Taking Flight (A Devereux Novel)

by Whiskey, D. G.

  “Derek Devereux.” He loved the way the name sounded from her silken lips. “It’s a pleasure to meet you. Are you friends with someone here?”

  Does she really not know me? He hadn’t thought fame had gone to his head—maybe it had been getting a little too swollen. Two can play at this game.

  “You could say that,” he said. “I like to show up to these things now and then. It’s fun to see the self-important people squawk to each other about why they deserve to be more famous than the other.”

  The surprised chuckle he earned from her was music to his ears. “Do you not like famous people, then?”

  “Oh, they can be just fine. Just not at events like this where they are on display, like exotic animals for the masses to poke and prod and watch. It messes with your head. Or so I’ve observed.”

  She put her hand on his arm for a moment—a spark of heat traveled up his arm in a delightful crawl of electricity. He’d never felt anything like it. “It sounds like you shouldn’t even be here. Maybe a coffee shop is more your speed?”

  He smiled. “Is that a suggestion?”

  A pretty blush colored Sara’s cheeks. “Oh, I don’t know, I like it here. So many pretty people, delicious food, free drinks—what’s not to like?”

  There was a flood of organized movement out of the corner of Derek’s vision. Rex, surrounded by people, marched toward them.

  “Ugh. You had to say it.” Derek readied himself for the confrontation. A scene like this played itself out almost every year, and it wasn’t something Derek had intended to let happen this time. It didn’t look like he would be given much choice.

  “Hey, Derek!” Rex shouted as he got within range. “You ran away before I could finish earlier!”

  The surrounding space grew quieter and deserted as guests noticed the impending confrontation and cleared room. Soon most of the eyes in the building were trained on the two of them, and the DJ even turned down the music so everyone would be able to hear better. It was like being inside a scripted play.

  Derek looked at Sara, sighed, and turned to face Rex. “What is it, Rex? Do you really want to go through this whole song and dance again?”

  The other pilot stopped just out of arm’s reach.

  “What song and dance? I’m just here to tell you to stop saying things behind my back, making grand claims about how things will go this season. If you think you can beat me this year, then say it to my face.”

  Seriously?

  “Rex. Do I look like I need to go around boasting about my abilities?” Derek spread his arms to either side. “That’s the mark of an incompetent coward. Anyone secure enough in their abilities doesn’t need to go spouting off at the mouth about their skills.”

  There were a few guffaws and “oohs” from the crowd, but they quieted so everyone could hear Rex’s response.

  The other man beat his fists against his chest. “You’re calling me a coward? Me? Do you even know who you’re dealing with?”

  Eyes swung back toward Derek. “I know exactly who I’m dealing with. I’ve beaten you more times than not over the past year, remember? You talk a huge game, and I can’t help wondering if you were starved of attention as a child.”

  It wasn’t a jab Derek liked using, since it hit uncomfortably close to home for himself, but he knew exactly how effective it could be.

  Rex stepped close, invading Derek’s personal space. “How dare you, you asshole.” His nostrils flared as he got even more visibly angered. The stench of alcohol on his breath was overpowering. “You want to go?”

  The audience was breathless, caught in the drama Derek had hoped to avoid.

  “Step away, Rex.” Derek kept his voice calm, easy. It goaded Rex even harder that his adversary was seemingly unaffected by his antics.

  He got even closer, the two men’s face mere inches apart. “Why don’t you make me?”

  Something snapped inside of Derek. He’d had enough of this bullshit.

  He shoved Rex hard in the chest. The other man was shorter but also more solidly built, and while he stumbled backward a few feet, it wasn’t as effective as Derek planned.

  The two men came together with blinding speed. Rex had superior strength, but Derek had a background in self-defense and used it to his advantage, trying not to strike and injure Rex but merely subdue him. It quickly became a moot point as event security rushed in to separate the two men moments after they began.

  As Derek stood there, staring at the other man, his blood boiled and the crowd cheered and shouted. A small part of him even noted that the DJ had put on fast-paced music as a soundtrack to the fight. What the hell? He grew suspicious. It was as though he were taking part in an orchestrated event, designed to titillate and entertain. He caught sight of Frederick at the side of the podium, watching with narrowed eyes and a slight smile.

  “You’re a pussy!” Rex shouted. “If you’re so sure of yourself, why not put your money where your mouth is? Fifty million dollars says I’ll beat you in the first race of the season, Devereux.”

  The guests muttered amongst themselves. Even for this crowd, fifty million dollars was no chump change. Even Derek, with a wallet as fat as his, would feel the effect of that much money disappearing. Not much of one, but it was a tangible amount.

  Derek’s mind, sharp and calculating, worked the numbers. Weighed the odds against the satisfaction of taking that money from the insufferable prick staring him down.

  “You’re on, asshole.”

  Derek turned on his heel and swept through the press of people, a corridor through the bodies opening as though the Red Sea parting for Moses. The flash of cameras and grumbling of spectators was like a constant thunderstorm.

  The fresh air outside the venue was calming. Derek’s rage cooled from its frenzied peak.

  “Wow, that was intense.”

  He swung around, nearly knocking over the intriguing blonde. He hadn’t noticed her follow him out.

  “You must really hate him, to let him draw you into an argument like that.”

  “I…” Derek trailed off as he thought about it. Then he laughed. “To be honest, I’m not sure why I let him rile me up like that. He’s nothing, insignificant. This night went the opposite way I intended. I just thought about how much I would enjoy separating him from his money and giving it to a charity that needs it. The look on his face will be priceless.”

  Sara chuckled. “Well, I’m sure this will thrill the tabloids, anyway. They’ll plaster this across the supermarkets in the morning.”

  He raised an eyebrow. “And why would they do that? You’d never even heard of me before, now you’re certain the paparazzi will be all over what just happened in there?”

  She shrugged, a twinkle in her eye. “Busted. I’ve obviously heard of Derek Devereux, the dapper man of mystery who appeared on the scene out of nowhere with a pocket full of cash and proclivity for dangerous activities. I have to say though, I’m not entirely convinced that’s the real you.”

  A low sports car pulled up and a red-vested valet jumped out. “Mr. Devereux? Your vehicle is ready, sir.”

  Derek looked at her and hesitated. “I would love to talk longer, Sara, but I have to go.”

  Her face fell a little, but she nodded. “I understand, I’m sure we will see each other again.”

  “I don’t want to leave that up to chance. What are you doing Friday night?”

  “I’m free.”

  “I’m having a get-together at my place. How would you like to come? We can have more time and space to talk, away from all this.” He gestured toward the building where the loud music and busy throngs of people spilled across the lawn.

  Sara beamed. He loved the sight. “I would like that, Derek. Why don’t you give me your phone and I’ll put my information in?”

  The exchange made, she stepped closer as though to give him a hug, but then paused. “I guess we don’t know each other well enough for a hug, do we?”

  Derek smiled and pulled her to him, her
head tucking under his chin. The light floral scent of her hair was just enough to be noticed this close up, but no further. He didn’t let his hands stray from her back even though he longed to. Her own hands settled full on his broad shoulders, pulling him into her. After slightly too long, he let her go.

  “I’ll see you Friday night,” he said, his voice deeper and rougher than it had been a moment before.

  “You better count on it.”

  Sara checked her hair in her makeup mirror one last time. The taxi ride to Derek’s place might as well have been a tour of Hollywood mansions, the houses growing larger and larger. They had reached the point of incredulity some time ago, palatial estates that must need their own full teams of gardeners to keep watered, trimmed and taken care of.

  “Well, I guess one thing I know about him is that he must employ at least a dozen people to keep his house in shape,” Sara muttered.

  The taxi rolled up to the gate outside of an impressive mansion. It was less over the top than Sara expected—it was huge and high quality, but lacked the opulence she’d expected. There wasn’t too much about it that screamed waste of money, except for being way more space than one man should need.

  She paid the cabbie and walked up to the gate. Derek had messaged her the details for the party, including the gate code. It was surprising he was so trusting of someone he just met; for all he knew, she could have sold the code to a thief or even the paparazzi.

  He’d been sparse on the details, and she didn’t know what to expect. He’d said a get-together, but that could mean anything from a couple people to a few hundred. You never knew in this city.

  There were only a few cars in the driveway. All of them were expensive, but most weren’t outrageous. Cadillacs, BMWs. An Aston Martin. No way to tell if the cars belonged to the guests, or if they were all Derek’s. Again, you never knew in this town. Phenomenal wealth made it tough to judge things by ordinary standards.

  The walk to the front door had been tastefully landscaped with rock gardens and small, hardy plants with tiny blooms—a sharp contrast to the emerald lawns of most of the homes she’d passed on the way, and much less water-intensive. The sweetly perfumed air reminded Sara of her own balcony garden back in Chicago. Oh, wait, who will take care of the plants while Beck and I are here? They’d left so suddenly it hadn’t even occurred to her. So much for those. I’ll have to try to salvage them when I get back.

  She didn’t have to wait long at the door until Derek opened it. He was dressed down from the full tuxedo he wore to the gala the other night, but still looked more dapper than the typical man at home, with a buttoned shirt and slacks that fit his body a little too well. It wasn’t even fair, and Sara struggled to draw her eyes back up to an appropriate height.

  “Sara!” He leaned in to give her a hug. “I’m glad you could make it. Please come in.”

  His arms wrapped around her felt incomparable. She had experienced nothing like it in over two years. Ever since Michael… She squashed that train of thought like she’d trained herself. When she crossed the threshold, she held out the token bottle of wine she’d brought. “This is for you,” she said. “Thank you for hosting me. I’m excited to see your place!”

  She’d decided that given how the gala night went, it made the most sense to pretend to be romantically interested in Derek. He’d expect it, and she might get him to drop his guard. The primary danger was if he lost interest in her, then her ability to discover any more information from him grew limited. The other potential trip-up was she had been out of the dating game for so long she might screw things up.

  Or fall for him.

  “Thank you,” he said. “Let me show you in and introduce you to everyone else. I’m sure you’ll love them, I find them to be the most interesting group of people around Hollywood. True artists who haven’t let the atmosphere of the city get to their head and turn them into caricatures of themselves.”

  His manner of speech fascinated her. She would expect it in someone brought up in money, taught by strict housekeepers and nannies. You’d think if he had been raised like that, there would be record of it somewhere? If there was, she hadn’t been able to find it.

  They progressed through bright and airy hallways to an enormous living room in the back of the house. It must have taken up at least half the space of a regular house and reached to the roof three stories above. Balconies from the upper two floors opened onto the room and the magnificent view out the back. It was a spectacular room, and one Sara could see herself spending all her time in. There was even a perfect desk off to the side where she could conduct research and a couple seating areas with comfortable couches that looked perfect for curling up and reading a book.

  “Wow,” she said. “This is incredible, Derek!”

  “I know.” He nodded, looking around with pride. “The house is way too big for me. I don’t even have anything in half the rooms upstairs. But it’s good for when I want to entertain a lot of guests, and when I saw this room overlooking the grounds and that view, I couldn’t say no.”

  She took back the judgment she’d made when she arrived. If she had the money to afford this place, she wasn’t sure she would have been able to pass it up, either.

  There were a few groups of people scattered throughout the room here and there; a handful played a game at a wide table, and two other groups talked over drinks.

  “Everyone!” Derek announced. “This is Sara, and this is her first time here, so please be sure to introduce yourselves and be nice to her!”

  A veritable chorus of hellos came back, and Sara felt her cheeks warm a little as she gave an awkward wave to the room and the dozen pairs of eyes looking in their direction. The faces looked friendly and interested on the whole, and Sara relaxed a little. She even recognized a few of the faces as famous musicians and actresses, and she was a little shocked at the mix of people there. Derek, it seemed, kept a diverse set of friends.

  “Come,” he said, with a hand light on the small of her back. It was an innocuous touch, or at least it seemed like it, but a shiver ran through her body. “Let’s check who’s winning the game.”

  It wasn’t anything she had seen before; there was a board made of hexagonal pieces arranged in a specific pattern, and many carved wooden bits placed in a strategic manner. Five participants sat in tense silence, each holding a hand of cards with more wooden pieces in colored piles on the table in front of them.

  “What is it?” Sara whispered, not wanted to ruin anyone’s concentration. “I’ve never seen anything like it before.”

  “Jeff there,” Derek pointed at a man at the table, “calls it Roego. He invented it—you should play it sometime. It’s difficult to grasp, but as fun as you could imagine once you know what’s going on.”

  Jeff had long, scraggly brown hair and a beard to match. A plaid shirt completed the lumberjack look, incongruously paired with thick-rimmed black glasses. His look screamed “artist” to Sara.

  They looked on as each of the players took it in turns to place pieces or play cards in a sequence Sara couldn’t follow. It looked intense.

  She looked back up at Derek. His eyes were intent on the game, brow furrowed a little. He noticed her looking and winked.

  “Where’s the bathroom?”

  He pointed down a hallway off the enormous living room and she left to go seek it. Luckily for her, the hallway took an immediate turn, so the bathroom door wasn’t visible from the living room. She found it easily enough, but hesitated. This was the perfect chance to see what else she could discover in this mammoth house.

  She opened the next door along the hallway to reveal a big library. It called to her heart, the impressive wood and leather decor suitable for the shelves of books. There was even a rolling ladder to enable access to the tallest shelves, something she had always wanted in the personal dream library that lived in her mind—one she intended to make a reality someday. Sara wandered down the shelves, letting her finger tap the backs of the books as she walked
on by.

  Many of the classics lived there, most of them bound in leather.

  I wonder if he bought and stocked all these himself, or if they came with the house. It was tough to imagine someone either owning and transporting all of these books when they moved, or else buying that many when taking ownership of the house, but she supposed it was possible. It didn’t seem as though Derek would be above reading, and there was no hint of dust anywhere to be found. Although that is likely the work of the maid.

  To one side of the room stood a desk and a reading chair. There were a few papers and books strewn across the desk, and Sara moved to see what the mysterious man was currently reading. To her surprise, it was a book by Neil deGrasse Tyson, the astrophysicist. Wow. Not the type of thing I would have expected a wealthy socialite to read.

  The book sat on top of a few papers. The wording on one caught her eye.

  Dear Mr. Devereux,

  As requested, the Onyx Company would like to enclose the following quarterly results to you as one of the primary shareholders. Please let us know if you have questions. A more detailed breakout is available in the appendices attached.

  Sara’s eyebrows nearly entered her hairline as she read the paper. Four billion dollars profit in the most recent quarter?

  Here was what she had searched for. A clue, a direction to look. She felt elated. There was only one problem.

  I’ve never heard of the Onyx Company before.

  She read through the paper again, but there was no sign where the money came from. It only referenced appendices that were conspicuously absent. She flipped through the rest of the papers underneath the deGrasse Tyson book, but everything else looked like regular correspondence—bills, letters, invitations to events. She tried the drawers in the desk, but they were locked.

  I haven’t had to pick a lock in a long time. Being prepared paid off once again as she slipped a few tools out of her pocket. By the time she knelt down in front of the desk to examine the lock, she heard footsteps in the hallway.