Page 29 of In Too Deep
“I meant later. Checking on me.” Darcy tore her gaze from him and stared out into the night. The hazy glow of spotlights illuminated a museum-quality B-52 on static display. “Thank heaven I didn’t bring Crusty or one of the other guys to sit with me. They would have teased me for years over finding you there.”
Max’s jaw flexed. “I knew you wouldn’t ask them for help. That’s why I stayed.”
Already this guy had her number. So much for being an Alicia-style enigma.
Of course her sister had told her on the phone earlier to cut herself some slack. A trip to Guam for Darcy had to be as tough as flying combat mission over Cantou from the cockpit of an F-15.
Yeah, right. She wasn’t buying it then and wasn’t buying it now. She felt compelled to offer Max an explanation for her meltdown so he wouldn’t think she was some sort of wilting flower.
“When I was a kid here on Guam, I was—” she paused to find a word that worked while still hiding the truth she wasn’t ready to share, especially not tonight “—I got lost in the jungle. I had some bad experiences with those Guam critters before my father, uh, found me a few days later on Lovers’ Leap cliff.”
Max’s eyes shone with quiet empathy as if he somehow understood the rest without her even having to tell him. “That would be tough for a kid. Even for an adult.”
“It was. Especially being stuck there with that creepy legend about two doomed lovers jumping to their death rather than let the girl be married off to some Spanish soldier. Why didn’t they both just paddle to another island? Fight back?”
Of course she’d been to Guam since the kidnapping yet hadn’t strayed more than a few yards from base. Her leg throbbed. “Although who am I to talk? I should probably just go confront my fears. Hike through those jungles and even up to the cliff. Conquer my mountain.”
Straightening, Max said, “You don’t have to face those critters alone, you know. Call me. I’ll take that hike with you, be an extra set of eyes to watch out for any dangers.”
Darcy looked away before his sea-green eyes had her plunging right into their sympathetic depths and into those strong arms. She stared out over the moon-speckled water to the dim glow from the island of Rota. No one in sight. Safe, for now.
Of course she could take care of herself—wouldn’t rely on the protection of others ever again. Twelve years ago, she’d been snacking on a plate of roasted poi on the wide-open beach with a hundred partying Air Force warriors around her. Still she’d been snatched.
These days she preferred the metal-encased protection of her aircraft and her own defenses. “Thanks. I’ll keep your offer in mind.”
Alicia would be proud of her elusive answer. Too bad it had more to do with self-preservation than enticement.
Still, she couldn’t help but ask, “Don’t you feel exposed out here?”
He shook his head. “I can see anyone coming long before they get anywhere near me. No chance for one of life’s ambushes.”
Ah, a kindred spirit. “No snakes under your bed, huh?”
“I guess you could say that.” Max folded his hands over his washboard stomach. “I like the wide-open space and the quiet. It’s almost as good as being underwater.”
She’d never considered that his diving could be a way to achieve ultimate solitude—which made his taking time to comfort her all the more special.
Silence settled, steamy, heavy. Needy. Darcy searched for something to fill the space between them so she wouldn’t fall victim to the temptation to explore the muscles cutting his chest.
She pointed to a spotlit plane. “My dad flew that in when the other was damaged during a hurricane.” She kept her eyes fixed ahead. “I assume you know who my father is?”
Max blinked but didn’t turn to her. “Hank Renshaw? General rumored to be next in line for Chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff? Yeah, I’ve heard of him.”
“Who hasn’t, right?” She forced a laugh. Her father’s prestige and power had brought about the kidnapping. Not that she blamed him. Her old man blamed himself enough for fifty people. “When Dad was a Squadron Commander, crewdogs painted over all the signs that carried his name and title. They replaced it with ‘Uncle Hank: Best Bomber Pilot in the United States Air Force.’”
Darcy stared out at the plane. She’d been certain her indomitable father would wing in to the rescue. He had. But it had taken so long. “Sometimes I wish I’d felt the calling to be an artist. Or a lawyer. Or a teacher. Something different from my old man.”
“But the genes run too strong.”
She nodded, surprised he understood. “Exactly. I have to fly. It’s like breathing for me. Except my father owns all the air.”
Her fighter pilot sister had figured out how to make it work and her military brother just didn’t care.
Why wasn’t there a patch of the sky she could claim for her own? Not one she’d located yet, anyway. “I wish I could find my niche in his world.”
Sharing her frustrations felt good. Max was so easy to talk to, a good listener. No games. No facades. Just open honesty. “I feel as if I have ten times more to prove to these guys because of the Air Force pedigree. I need to make sure everyone knows I earned my wings with hard work instead of soaking up the benefits of nepotism.”
She smacked her throbbing leg in frustration. “I should be flying combat in Cantou instead of working the Flipper Flight.” Darcy stopped short. “Uh, no offense.”