, between them and the anger pulsing quietly from the commander. “I didn’t expect to see you back from your TDY to England for two more days, sir.”
At least he’d hoped not when he’d pushed this mission through in the commander’s absence.
“No doubt,” Quade answered, his low growl riding wind that didn’t dare disturb his close-cropped dark hair. “Lucky I was able to cut it short and meet you on the flight line.”
Daniel shot a pointed look toward the bedraggled children then back to his commander. “I’ll be in your office first thing tomorrow morning after I settle them in.”
“Yes, you will, Captain.” Quade nodded to Mary Elise. “Welcome back to the States, ma’am.” Spinning on his heel, he slid away as silently as he’d approached.
Mary Elise drew up shoulder to shoulder. Austin stirred, yawning, stuffing a fist against his eye.
“Crap,” Daniel mumbled under his breath.
Mary Elise cocked her head to the side. “Problem?”
There’d been a time when he’d shared everything with Mary Elise. Her insights had kept his wings level on more than one occasion. But opening that door to the past would invite a host of other issues better left alone when he needed objectivity to figure out what the hell was chugging through that brain of hers. “Normal red tape. No big deal.”
He should be covered, thanks to Spike’s CIA connections. Daniel shrugged off what couldn’t be dealt with until the next day. He’d take the fall in a heartbeat if Quade started gunning for anyone else on the crew.
Daniel tapped Trey on the shoulder and pointed to the ambulance. “You ready to get checked out so we can head home?”
Trey jammed his hands in his pockets and shrugged. “Doesn’t matter. Just wanna go to bed.”
More concerns. Where would he put everyone in his condo? A small condo with only one bed—a big bed that he could too well envision sharing with Mary Elise.
A headache started behind his right eye, like a tiny hammer rapping with irritating persistence. “Not much longer and we’ll hit the road. You’ll be in b— Uh, you’ll be tucked in before you can say Hershey’s chocolate.”
Austin pulled his thumb out of his mouth. “Crap.”
Daniel screeched to a halt. “What?”
Trey smirked. “I think he heard you say it.”
“Thanks. I figured that.”
Mary Elise tapped Austin’s mouth. “What’s wrong, hon?”
“Got no jammies. Want my sailboat jammies. Crap.” His thumb popped back in his mouth.
Daniel flinched over the curse, but couldn’t bring himself to reprimand his brother. Poor kid had lost his parents and everything familiar in the span of a couple of weeks. “You can both wear my T-shirts. I have one with an airplane on it, just for you, pal.”
“Mary ’Lise got no jammies, neither.”
An image he did not need, thank you very much. “She can borrow a T-shirt, too.”
Another image no less tormenting than the last splayed across his mind in a tangle of long red hair and even longer legs. In his bed.
“And a toof brush and shampoo?”
Daniel blinked back to the present and Austin’s latest question. “We’ll buy some.”
“For Mary ’Lise, too?”
Already he could see, smell her shampoo in his shower.
The little