Awaken to Danger (21 page)

Anger snapped. "Hold it right there." He didn't get outright mad often, but then nothing was logical in his

head when it came to Nikki. "I respect your daughter and count myself one lucky bastard that she

chooses to be with me."

J.T. pivoted on his boot heels away, chewing on a curse worthy of the saltiest of crewdogs.

Well damn. That was a little insulting.

A lot insulting.

He understood about the older man's wish for a nonmilitary life for his kids, but hell, he wasn't a total

slouch.

J.T. cricked his neck from side to side before turning back around. "Is this serious? And don't tell me to

ask her. I'm speaking with you."

Carson stepped alongside the old loadmaster and leaned his elbows on the porch railing while a

rusted-out truck chugged past, exhaust mingling with the scent of mulchy leaves. He scrounged around

for the right words to make this better for Nikki, for this man he'd flown combat with, a lasting bond.

"I've heard you say for years no flyboys for your little girl. Was that bull?"

"I want an easier life for her than this—" he gestured back and forth to their uniforms "—a husband who's

always gone, and getting shot at too often."

Husband. He didn't even bother denying the possibility existed. He tried a different tack. "You're

speaking from a raw place right now because of the bombing and how close it hit."

"Could be." J.T. nodded a concession, ever fair. "Still, the military makes relationships tough enough, and

I suspect you've got some extra stresses mixed in battling a drinking problem."

Ah. The real reason he disapproved. Somehow the seasoned chief master sergeant had figured it out

when no one else had. "What makes you think that?"

"I don't talk much, but I'm always watching, and you go out of your way to avoid drinking, overly so."

"Plenty of people don't drink for any number of reasons."

"Are you telling me I'm wrong?"

When it came to Nikki, he needed to be honest every step of the way, because there wouldn't be

another chance with her. J.T. wasn't the type to bandy the info around the squadron anyway. "You're not

wrong. I wouldn't deny the problem if someone asked, but it's also not something I choose to advertise.

I've been working at this for a couple of years, been completely dry and in a program for seven months."

Had he sealed his fate with Nikki's father? No hope for approval, ever? Entirely possible and totally

more important than he'd expected.

J.T. sagged onto his elbows alongside Carson. "Thank you for being so open. I know that wasn't easy

and it tells me you do care about my daughter."

Carson relaxed—for five whole seconds before he realized there was a
but
at the end of J.T.'s sentence.

"And?"

"I respect like hell that you've fought this and seem to be holding your head above water. But you have to

know this isn't something a father would wish for any child of his to live with."

"I agree." He had the same fears but staying away from Nikki had just about torn them apart. They

needed to work through this insanity one way or another. "I've tried my damnedest to keep my distance."

'Tried." J.T.'s hands fisted before he continued, "Past tense?"

"Again, I'll say that I respect your daughter too much to discuss this further." The guy couldn't possibly

want a blow-by-blow discussion. "Nikki's an adult. She deserves to be present so she can speak for

herself."

"That earned you a couple more points."

Of course the conversation would have been a surprise for her if she had been here. "Nikki doesn't know

about the drinking and I would appreciate it if you didn't say anything until I have a chance to tell her."

A slow growl echoed from the burly loadmaster's chest. "You've been seeing my daughter and you didn't

tell her? I can't promise to keep quiet about that, and I'm actually reconsidering that ass kicking."

Well deserved. No denying. "I don't mean for you to stay quiet forever. Just until tomorrow to give me a

chance to tell her first. We're going sailing."

"Twenty-four hours?" J.T.'s fists unfurled against his legs. "That, I can do, but the clock starts ticking

now."

Wind rustled through the trees, shaking a few more pine needles loose in a
tap, tap, tap
shower that

filled the semi-comfortable silence. "Still want to hit me?"

"Yeah." A hint of a smile twitched the corner of his mouth. "But I always want to hit anyone who looks at

my daughter."

They shared a laugh and Carson started to hope that maybe...

J.T.'s smile faded altogether. "Hurt her, though, and I
will
make you hurt back."

Carson stifled a wince over the inescapable reality that J.T.'s warning had come a few months too late.

"Hope it's not too late for me to be here."

Her eyes full of hot and brooding Carson, Nikki stepped out to join him on the small landing connected

to the garage apartment. "I couldn't sleep."

She'd given up at midnight, digging her way into a pint of ice cream to eat away the disappointment when

he left without speaking to her after his conversation with her father. Five spoonfuls into her double-fudge

chocolate, she'd moved from disappointed to peeved. How could he leave her hanging like that?

Except here he was before morning and her anger eased.

"How did things go with my father? I hope he didn't give you a hard time."

Her father had scooped her mom up and off to bed, their need to be alone so transparent she'd slipped

away without speaking to him. He was due his reunion, but it pissed her off that her dad had still found

time to speak with Carson.

Hello? Last time she'd checked, twenty-three was a legal adult age.

"Your dad was rightfully concerned and surprisingly understanding. I didn't get my ass kicked, so I guess

it's all good."

"Sounds too easy, but I'm not going to complain." Nikki rubbed her bare arms in the running tank, her

thin cotton sleep pants not providing much of a barrier against the chilly breeze. And also not the sexiest

lingerie, complete with flip-flops instead of the fantasy heels.

"I'd planned to wait until tomorrow's sailing trip to talk to you, but I had to see you." His hand pressed to

the white wood slats behind her, his body shielding out the world. "I've been dying to touch you all day."

She totally agreed, arching into his kiss, into this moment she so needed and deserved after a stressful

week of waiting, wondering as she resumed her life. He cupped the small of her back, tunneled under her

T-shirt, his hand branding all the hotter in forty-degree air. Her tingling toes curled, toasty warm even in

flip-flops. The searching sweep of his tongue ignited sparks along her nerves until she itched to shed her

clothes, tug off his...

Not a wise idea outside, especially at her parents' house with late-night traffic whispering in the distance,

closer, the sound growing until a truck rumbled down her street, a vehicle apparently in need of a new

muffler.

Carson's mouth stilled on hers, broke contact, a tension bunching muscles along his shoulders. She

opened her eyes and found him scowling—but not at her, his attention focused on something over her

shoulder.

"Carson?" She ducked her head into his line of sight. "Are you okay?"

He tucked her aside, while keeping his gaze on the road. "I've seen that battered old pickup drive past at

least three times tonight."

She looked around his broad shoulders. "Do you think it's someone assigned by Agent Reis to watch the

house?"

He urged her back toward the apartment. "I don't know, but it looks damned familiar."

"You're right." She held her ground, squinting in the darkness, and realizing— No. She didn't want that to

be true, but couldn't ignore the obvious. "That's my student. The one you called a thug. Billy Wade

Watkins."

Without a word, Carson lifted her by the waist, deposited her in the apartment and thundered down half

the wooden steps before vaulting over the banister to the lawn. He sprinted across the grass and over a

hedge, toward the street. Good God, he was going to get run over. Her brain went off stun long enough

to race after him, double-timing the stairs to the yard, her feet in flip-flops slipping along the damp grass,

slowing her dash.

Carson reached the truck as it finished a three-point turn. He yanked the door open and hauled the driver

out by the sweatshirt. Most definitely Billy Wade Watkins.

Even under the mellow nimbus of the streetlight she recognized her student well, baggy clothes, body

piercings and black do-rag tied around his head. Her heart broke a little more to think she could have

misjudged him.

Wait, she reminded herself. Hear his story. And get over there fast before the vein throbbing in Carson's

neck exploded.

Her feet quickly turning Popsicle cold, she danced across the yard. "Carson," she called out. "Everybody

calm down." She sidestepped the walkway hedge. "Billy Wade, what are you doing over here this time of

night?"

Carson's grip on the boy's hooded sweatshirt stayed tight. "And don't even try to say you were just

driving around or some other BS answer. I've seen you case this house three times in the last couple of

hours."

"Billy Wade? Did you really do that?"

His eyes actually filled with tears below his pierced eyebrow. "I was only looking out for you, Miss Price.

I swear. You've been having so much trouble. You've been really good to me. I wouldn't do anything to

hurt you."

She studied his expression, beyond the tears that could well be of the crocodile variety. He was

left-handed, but strong enough to have swung with either. Yet he seemed to be telling the truth. Still she

couldn't miss the additional glint of something more.

A crush.

Her heart hurt for the kid, but she couldn't ignore what logic told her, as well. This child was as big as an

adult, and while she knew she hadn't done a thing to encourage him... And ah damn, what a time to be

standing outside in her pj's, albeit more modest than most sleepwear.

"I think, uh, I'm afraid my dad might have been trying to hurt you." He swallowed hard, blinking back the

glint in his big thug eyes. "Because maybe he's the one who killed that pilot and my old man's afraid you'll

remember."

Nikki crossed her arms, rubbing away the increasing chill. "Your dad?"

"Yeah, he was that guy Owens's sponsor and they talked on the phone that day, and then Dad was out

really late."

Carson's hand fell away. "You're William Watkins's son."

"Yes, sir. How do you know my dad?"

Carson hesitated, then answered, "Our paths have crossed at the base."

Carson didn't expand on the statement and just as she'd read the undertones in Billy Wade's eyes, she

couldn't miss that Carson was hiding something now. Something she didn't have time to analyze as the

porch lamp snapped on.

A door creaked behind her, broadcasting her awake household a second before her father burst onto the

porch in sweatpants, tugging a T-shirt over his head. Her mother followed, slower, cinching her satin

robe at her swelling waist.

Great. She'd wrecked her parents' reunion.

J.T.'s eyes radar-locked on Carson, then Nikki in her low-slung sleep pants and tight running tank, then

right back to Carson again with a furrowed disapproval.

Geez, she was an adult woman. Her father really couldn't expect she would enter the convent. And darn,

she had more important things to worry about now.

She was too old to be living at home, even temporarily. Yet as much as she wanted to politely tell her

father to tone it down a notch, she couldn't ruin his homecoming. Besides, the cop sirens sounding from

around the corner made a big enough to-do for one evening. Please God, this would clear away the

chaos once and for all. And after the chaos?

Even with the end possibly in sight, she wondered if she would ever have the normal life she craved back

again.

A day out on the ocean felt too normal with Nikki along.

Although Carson figured they were both due some peace after the chaos of the night before. His eyes on

the distant cove where he planned to anchor soon, he gripped the wheel, sunburst nylon sail stretching

tauter, the hull slicing faster through Charleston Harbor on a cloud-free winter afternoon. Nikki stood in

front of him, equally as tense in the bracket of his arms.

At least they were finally away from the prying eyes of her father—who'd stayed out in the dark yard

working on bogus-ass tasks until Carson gave up getting Nikki alone again. Apparently daytime outings

with Nikki were cool by the old guy.

Sailing had been his solitary escape, alone on the boat even when there were boats bobbing or skimming

in the distance. While he'd thrown a couple of fishing parties in the past, he'd never used his boat for

dates, something private that would invade his sanctuary.

Now whenever he stepped on board, he would always think of Nikki with her face tipped to the sun or

her swishing pony-tail pulled through the ball cap. Chocolate hair swayed in time with the boat's rhythmic