Night Flight (28 page)

“Another present?” Jack teased, grinning. Melody wore a brilliant red silk caftan, hand-painted with pink, white and orchid-colored hibiscus. She had taken great pains with her black hair, which was tamed into perfection, and her makeup only emphasized her stunning beauty. The smile on her lips, the joy in her eyes, made him tighten with desire.

“The last and best one,” Melody said breathlessly, kneeling in front of him. “Open it. It’s your future.”

Stymied, Jack carefully opened the small gift, setting the white ribbon and green foil paper aside. Giving her a teasing look, he held the box in his hand. “What do you mean ‘my future’?”

Leaning upward, Melody pressed a quick, hot kiss to his mouth. “Open it and find out, my love.”

Excitement thrummed through him as he lifted the lid. His eyes widened. “My major’s leaves!”

Clapping her hands with delight, Melody sat back on her heels. “Do you like them? Aren’t they beautiful? Oh, Jack, I couldn’t wait! I know you’re going to get promoted soon and I just wanted to pin them on you now, just to see what you look like with them on!”

Caught up in her enthusiasm, Jack picked up the two gold, round oak leaves. He ran his thumbs across them in a reverent motion. “Nice, aren’t they?” There was a wistfulness in his voice.

“You’re nice. Now, come on, stand up! I want to pin them on you. I have to get practice doing this, so that when you’re standing in front of the entire base for the ceremony, I don’t drop one and embarrass both of us.”

Grinning, Jack stood, handing her the oak leaves. “What? Pin them on my sweater?”

“Of course! Don’t you want to see how they’ll look?”

“Sure.”

“Ten-hut!”

Stang snapped to attention, just as they had taught him at the Air Force academy. His broad shoulders were thrown back, rigid and proud. Melody smiled proudly, and delicately pinned the first rank on his left shoulder, and pretended that there was an epaulet there.

“You already look more handsome,” she said admiringly, moving to his right shoulder.

“Wench,” he teased, remaining at attention.

“There!” Melody stepped back, her hands clasped. “You look splendid! How handsome you’ll be, Major Stang.” Gripping his hand, she dragged him down the hall to their bedroom. Coaxing him in front of the floor-length mirror, Melody stood proudly beside him. “Look,” she breathed, “how wonderful you are! Never has there been a major like you, darling.”

Jack stared at the gold oak leaves. “They do look good, don’t they?”

“Good? They look great.”

Turning, he swept Melody into his arms, ready to kiss her laughter-touched lips; Jack hesitated and moved over to the door, closed and locked it.

“Just in case,” Jack told her, and crushed Melody against him.

Giggling, Melody lightly touched the leaf on his left shoulder. “I’ve never made love to a major before….”

“No?” Jack gently removed her earring and nibbled on her earlobe. He felt her respond and press herself against him. The fullness of her breasts, firm and ripe, made him go hot with longing.

“No,” she sighed. Capturing his mouth, Melody kissed him hungrily. “Love me?”

Hesitating fractionally, Jack nodded. Scotty was completely involved in his computer video. His son would be glued to the set for a little while. They’d make love quickly, with intensity and passion. Grinning, Jack swept his wife up into his arms and carried her to their king-sized bed.

“Now you’re going to find out what it’s like to be loved by a major,” he promised her thickly, lying down beside her. Her smile, filled with pride and love, went straight to his pounding heart. Jack had never had such a wonderful Christmas. Ever.

Megan girded herself for warfare the day after school began in early January. She’d received a call from Brad Jamison to meet him over at the principal’s office for an urgent meeting. With the help of the union, she had pushed to get Scotty Stang tested regardless of Jamison’s threat to fire her. Getting out of her car that blustery, cool morning, she walked quickly into the school. The children were due to arrive by bus in about twenty minutes. She saw a number of teachers wandering around in the halls, gearing up for their charges.

Heart pumping with fear, Megan walked down the hall toward the principal’s office, the light on inside the office. Jamison was waiting like a wolf for her. She felt like a quarry. Her mind ranged over possibilities. Last month, after Linda Yarnell, the union president, had told her that admin was balking on the Scotty Stang issue, she had placed a call to General Dalton.

There wasn’t anywhere on Edwards that Dalton’s influence and power didn’t touch. Not even a school board. Megan hadn’t mentioned the name or the problem she was facing to Dalton. She asked, instead, that if he had time, could he look in to the matter—that she needed his guidance and input on it. Megan knew it wasn’t wise to point fingers or name names. No, if Dalton decided to get involved, he’d do it.

Rubbing her damp hands against her tan raincoat, Megan slowed as she approached the office. Contacting General Dalton was as risky to her as it might be to the administration. If Dalton sided with Jamison and the school board, she would be fired. It was that simple. Playing high stakes politics with the base commander wasn’t something to be done every day. In the Air Force, when one officer owed another a favor, it was called a chip. The bigger the favor, the bigger the chip. Powerful favors were referred to as blue chips. Megan had called in a blue chip in her father’s name to get Dalton to investigate her problem with Jamison. Had Dalton gotten involved? If so, what was his decision? And how was it going to affect her job status?

Brad Jamison was standing behind the counter dressed in a dark pinstripe suit. He scowled as Megan entered the door.

“We’ve got business to discuss,” he growled at her. “Come into my office.”

Megan kept her coat on and went around the counter. Jamison was upset. Something had happened. She couldn’t read his features to decide whether it was for or against her. Nervously, she swallowed, outwardly showing a calm she didn’t feel. Closing the door behind her, she sat down in the leather chair facing his massive oak desk.

Steepling his fingers, Jamison reared back in his chair, studying her for some moments, the silence taut. “I underestimated you, Ms. Roberts.”

“Really?”

Jamison grinned slightly. “There’s an old axiom—let sleeping dogs lie. I think it applies to you, in this case.”

Stymied, Megan sat there. She knew that Jamison was deliberately baiting her.

Scowling, Brad eased forward and took a file folder, sliding it across the desk toward her. “Two things, Ms. Roberts. First of all, your request to have Scotty Stang tested for hyperactivity has been approved. Secondly, I’m approving your outdoor education proposal. The principal will come back with his decision in late January. At that time, you’ll be notified.”

Elated, but not daring to show it, Megan took the file and opened it. Jamison seemed subdued, but she now understood why. Obviously, General Dalton had investigated both matters and backed her on them. Jamison was enough of a political animal to know he didn’t dare dispute Dalton’s decision, putting his own career in possible jeopardy.

“Thank you, Mr. Jamison.” According to the file, Scotty Stang was to be tested immediately, and the results of the doctor’s diagnosis had to be reported within the next two weeks.

Jamison smiled slightly, appraising her with new respect. “I hope, Ms. Roberts, that in the future, we can work more amicably on any problems you might encounter.”

Rising, Megan tucked the file under her arm. She wanted to jump up and down for joy. Soberly, she nodded. “I have every desire to work within the structure of my union and admin if possible, Mr. Jamison.”

“I’m glad to hear that.”

She could afford to be generous in victory. “Thanks for your help on these matters.” Megan turned, jubilant. Scotty Stang would finally get the help he needed. How would the Stangs receive the dictate? Jack worked with Sam. Would he try and take it out on Sam?

The first thing Holt did when he got into Ops was hunt down Jack Stang. He’d taken leave up until the first day of school in early January. Sam hadn’t forgotten what Stang had said and done to Megan at the Christmas party, and he was intent on pursuing the matter as soon as possible. He’d purposely arrived early in hopes that the captain would be there. Entering Design, he found Jack at his desk. The place was deserted. Good.

Sauntering over to his desk, Holt said, “We’ve got some serious matters to discuss, Jack. I’d have done it a lot earlier, but you’ve been out of town since Christmas.”

Lifting his head from his work, Stang reared back in his chair, a lazy smile on his mouth. “Palm Springs is a nice place to spend the holidays with my family, Holt.” Melody’s parents had a winter home at the posh resort. “Now, what’s on your mind?”

Placing his hands flat on Stang’s desk, Holt leaned forward, his voice low and menacing. “The Christmas party I couldn’t attend because I was TDY in Maryland at the time. You ever mention Megan Roberts’s father to her in that tone and fashion again, you’ll be answering to me, Stang. You copy that? And I didn’t like that fact your wife was hinting that Lauren and I were having an affair, either.”

Carelessly, Stang rocked back in his chair, his hands behind his head. “Is that what Megan told you?” He laughed. “That little lady’s stretching the truth—”

With a hiss, Holt’s hand snaked out. He gripped Stang by the collar of his light blue shirt, jerking him forward. Their faces were inches apart. “Don’t pull that shit on me, Stang. I know you too well.” His fingers tightened on the material, and Holt smiled lethally as Stang’s eyes went wide. Stang hadn’t expected him to get physical. “I believe Megan’s version of what went down. There were witnesses to that little tête-à-tête you had with her. Read me loud and clear on this, buddy—I’m on your six about this. I ever catch you talking about Megan in a derogatory way again, I’ll have your ass. Understand?”

Lips lifting away from his teeth, Jack gripped Holt’s wrist. “You son of a bitch, don’t you threaten me or my wife!”

Holt had the better leverage. With both hands, he hauled Stang forward, off balance. “Go ahead,” he breathed savagely, “take a swing, Stang….”

Stang hung across his desk, several items clattering to the floor. He was up for early major. He wasn’t going to lose it in a stupid brawl with Holt. And certainly not over Megan Roberts. “Let go,” he ordered harshly.

Holt shoved him backward, releasing his hold on Stang. The captain slammed back into his chair, nearly losing his balance. Straightening, Holt stood there, glaring down at him.

“You copy, Stang?”

“I copy,” he growled tensely.

Holt turned away and headed back to his desk, breathing unevenly. If anyone had caught them fighting, it would have been bad for their fitness reports, which were coming up soon. Sam didn’t care. Defending Megan was a hell of a lot more important than getting his damned major’s leaves early. He was going to protect her against people like Stang and his vicious wife.

For nearly an hour, they worked at their separate desks, the silence overwhelming. At eight o’clock, Stang’s phone rang.

“Design,” he snapped.

“Jack?”

“Melody, what’s wrong?” She was upset.

“I—I just got a call from Jamison. Jack, the school and union are demanding that Scotty be tested immediately for hyperactivity.”

“What?” He jerked a glance in Holt’s direction. The pilot glanced up, and then immediately went back to work. “What?” he whispered, keeping his voice low so Holt couldn’t hear the conversation. It didn’t matter, Holt got up and left Design, leaving him alone.

“Yes. Jamison said Megan Roberts went to General Dalton! Oh, God, Jack, she went to Dalton!”

“That bitch!” he cried hoarsely.

“We underestimated her, Jack. She’s Colonel Roberts’s daughter. She has clout here at Edwards, and she used it against us.”

His fingers tightened until the knuckles were white around the phone. “Christ, my major’s leaves! My early promotion! What’s this going to do to it?”

“There’s nothing we can do, Jack. Nothing! Dalton now knows about Scotty’s problems. The only thing we can do to salvage ourselves and your standing with him is to get Scotty tested. I’ve already called Dr. Alphonse Simmons in Los Angeles. He’s agreed to look at Scotty tomorrow morning.”

Furious over his blunder with Megan Roberts, Jack rubbed his brow. “Yeah…that’s fine. Take him down. Why don’t you leave now?”

“I’ve called my parents, and they’re expecting Scotty and me. Jack, I’m sorry.”

“There’s nothing we can do now. We’re outgunned. All we can do is implement damage control and hope like hell it hasn’t affected my status for early promotion.”

“It won’t,” Melody said. “I’m just sick about this, darling. Sick.”

No more than he was. Jack hung up a moment later. He sat at his desk, fuming. His day had gone from bad to worse. Did Holt know about Megan’s machinations with the general? The bastard probably did, wanting to be here when Melody got the word. Closing his fist, Stang ached to smash in Holt’s face. An entire day stretched ahead of him. In two weeks, Lauren was going to deliver her final decision on the brilliant test idea he’d come up with. If she approved the test results, he still stood in good with Design, and Dalton wouldn’t take his early promotion away from him because of Scotty’s behavior.

“I’m afraid,” Lauren Porter said with regret to the men surrounding the oval table, “that the engine redesign isn’t a complete success for short field landings.”

Stang, who had been leaning back in his leather chair, snapped upright, his jaw hanging. “What?”

Porter’s eyes narrowed. “I said, the engine redesign isn’t the total answer, Captain Stang.”

Holt moved uncomfortably in his chair. Weeks earlier Megan had filled him in on her fight to get Scotty Stang tested. The child was diagnosed as hyperactive and was now on drugs to calm him down. When she told him of General Dalton’s influence to bring the problem to a swift conclusion, he flinched inwardly, knowing that Stang would be a bear at work. Not only that, but Stang had also been barely able to conceal his hatred of him because he was going with Megan.

Holt sat down at one end of the table, a good view of Stang and Lauren, who were only two chairs apart. The mid-January sunlight filtered strongly through the blinds and lent a radiance to the Design meeting room that no one felt.

“But,” Jack sputtered indignantly, “I know it’ll work!” What was going down? Had Dalton’s opinion of him, based on his son’s need to be on drugs and well-publicized behavior at school, affected Lauren’s decision? Stang had no doubt that Megan Roberts’s interference was partially responsible for the flight engineer’s decision. Why else would she do it?

Fingers tightening around the pencil in her right hand, Lauren glared at Stang. “Captain, the flight engineers, both military and civilian,” she emphasized, “have given the Agile Eagle every possible chance to show it can land consistently at fifteen hundred feet. It doesn’t.”

Angrily, Stang stood up, shoving the chair away. “Well, I disagree.” He began to pace the length of the rectangular room that was littered with charts and blueprints.

Sam tensed, watching Lauren’s set features. No one was happy about the situation. Especially Lauren, because it was her project, and it was not just behind schedule, but nothing seemed to work consistently in slowing down the F-15 sufficiently for a short landing sequence.

“Look, Jack,” said Roy Holding, McDonnell’s civilian chief design engineer on the F-15, “we’ve tried everything. But when the winds are wrong, the bird can’t make the grade. Your idea was a good one, Jack, but it’s not the complete answer,” he stressed in a mild voice, trying to ease the building tension.

With a snort, Jack threw his hands on his hips and glared at all of them. His hatred soared as he fixed his gaze on Porter. She was the other reason why his idea hadn’t worked. Grinding his teeth, he snarled, “If certain flight engineers would ease up on the ratios, the Agile Eagle would have a ninety-five-percentile short landing record. And that’s good enough.”

Sam sucked in a breath, watching Lauren. He had to give the major credit: she wasn’t flying off the handle like Stang was. But then, Stang’s baby had just been shot down. He’d been relying on the engine design to guarantee his major’s promotion coming up shortly, and also to get the vaunted B-2 slot.

“Captain, sit down,” Lauren ordered in a tight voice.

Jack’s nostrils flared, his fingers digging into his hips. The urge to punch her in the face was very real. The snobby bitch! Everyone in Design was watching him. With a muttered curse he stalked back to his chair, jerked it out away from the table and sat down. Breathing hard, he leaned forward, nailing Porter.

“Major, I strongly disagree with the parameters you’ve set up for the tests with the new engine design. If you’d ease those restrictions, we’d get a ninety-five percent across the board.”

“Put it in writing, Captain,” she said in a steely tone, “and I’ll take it directly to General Dalton.”

Grabbing a pencil, Stang leaned back in his chair, and refused to say anything. That confirmed to him that Dalton was in on this. Seething with fury, Jack wanted to cry out in pure frustration.

Holt slowly released his breath. This confrontation between Stang and Port had been building for a long time. He applauded her control and good judgment. Stang wasn’t going to put anything down on a report. If he were wrong about her use of ratios, it could make him look foolish, or worse, possibly stupid. It wouldn’t look good on his fitness report, or help him get another choice slot as a test pilot. Lauren was a damn good flight engineer and knew her stuff. She’d tried every conceivable way to give the Agile Eagle a chance to land consistently at fifteen hundred feet. Under certain wind conditions, it wouldn’t. She refused to put her signature on the design change, approve it and tell General Dalton that they’d solved the problem when the tests weren’t proving it out.