Jayhawk Down (19 page)

She heard the car brake hard and doors opening and closing in the charged air, but her focus remained on the unmoving man twenty feet in front of her. A female shouting “Stillman!” shifted his attention to the new arrival.

Caitlyn sidestepped her father in time to see Hilary’s blond head, looking white in the stark lights of the parking lot, settle on Stillman’s broad shoulder. An older woman, no doubt his mother, stepped from the limo and stood waiting. The dark didn’t camouflage her aristocratic bearing, or her air of entitlement. Goose bumps spread over Caitlyn’s arms. Her run-in with her college boyfriend’s wealthy socialite mother had ended with her confidence shredded. It had allowed the spoiled son to decimate her heart.

Her father’s voice penetrated the fog of painful memories. “...we should have thought of a limo,” he said, putting his arm around Caitlyn’s shoulders and giving her a squeeze. Her mother’s glance traveled from Caitlyn to Stillman, then back to her daughter with a questioning look.

Caitlyn hooked her arm though her mother’s and tugged her away from the unfolding scene. “Let’s go home. A goodly dose of mothering sounds perfect right now.” She wasn’t up to watching Hilary claim Stillman, especially in front of her too-observant mother.

* * *

Stillman watched Caitlyn hustle her parents into a car and leave without a backward glance. Hilary’s nonstop harangue of all things military barely registered as she tugged him to the waiting limo. He absently rubbed his chest in a vain attempt to ease the hollow feeling that engulfed him with Caitlyn’s departure. Hell, she needed the comfort of family. Something he had little experience with and no chance of offering her.

“Stillman, what’s wrong?”

His mother’s concerned voice pulled his thoughts from Caitlyn. He frowned in confusion. “Why are you here?” He scraped fingers through his hair and blew out a breath. “I’m sorry, that came out harsh. It never occurred to me you’d travel down on such short notice. That must mean dad came through his surgery without any problems.” At least one worry could be safely stashed away for the night.

Her expression softened, and she laid her hand on his arm, surprising him further. “He’s fine. I waited until I knew you were safe before telling him what happened. Fortunately, Hilary was at the house when the army showed up with news of your hijacking.”

“Thank God, they were about as sensitive as—”

“Hilary. Stop. I’m not in the mood to hear your complaints.” She halted at the open rear door of the limo and stared at him with parted lips. He tapped her chin up with a knuckle, closing her mouth with a little click of teeth. “I appreciate you being there for my parents but this has to stop. You’re supposed to be engaged to another man.”

His mother quelled Hilary’s sputtered protest with a look, then turned to him and winked. What the hell was going on? Was he so tired he was hallucinating?

“You’ve been through a lot, but I’d like you to come with us to New York. We brought the corporate jet.” She patted his arm. “Your father wants to see you. To know you’re really all right. I would imagine you’d like to do the same thing, wouldn’t you?”

Exhaustion tugged hard, but she was right; he wouldn’t rest until he’d seen his father with his own eyes and talked to the attending surgeon. Difficult to think the man who sired him felt the same way. He sank into the limo’s leather backseat next to Hilary and closed his eyes.

Fatigued by too much caffeine, stress and adrenaline letdown, he could sleep sitting on the hood while they
drove
to New York. He stiffened as a disturbing realization bit him in the butt. After only three nights, the thought of going to bed without Caitlyn plastered to his side was as appealing as becoming that sitting hood ornament. No way could he contemplate a lifetime without her.

Clearwater, FL,
Monday, 3 October, 1830 hours

“Earth to lieutenant, earth—”

“Maybe we should declare an emergency, get her—”

“All right already,” Caitlyn conceded, turning her attention away from the cantina’s doorway and back to her companions. She forced her shoulders to relax. Stillman said he would come, didn’t he? Her hand closed over the small plane she’d converted to a pendant hanging on a silver chain.

He’d also said he’d call, but except for one, entirely too brief conversation while he was in New York, he’d been very good at sending her text messages. Her return calls always ended up going to his voice mail. She wanted to hear his voice, not see his electronic shorthand.

She absently stole another oatmeal chocolate chip cookie from the fancy tin. “How did you talk my mom into sending you these?” she asked Clay.

Joe swiped at Caitlyn’s hand and moved the open tin away from her reach. “He whined when your parents visited him at the hospital, that’s how. But if he’s not careful he’ll lose them all to you two,” he said with an accusing tone.

“They visited me too, but I didn’t get cookies,” Ryan complained and grabbed two more before Joe clamped the lid shut with a disgusted expression.

Caitlyn rolled her eyes at her crew. The dynamics had shifted subtly over the week since they’d been back to work. Joe had appointed himself Clay’s protector. Maybe it was guilt over the young swimmer getting shot and maybe it was because his own son was coming to live with him in a couple of weeks. Either way, Clay couldn’t ask for a better mentor.

“No, you got brownies,” Caitlyn said before taking a bite out of her cookie.

“What? Brownies? How the hell did you rate?” Joe turned accusing eyes on Caitlyn. “Didn’t you tell your mom how I died so convincingly in front of you? That should be worth baked goods of some kind.”

Caitlyn sucked in a shocked breath and choked on her cookie. Clay lunged across the table as if to pound on her back. She stopped him with a frantic headshake while tears and laughter fought for dominance. She felt like an idiot as three pairs of worried eyes watched her. God, how she loved these guys.

Her laughter and choking finally under control, she snagged Ryan’s glass of water and carefully sipped. Clay looked primed to administer the Heimlich maneuver at the slightest provocation. Her cell phone, sitting on the table where she’d left it after her last text to Stillman, played the B-52’s “Love Shack.”

Joe laughed and grabbed it before she could and she narrowed her eyes at him.

“Her majesty’s answering service.” His grin blinked off immediately. “She’s right here if you want—”

Caitlyn’s stomach cramped at his change in demeanor. She held her hand out for the phone. And the bad news.

Joe watched her but made no move to give up her phone.

“Yeah, you’re right, she won’t want to hear you’re not coming. She’s already cried once tonight,” he said with a wink.

She added a frown to her narrow-eyed look. Who could he be talk—Stillman, of course. It had to be him. The cramp changed to a stabbing pain.
It’s over.

Ryan’s arm came to rest on her shoulders and she unconsciously leaned into him. All the unanswered calls and noncommittal text messages added up to a weaselly kiss-off. The bastard didn’t have the balls to tell her goodbye to her face? She blinked hard, ignoring the burn of tears. To hell with him. Maybe she’d take that damn training job in Alabama sooner rather than later.

It represented recognition for her ability and a hell of an opportunity. Unfortunately, she feared being so far from real action would drive her insane. Maybe that’s why she’d always thought of it as something she’d do in the future—when she was ready to ease back from the risk-taking.

Their waitress set two Coronas and two soft drinks on the table and cleared the empties. Caitlyn swapped her Diet Coke for Clay’s beer and cut off his protest by tossing him her key ring.

Joe snatched it out of the air as he ended the call. “Clay is
not
taking
Black Beauty
anywhere,” he said over the kid’s instant protest. He eyed Caitlyn with a speculative gleam as he tucked the keys away.

“What? I want to party. Hell, I want to get rip-roaring drunk for a change,” she said and took a healthy swig of the cold brew. She turned to Ryan, her ever-agreeable partner in all things bad. “You’re my designated driver.” She downed another mouthful of beer then grabbed his hand and tugged him from his chair. “Come on. I want to dance.”

“Queen B,” Joe called as she headed to the dance floor. “Don’t you want to know what he said?”

“Not interested.” She forced a grin on Ryan and an extra sway to her walk. And she definitely didn’t want Joe’s pity.

* * *

Valerie shifted on the SUV’s leather seat, vainly trying to ignore the bantering going on between “Yasin” and Munson. Oddly enough, the undercover agent preferred using his assumed name. While she’d been given the coveted front passenger seat, Yasin was clearly the star guest based on Munson’s respectful treatment.

She felt like an afterthought or a needless accessory. Not something she was used to at all.

“So, Val. What do you think of our senior G-man? Hot stuff, eh?” Yasin said with an exaggerated accent and tugged on her hair.

She gave the agent in question a thorough once-over. The blue suit was impeccable, the deep red tie conservative and the smoldering silver eyes set her on fire. “Not bad, but there’s nothing senior about Scott,” she said with a purr and a wink. Maybe sex kitten would get a reaction.

Munson laughed and grabbed her hand. “Ignore the little twit in the backseat. He’s having a hard time adjusting to life in the normal world.” He kept her hand in his and linked their fingers together while he drove with his left.

Her heart leaped like a damn retriever after a Frisbee. Now Munson was treating her like a date, not a resource for an ongoing investigation. While Atwah was under heavy guard in a federal compound, his brother Ali was still missing. A cold chill tried to destroy her lighthearted mood. Not finding Ali seemed to bother her more than it did the FBI. Then again, they didn’t like to share information. So maybe she really had nothing to worry about. Maybe they knew where he was but hadn’t picked him up yet.

She forced her shoulders to relax, then took a deep breath. They were on the way to a local bar to meet the Coasties Atwah’s scheming plot had damn near killed. Her stomach tried to jump after her heart. Lord, what was she thinking? Why had she agreed to come along?

“The lieutenant is looking forward to meeting you,” Yasin said.

Valerie twisted to look over her shoulder at the younger man half-sitting, half-lying on the backseat to accommodate his healing bullet wound. “Why would she want to meet me?” She wanted to hug the woman nicknamed the Queen, and thank her for what she’d done; showing honor in the face of Atwah’s denigration took balls.

Yasin’s brows hitched up. “She heard how you worked ’round the clock connecting all the players for us.” He grinned, looking like a college kid in his polo shirt and Dockers, nothing like Munson’s solid FBI bearing. “I think she really liked the fact it was women who nailed those two.”

Munson released her hand and turned into a parking lot. “We’re here.” His silver eyes sliced to Valerie. “Trust me. You’ll do fine.”

Tension eased from her chest. Crazy as it seemed, she did trust him. Even crazier, she feared she was falling in love with the man.

Chapter Seventeen

Caitlyn spotted Yasin coming through the cantina’s door, smoothly hopping on one crutch. Gone were the driven agent, pseudo terrorist and the fawning sycophant she’d dealt with on the island. Instead, clean-cut and grinning, he looked as harmless as a teen on spring break. So which one was real? Would she ever get to meet him?

He scanned the room and Caitlyn waved a hand over her head. While he made his way to their table, she studied his two companions. The man—Agent Scott Munson, she assumed—could have posed for
GQ
as an up-and-coming banker. But it was Valerie Wooten who surprised her most. She was nothing like Caitlyn had envisioned.

Exotic with a lush figure, about five and a half feet tall, she wore a white silk sheath that showed off her dark complexion to perfection. Greek or Italian, maybe? She zeroed in on Caitlyn like a heat-seeking missile. Taking the lead away from Yasin, she wove her way through the growing crowd. Unlike Stillman’s mother and ex, she wore wealth with casual disregard.

“Lieutenant Caitlyn Stone? I’m Valerie Wooten. I am so glad to finally meet you,” she said.

Caitlyn stood and shook the proffered hand with genuine warmth. The grip was firm and businesslike, but ice-cold. Nervous yet forthright—she liked her instantly. “No, the pleasure’s all mine, Ms. Wooten. The information you dug up allowed us to raid several ships and recover illegal aliens as well as highly toxic material.” Caitlyn had participated in all but one raid and considered them some of her best missions to date.

“Please, call me Valerie.” She glanced around the table as she took a seat across from Joe and Clay. “God, you’re all so young.”

“Nah, except for the pup—” Joe tipped his head at Clay “—we’ve all been around the Gulf a few times,” he said with a wink.

The FBI agent, Munson, pulled out the chair next to Valerie and sat, scowling at Joe. Caitlyn smothered a smile. Banker Boy appeared to have a thing for the exotic beauty. Who could blame him? From what Caitlyn heard, Ms. Wooten was smart and rich. Add her looks and you had any man’s dream-come-true.

“Where’s Doc?” Yasin asked after introductions were served and returned across the table.

“Working a double shift. School bus versus train. A number of kids were airlifted to his hospital,” Joe said with a telling look at Caitlyn.

She dropped her loaded nacho. The news, and the resulting images, seized her breath and stole her appetite. Guilt seemed to be her most intimate companion lately. She’d acted like a spoiled teenager when Joe had taken his call earlier. In spite of her claim of wanting to get drunk, she hadn’t even finished her stolen beer. She pushed her chair back. “I need to go see him.” The need had been festering since their unsatisfactory last meeting in the air station’s parking lot. She’d been emotionally and physically drained, and now she was ready to explode from the frustration of the mixed signals he’d been sending.

Joe stood as well and threw a wad of bills on the table. “I’ll drive.”

Ryan caught Caitlyn’s hand as Joe apologized to their newly arrived guests. “What’s going on? If he’s working he’ll be too busy to see you.”

She patted his shoulder while his gaze roamed her face with concern. How could she explain something she didn’t understand? She just knew she needed to be there when Stillman got off work. Maybe he’d find some measure of comfort in her presence. “That’s okay, I’ll wait for him.”

Ryan stared at her for a moment longer. “Ah, Caity,” he said softly and squeezed her hand. “Go on. If you need me, call.”

Caitlyn’s smile slipped as she stalked toward the exit. She’d always craved action, especially after difficult or emotionally draining missions. Despite her return to routine, life hadn’t reverted to normal.

Maybe it never would.

Caitlyn ignored Joe’s attempts at conversation on the way to the hospital. Just like he ignored her direction to go home when he dropped her off.

He reclined his bucket seat and settled back with a grunt. “I’ll leave as soon as Doc confirms he’s taking you home.”

“Fine. Spend the night in your truck.” She bounced out and slammed the door for good measure. She wasn’t in the mood for stubborn men. Great, she was about to confront the most stubborn man she knew. On his turf, no less.

The glass doors to the emergency entrance whooshed open and the sounds and smells evoked memories of her first Stillman sighting. It seemed like a lifetime had passed. In a way it had...

Tension rode the air and shadowed the eyes of the men and women she passed in the wide hallway. Everyone walked with a purpose, almost as if they’d rather be running if it wouldn’t cause panic.

ER work had to be a wilder emotional roller-coaster ride than her job. The PA system paged a doctor and a second later a petite blond in a white lab coat hustled from the family waiting area through the wide automatic doors marked
NO ADMITTANCE
in bold red letters. Caitlyn followed behind as if she belonged.

She headed to the doctors’ lounge. Surely she could hide there until Stillman’s shift ended. Ten feet from the nurses’ station a more familiar blond caught her attention. Hilary was giggling and waving her left hand for the attending nurses to admire. Dread slowed her steps.

She’d kept her heart safe until Stillman made her break her own rule; then again, he’d claimed he didn’t have the wealth Hilary had been looking for.

Stillman was the trifecta of everything Caitlyn claimed not to want: doctor, wealthy playboy and hero all rolled into a sexy package.

Hilary glanced up and caught Caitlyn staring. “My goodness, it’s Stillman’s captain from the Coast Guard.” The smile she bestowed on Caitlyn was as fake as her hair color.

“Lieutenant, not captain,” Caitlyn corrected automatically. She doubted Hilary had a clue how the Coast Guard mirrored the navy’s rank with no obvious correlation to the army’s. Then again, she’d probably never understood Stillman’s rank to begin with. Caitlyn took a deep breath and applied her own bogus smile. “Looks like congratulations are in order.”

Hilary’s expression turned smug. “Why, thank you.”

She fluttered her fingers so Caitlyn could get the full effect of the big honkin’ diamond surrounded by a flotilla of baguettes. Nachos and beer churned in Caitlyn’s stomach. It looked like Stillman had found a way to provide platinum and diamonds after all.

“Goodness, you’re wearing one of those little planes.” Hilary pointed to Caitlyn’s crudely fashioned pendant. “Stillman seems to be very fond of giving them to the nurses.” She plucked a little music box off the counter and held it up to the light. “Does it have something to do with earning Mile High Wings?”

She blinked innocently as her mouth curved up with a “Gotcha.”

Caitlyn shook her head in disbelief. Had Stillman...? She didn’t want to picture him in an intimate coupling, in the air or on the ground, with someone else. “No, I’m afraid that takes a little more privacy than we had in the Jayhawk.” She slipped her right hand into the pocket of her motorcycle jacket and fisted it to keep from smacking the woman. Insecurity ate her confidence in three greedy bites. Caitlyn had simply been convenient on the island, not special.

* * *

“Ladies, don’t you have patients to see?”

Stillman scowled at the women clustered around the nurses’ station. Hilary had shown up an hour ago in a bubbly mood at odds with the gruesome job he had trying to piece back together broken and torn children. He’d hoped if he ignored her she’d take the hint and leave. Her fiancé was in town for a doctors’ convention and for some strange reason she felt compelled to stop in to see him..

He rubbed his burning eyes. With another doctor on duty he could finally call it a day. He glanced at his watch. No, make that night. His head ached and he wasn’t in the mood to put up with gossip or his ex. Never mind that he’d missed Caitlyn and her crew’s celebration.

“Dr. Gray.”

He looked up. “Caitlyn.” The initial pleasure at seeing her turned to suspicion. Was she checking up on him? That had been one of Hilary’s favorite games to play when he’d worked late. Hell, he’d been an intern. All he did was work double shifts. He swiped the surgical hat off and rubbed his damp hair. Shit, he was being an ass. Again.

He gestured to the doctors’ lounge. “ Just give me a minute or two—”

“No, it won’t take that long.” She walked over to him, her boots clicking with sharp little taps on the linoleum.

She was wearing her painted-on black jeans and nylon jacket, her hair pulled back in the complicated braid she wore when in uniform. God, she was beautiful.

A smile crept up on him. Maybe she’d take him for a ride on
Black Beauty
. He could forget about the injured children, Hilary’s obsession with one-upmanship—

“I wanted you to be the first to hear. I-I’ve accepted a flight training position in Alabama.” Her mouth made all the right moves for a happy face, but her eyes refused to play along.

What she said kicked into his slow-on-the-uptake brain and Stillman all but staggered with its meaning. “You’re leaving?” Hell, he hadn’t had a free minute to talk about what happened on the island let alone their future. Now she was saying there wouldn’t be one?

Her grin faltered and she cast a quick glance at Hilary. “Yeah, I think it’s best. For all of us.” Her eyes glistened, the black pupils engulfing the blue as she stepped closer.

The familiar scent of her clouded his few functioning brain cells. He searched her face for a clue to why she was doing this to him. To them. All he saw was equal parts confusion and...sadness?

“I’m sorry,” she said and pressed against him with her heavenly breasts. Then she kissed him.

Sorry? His brain gave up trying to fathom any explanation as his body reveled in the feel and
rightness
of her plastered to him.

She ended the kiss entirely too soon. A shudder shook her and she looked at him as if memorizing his features. “It was special to
me
.” She clamped teeth over lower lip to stop a telltale tremble. “I love you, and would have made you beautiful babies,” she whispered. Her body froze for an instant then she jerked back as if stung.

“Thank God you haven’t left yet. We need you in cubicle three.”

The moment his attention shifted to the nurse’s strident voice, Caitlyn broke away. “Wait!” Shit. Babies? What the hell—

“Dr. Gray?”

Stillman saw Caitlyn’s sleek figure disappear through the automatic door before he could stop her. The weight of the day’s events crashed and he turned back to the next crisis of his endless shift. Damned if he’d let the queen have the final word on their relationship. And he sure as hell had something to say about her moving anywhere without him.

* * *

Fool, fool, fool
. The word echoed with every click of her heels on the concrete. She was almost running by the time she made it to Joe’s truck and had to stop and catch her breath. She leaned forward, hands on her knees. Or maybe she should go ahead and ralph all over the sidewalk. Idiot, idiot, id—

“What happened? Are you all right?” Joe had his arm around her before she could straighten up.

“Don’t. Unless you want tears, don’t be nice to me.” She brushed his arm away and grabbed the passenger door handle.

“Should I go in there and kick his ass?” Joe held the door open, and stood waiting for her response.

Caitlyn settled into the leather bucket seat before looking at him. His brown eyes boiled with indignation and his mouth formed a grim line as if holding back a barrage of expletives. She didn’t know if she deserved such loyalty, but, by God, she needed it tonight. “No. I just want to go home.”

He leaned into the truck. “No more partying and getting rip-roaring drunk?”

The sound of her petulant words from earlier in the evening made her cringe. She shook her head, unwilling to say anything for fear of bursting into tears like a five-year-old. Her expression must have given her away.

Joe gently touched her cheek with his blunt fingertips. “I’ll only take you home if you tell me what the bastard did.”

She ducked away from his touch. “Dammit, you’re being nice. Get your butt in the truck and start driving.”

He awkwardly patted her knee then slammed shut the door. Maybe if she concentrated on breathing in the scent of leather and Joe’s old-fashioned cologne she could get her emotions under control. Thankfully he waited till they were on the highway before he asked for an explanation again.

She rubbed her palms over her thighs and watched the stream of oncoming headlights. “He didn’t do anything. I was the idiot that went and fell in love.” That admission pinched her chest and burned her eyes.

“So? He’s in love with you. Where’s the problem?”

Caitlyn glared at her soon-to-be ex-friend. “Yeah, that’s why Hilary’s wearing a diamond big enough to clog the intake on a Jayhawk.” She wrapped her arms around her stomach. “I’m Southern Cracker personified while she’s all slick Manhattan in her Donna Karan dress and to-die-for Manolo Blahniks.”

“Milano what’s it’s?”

She hunched down in the seat. “Manolo Blahniks. Shoes. Hell, she has the two things I covet most—a perfect man
and
perfect shoes.” The bitch.

“You’re confusing me. You’re saying Stillman’s going to marry his ex? Why the hell would he do that when he’s obviously in love with you?”

Caitlyn snorted. “If I had to guess, I’d say Daddy’s brush with death had a lot to do with it. And because his family would prefer he marry the Lady instead of the Tramp.”

She doubted Mama and Papa would appreciate their fourth-generation Gray whelped out of a South Carolina girl whose greatest aspiration was to fly rescue helicopters.

St. Petersburg, FL,
Monday, 3 October, 2224 hours

Stillman’s call to Caitlyn’s cell phone went straight to voice mail. Again. Talk about a Charlie Foxtrot, he didn’t even know her address, or he’d go by her place and pound on the door until—

“Honey, you’ve got caffeine withdrawal written all over you,” the plump waitress said and filled his mug. “Breakfast or dinner?”

“Breakfast.” He gave his order and was handing her the menu when Hilary slipped into the booth across the table from him. Joe Peterson slid in next to her, looking pissed as hell.