Fatal Flight Read online

  “Well, that must be a great relief.”

  “Have to say when Adam told me the guy only got a fake, I did a jig in my office.” Patrick smiled, sending Adam an approving look.

  Sky touched the corners of her mouth with her napkin and set it beside her empty dessert plate. As the housekeeper removed her plate, Sky offered her a shy smile. “The meal was delicious, Mrs. Beady.”

  Adam noted the woman’s blushing pleasure and his Dad’s look of approval at Sky. He didn’t know why she thought she couldn’t fit into this world. She had impeccable manners and treated everybody, but me he reminded himself, with consideration. She dressed the part—when she felt like it, he amended—and looked the part, without even trying. The cool beauty she’d inherited from her grandmother gave her a ladylike elegance, whether she thought of herself as a tomboy, or not.

  His dad rose from the table and pulled out Sky’s chair. “Let’s have coffee in the den,” he suggested. “I’ll show you my aircraft collection.”

  “I’d love that.” Sky was on her feet, tucking her hand into the arm Patrick offered and beaming up at him. There was no mistaking their mutual admiration society. Adam wondered if he’d ever be included.

  “I’m having a model painted to replicate Sky Dancer,” his father’s voice drifted back. “The Storm-2B I have in my collection replicates the prototype. Your winning the circuit in one of our planes has already upped our orders by twenty-five percent.”

  Adam had read the sales statistics and been praised for coming up with the idea of sponsoring Sky. He’d done it solely to help Gita, but it seemed Hamilton had benefited, as well. After the Grand Prix tomorrow, which would be televised in most of the countries of the world, he expected their orders for the aerobatic Storm would soar. Following his father and Sky into the office, he poured coffee and listened as they bonded over planes.

  Chapter Nine

  Bright sunshine turned Houston into a city of gold. The sky arced cloudless and blue over the stands already filled to capacity with spectators, waiting for the premier air show of the season. As Sky crossed the infield beside Adam, her blood sparked with energy; she felt wonderful—happy. She’d spent the night in Adam’s arms, in her hotel room, and couldn’t regret giving in. With the residual effects of near death in the elevator, their combined passion had become so intense she couldn’t resist her need for him. And he’d felt the same, wanting her through the night, not letting go of her, even when he insisted she sleep, so she’d be rested for her performance. Yet, dozing, with her head on his shoulder and her thigh draped over his, the erotic images of their lovemaking fired her imagination, and she started them on the upward climb again, by just resting her hand on his flat stomach.

  She stifled a yawn and hid a smile. She felt so good. She would fly her heart out today, for the thousands of spectators, for the millions watching on television around the world, and for Adam and his father who’d invested in her ability and supported her through every bad moment. Today was for joy, for celebration. She’d make the most of sharing it with Adam, then lure him back to her hotel room for another night of ultimate pleasure. The heights she reached making love with him exceeded even the high of flying Sky Dancer.

  Walking beside him, she suppressed the skip in her step, conscious of the eyes of the Grand Prix sponsors and other competitors following their progress. They stepped onto the cement pad on which Sky Dancer and the aircraft of the other competitors were parked. Adam insisted on completing her walk-around with her. After the harrowing experience in L.A., she welcomed the back-up. Their hands brushed as they walked side-by-side. She wished she could hold his hand, and knew only her insistence they maintain their roles of pilot and sponsor, kept him from taking hers.

  Another stream of joy bubbled up within her. She’d met Patrick with a pre-conceived idea he would treat her much like Brian and his friends, who had patronized and judged her. But, just like Adam, Patrick had accepted her. Intellectually, she reasoned many people with money and power were caring and kind and worked to make the world a better place. Maybe, she could lower her shield and trust them, and in time, even feel safe enough with the Hamiltons to meet her grandmother. Some part of her already did. But she’d been on guard a long time. Wearing the armor of isolation had protected her. For five years, she’d lived how she wanted, been who she wanted. It felt good, waking each day without feeling a failure, or being anxious she would disappoint someone, or wondering when she would be criticized. She wanted to keep it that way. In fact, keeping within that safety zone was an imperative.

  “Adam, is this her? Is this Ashley?” The imperious voice swung Adam around, as if he’d been lashed by a whip.

  Sky froze in place. The tone of the voice took her back to everything she’d escaped when she’d left Brian. She took in the elegant woman approaching Adam, her hand already reaching for his arm. Perfectly groomed, dressed in designer clothing, with silver curls framing a youthful face, this woman acted like she expected to have her way. Entitled. Used to getting anything she wanted, Sky summed up. She was the female copy of Brian, outward charm wrapped around a petulant child.

  “Gita, what are you doing here?” Adam’s hand closed around Sky’s arm, preventing her from moving away.

  “Why you told me Ashley would be flying in the Grand Prix. I couldn’t miss the chance of meeting my granddaughter, at last.” Sky watched the tiny woman widen her eyes, as if her answer was a given.

  In response, Adam’s narrowed. “Now is not a good time, Gita,” he said, his teeth clenched, his smile forced. His gaze locked on Sky, searched her face, and turned grim. “Sky I…”

  She didn’t want to hear his excuses, didn’t want a clearer picture of how he’d manipulated her and lulled her into believing she was safe with him. “I trusted you. You promised you wouldn’t force this situation. Excuse me. I’m on a tight schedule.” Without looking at the other woman again, she turned her back on the pair of them and walked toward Sky Dancer.

  “Ashley, I just want to meet you, tell you all about your father, your grandfather,” Gita called. The confusion and pain in her voice tightened the ratchet on Sky’s guts another notch.

  “It would be best if you took your seat for the performance.” Adam’s voice faded behind her. “Hainsley, Finch, please escort Mrs. O’Shaughnessy to the VIP box.”

  “Haisley, Finch, sounds like a law firm,” Sky muttered, as she approached her aircraft. She’d been conscious of the two men hovering near the tiny woman. Of course, they were bodyguards, and the fact her grandmother needed them said a lot about the strata of wealthy society in which she belonged. Sky hunkered down to examine the rivets along Sky Dancer’s wing. Adam hunkered down beside her.

  “Sky, I’m sorry. Gita jumped the gun. I know this has upset you.”

  So, he’d planned to have them meet today, just not before she flew. The stabbing pain of betrayal felt like crashing into the shed all over again. She couldn’t do this, had no weapon with which to combat Adam’s maneuver.

  “Not now,” Sky snapped. “I need my focus on what I’m doing, not you, not her. Just leave me alone.”

  “You’re right.” He began examining every inch of the Storm-2B, looking for any weaknesses in her structure, any sign of sabotage. “We can sort this out after. Just put it out of your mind and focus on your performance.”

  She gave him an icy look. The man had gall, thinking she’d give him the time of day after this. Her gut tightened. Her heart beat like an overheated piston. Adrenaline she didn’t need, at this point, flooded her system—fight or flight. The natural response to danger. Adam had proven the most dangerous thing that had happened to her in the last weeks. He’d gotten too close. She’d given too much. Lesson learned. She’d warned herself, had come to Houston with a game plan, and had thrown it all away when her hormones shouted louder than her commonsense. No more.

  Adam stood back as she climbed onto the wing and stepped into the cockpit. His features were tense; he looked the closest to
helpless she’d ever seen him. He opened his mouth and then closed it again, his lips a tight white line. He held out his hands in defeat. He half turned away, but turned back. “Don’t do anything crazy up there. Please, put all this out of your mind. Fly for the joy of it. You’ve earned this, Sky. The world is waiting for you. Fly safely.” His eyes blazed into hers, as if he really cared, she thought, before rejecting the idea. He just cared about what his godmother wanted, what his dad expected. She was a blip on his radar.

  Sky gave him a brisk nod. Just make him go away. Let me get through this, without his face imprinted on my mind.

  But he wouldn’t even give her that. She looked over and met Adam’s eyes, dark with… Was that fear? Not for her, surely. Fear he’d failed in his mission, maybe. But the image stayed in her mind, even as she called the tower, began her taxi, joined the runway, and took off into the air.

  She was the last performer of the morning. She would give them their money’s worth. The Grand Prix was one of the few aeronautical events organized to draw crowds and make big money. The sponsors paid hundreds of thousands of dollars for advertising, and the revenue funded part of the costs of the next season’s circuit. It was a big deal to the hundreds of pilots hoping for a chance at next year’s title and cash.

  The adrenaline, already in her system, kicked up as she turned Sky Dancer’s prop skyward and went straight up, climbing to three thousand feet, turning one-hundred and eighty degrees while she continued to climb. She put everything she had into the sequence, even adding her now famous roll out of the left spin. Sky Dancer carved a bright trail of red, yellow, and orange across the cerulean blue sky, while Sky added an extra roll, a lower altitude pullout, a longer wait in the stall. She flew the edge of death, her heart rate beyond counting, her mind subservient to her instinct. She’d show the rich and famous, filling the stands, she wasn’t less than them. She was the best aeronautical pilot in the country. With a final series of barrel rolls, Sky climbed to five thousand feet and performed an inverted loop, rolling sideways. She banked, flying out of the invisible box until she was almost a dot in the sky, and then cut her engine.

  As silence encompassed her, Sky focused her utmost attention on her maneuver, overriding instinct for mental acumen. Precision, as she factored time, speed, distance, wind direction, and lift, was imperative. Closer and closer, she came to the airfield; the spectators were on their feet, as she drew nearer without starting her engine. She cut her smoker at a thousand feet, gliding the Storm onto the runway, as silent and light as a prima ballerina being lowered by the arms of her partner onto the stage. No one had ever performed the maneuver for an air show before. She’d flown out of the air box to get the distance, taking advantage of this being an exhibition flight. In competition, she’d never be allowed the stunt, because the risk factor was off the charts.

  She could hear the cheering as she taxied across the infield. She braked on the cement pad in front of the sponsors’ box, where they’d requested she take her bows. Pushing back the canopy, she stepped onto the wing of the plane and waved to the crowd. Television cameras pointed at her from all angles, flashes in the stands and VIP box lit up the area, as everyone tried to get their own shot. She figured she’d just written the aviation story of the year. She saw Adam standing motionless inside the sponsor’s box, his hands tucked in his pocket. On one side of him, his father stood, clapping, and on the other, her grandmother stood with her clasped hands held against her cheek, her face brilliant with excitement.

  Sky knew from past experience how much value these people put on image, and having a granddaughter who was the center of attention in a good way, probably elated the snobbish woman. There was nothing personal about it, no real approval, as she didn’t even know Sky. Her grandmother couldn’t even call her the name she preferred, but insisted on the more elegant Ashley.

  Sky held her hands in the air one more time, then stepped onto the tarmac, and approached the ground crew. “Just swing it around, but leave it here, please. I’ll be going back up shortly.” With the airshow complete, she knew the Storm wasn’t hindering any other plane. And as fight wasn’t an option, flight seemed her best choice.

  A fancy luncheon fêting the pilots would follow a press conference with the pilots and sponsors. Her attendance, as woman of the hour, was required. She kept Patrick between herself and Adam, as the group lined up for the interviews by the press. She smiled through the glad handing and congratulations. As the organizers wrapped up the interviews and shepherded everyone toward the white tents set out for the luncheon, Sky slipped into a small group of her fellow pilots and remained with them. She suggested one of the up and coming Australians, whose flying and values she admired, approach Hamilton, the Third and Fourth and see if they knew of another company that might sponsor him on the circuit next year.

  “I’m seated at that table, but you go ahead and take my place. I’ll talk with them later,” she suggested, setting her bottom firmly in the chair he vacated.

  “Thanks, mate. You’re not only a great flyer, for a sheila,” he teased, “but a real sport. I’d love the chance to pick their brains.” He headed off. Sky immersed herself in conversation with the pilots on either side of her. She watched the pilot pull out a chair and settle by Adam.

  Adam looked over at her. His mouth formed a tight line. Then his attention was taken by Brigitta’s arrival at the table. Sky watched as her grandmother waved another guest out of her chair, relocated her, and took the seat beside Patrick, her eyes searching the room for—me. She isn’t going to give up. She’s as determined to meet me as I am to avoid her and everything she stands for. Popcorn balls, I wish Max was here to run interference.

  Soft footed waiters began serving salads. Sky picked up her fork and pushed the leafy greens, with pears and pecans, around her plate. She felt sick, her guts twisted, her heart raced, as huge amounts of adrenaline whirled through her bloodstream. Her mouth watered, her ears prickled with heat.

  “Excuse me,” she said, dropping her napkin beside her plate and making a hasty exit from the tent. She made it to the mechanic’s bathroom in the closest hanger and tossed up the little food left in her stomach. Thanks goodness, she hadn’t eaten breakfast, she thought, or she’d be hanging over the filthy toilet far too long. She washed her hands, and cupping them, brought water to her mouth and rinsed. In the mirror, she could see her pasty skin and her hairline beaded with perspiration. Her gut twisted again, more pain, causing her to draw in a sharp breath.

  She forced one slow breath after another, settling her stomach, calming her nerves. She couldn’t sit through the luncheon, expecting any second Adam, Gita, or the two of them would corner her. Dammit, she wouldn’t wait like a sacrificial goat Adam had tied out for Gita’s delectation. And I don’t care if I swore. Sometimes, food groups just don’t get the job done.

  She crossed the long stretch of cement to Sky Dancer, called out to one of the ground crew working nearby, and did a careful walk-around, while she waited for him. The plane had sat unattended for two hours. She might be emotionally unhinged, but she wouldn’t take chances. When she was certain all was well with the plane, she climbed in, put on her headset, and asked for clearance.

  Sky repeated her taxi instructions and moved toward the runway on the small private field they’d used for the Grand Prix. As she lined up at the end of the runway for take-off, she saw a tall figure emerge from the tent. She let off the brakes and pushed the throttle forward. Sky Dancer whizzed down the runway, broke free of the ground, and took to the air, just level with Adam. He stood with his hands in his pockets and his expression hard, as she whizzed by at fifty feet. With a slight tip of her wing, she climbed to altitude and flew north.

  ****

  Adam returned to the tent and the luncheon. Both Patrick and Gita turned an enquiring look at him when he sat down.

  “Isn’t Sky sitting at our table?” Patrick asked.

  “Yes, I arranged so I could meet her and get to know her during lunch,
” Gita stated.

  Adam turned on Gita. “Why would you do this? I told you it was a sensitive situation, and I asked you for time. Sky was softening her position, and now, you’ve undone all my work by cornering her.”

  “Adam,” Patrick’s calm voice cautioned him.

  “I don’t understand what you think I did wrong. I asked you to find her. I want to meet her. I came all the way here to make it easier for the girl. What am I not getting?”

  “She doesn’t want to meet you.” Adam was sorry he’d been so forceful, when he saw the look of shocked hurt that crumpled Gita’s patrician features.

  She sat back with a gasp. “Well I never.” Her lips trembled. She tightened them and lifted her chin. “I never for a moment thought she would refuse. I wondered if she’d be angry at me for how Erik treated her mother and her, but my wealth, our name, our position in society… We can offer her so much.”

  “She doesn’t want any of that. In fact, she abhors anything to do with ‘our position in society.’ She was burned by some guy named Brian, who came from the entitled upper class. Sky learns from her mistakes, and she learned being around that type of people hurts. She’s protected herself ever since. I’ve spent weeks convincing her we’re not all entitled monsters. Her time with you, Dad, moved that notion forward a big step. Then, Gita accosted her out of the blue, and Sky thinks I set it up, laid a trap for her on my home ground. Now, she’s lost all her trust in me. She just took off. You won’t be meeting her anytime soon. And with the circuit finished for the year, I have no excuse to approach her again.” Adam glared at the steak on his plate, as if it had chased Sky away. He picked up his fork and set it down. He couldn’t eat. He felt like he had glass in his throat, couldn’t swallow for the pain. Somewhere in the vicinity of his heart, a black hole, rivaling anything in space, began forming.

  “Brian…Ashley. Why I remember that. A real scandal at the time. It must have happened while you were overseas, serving,” Patrick mused. “Yes, about five years ago.”