On Distant Shores (Exiles Triology Book 1) (2 page)

They both looked at the beast in front of them.  Everett watched as its huge fangs flexed in and out if its mouth.  Then he noticed its body massing, muscle contracting, the back legs tensing under the body.

“Get ready, here it comes!” he yelled.

Then

The smell of coffee woke him.  Sunlight rippled around the edges of the drapes.  He stretched, rubbed his eyes, and reached out a hand to the other side of the bed.  The bed was empty except for him.  He grabbed her pillow, rolled over to her side of the bed and buried his face into her pillow, breathing in her scent.  He stretched some more.  It was Sunday, and he really didn’t want to get up just yet.  He felt lazy, and wished Jo would be lazy with him.  He hoped to talk Jo into staying in bed with him.  He heard the door to the bedroom open up.  He listened to the quiet footsteps as she came towards the bed.

              “Babe, the coffee’s on.”  Jo was relentless when she wanted to do something.  She stood there in a small red tank top and pajama pants, neither of which hid her curves.  He watched her body move as she leaned against the dresser.  The curve of her breasts against the thin fabric of the tank top, and the curve of her hips increased his desire.  Her hair was still mussed from the night’s sleep.  He looked at her shoulder length hair, and he could almost feel the softness against his face.  His heartbeat increased as he looked at her.

              “Can I talk to you about coming back to bed?” he asked.

              “Michael, you promised me,” Jo replied.   “If you don’t get up, I’ll release the hounds.”

              He was in trouble.  She called him Michael instead of Mike.  That meant she was serious.

              “You wouldn’t really release the hounds?”  The question trailed off in the air between them, the “would you” a silent ending on the question.

              “All right, since you don’t think I’m serious.”

              He heard the door open, and Jo whistled.  Two six month old Labrador retrievers shot through the door.

              “Get daddy up.”

              The two dogs, both female, were all over the bed, trying to get to any skin that they could lick.He rolled over and looked at Jo.  She had
that
look on her face, tempered by the antics of the dogs, who were so excited to get at Mike.  There was a coffee mug in her hand.  It wouldn’t be long before she would be dressed and ready to go.  Her belly was still tight, not showing the second trimester yet.  Jo was as active as Mike, spending a lot of time running and doing yoga.  He didn’t think she would show much even when she was about to deliver their first child.

              “Okay, okay you win, but I still believe that releasing the hounds is a Geneva Convention violation.”  This last part was said as he pulled the covers up to keep the dogs off of him.  The pups, Moira and Fiona, black and chocolate labs, were still trying to burrow through the covers to get to him.

              “Whoa, girl that nose doesn’t go there.”  One of the dogs found a very sensitive spot of bare skin, and the tongue followed the nose.  The covers erupted as Mike tried to get away.  “Damn it, woman, it is unfair and unkind to do this to a sleeping man.”

              Jo blew on the coffee and took a sip as she watched two very happy dogs wrestle around the covers.  She knew that, though Mike was complaining, he loved his dogs.  The dogs were getting back as much as they were giving.  She took pity on Mike, mainly because she didn’t want them to ruin the bed sheets.

              “Alright girls, let Mike alone.  He needs to get up so we can go to Denver.”

              Jo put the coffee down on the dresser, and started grabbing dogs.  Moira and Fiona thought that this was a new and interesting phase of the game that they were playing.  Skin showed through Jo’s pajamas as she tried to corral the two dogs, increasing Mike’s interest in the events as well.  Eventually Jo got the dogs off the bed and out the door.  She closed the door behind them.  She heard one of the girls whimper, but then the scrabbling of claws on the floor indicated a loss of interest.

              Jo picked up her coffee, and moved closer to the bed.  “Are you getting up today?”

              Mike threw the covers off, put his hands behind his head, and turned so that he had a better view of his lovely wife.  “Are the hounds gone?”

              Jo looked at his lean body, the muscle standing out with his arms back behind his head.  She knew what he was doing, and refused to be drawn in.  “Yep, unless you don’t get out of bed,” Jo took another sip of coffee.

              Chief Warrant Officer Three or CW3 Mike Duggins was a lucky man, and he knew it.  There weren’t too many good women out there in the United States today who would put up with a man in his career, especially with his particular specialty.He swung his legs over and sat up at the edge of the bed.  He reached over, put his hands around her legs and pulled her towards him.

              “Careful, you’ll spill my coffee,” she cautioned.

              He kissed her stomach and put his head against it.  He knew that it would be months before he could hear the sounds of his baby’s heart, or feel the baby pushing against his mom’s belly.  But Mike knew the baby was there.  A warmness grew through his chest as he thought about the baby. 
“I hope the baby looks like Jo,”
he thought.  Whether boy or girl, if they looked like Jo, they would be a beautiful child.  He thought about it more, and hoped that he would be able to see his wife’s green eyes and beautiful smile on the faces of his children.

              Jo looked down at her husband and roughed his sandy, blond hair with her non-coffee hand.  His hair always turned blond during the summer months as the sun bleached it out.  In the winter, it was a light brown.  Mike looked up at her.  She was amazed that he was thirty-three and still, at times, the expressions on his face would make him look like a little boy.  She looked at the scars across his body, and knew that she was lucky that the little boy was still around to smile mischievously at her. 

Truth was, Jo was the reason that he was able to put his job out of mind.  She was the reason that he stayed sane.  She was the anchor in the storm.He put his arms around her waist and squeezed softly.

              “Whoa, cowboy, you’re crushin’ the stuffin’ out of me.  You’re going to make me spill my coffee.”

              He grinned at her as he let the pressure off, “I was hoping to talk you into coming back to bed for a while.”

              Jo knew that this was going to be his argument against going to Denver that morning.  Like any other man, Mike was not a guy that enjoyed shopping, especially for furniture.  She brought the coffee into the bedroom as a line of defense against this very thing.  Still, Mike’s wide shoulders, strong arms, and skinny waist made her resolve waiver.  But she had to be strong, for the baby.  Or at least that was what she told herself.

              She leaned back, and took a swig of the coffee, and tried to keep the emotion, the thrill off of her face.  Three years, and they still acted like honeymooners.  But not today.  Today she was harsh taskmaster, albeit an iron fist in a velvet glove.“Baby, could you get up and make me an omelet.  I haven’t had one in awhile.”She could see the pout starting on his face, and then he sighed, kissed her on the stomach again.  Jo moved back as he stood up.

              “Okay, Jo, we’ll go to Denver today.”  He headed towards the door of the bedroom.  Jo took pity on him, wrapped her hand around his bicep and pulled him in close for a kiss.“Thank you.  And Rachael thanks you as well.”

              He smiled as he turned his head, “you mean Samuel, don’t you.”  As he walked away, his shorts hung low, showing the top of his ass.  Jo stared at his butt and legs, and started to reconsider the omelet.  Then he scratched his butt, and the mood was gone.  He opened the door and the sound of nails on wooden floors announced the dogs.  Fiona came into view, looking up at Mike, hoping that he had a treat in his hand.  Mike leaned over to scratch her behind the ears.  Fiona’s back leg kicked as he found the sweet spot.

              Jo watched the interplay between Mike and Fiona.  Jo thought to herself, “
He has that effect on me too
.
I have an itch I’d like him to scratch.  Maybe when we get back from Denver.”
A smile came to her lips,“
If only he knew how close hecame to getting me back in bed
.”

              Mike walked to the kitchen and started pulling utensils, the skillet, and spices out onto the counter next to the stove.  Both of the dogs were under foot.  They knew that if Mike or Jo were in the kitchen, there was a good chance that they might find a treasure that had landed on the floor.

              Jo walked up behind him and put her arms around his waist as he looked into the fridge.  She laid her head against his back.  The dogs were sticking their noses in the cold of the fridge, trying to smell everything that they could get to.

              Mike placed his hand over hers, “Hon, where’s the butter and cheese?”  Jo reached in and flipped up the cover to the butter holder on the door, “Cheese is in the crisper.”

              He leaned over to open the crisper.  “What’s the cheese doing in the crisper?”  He felt Jo’s hand smack him on his rear.He stood up with a package of three cheese blend, grabbed the butter out of the holder, and turned to Jo, put his arms over her shoulders, looked into her eyes, and told her, “good answer.  Did you plan for me to grab the cheese and get a smack on the ass, or did it just turn out that way?”

              Jo smiled.  “Serendipitous, I swear.”

              Mike smiled back.  “Well, if you want that omelet, you need to give me some space so that I can get to cooking.”

              Jo pecked him on the cheek and moved out of the way.  She turned and walked to the front of the house.  Her voice drifted back to him, “I’m going to get the newspaper.”

              Mike chuckled then replied, “You might want to put a robe on.  Mr. Jenkins cross the way might have a coronary if you walk out like that.”  As he closed the refrigerator door, he used his feet to push the dogs out of the way.  They thought that it was a game, because of course, to them, everything is a game.  They jumped, darted and yipped at his feet.

              Jo’s disembodied voice replied, “Serve him right, he’s been trying to get a peek at me since we moved in here.”

              “Hey, just because he’s older, doesn’t mean that he can’t appreciate the ladies.”

              “Yeah, well, I’m just glad he isn’t a little more mobile.  I wouldn’t ever get a chance to get a tan in the back yard.”

              “Ah, he’s harmless.  You’re probably the hottest thing he’s seen in a long while.”

              “Mike, you said that he was a paratrooper in Vietnam.  From what I’ve seen, and have learned about them from our time living in the greater Fayetteville metropolitan area, no paratroopers are ever harmless.”

              Mike smiled.  “You have a point, honey.   But he’s dangerous to meth addicts and thieves, not to you.  The only people that have to worry are the local meth heads that are looking for something to jack.  Unless you’re stealing something from him, say anything derogatory about the 82
nd
Airborne, Special Forces, any paratroopers, or the United States of America, you don’t have to worry about First Sergeant Jeremy Jenkins, 10
th
Special Forces, Retired.  Besides, you’re a lady, and he treats ladies like royalty.”  Mike took a deep breath after that sentence.

              “What about when he tries to look down my dress?”  Jo replied, standing next to him with the paper in her hand.  Mike started, not expecting her to sneak up on him like that.

              “Damn Jo, don’t do that!”

              “Do what,” she asked?

              “Sneak up on me.”

              “Are you saying that my scary, terrorist murdering, super-secret operator is scared of little me,” she asked, eyes wide, trying to look very innocent.

              The smell of bacon was permeating the house as Mike started whipping cream into the eggs.  There was a, “don’t feed me bullshit,” look on his face as he stood with the clear bowl cradled in his arm, and the whisk in hand.  He dropped a piece of bacon to Moira, and one to Fiona.

              Jo noticed.  “Mike, I’m never going to be able to train them if you keep feeding them when you cook. Besides, the dogs are going to get fat.”

              Mike steered the conversation back to the previous point.  “First, I don’t murder them, I terminate them with extreme prejudice,” he stated, ripping off the major motion picture industry.  “Second, they deserve exactly what they get, because they, unlike me, are murderous bastards who are willing to kill innocent women and children.  And, last, if a man is not trying to get a glimpse of what you conceal in your sweater, he has no pulse and is rapidly turning room temperature.”