Fatal Flight

by Madelon Smid

  “Can I help you with anything?” Adam moved closer, as Sky stood, hanging onto the back of her chair and breathing through the pain the action had caused.

  “If you wouldn’t mind bringing me a glass of water, I can manage everything else.”

  Adam waited until Sky was settled in bed, her body a screaming mass of pain from all the movement of another bathroom trip.

  He handed Sky the glass and shook one of the pills onto her left palm. “I hope you can get more sleep.”

  “Maybe, when the pill starts working.” She inched onto her left side. “Talk to me for a bit, please.”

  “That’s a switch,” he teased. He picked up the tube of ointment from the bed. “Margaret said to apply the ointment every few hours. Now, what do you want to talk about?”

  “Tell me something about your childhood.”

  He started telling her about his mother, as he spread a thin layer of ointment across her burns. His touch was light, careful, and she believed tender, as was the soft gleam in his eyes. She fell asleep somewhere between the story of Adam getting his first dog and the thrill of unexpected puppies a year later. She dreamed of a tall, handsome man, cuddling a pup. The last thing she felt was the whisper of Adam’s thumb stroking across the top of her hand.

  Chapter Six

  Sky took off in her Storm-2B for Los Angeles, determined she would practice her compulsory and freestyle sequences along the route. Her abraded hands having kept her from flying, she hadn’t practiced the compulsory sequence, emailed by the judges. Because there were over one hundred pilots competing this year, the event would take over two weeks, factoring in weather and the number of sequences required by each pilot. Sky was fortunate, in that her accumulated high score scheduled her in the final two days.

  The small plane rocked with the torque of her engine, the roar bubbling up from between her feet. Goose bumps broke out on her arms as she let off the brake and accelerated down the runway, the forward force of her seat as exciting as the first time she’d tested the model. Through the Plexiglas floor, Sky could see the runway racing below. Because the nose sat so high, she couldn’t see the runway in front of her, but used the triangle between the wing edge and side of the runway as a means to center the plane. In seconds, Sky Dancer was climbing at an accelerated speed, while maintaining three thousand RPMs, much faster than the average 90 mph of most planes.

  The Storm responded like an extension of her body. She just had to think bank and it slid sideways. Sky flipped the Storm onto her back, just for the heck of it, the small plane flying straight and level with barely a touch on the stick. When she rotated head up, she’d reached altitude. The weather was clear all the way, and she had an easy three-hundred-and-fifty-mile flight ahead of her. Figuring on an extra twenty minutes, while she practiced her maneuvers, she should touch down in L.A. before noon. Flying at ten thousand five hundred feet, she headed across the Sierra Nevada. Once over the high rolling hills to the southwest, she set her invisible flight box of three thousand three hundred feet.

  Sky turned the plane on its back and raced across the lush vineyards of northern California. For ten minutes, Sky Dancer twirled and spun, dove and climbed, carving intricate patterns across the sky. Filled with the joy she always felt, but constantly aware of fuel consumption and timelines, Sky leveled out and proceeded on course for the John Wayne Airport, southeast of Los Angeles. International traffic was so heavy at the main airport they couldn’t sacrifice the airspace for competitions.

  Sky always took pride in her accomplishment, but with the Hamilton logo riding along this time, she was determined she’d give them her top performances. The extra pressure thrummed like a high-tension wire through her body. After practicing the compulsory sequence assigned by the judges, she brought the Storm down at John Wayne on schedule and with no problems. Almost before she was on the ground, a slender man with slicked-back black hair and trimmed mustache and beard headed toward her.

  With a silent groan, she braced herself.

  “Sky, mon petite, I have been on the lookout for you, my little American pigeon. Are you ready for the plucking of your feathers?” He kissed her energetically on both cheeks, then the mouth.

  Adam walked out of the shade of the hangar, and with a couple of long steps, had his hand at the back of Sky’s spine. He waited for her to acknowledge him.

  “Adam Hamilton, Hamilton Aeronautics, Andre Dupont, a pilot on the circuit. He comes over with a group from Europe every year.”

  The two men eyed each other like dogs sniffing at a suspicious patch on a fire hydrant, then shook hands.

  Adam pulled her a little closer into the half circle of his arm. Sky thought about resisting, recognizing a male signal of possession, but chose the lesser evil. Andre had chased her long and hard. Something about him set her warning signals shrilling. If Adam wanted Andre to believe they were an item, fine by her. She nestled closer.

  Adam looked down at her, pressing a kiss against her temple. He nuzzled her earlobe a second longer, expressing approval of her decision. “You ready to find our accommodations?”

  She knew Adam had paid a man to pull the Airstream over several days earlier, and it would be parked in the trailer court that stretched over a mile. “As soon as I secure Sky Dancer.”

  “Already on it.” Adam tucked his arm around her waist and headed her toward the closest hangar. Andre kept abreast of them for a few more paces, then gave up as Sky curved her arm around Adam’s back.

  As they neared the hangar, a man stepped out, giving Adam a half salute. Adam moved toward him and stopped, keeping Sky with him.

  “Mr. Hamilton, just wanted you to know I’m in place.”

  “Good, Greg. Thanks for coming. Rig the cameras like we discussed and don’t take your eyes off her for a second.”

  “Got it.” The man turned away and headed for Sky Dancer.

  At first, Sky thought Adam had been talking about her and was forming strong words of resistance in her mind. When she realized it was the plane, she was relieved she wouldn’t lie awake worrying about sabotage on Sky Dancer; yet piqued that Adam was far more concerned for his investment, than her.

  As if reading her mind, he started walking again. “I hired Greg to keep Sky Dancer under surveillance, so I could focus on the most valued part of the team—you. I’m not letting you out of my sight.”

  “I’m booked in at the Marriott Hotel.” Now she knew his plan, she could dig in her heels out of sheer rebelliousness. Something about his air of command started her engine faster than a hand on the prop.

  “You’re staying in the Airstream with me. Don’t worry there’s plenty of space. But Max and I are in full agreement about this. We want eyes on you for the next two days.”

  “Pops is a bread and butter traitor. Why isn’t he the one watching me?”

  “Someone who knows your business had to take delivery of your new Cessna, deal with the paperwork, and guard the airfield. Be fair, Sky, this was the best arrangement. I’m required here to glad hand the officials, draw attention to Hamilton Aeronautics, and start building a network on the competitive circuit. Dad is sending a member of our PR team to help. We’ve booked a hospitality suite in the airport hotel. I’ll have to circulate, but I’m hoping you’ll come with me, so I can keep you safe at the same time.”

  “Why does it feel like you’re intruding on every tiny piece of my life?” Sky huffed a little, crossed her arms, and pulled free of their fake togetherness.

  “Is that how it feels? Sky, I was caught up in this situation. I didn’t come looking for you so I could mess up your life. But now that I am involved, I’m not leaving you in danger and walking away. It’s not in my make-up. Sorry.”

  She heard a thread of hurt in his voice, but strode ahead, pretending she hadn’t, while a sense of ingratitude burned in her gut. Why did she always push people away? What was it that made her so frightened by a gesture of friendship or caring? Was she like her dad, a sociopath, who didn’t know right fro
m wrong? She shook her head. A sociopath wouldn’t care about hurting Adam’s feelings. Somewhere in her younger years something had triggered the need to hide beneath an icy cover and show the world she didn’t give a Figgie pudding about their opinion.

  “Tell me about Andre.” Adam’s voice interrupted her self-analysis.

  “He’s good, just a few points behind me. I’m in the lead right now, but without enough practice and with my hands still messed up, I could drop enough points he might catch or pass me.” Sky kept her voice matter of fact, hiding her concern for losing her standing. She’d worked hard for top place.

  “From the way you brought the Storm down, it sure didn’t seem like your stiff hands affected your performance.”

  “Thanks, Adam.” Sky stopped and smiled up into his face. She was tired of slapping him down every time he tried.

  His eyes narrowed, and for seconds, he looked suspicious of her smile. Then his gray irises flashed with brilliant light as he returned it, his teeth white and even against the chiseled perfection of his lips. His smile struck her dumb.

  “Does this mean you’ll put on a dress and leg-aching heels and schmooze with me in the hospitality room tonight?”

  “I guess if you can make sacrifices for your company, I can too, as it’s sponsoring me. I packed a back-up dress for the ball, so yes, I’ll schmooze with the bigwigs. But I can’t stay late. I have my compulsory in the morning. I’m tenth in the line-up.”

  “That’s why I asked for PR back-up. I can leave him in charge of the room and get you back at a reasonable time.” Adam stopped by the Airstream and pulled a key from his pocket.

  Sky could hear the soft hum of the air conditioner and mounted the three steps into cool, streamlined convenience. She didn’t wonder how he’d found his trailer in the midst of hundreds. Adam was as streamlined and efficient as the trailer and always a few steps ahead of her.

  ****

  Sky walked out of her room at the end of the trailer wearing a figure-hugging black sheath, four-inch strappy sandals in silver, and carrying a silver beaded bag. Diamanté earrings skimmed shoulders left bare by the narrow bands wrapping the gentle curve of her arms. The clinging fabric allowed the merest glimpse of the pearly swell of her breasts. The back of the dress was cut away to her waist.

  Adam cursed under his breath, as his libido went into overdrive. How could he spend the evening with Sky, looking as tempting as she did, and not make love with her? Maintaining his distance was imperative, so he wouldn’t scare her away. She was just beginning to trust him. “You look beautiful, Sky.”

  “Thank you. And you, as always, look impeccable.”

  What the hell did that mean? It didn’t sound like she found him attractive, just a smart dresser. His libido sank faster than a weighted diver.

  “The car should be waiting. I booked a limo, so parking wouldn’t be an issue. With all these extra flyers and crew in town, the place is a madhouse.” He preceded her, so he could help her down the steps, locked the door, and guided her toward the waiting limo. Inside, he didn’t crack the courtesy bottle of champagne. Sky seldom drank alcohol, and he didn’t want her thinking he was making a cliché move on her.

  He asked about some of the other pilots she was up against, then what she knew of the judges, during the ride to the hotel. She shared her opinion with a dry humor, and by the time the driver opened the door, she seemed less tense and had even laughed with him several times. Adam took her arm and led her across the lobby to the elevators, noticing the attention she received from every man in the room. Even the front desk clerk stood straighter when she passed by, looking so elegant and contained.

  Her hair was piled in a twist at the top of her head, held in place by a sparkling comb. She looked like she’d put it up for a bath; pale gold, ash, and silver tendrils slid along her neck and around her ears. Did she have any idea of the thoughts the tousled look put in men’s heads? In his?

  He fantasized about releasing the clip, threading his hands through her gorgeous hair, holding her in place for his kiss, laying her down, filling her with his passion, and feeding off her like the most sumptuous meal. His step hitched as his pants tightened. The hand she had tucked in his arm loosened when his hesitation prevented her forward movement. She turned looking for the reason he’d stopped, still oblivious to the men around her and their near drooling stares. Or was she?

  A slight flush mounted her cheekbones, and she moved closer, her hand tightening around his arm. He felt the nervous tremor in the fingers holding him. Protecting her became his prime focus. All the attention made her uncomfortable. He scooted her into the opening elevator and stood between her and the men in the lobby, blocking their view. He felt the scented warmth of her breath, as she exhaled in relief.

  Her cool persona had hidden this fragility, giving him an impression she was more sophisticated. She’d held her own for twelve years in a world dominated by men, mostly alpha males. He’d assumed she had a lot more experience. Now he thought back on their two kisses, registered the passion he’d drawn out of her, but memory also provided insight into her amazement at what had flared between them. He was pretty certain he wasn’t the first man to kiss her, didn’t believe he would be the first man to make love with her, for possessing Sky was a given, but she sure didn’t jump in and out of beds for physical satisfaction, like a lot of her peers.

  They reached the floor he needed, passed down the corridor, and paused in the open doorway of the Hamilton Aeronautics hospitality suite. At the far side of the room, a tall brunette caught sight of him, flashed him a flirtatious smile, and headed his way. He groaned under his breath, wishing he’d stipulated who to send, instead of leaving the decision to his father.

  “Sky, this is Beverley Harden, one of our PR people. She made the arrangements for tonight. Bev, this is Sky Stravinsky, our star pilot.” He tried and failed to avoid Bev’s hand clamping onto his other arm.

  Sky dropped hers and moved apart from him, turning so they formed a small circle.

  “I didn’t realize Dad tasked you with this.” Adam tried to let Sky know he hadn’t had anything to do with Bev’s arrival.

  “He wanted the best for you.” Bev smiled, her bright red lips reminding him of a carnivore after a meal. He’d taken her out a few times, slept with her once, before deciding he didn’t like her values, and they didn’t suit. She hadn’t taken it well, but like the predator she was, continued making cunning forays into his life, still hoping for the kill.

  “Excuse me, I see a friend.” Sky relinquished the field and moved into the mass of people toward a young man who’d waved and called her name. Adam let her go.

  “Let me get you a drink, and then introduce you to some of the people you should meet.” Bev was clever enough to give him room. All professional, she indicated the end of the suite, where the bar was located, and moved ahead of him. She was an attractive woman, long legged, full breasted, aware of her sensuality and using it like bait. All he could think of was Sky’s slender body moving against his, the taste of her succulent mouth. Bev held no appeal.

  With a scotch on the rocks in hand, he let her parade him around for a few minutes, until he had a good idea of who was there. He sent her off to welcome some new arrivals and closed in on one of the judges. He needed information and asking someone about the sport they loved was the quickest source. Within five minutes, he’d learned there were five judges on the American circuit. They used codified judging, giving points for each maneuver from zero to ten, depending on the complexity of the combination and difficulty of the stunt. In the finals, each competitor flew the same compulsory pattern designed by the head judge and also not one, but two, freestyles. As this was the last competition of the six-city circuit, the winner would be announced the following night.

  For a few minutes, Adam stood on the sidelines, observing Sky. He knew she wasn’t comfortable around a lot of people, with a particular aversion to what she considered an elitist lifestyle. He didn’t know why. But she
certainly camouflaged her discomfort well, chatting, in an easy charming manner, with whomever approached. People gathered around her like she wielded an electric force field against which they had no resistance. Of course, she was beautiful, but there was also a princess within a glass case fragility about her that made people want to break through her reserve.

  He had financed a set of professional photos for Hamilton Aeronautics PR department and watched the shoot. The photographer had rhapsodized over Sky and had her pose in different outfits against different airplanes. Adam had screened the prints and discovered Sky was as photogenic as she was lovely. She could have a career as a model, if she wished. Because the photos were Hamilton property, Adam had no problem with sending one to Gita.

  The older woman, waiting for her granddaughter, preyed on his mind. Bringing Sky together with Gita had become a top priority, because he believed Sky needed his godmother. Gita would give her some of the love she’d missed out on since her mother died. He’d emailed Gita a photo of Sky in her cream jumpsuit, posed against Sky Dancer’s red fuselage, her hair in a high ponytail, and aviation glasses tucked into her hair. Gita would recognize Sky’s startling blue eyes as her genetic gift.

  A photo didn’t make up for the real thing, though, Adam concluded, as he watched Sky’s lips twitch at something one of the aviators said; then, her face lit up, and she laughed with true delight. Adam stared, fascinated, as he saw Sky drop the façade she used to keep him at a distance. Something in her life had hurt her enough she felt she needed constant protection. Something that had birthed her dislike of the privileged. Only by slipping inside her thoughts, spying on her fears, could he understand the real issue around rejecting her grandmother.

  A circle of male competitors surrounded Sky, bragging good naturedly about their K factor, which he knew was the difficulty coefficient of their maneuvers. Sky ignored him, while he stood at her back for several seconds. He pressed his chilled glass against her silken skin and saw a shiver move down her spine, but she didn’t make a peep. So, he blew at the strands of hair drifting across her neck and saw her lungs expand as she took a deep breath. She made a little squeak, almost turned, then went rigid and stayed in place. With a smile of delight, that he could at least get a reaction out of her, he moved on, searching out one of the other sponsors.