Chapter 14: Whiskey at sunset

Somewhere over the Solomon Slot

The Black Sheep were on their way home from a routine bomber escort. The mission had been a milk run, leaving planes unscathed and the men in high spirits. As they drew closer to home, the radio chatter drifted, as it often did, to women.

"Something I've been meaning to ask you boys," McNeil drawled. "What's the deal with that sweet little piece of ass you got living on the base? The one with the legs that won't quit?"

There was a brief silence before Boyle answered.

"Katie? She's press corps, assigned to us."

"Yeah, I got that – but how assigned is she? Any of you boys got your name on her or is she free for the taking?"

Static crackled across the awkward silence.

"We don't think of Katherine that way," Anderson said finally.

"Oh come off it," McNeil sniggered. "A girl who looks like that? Don't tell me you haven't all dreamed about making her moan."

"Back off," Jim said. "She's one of us."

McNeil's laugh was devoid of humor.

"I just bet she is – which one of you've been spreading those long legs? Tell me, is she as sweet on her knees as she is on her back?"

"You're out of line, McNeil, knock it off," Greg said.

"A girl who looks like that, living in the middle of a bunch of Marines is just begging for it, know what I mean?"

"I said that's enough." Greg's voice was steel. "Another word out of you and we'll settle this on the ground."

"No offense intended, Major. Just wondered whose bed she's sharing, that's all. She's pretty easy access for you boys – you take turns or what?"

"I'll see you on the ground, Lieutenant."

XXX

Kate and Casey were in the com shack, working on logistics for the stalled Scotch-for-carburetors deal when the radio picked up the Black Sheep's banter. As the conversation played out, Kate's cheerful briskness drained to icy silence. Casey shifted uneasily, watching as the color rose in her cheeks and her eyes went hard as flint. After the last transmission, she slammed her pencil onto the table. It snapped. She shoved her chair back so hard it fell over as she bolted out of the building.

"Katie! Wait! You heard Greg – he'll handle it when they land," Casey called after her. "You don't need to – oh, hell!" He flew out the door and leaped into the passenger seat of the jeep as Kate turned the motor over. "Greg's got this. He's been looking for an excuse to pound this guy for weeks."

"He's gonna have to wait a little bit longer," she said, teeth clenched. She jammed the vehicle into gear and spun the tires as she accelerated toward the flight line. Casey knew when it came to women, discretion was often the better part of valor. He kept his mouth shut and held on.

XXX

I had no idea what I was going to do but no man talks about me that way. I knew Greg and all the Black Sheep would have my back on this. They didn't like McNeil any better than I did and I knew they were all just spoiling for the chance to take him down a peg. If it hadn't been for them, maybe I wouldn't have been quite so reckless but by the time I got to the flight line I was seeing red. When we were girls, Dee accused me of rushing in where angels feared to tread. Some things never change. - KCC

XXX

The last few Black Sheep were landing when Kate slammed the jeep to a stop. Greg ducked under the wing of his plane in time to see her leap out and storm toward McNeil.

"Think she heard any of that?" Jim asked, joining him.

One look told Greg everything he needed to know. Her body was a rigid line of fury and anger snapped around her like a rising wind.

"I'd say that's a yes." He pulled off his mae west. He'd intended to settle the issue in short order but it looked like he might have to wait. He was torn between taking the man down for his attitude and reluctance to deny Kate the satisfaction she clearly intended to have.

"Think we should stop her?" Jim mused, hesitant.

"You go right ahead." Greg stopped in front of his bird. The steely look in Kate's eyes didn't bode well for anyone who got in her way.

"Think I'll take a pass on that," Jim said with a chuckle. "I guess we can step in if she needs help."

Greg had never seen anyone who looked less like they needed help. Kate stopped several yards in front of McNeil, hands balled into fists at her sides. He looked up, then jerked back in surprise. Greg saw a grim, satisfied smile flicker across her face.

"You son of a bitch!" Her voice was low but it carried easily on the warm, dusty air. "How dare you talk about me that way." It really wasn't a question.

The pilot's face registered brief uncertainty before his usual patronizing sneer settled over his features.

"You got a temper on you, honey, bet that makes you even hotter between the sheets. No wonder these boys don't want to share. Do they just pass you around or -"

Kate drew her hand back and slapped him hard across the face. The sound cracked like a rifle shot. Stunned, McNeil stumbled back, staring at her in angry disbelief. He regained his balance and took an aggressive step forward. She didn't move.

"You little slut, you just hit an officer! Time someone taught you some respect." He threw his gear down and raised a hand in retaliation.

On the sidelines, several of the Black Sheep shifted uneasily.

"Greg, don't you think – " Casey began.

Greg shook his head. He got the feeling Kate hadn't been kidding the morning she'd told him she'd defend her own honor. If push came to shove, there were 19 of the Black Sheep and only one of McNeil. He had a feeling it wasn't going to come to that.

McNeil advanced on her and Kate met him mid-stride. Whether he actually intended to strike her was a moot point. He expected her to back down and when she didn't, he didn't have time to regroup. She caught him off guard and quick as a cat, grabbed his wrist and twisted. His momentum carried him straight at her as she hooked her right leg between his. He tripped and she was on him in a second, clinging to his back as he sprawled in the dirt. McNeil thrashed and shook her off. Rolling, he used his weight to pin her.

On the sidelines, Greg winced. He probably should have stepped in and chanced having her turn her wrath on him. On the other hand, she wasn't exactly crying for help. He watched her let her body go limp. McNeil relaxed and started to sit up. Kate writhed to one side and threw a knee hard into his groin, twisting out from under him as he crumpled, grunting in pain. She was on him again, grabbed his wrist, twisted his arm up hard behind his back and rolled him face down in the dirt. Balanced on one knee, she slammed the other between his shoulders.

"You. Arrogant. Ass." Each word was punctuated by jerking his arm higher. "How dare you talk about women that way!" Greg got the feeling she didn't expect an answer.

"Get off me! Ouch! She's breaking my arm!" McNeil thrashed but Kate had the advantage of leverage and she used it. "Somebody get her off me!"

Greg looked at the men gathered in a loose circle.

"Any of you hear anything?"

"No, Pappy."

"Nope."

"Not a thing."

Kate grabbed McNeil's hair with her free hand and jerked his head up. "As long as you stay on La Cava, you will not look at me. You will not speak to me and you will not talk about me. Do I make myself clear?"

The pilot rolled again, trying to dislodge her. She shifted her balance and forced him back onto his chest.

"I asked you a question, Lieutenant." Her tone was ice. "Do I make myself clear?" She twisted his arm higher.

McNeil groaned in acquiescence.

Kate let go of him and got to her feet. She wiped her hands on her pants. The skin on the underside of one forearm arm was torn and bleeding. Her clothes were smeared with muck and there was a new rip in her fatigues. Looking neither left nor right, she stalked back to the jeep, turned the motor over and sprayed dirt as she left.

XXX

In hindsight, it never occurred to me to let Greg handle McNeil. He was right there on the flight line and I knew he – or any of the Black Sheep - would have stepped in without me even having to ask. But letting men fight my battles had never been a luxury I could afford and that wasn't likely to change. If Greg had a problem with it, I figured I'd find out soon enough. - KCC

XXX

"I'm glad she landed in your bed after all," Jim said quietly. "She might kill you but you'll die a happy man."

"That thought has crossed my mind." Greg rubbed his hand across his face. Lord, that girl was something else. McNeil struggled to his feet. None of the pilots offered him a hand up.

"Get your gear, you're done here," Greg said to him. "I want you on the transport when it leaves this afternoon."

McNeil wiped his sleeve across his face and sneered.

"So you're the one doing her. CO's privilege, huh? Does she always like it that rough?"

McNeil's day went from bad to worse in short order.

XXX

I could tell from the look in her eye when she came blazing out of that jeep that she meant business. I honored her need to fight her own battles but she'd made her point and honor only goes so far. I figured if McNeil kept asking questions, it was only polite to give him a few answers. - GB

XXX

Lieutenant Alan McNeil limped onto the transport that afternoon with one eye swollen shut, a broken nose and several loose teeth. The incident report said he had fallen while climbing out of his Corsair. It was signed by Major Greg Boyington and witnessed by his executive officers, Captain James Gutterman and Lieutenant Lawrence Casey.

XXX

2000 hours, that same day

Kate combed her damp hair into a loose tail, twisted it artfully around itself and stuck several pins in it. She paused in front of the small mirror hanging from the center pole of her tent. The resulting effect was a little reckless but if her hair stayed out of her eyes and off her neck in the tropical warmth, she didn't care.

Humming "Praise the Lord and Pass the Ammunition," she cuffed up the sleeves of her shirt, easing the fabric over the bandage on her arm. Her impact with the hard-packed ground of the landing strip that morning had peeled away a few layers of skin. The satisfaction she'd gained from the look of surprise on Alan McNeil's smug face after she slapped him made it worth it.

The whole incident had been oddly satisfying, she admitted reluctantly. She hadn't intended for things to get that physical. Honestly, she hadn't. Living with the Black Sheep was rubbing off on her more than she wanted to admit. She was drinking and brawling with the best of them now and she'd known from the minute she stepped out of the jeep they'd back her up, no matter what. The thought was comforting and unsettling both.

A face appeared over her shoulder in the mirror, blue eyes and a smile that made her heart jump. The rest of her jumped, too.

"Damnit, Boyington! Don't sneak up on me like that." She'd been so lost in her thoughts, she hadn't heard him walk in.

He stopped behind her and rested his hands low on her waist. She stepped into the embrace and energy coursed through her, unexpected and wild. They so rarely touched each other beyond casual contact, she felt a little betrayed by her body's response.

"Come with me, Cameron," he said. His breath tickled her neck. "Get in the jeep."

Wrenching her senses back under control, she turned and narrowed her eyes. "The last time you said that, I ended up in an airplane."

"You liked it. Admit it."

She'd liked it all right. She'd liked it a lot more than she'd let on. When she reached for her camera and notebook, he caught her wrist and shook his head.

"No. You're off duty tonight."

"What - ?"

"No questions." He cut her off. "You still don't take orders very well. Come on, the sunset isn't going to last forever."

She looked at him in confusion.

"Remember?" he said with exaggerated patience. "When you were pretending not to like flying with me, you said you could enjoy a sunset just as easily from solid ground."

"Uh-huh," she said slowly and got in the jeep. Meatball plopped himself happily between them and they took off.

Greg drove to the overlook where he'd done the flyover her first day on La Cava. He killed the engine and leaned back in his seat. Splashed in front of them, the sun was a ball of shimmering orange sinking through gilded lavender clouds toward the Pacific. He uncorked a bottle of Scotch and handed it to her. Kate took it and drank, laughing.

"What's so funny?"

"What Jim said this morning - that I'm one of the Black Sheep. God, he was right." She shook her head. "I'm turning into one of you guys . . . drinking, fighting, next thing you know I'll be running black market deals and scamming Colonel Lard."

Greg chuckled.

"You're already scamming Lard," he said. "What he doesn't know won't hurt him."

Kate agreed, although she'd rather not think about what would happen if he ever found out.

"Here's to sunsets on the ground," she said, changing the subject. She lifted the bottle in a toast, drank and handed it back to him. "I heard McNeil had an accident after I left this morning and has been, um, relieved of his duties."

"What did you hear?"

Kate didn't answer right away. She'd been at the hospital, letting Dee clean and dress her arm, when Casey showed up. He told her what happened.

She took Greg's right wrist and examined his hand. The knuckles were split and bruised. She studied his face. There wasn't a mark on him. Apparently McNeil hadn't had much fight left in him.

"I heard he fell out of his plane. That was careless."

"It was."

Kate realized she was still holding Greg's hand. She lowered her mouth and brushed a kiss across the torn knuckles, feeling a little guilty at how much she enjoyed the feel of his skin against her lips.

"Better?" she asked.

"It's a start."

She swallowed hard at the molten look in his eyes. He saluted her with the bottle and took a drink.

"About this morning. Remind me never to piss you off." The warm admiration in his voice rose through her like wine. "Where'd you learn to fight like that?"

"I don't know," she admitted. "I didn't think it would come to that when I went out there. I'm really not a fighter. He just . . . I couldn't let it go." She paused. Greg was watching her, still looking for an answer. "On horseback, I guess," she finished.

"Horseback?" He looked doubtful.

"I grew up on horses. When I moved to California to be closer to Sarah, I worked as an exercise rider at Bay Meadows before I started at The Examiner. I never wanted to be a jockey but I love to ride. That's how I got started with the track photography that eventually got me into the AP." She studied the blunt strength of his hand, letting her fingers lace between his. "Once you learn to balance on top of a thousand-pound horse at 30 miles an hour, it's not a big deal to stay on top of a man for a few minutes."

He laughed out loud and she looked horrified.

"That's not what I meant!" She slapped him on the chest. "Stop it. I meant, riding teaches you how to use balance and pressure to get something that outweighs you a hundred times over to go where you want without killing both of you. It's a skill with a lot of applications."

"A lot of applications? You dropped a guy who outweighed you by about 50 pounds."

"I made my point, didn't I?" She couldn't keep the satisfaction out of her voice.

"Yeah, sweetheart, you made your point." Greg chuckled, then sobered. "I'm sorry you had to hear any of that. You know the guys had your six the whole time."

"I know. I appreciate it." Kate shrugged and helped herself to another drink. "Jerks like McNeil don't come around very often but when they do, I can handle it."

"Handle it? I'll take you on my side in a fight any time." They passed the bottle in comfortable silence. "Do you want me to tell the boys to back off about the other night, after the party? I know they're not leaving you alone about it. I'd hate for you to have to hurt one of them." Kate thought he was only half-joking.

"No." She shook her head, flattered that he would intervene on her part, a little embarrassed because they never talked about what happened that night. Or hadn't happened. "Your boys might be a little . . . forward . . . but they're just teasing. They aren't going to mess with me."

"Honestly, Cameron, after this morning no one in their right mind would mess with you."

She shifted in the seat, bumped her elbow and winced. Greg reached out and caught her left hand. He pushed up the loose cuff of her shirt and bent her elbow. A bandage covered the worst of the morning's damage but the abraded skin extended from elbow to wrist. He raised his eyebrows.

"Think you should have Dee look at that?"

"I did. She told me to keep it clean, put some ointment on it, blah-blah-blah, the standard Navy nurse's line, 'if you're not bleeding from the eyeballs you'll live.' She was all heart." Kate said drily. "I don't know what Casey sees in her."

Greg chuckled.

"I do, but gentlemen aren't supposed to kiss and tell."

Kate raised her eyebrows.

"Hmmmm, someone telling tales out of school?"

He didn't answer. Leaning forward, he gently kissed her arm along the edge of the bandage. Fireworks exploded under her skin.

"Better?"

"It's a start." She let her eyes linger on his, drinking in the angles of his face, dark hair windblown on the evening breeze.

Meatball was sitting between them, taking up a lot of room. Greg pushed the dog toward the back of the jeep.

"Come on, Meatball, move."

The terrier ignored him. He tried again with the same results.

Kate ruffled the dog's ears.

"Come on, buddy, get in the back."

Meatball hopped up and climbed into the back of the jeep, wagging his tail.

"That dog likes you."

"Of course he does. He's slept with me."

XXX

2100 hours

Casey burst into the Sheep Pen. He looked a little frantic.

"Anyone seen Greg? Colonel Lard just called for him. He's called for him twice already today and Greg's never around. Now he's really got his dander up and he won't take no for an answer. He sounds pissed."

"What day is it?" Jim asked, surveying his poker hand.

"Tuesday. What's that got to do with it?"

"Stateside papers get delivered to Espritos on Tuesday. I'd guess Kate wrote something about us Lard didn't appreciate. Again." Jim tossed two cards on the table, took two more. "What did he say, exactly?"

" 'Go drag him out of whatever nurse's quarters he's in and tell him to get his ass back here and call me or I'll have both of you up on charges of insubordination and refusing direct orders,' " Casey recited. He looked around the room. "So where is he?"

"I saw him and Katherine take off in a jeep," Anderson said. "I wouldn't try too hard to find them, if you know what I mean."

Casey ran a hand through his hair. It stuck up in all directions.

"Life was easier when I was in the hospital," he muttered.

"You're gonna be back in the hospital if you interrupt them," Boyle said. "Holy crap, could you guys believe Kate this morning? I thought she was gonna stuff McNeil in his own pocket. Greg's got his hands full with her."

Anderson looked at his watch.

"Yepper. I'm guessing by now he probably does. Both hands."

The men laughed. In the past, their leader's romantic entanglements were usually short-lived. Such was the nature of hook-ups during wartime, but the men suspected in Greg's case, it was because none of the nurses who crossed his path held his interest beyond a one-night stand. They never would have thought an Associated Press correspondent would be the one who changed that but the facts spoke for themselves. Kate added an element of interest to all of their lives but the subtle undercurrent of energy that swirled around her and their CO whenever they were near each other was something else altogether.

Groaning, Casey turned and left the Sheep Pen. There were a lot of places on this island they could be. This could take a while and in spite of Lard's pending charges, he really wasn't in a hurry to find them. He was gonna be damned if he did and damned if he didn't.

XXX

The vibrant colors of the sunset faded to a pastel wash as the sun ebbed into the ocean, painting the water's surface with fire. The sky turned to indigo and a crescent moon hung low in the sky even as a faint rim of orange still hugged the horizon. Kate took off her boots and socks and stretched her legs out on the jeep's dashboard, crossing them at the ankles as she leaned back in her seat.

"Are you doing that on purpose?" Greg asked.

"Doing what?" she looked at him through half-lowered lashes. She knew exactly what she was doing, although she'd only recently realized the effect her bare legs had on him.

"Do you know how hard it is to think about anything else when you do that?"

Kate could tell he wasn't trying to think about anything else.

"Good. Then we're even for all the times you've derailed my writing by just walking into my tent. And don't act like you didn't know," she added when he looked surprised. She took her feet off the dash and folded her legs neatly back on the seat. "Is that any better?"

"No."

"In that case . . ." she stretched out again, unrepentantly, feet on the dash.

He shifted toward her, rested a hand on her thigh and ran it slowly down to her knee. Her body twitched at the heat of his touch. If he felt it, he didn't say anything but she saw the corner of his mouth turn up. He was close enough she could see the small scar under his lower lip.

"And what does me walking into your tent have to do with you not being able to write?"

"It just . . . does." She swallowed hard.

A rogue breeze tugged a strand of hair across her face. Automatically, she reached up to tuck it behind her ear. Greg caught her hand and brushed his lips over the inside of her wrist. Her pulse jumped.

Letting go of her wrist he cradled her face with one hand and kissed her. The kiss was gentle but she could feel the power in check below its surface. Heat shot through her and her heart pounded in her throat when he pulled back. She met his eyes, impossibly blue in the moonlight, saw his lips curve in lazy pleasure.

Wordlessly, he took her mouth again, long and slow. Her lips opened under his, inviting the kiss to deepen. He took the invitation, his tongue brushing hers with an intimacy that left her trembling. No man had ever kissed her like this before. His mouth teased, a prelude, a promise. She wrapped an arm around his neck, her other hand flat on the hard muscle of his chest. Her pulse echoed the surf crashing on the shore below.

Greg pulled her closer, one hand in the small of her back, the other tangled in her hair. She came into his arms easily, her body's response threatening the limits of her self-control. His lips broke from hers to the line of her jaw, brushing her throat. His hand slid down her thigh, gripped her behind the knee and pulled her onto his lap. She straddled him, answering the demand of his mouth, matching his heat as the embrace roughened.

Kate ran her fingers through his hair, thinking of all the times she'd dreamed of being alone, truly alone, with him. The impact was staggering. He kissed her neck, lingering at the hollow of her throat. She arched against the heat of his body, his hands strong as they circled her waist. The more he touched her, the more she wanted. There was no rush, just the slow, sensual heat of his mouth and fingers.

Greg's hands slid slowly up her body, brushing lightly over her breasts to settle on the top button of her shirt. She answered his slow smile with one of her own, need creating invitation. He held her eyes, unspeaking. There was no sound other than the whisper of breeze and tug of fabric against skin as he unbuttoned her shirt and slid it off her shoulders. The breeze lifted the heat from her skin as his thumbs traced the line of her collarbones and caressed her shoulders, his touch light, sensation rushing to the surface until she thought she must be glowing with it. He lowered his eyes and laughed softly.

"No black lace tonight?"

"I told you, that's only for special occasions," she whispered.

He brushed his mouth across the top of her breasts. She shuddered with pleasure at the scrape of razor stubble against her skin. Reality surpassed anything her imagination had conjured in dreams. His mouth and hands captured the moment, savored it, handed it back to her, giving pleasure as easily as he took it.

She twisted her fingers in his hair and pulled his head back, grazed her lips down his neck. He smelled faintly of aftershave and tobacco smoke and the heat of him under her mouth was intoxicating. She was trembling. God, how had she managed to keep her hands off him for so long? Slowly, she opened the buttons of his shirt and splayed her hands across his chest, welcoming the sensation of muscle under her palms. The absolute rightness of the moment was overwhelming. Without thinking, she rotated her hips, gasping softly at the impact of his body hard against hers.

"Don't start anything you can't finish, Cameron," he said, a quiet warning tinged with humor.

"I don't think I started this," she whispered. "You invited me up here, remember?"

"You told me to kiss you somewhere we wouldn't be interrupted, remember?"

His hands slid up to cup her breasts. The rush of heat from his fingers through the thin silk of her bra left her powerless. She pressed herself into his hands and tipped her head down to find his mouth again.

His hands were building anticipation with every touch, teasing her nipples until they were hard and aching. His mouth was hot against her throat when a motor sounded on the track leading up from the base. Headlights cut through the tropical night. Meatball woofed, a mix of warning and greeting.

"Greg?" a voice called. "Um . . . sorry about this . . . really . . . sorry . . . but . . ." It was Casey.

"Son of a bitch." Greg pressed his face against her neck as the lights bounced toward them up the rough track. She could feel his heart pounding in a cadence to match hers. His teeth nipped gently at her neck, then he slipped her shirt back up over her shoulders and rested his hands around her waist. She held his hot blue gaze, feeling her frustrated need echo through both of them.

"This better be important," Greg said as Casey pulled up next to them. Kate noticed he'd cut the lights on his jeep. That was Casey. Always being thoughtful.

"Colonel Lard's on the horn for you. Well, he not anymore. But he was before. And he wants you to call him ASAP." Casey must have realized he was babbling. He stopped talking and glanced at Kate, who was re-buttoning her shirt. She had no idea if it was straight or not.

"Did you tell him I was busy?"

"Yes, sir, I did. Very busy. But he wouldn't take no for an answer this time. He threatened to charge you with insubordination if you don't call him. And then he threatened to charge both of us with failure to obey a direct order if I didn't come find you."

"How long did it take you to find us?" Greg's hands were still around her waist, under her shirt. He didn't show any indication of moving them and Kate wasn't about to suggest it. The slow burn of his touch was still licking along the frayed edges of her self-control, keeping the embers glowing.

"About an hour and a half. I, um, didn't try very hard."

"Small miracles," Greg muttered. He shifted Kate off his lap and she slid back into the passenger seat. Casey had a reluctant smile on his face. Ignoring him, she leaned over and twisted her fingers in the front of Greg's shirt.

"I thought I told you to kiss me somewhere no one would interrupt us."

"I thought I was," he said and started the jeep. "Next time, I'll make damn sure of it."

XXX

"Boyington! Why didn't you return my calls earlier?" Kate could hear Lard's voice echoing out of the receiver in the ops shack. She wondered if he always sounded that annoyed. She surreptitiously checked to make sure her shirt was buttoned evenly. It wasn't. She set about rectifying the situation. Casey didn't try to hide his grin. She glared at him. His grin grew broader.

"Well, sir, we are in the middle of a war out here." Greg didn't try to disguise the irritation in his voice.

"It's after 2200 hours. I doubt whatever you were in the middle of had anything to do with the war. And I've got better things to do than sit around waiting for you to call back."

"Yes, sir, so do I. And what I'm doing at 2200 is none of your business." Pause. "With all due respect." Eye roll. "Sir."

Kate smothered a laugh.

"Boyington! You have got to do something about this Cameron fellow! I just read his story about the Wiley kid. It makes him sound like he's the next triple ace but hasn't he wholesaled three planes since he's been with you? Do you know how much planes cost? And wasn't there some hushed up deal about him and an admiral's daughter getting caught in a restricted area while he was on R and R?"

Kate raised her eyebrows. Greg put a hand over the mouthpiece.

"That was Jim," he mouthed. Apparently didn't feel obligated to make the correction. He took his hand down. "TJ also splashed Hirachi, sir, which is something no one else has managed to do, including me. I read Cameron's story, thought it was a good piece about an American kid trying to do his best. I don't see what the problem is."

Lard's annoyance resonated down the line. Kate listened with interest. Greg had told her about Lard's obsession with regulations. Clearly positive press coverage only went so far.

"I'll tell you what the problem is, Boyington. It's not just the Wiley story. It's the French story. And the Micklin story. And every damned one of his stories. Cameron is making it sound like you and that merry band of pirates are the United States' pride of the South Pacific."

"Is that a problem, sir?"

"Problem?! You want to know if it's a problem? I'll tell you what the problem is!" Lard roared. "I'm up to my ass in Congressmen asking questions I can't answer! Washington is breathing down my throat and I'm still getting complaints about your boys raising hell with the nurses and the Navy. Get him over here to Espritos on the double. I want to talk to him about his coverage of your unit."

"That could be difficult, sir, the next transport won't be here for three days."

Lard muttered something incomprehensible. Greg didn't ask him to repeat it.

"I'm too busy juggling Congressmen to have time to fly out to your rock," the colonel snapped. "A while back Moore said he'd go over there. I'll see if he can break loose and do it."

"You do that sir."

The connection ended. In the silence that followed, Greg looked at Kate and Casey.

"We're gonna have company," he said. He looked closer at Kate. "Do you know your shirt's buttoned crooked?"

His eyes sparkled with blue heat. Buttons were the last thing on Kate's mind.

"Yours isn't buttoned at all," she said. "I need a drink."

XXX

Just when I thought Colonel Lard couldn't find a way to be a bigger pain the ass, he'd interrupted us again. This was the third time, not that I was keeping track. Those stolen moments in the jeep were only a prelude of the time I wanted to spend with her but it seemed like no matter where we went, the war got in the way. And on top of it all, now General Moore was going to show up to meet K.C. Cameron. He was used to overlooking things where the Black Sheep were concerned but Kate was going to be really hard to miss. – GB