Shell Game
CindyR
What has gone before..
This story is a sequel to "To Soar Like A Hawk," wherein Saint John Hawk, returned from a Laotian prisoner of war camp, reveals to the New Airwolf team that his brother, Stringfellow, did not in fact die when an unknown bomber blew up the helicopter carrying their mentor, Dominic Santini. Stringfellow joins the team on a mission to liberate Michael Coldsmith- Briggs - code named Archangel - from a Mexican fortress. Briggs regains his position with the division of American Intelligence called 'the Firm' or 'the Company,' depending upon which Coast your headquarters is located.
The regular Airwolf team, however, continued to consist of Saint John Hawk, Major Michael 'Mike' Rivers, and Dominic Santini's niece Jo, now owner of Santini Aviation. Jason Locke continued to be the team's Control with the Intelligence agency, with Stringfellow Hawk available should he be needed, while continuing to recover from wounds incurred in the helicopter explosion.
Our story picks up there.
Enjoy!
Shell Game
Doubt is a pain too lonely to know that faith is his twin brother. -- Kahlil Gibran
195---
Dominic Santini settled back with a sigh, adjusting his three-year-old daughter on his lap so he could better see his wristwatch. Two-thirty and still no sign of Lyla. His wife's curt, "I'm going out with my friends tonight," still rang in his ears; she'd left the house at eight and hadn't returned.
"Looks like it's just you an' me again tonight, Sally Anne," he murmured to the sleeping child, unconsciously hugging her a bit closer to his barrel chest. "Like always." The little girl's dark curls tickled his chin, and he chuckled. Who would have believed that a hard-bitten ex-Navy pilot like him could've helped produce something so beautiful, so fragile as this child. Sally Anne Santini was his pride and joy; somehow, so long as he was holding his daughter close, his wife's frequent absences didn't hurt so much. It was only when he and Lyla were alone that suspicion gave way to that lonely ache deep inside his heart that he strove so hard to bury.
Determinedly he turned back to the newspaper spread across his right knee. The words came into focus then blurred away again as his attention wandered back to the front door. Had he heard...? It came again, the scrape of a key being fitted in the lock. There was a click and the door swung silently back, allowing Lyla Santini to enter her home. She peeked cautiously inside, lovely violet-blue eyes widening when she realized there was still a light on. She caught sight of her husband in the armchair just inside the front room, and pasted on a patently false smile.
"Hello, Dom!" she greeted him cheerfully. "Waiting up for me?"
There was accusation beneath the benign question, which Santini ignored. "Was worried about you," he returned easily. "Have a good time out with the ... girls?"
If Lyla noticed the hesitation, she made no mention. "I had a wonderful time!" She took two steps, a graceful little dance. "We may go out again tomorrow, too!"
Dominic gained his feet slowly, careful to not wake the child. He deposited her on the upholstered sofa against the wall before turning to face his wife. "Don't you think you ought to stay in tomorrow?" he suggested, spreading both hands in a curiously pleading gesture. "You know, spend a little time with Sally Anne?"
Lyla's beautiful face hardened, her delicate features becoming stone. "Are you trying to order me around?" she snapped, placing her hands on her hips. "Tell me I can't go out with my friends when I want to?"
He approached her, nostrils wrinkling when he caught an odor from her clothes -- something beyond the cigarettes she seemed to live on and the bourbon that comprised a major portion of her diet. It was a synthetic odor, sweeter than the tropical flowers which perfumed the air around the windows. Dominic recognized it at once. Aqua-Velva. Aftershave. And not his brand, either. His stomach twisted although he kept his tone carefully neutral. "You'll wake Sally Anne," he admonished with a finger to his lips.
She glanced scornfully at the sleeping child then tossed her head, throwing long golden hair over her shoulder. "As if Sally Anne is what you really care about. Take my word for it, Dominic." She shook her finger in his face. "Some day your bossing me around will end. Some day you'll be sorry you didn't give me my freedom!"
"But, Lyla...." Dom broke off when Sally Anne stirred and opened her eyes, a happy smile lighting her little face at sight of Lyla.
"Mommy!"
Lyla glared another moment at Santini, then swooped down on the girl, gathering her close. "Mommy's here, darling. Did your nasty, inconsiderate daddy wake you?"
The crooning voice mingled with that pervasive aroma of Aqua-Velva, overloading Dom's senses. The pretty little cottage with its comfortable living room tunneled down until all he could see was the child that filled his heart, and the wife who was determined to break it.
***
CindyR
What has gone before..
This story is a sequel to "To Soar Like A Hawk," wherein Saint John Hawk, returned from a Laotian prisoner of war camp, reveals to the New Airwolf team that his brother, Stringfellow, did not in fact die when an unknown bomber blew up the helicopter carrying their mentor, Dominic Santini. Stringfellow joins the team on a mission to liberate Michael Coldsmith- Briggs - code named Archangel - from a Mexican fortress. Briggs regains his position with the division of American Intelligence called 'the Firm' or 'the Company,' depending upon which Coast your headquarters is located.
The regular Airwolf team, however, continued to consist of Saint John Hawk, Major Michael 'Mike' Rivers, and Dominic Santini's niece Jo, now owner of Santini Aviation. Jason Locke continued to be the team's Control with the Intelligence agency, with Stringfellow Hawk available should he be needed, while continuing to recover from wounds incurred in the helicopter explosion.
Our story picks up there.
Enjoy!
Shell Game
Doubt is a pain too lonely to know that faith is his twin brother. -- Kahlil Gibran
195---
Dominic Santini settled back with a sigh, adjusting his three-year-old daughter on his lap so he could better see his wristwatch. Two-thirty and still no sign of Lyla. His wife's curt, "I'm going out with my friends tonight," still rang in his ears; she'd left the house at eight and hadn't returned.
"Looks like it's just you an' me again tonight, Sally Anne," he murmured to the sleeping child, unconsciously hugging her a bit closer to his barrel chest. "Like always." The little girl's dark curls tickled his chin, and he chuckled. Who would have believed that a hard-bitten ex-Navy pilot like him could've helped produce something so beautiful, so fragile as this child. Sally Anne Santini was his pride and joy; somehow, so long as he was holding his daughter close, his wife's frequent absences didn't hurt so much. It was only when he and Lyla were alone that suspicion gave way to that lonely ache deep inside his heart that he strove so hard to bury.
Determinedly he turned back to the newspaper spread across his right knee. The words came into focus then blurred away again as his attention wandered back to the front door. Had he heard...? It came again, the scrape of a key being fitted in the lock. There was a click and the door swung silently back, allowing Lyla Santini to enter her home. She peeked cautiously inside, lovely violet-blue eyes widening when she realized there was still a light on. She caught sight of her husband in the armchair just inside the front room, and pasted on a patently false smile.
"Hello, Dom!" she greeted him cheerfully. "Waiting up for me?"
There was accusation beneath the benign question, which Santini ignored. "Was worried about you," he returned easily. "Have a good time out with the ... girls?"
If Lyla noticed the hesitation, she made no mention. "I had a wonderful time!" She took two steps, a graceful little dance. "We may go out again tomorrow, too!"
Dominic gained his feet slowly, careful to not wake the child. He deposited her on the upholstered sofa against the wall before turning to face his wife. "Don't you think you ought to stay in tomorrow?" he suggested, spreading both hands in a curiously pleading gesture. "You know, spend a little time with Sally Anne?"
Lyla's beautiful face hardened, her delicate features becoming stone. "Are you trying to order me around?" she snapped, placing her hands on her hips. "Tell me I can't go out with my friends when I want to?"
He approached her, nostrils wrinkling when he caught an odor from her clothes -- something beyond the cigarettes she seemed to live on and the bourbon that comprised a major portion of her diet. It was a synthetic odor, sweeter than the tropical flowers which perfumed the air around the windows. Dominic recognized it at once. Aqua-Velva. Aftershave. And not his brand, either. His stomach twisted although he kept his tone carefully neutral. "You'll wake Sally Anne," he admonished with a finger to his lips.
She glanced scornfully at the sleeping child then tossed her head, throwing long golden hair over her shoulder. "As if Sally Anne is what you really care about. Take my word for it, Dominic." She shook her finger in his face. "Some day your bossing me around will end. Some day you'll be sorry you didn't give me my freedom!"
"But, Lyla...." Dom broke off when Sally Anne stirred and opened her eyes, a happy smile lighting her little face at sight of Lyla.
"Mommy!"
Lyla glared another moment at Santini, then swooped down on the girl, gathering her close. "Mommy's here, darling. Did your nasty, inconsiderate daddy wake you?"
The crooning voice mingled with that pervasive aroma of Aqua-Velva, overloading Dom's senses. The pretty little cottage with its comfortable living room tunneled down until all he could see was the child that filled his heart, and the wife who was determined to break it.
***