Desperate Situations (11 page)

Megan's voice sounded around the corner from Jake as he walked in the hallway. He slowed, perking up his ears.

"Zarin, did you reach anyone?"

"There was no answer at your father's number, Megan. All day it just rang. I tried the other number. A woman answered. She would not answer my questions. She was rather rude I
'm sorry to say."

"Did you ask for Todd? Why didn't you ask for him?" Megan's tone took on a
n urgent note.

Jake backtracked to the corner, listened, then with a lot of trepidation, he
peeked.

"He was not at home according to the lady. And she said to tell you that if it was important to you, you would be here with him," Zarin said softly. "I am sorry, Megan." She stood behind the counter with Megan in front
, one hand tapping on the grey top.

Megan sighed. "Yeah." She glanced at her watch. "Can you try my brother's number one more time? Maybe if I let him yell at me, he'll at least tell me about Dad."

Zarin dialed the number and handed the phone over. At White Pine there was only one reliable satellite phone for long distance calls.

Jake leaned on the wall and crossed his arms as he listened,
glancing around the corner occasionally.

"Marsha, is Todd there?" Megan asked. "No, I just got back from a job and…" She leaned on the counter as she listened.

Zarin tried to appear busy and not eavesdropping. She turned around shuffling papers and filing.

"Can you just… I know that… Can you just tell me how it went with my
dad at the doctor's?… Think what you will Marsha… Yes, I would like to talk to him… Todd, how's Dad?"

Jake frowned, pulling his head back around the corner.

"I got the letter, but he said he had an appointment with a…" Megan sighed again. "Look, let's not get into this old issue. Neither of us has changed. Yeah, right. Just tell me, is the diagnosis correct?"

Jake
peeked around the corner to see Megan frowning. She was facing away from Zarin, her eyes focused into space as she listened.

"So, make him tell you." There was silence for a few seconds. "Damn it. Can you at least call and leave me a message when you find out more?… Why not?… If you call the number I gave you, the message will get to me. You don't have to call where I am… I can't tell you that… Damn it, it's my job!… Dad would understand."

"Fine. Tell Dad to call me… Whatever." Megan reached over the desk and hung up the phone. "Thanks, Zarin. If I get a cable or message, find me right away." Megan stalked off down the hall.

Jake jumped back, then after hearing her footsteps fade, he stuck his head around the corner. He walked up to the counter. "That sounded serious."

Zarin nodded. "Her dad has a serious medical condition. He went in for tests. Ms. Cartwright was trying to find out the results."

Jake glanced down the hall where Megan disappeared. "Did I understand right that her family won't talk to her?"

"Yes. The, I think you say, sister-in-law was quite rude. Cursed at me and told me to tell Megan something very rude. Megan is a nice person; she does not need to hear such things." Zarin mumbled something in her language.

Jake almost smiled. He just bet it was a curse at Megan's sister-in-law. With a soft tap on the counter, he headed down the same hall toward the outside door.

Megan was nowhere.

After stopping in his room to retrieve whiskey, he noticed that her door was open, which meant she was not in. Megan always closed her door. With a determined look, he headed for the roof. There was no one there in the dark. Jake frowned. He stood thinking for a few seconds then headed to the hanger.

Dead quiet. There were very few people out this late at night. With a puzzled look, he headed back to the crew quarters area. Jake would check her room one more time then head to bed.

This time Megan's door was closed. He knocked softly.

"Yeah?"

Jake swallowed before speaking. He was treading on unfamiliar ground. "Hey Chief, I got a question." He heard her sigh through the door.

"Can it wait until morning, McGrew?"

"Nope." There was no answer. "May I come in?"

"Yeah," Megan said softly. She swung her legs over the bedside and got comfortable. She was dressed in a pair of khaki pants and black T-shirt.

Jake walked in and closed the door. He glanced at himself as she looked him up and down. He was still dressed in camouflage pants but had gotten rid of the rest of his outfit and was also dressed in a black T-shirt. He saw her questioning look as she took in the whiskey bottle and glasses. Their eyes met.

He gave her a soft smile. "I kind of overheard your phone conversation in the hall. Thought you might like a little company." He hefted the bottle.

"Nice thought, but I have to fly tomorrow, so there's no getting drunk."

"I know, I just thought…" Jake stopped and stared at Megan. "Look, I didn't mean to overhear the conversation." He opened the bottle and poured two glasses. He handed one to her.

Reluctantly she took it, staring at him.

Jake grabbed the body armor off the chair and tossed it on the bed next to Megan. He sat down, knees close but not touching hers.

All of the rooms were alike, one twin bed, one dresser, one closet, one chair. Everyone shared the bathrooms and showers on a floor, including Megan. Most of the men, the base was 99.9 percent men, decorated their rooms somewhat. The decorating had to be tasteful, given where they were. Her room was austere. The only colorful thing was a multicolor, geodesic designed, old quilt.

He held up the glass in a toast. "To living another day."

"Yeah. To another day," Megan said but didn't drink with him. She merely held the glass between her hands staring into the amber liquid.

"A toast is supposed to be shared, Chief."

Megan absentmindedly tossed it back then handed
him the glass.

He refused to take it. "Another?"

"Nope. I said I gotta fly."

"Dedicated."

Megan snorted as she studied her pant legs.

"Trouble at home?"

"Yep."

"Wanna talk about it?"

"Nope."

"It might help."

Megan looked up at him, gazing into his blue eyes. "Amateur psychiatrist?"

"It was almost my major in college."

"Really?" Megan scooted back on the bed to lean on the wall. She relaxed one leg straight while the other was bent. She absentmindedly played with the shot glass.

"But I hate sick people." He faked a shudder.

Megan smiled then it faded. "Sick people?"

"I take it your Dad's sick?"

"Yeah. He won't answer his phone. Todd, my spineless, mealy-mouthed brother, can't or won't go over to make dad tell him how the doctor's appointment went." Her voice took on a whiny tone. "'Dad'll tell us when he's good and ready.'" She sighed. "Dad's a stubborn, pigheaded bastard. Won't answer the phone. He doesn't trust them. Thinks they're all bugged. I got to admit, I understand where's he's coming from, but this is a little different. Won't write me. 'Don't ever trust the mail, Meg.' He once told me." Megan sighed again.

Jake said nothing.

"I'm surprised he wrote the two letters I got. And if it turns out bad, what the hell will he do? Will he trust the doctor or be his usual self and do what he wants anyway? If they can help him, will he let them, or will he think someone's out to get him. Paranoid old man. Worse, if it's curable, will he even want to?" Megan looked up at the ceiling, tears flowing freely down her face. "I only have four months left on this contract. Why couldn't this have waited? What's going on back there?"

Still Jake said nothing. He knew she was just vocalizing to come to a decision.

"Ornery, bullheaded, opinionated old coot," she said with a gentle tone.

"Sounds like his daughter." Jake spoke softly, not wanting to break her mood.

Megan's gaze came back to the room. She quickly wiped her eyes and cleared her throat.

"It's okay to cry."

"Amateur psychiatrist strikes again."

Jake smiled.

Megan moved to the edge of the bed. "Thanks, Jake."

"I didn't do that much, just a drink between friends."

Megan stared into his eyes. Her own began to fill with tears again.

"What's this?" Jake asked as she started crying again.

"I thought you said it was okay."

Jake set the bottle on the floor, stood up and brought her into a hug. He held on tight as she cried. While she let it out, he gently patted her back. Without the body armor on, she was just like any other woman. Soft. Soft in all the right places. She wasn't crying hysterically, but he could feel her small breasts crushed against him.
Nice.

Megan sniffed twice and
pulled back a few inches. She looked up at Jake, her eyes a deepening brown. There was no longer a sad look in her eyes. More of a 'doe in heat' kind of look. She slowly pushed up with her legs and their lips brushed.

Jake hesitated. This was not a good time to start anything, not with her in turmoil. He pushed her away and looked deeply into her eyes. He saw the same eyes that h
e saw between a helmet and her camouflage scarf in Iraq― eyes that showed desire.

With a gentle but fast move, he pulled her back to him and crushed her lips against his.

***

She felt a thrill that she hadn't in a long time. His lips were causing her to
get warm all over. Heat coursed through her veins and settled in all the right places.
Damn, he can kiss.

Megan gave back as good as she got. They moved closer as the kiss lengthened
, their bodies pressing against each other, passion increasing. His lips and tongue explored her mouth and hers were doing the same for his.

This is a member of the crew!

Megan gave one last ferocious kiss then pulled away from the warm, honey lips. She looked into his eyes as she took a heart slowing breath.

He was breathing just as hard
, and his eyes showed his desire.

"We can't," Megan whispered.

"I know." Jake took a deep breath as he moved a step back from her. "I know."

Megan licked her lips anyway, their eyes still locked in a passionate embrace. "I uh
…"

"I need to head," Jake said softly as he broke the look between them. He grabbed the whiskey and his glass
off the floor.

When he stood, she
picked up the shot glass off the bed and held it out to him. He slowly reached for the glass, his fingers gently wrapping around hers.

Megan didn't let go. His fingers were warm. Gentle.
What would it feel like to have them wrapped around me? To touch me in all the right places?
She slowly released the glass. A tear formed in her eye.

Jake reached out and gently swept his fingertips over her cheeks. It was a light touch but the sparks were there.

"Eight sharp, Cupcake. Don't be late for the meeting."

"Yes, Ma'am," Jake said with a slight grin as his hand dropped away from her face. He winked at her as he took the offered shot glass and turned to leave. As he was turning the knob, her voice stopped him.

"Jake."

He turned.

"Thanks."

"Anytime, Megan. Anytime."

Megan watched as he closed the door behind him.
Where'd my brain go? How could I have let that happen?
She picked up her pillow and tossed it against the wall. Now her hormones were in turmoil. It would take a long time to sleep tonight, and on top of the problem of her Dad's disease, now this.

She rubbed her hands together absentmindedly. Her fingertips were still tingling from the touch. His chest
had felt so tantalizing through his shirt as she touched it during the kiss.
I bet his muscles would…Stop!
This was not conducive to getting a good night's sleep. Damn, he can kiss though
.
He wasn't taught that in the military.
She smiled, picking up her pillow.

***

Jake pulled the door closed behind him as he took a deep breath.
That was great.
He took one step, then noticed someone watching from down the hall. Jake smiled as Cowboy leaned on the wall, arms crossed, waiting. He hefted the whiskey bottle at him then moved down the hall.

"Jake."

McGrew stopped and waited for Cowboy to catch up with him. The pilot had a concerned look on his face. Jake swallowed. This was not good, him seen coming out of Megan's room late at night.

"Is she okay?" he asked Jake in a whisper.