electronics technology rewarded him with a desk job at Camp Pendleton. And he proved the Marines belief in him by being the best in his position. With a sigh, Mac tapped the number into his phone. It was answered on the second ring.
“Corporal Compton,” was the succinct response.
“Hey, Stew. It’s Mac. Congratulations on your promotion. When did that come through?”
“Mac! I mean Major MacLain.”
“Just Mac will do.”
“Haven’t heard from you in four months. Not since the accident in Stan. Didn’t know if you made it or not. Where are you? How are you?”
“I’m home. Six month of medical leave. I’m doing okay.” It came out raspy. Mac closed his eyes, trying to ward off the memory of that accident . He’d lost too many good men and it had landed him in the hospital, too. He could still hear the screams of the severely wounded, see the blood, and smell the death that had surrounded him.
“Sorry, Mac.”
“How’s everything on the home front? Sorry I couldn’t get back for your wedding.” Mac tried to lighten the conversation, get away from the memories.
“All’s good.” Stew said. “Maggie’s pregnant. Two months. She told me the night I came home with my corporal stripes. Boy, was that a night to remember!”
His happiness came through loud and clear. “Seems double congratulations are in order.”
“Yeah. So, to what do I owe this call? It isn’t strictly social or you wouldn’t be calling me at work.”
“I need you to do a background check on a Marcos Diego. Start in San Francisco. That’s where he is now. Dig as deep as you can. Be his second skin,” snapped Mac. “I want to know even his birth weight, if he was born of human parents. It wouldn’t hurt if the info came through ASAP.”
“You want me to use government equipment to hunt down some badass that’s making you squirrelly. It could put my neck in a noose.”
“Won’t be the first time.”
“Yeah, but you were in Stan hunting bad guys.”
“This guy is worse than any we were hunting over there. He did a slash and gash on a close friend of mine.”
“This friend wouldn’t happen to be of the female persuasion, would it?”
“Doesn’t make any difference. Just get me what you can on him,” Mac smoothly ended the conversation. He tossed the phone on the desk and, leaning back in his chair, wiped his hands down over his face. Step one done. He wondered what kind of dirt Stew would dig up. Sage had called Marcos a sleaze. How low a low-life would he turn out to be? Slowly Mac rose from his chair and headed for the kitchen. Whatever he found out, he would keep it from Sage for now.
* * * *
After supper, Mac led Sage into the living room, seated her on the couch, and made her put her legs up. He sat beside her, pushed up her pant s leg, and removed the knee brace. When he placed his hand over the injured joint she shivered. Her body responded to his slightest touch. She imagined what it would be like if his hand drifted north. Let’s not go there!
“Did that hurt?” asked Mac, frown lines appearing between his brows. “It’s still a bit swollen and warm. How much have you been on it today? What have you been doing?”
“A little of this and that,” she answered. “Little Mouse let me help with cooking and some cleaning. She said I needed more exercise. You heard her.” His lips firmed and his frown deepened. “I wasn’t hauling in wood or running up and down stairs or scrubbing floors on my hands and knees.”
“I didn’t expect you were,” Mac answered calmly. “It’s time to start strengthening it and probably start weaning you off the brace. I’ll check with Two Feathers.”
“Thank you.”
“How about while you’re resting you make that call to your father,” he bid her, handing her the phone. “You said you wanted to do it tonight.”
“I suppose so,” said Sage with a moue of dissatisfaction. “You realize this is going to put me lower than rock bottom in
“Corporal Compton,” was the succinct response.
“Hey, Stew. It’s Mac. Congratulations on your promotion. When did that come through?”
“Mac! I mean Major MacLain.”
“Just Mac will do.”
“Haven’t heard from you in four months. Not since the accident in Stan. Didn’t know if you made it or not. Where are you? How are you?”
“I’m home. Six month of medical leave. I’m doing okay.” It came out raspy. Mac closed his eyes, trying to ward off the memory of that accident . He’d lost too many good men and it had landed him in the hospital, too. He could still hear the screams of the severely wounded, see the blood, and smell the death that had surrounded him.
“Sorry, Mac.”
“How’s everything on the home front? Sorry I couldn’t get back for your wedding.” Mac tried to lighten the conversation, get away from the memories.
“All’s good.” Stew said. “Maggie’s pregnant. Two months. She told me the night I came home with my corporal stripes. Boy, was that a night to remember!”
His happiness came through loud and clear. “Seems double congratulations are in order.”
“Yeah. So, to what do I owe this call? It isn’t strictly social or you wouldn’t be calling me at work.”
“I need you to do a background check on a Marcos Diego. Start in San Francisco. That’s where he is now. Dig as deep as you can. Be his second skin,” snapped Mac. “I want to know even his birth weight, if he was born of human parents. It wouldn’t hurt if the info came through ASAP.”
“You want me to use government equipment to hunt down some badass that’s making you squirrelly. It could put my neck in a noose.”
“Won’t be the first time.”
“Yeah, but you were in Stan hunting bad guys.”
“This guy is worse than any we were hunting over there. He did a slash and gash on a close friend of mine.”
“This friend wouldn’t happen to be of the female persuasion, would it?”
“Doesn’t make any difference. Just get me what you can on him,” Mac smoothly ended the conversation. He tossed the phone on the desk and, leaning back in his chair, wiped his hands down over his face. Step one done. He wondered what kind of dirt Stew would dig up. Sage had called Marcos a sleaze. How low a low-life would he turn out to be? Slowly Mac rose from his chair and headed for the kitchen. Whatever he found out, he would keep it from Sage for now.
* * * *
After supper, Mac led Sage into the living room, seated her on the couch, and made her put her legs up. He sat beside her, pushed up her pant s leg, and removed the knee brace. When he placed his hand over the injured joint she shivered. Her body responded to his slightest touch. She imagined what it would be like if his hand drifted north. Let’s not go there!
“Did that hurt?” asked Mac, frown lines appearing between his brows. “It’s still a bit swollen and warm. How much have you been on it today? What have you been doing?”
“A little of this and that,” she answered. “Little Mouse let me help with cooking and some cleaning. She said I needed more exercise. You heard her.” His lips firmed and his frown deepened. “I wasn’t hauling in wood or running up and down stairs or scrubbing floors on my hands and knees.”
“I didn’t expect you were,” Mac answered calmly. “It’s time to start strengthening it and probably start weaning you off the brace. I’ll check with Two Feathers.”
“Thank you.”
“How about while you’re resting you make that call to your father,” he bid her, handing her the phone. “You said you wanted to do it tonight.”
“I suppose so,” said Sage with a moue of dissatisfaction. “You realize this is going to put me lower than rock bottom in
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