Fully Engaged (Wingmen Warriors 12)

Keeping his emotional distance from Nola proved tougher and tougher when she looked so damn hot. Rick lounged against the dock outside of Beachcombers Bar and Grill and watched her throw back her head and laugh with her flyer pals.

The Saturday-night noise swelled with the engagement party for the Squadron Commander, Carson Hunt, and his fiancée Nikki Price. Her friends made him feel welcome, but he could only take so much of this world before he needed to pull his head together.

He could take a free moment for himself, knowing his daughter was safe with Nola and all her crew dog buddies at the party. Nola had kept his daughter glued to her side regardless of where she went and musical Lauren would enjoy the band pulsing away beach tunes.

Meanwhile, the water called to his soul, moonlight stretching a silvery channel for him to swim, to slice his arms through for hours on end. The ocean, the place where he’d felt most in control since he was a teenager diving into the surf to drown out the sound of his arguing parents. His ability to swim had stayed with him, even after the accident. In rehab he’d been able to outswim his therapists. The discovery had been a bright spot during months of hell.

Memories rained down on him like the gentle mist falling from the sky. Of dropping out of a helicopter into a stormy ocean to rescue an unconscious fighter pilot who’d ejected. Icy water, waves engulfing him.

He’d lost count of how many he’d lifted free over the years.

A thud, thud, thud on the dock interrupted his thoughts. He glanced over his shoulder and saw one of Nola’s crew members walking toward him, the in-flight mechanic…Rick searched for the guy’s name and could only come up with his call sign. Mako.

Mako called, “Hope you don’t mind if I join you.”

More like Nola must have sent the guy to look out for him and make sure he felt included.

“Just checking out this peaceful place.” It was all he could do not to dive off the dock right now. With any luck the storm clouds overhead would open and churn up the ocean for a wilder ride. “Great spot for fishing.”

“Peace is in short supply these days for us folks in uniform.” The easygoing guy pulled up alongside him and leaned against the dock, drinking his beer.

“Not for me. I’m out of the field for good.” When would that get easier to say?

“I’m sorry, sir.”

“You don’t have to call me sir anymore. These legs won’t be holding me up out in the field.” But in the water he could hold his own. Except his job called for more than the water.

“Whatever, sir.”

They shared a laugh, then clanked drinks together—his soda, Mako’s beer. Rick sure could have used one but couldn’t afford to dull his senses so he settled for a plain Coke tonight.

“For an easygoing guy, you’re surprisingly stubborn, Sergeant.”

“That’s what my mama says.” Mako rolled his beer bottle between his hands. “You earned the sir for life. No bum leg’s gonna take that away.”

Rick grunted, flicking a shell from the dock railing into the murky water below. Plop.

“Sir, no disrespect meant, but I was in a barracks bombing over there. My best friend left behind a widow and two little girls who don’t have a father to walk them down the aisle some day.”

Rick stayed quiet, winging a prayer for that family. Too easily it could have been Lauren without a father. He’d worked his butt off to get back on his feet again so he could walk her down the aisle.

“I met your daughter up there. She’s a great kid.”

Unspoken message received. He would get to walk his daughter down the aisle. “I’m guessing your call sign was never ‘Subtle.’”

“Nope. And I apologize if I’m overstepping. It’s been a helluva year for all of us.” Mako scratched a thin scar just beside his ear. “I’ve learned time is too precious to waste even valuable minutes being subtle.” He elbowed Rick in the side. “Besides, it’s not like you’re in any shape to whup my ass.”

“I wouldn’t be so sure about that.” Rick stared him down with his best whup-ass glare while ever-so-slowly bringing his glass to his mouth.>“You think well on your feet.” He set his mug aside and rested his elbows on his knees, leaning closer. “You’re a tribute to the uniform.”

“Thank you.” She shoved her mug out of the way and cupped his face. “And no, I wasn’t raped, in case you’re wondering.”

A long exhale rattled through him. “I wasn’t going to ask, but thank you for letting me know. I also know, though, that there are plenty of other horrors. It must have been a hellish time.”

“Ramon Chavez was a strange man.” She sagged in the wingback chair. “A brute on the one hand, but with these old world values on the other. He didn’t think twice about slapping me around, but he never laid a sexual hand on me. It was as if he saw me as a rebellious daughter type and he was a tyrannical father.”

“A father with a gun to your head.” He gripped the arms of his chair with barely contained rage.

She nodded.