Authors: Bianca D' Arc
Dead Alert (3 page)
About the time Sam had been tapped to train for this undercover mission, Scott’s father had met with an untimely end in a suspicious auto accident, clearing the way for Scott to take over. Apparently his signature on an essentially blank manifest was enough to get cargo rushed through to wherever he wanted it to go. Sam figured nobody wanted to question the new head honcho. Convenient.
“So what’s the new boss like?” Sam asked conversationally once they were at cruising altitude.
It wouldn’t take but a couple of hours to get to Boise but it was enough time to get bored with the scenery far below. Pilots usually spent flight time chatting about various things in between radio contacts with air traffic control, so it was normal for him to ask questions any new employee might ask.
“You mean Scott?” Emily seemed surprised by the question.
“I read about the senior Mr. Southerland’s accident and wondered how his son was doing in his place.”
“Scott’s doing okay.” Her answer was noncommittal at best and she didn’t seem to want to pursue the topic. Odd. In Sam’s experience, most long-time employees liked spilling the dirt to the new guy.
Emily’s response took reticence to a whole new level. Sam decided to shelve the topic for later. He didn’t want to spook her. Maybe she just didn’t want to talk about Scott Southerland for some reason. Maybe he’d do better with a more general topic. He asked about the technical specifications of the jet and soon had Emily talking shop with relative ease. Once she was comfortable with him and their conversation he tried again to redirect it toward things he wanted to learn. After all, he had a job to do. He had a limited amount of time to get his investigation rolling.
“Do you do a lot of cargo jobs on this route?”
“Not in particular.” Emily shrugged as she made notes in her log. “We fly stuff all over. And not just stuff, though we’ve been doing a lot more cargo lately for some reason. It’s rather cyclical. Sometimes it’s more business flights, sometimes more pleasure, sometimes more cargo.”
While there wasn’t anything wrong with her words, the tension in her shoulders seemed to increase on this particular subject. Where a moment ago she’d been talking easily about technical specifications of various jets, all of a sudden she was much more wary. Sam watched her carefully, his every sense on alert.
He really hated the thought that Emily could be involved in this mess. He admitted to himself the moment he’d met her, his objectivity where she was concerned had gone out the window. There was something about her. Something that made him want her to be innocent.
The landing at Boise Airport was uneventful. Sam completed all necessary paperwork under Emily’s watchful eye. She definitely was a stickler for details. Sam noted the slight frown that wrinkled her brow when she went aft to check the cargo. Sam followed on her heels in time to catch her paging through the clipboard that contained the cargo manifests for this shipment.
She either didn’t hear him or was too absorbed in what she was reading—or in this case, not reading—on the cargo list.
“Something wrong?” Sam tried to sound nonchalant. Emily started and looked up almost guiltily from the papers.
“No, nothing’s wrong,” she was quick to answer.
Something didn’t sit right. In the short time they’d been acquainted Sam had already established Emily’s penchant for filling out paperwork completely. He’d glimpsed those manifests and even from a cursory look he knew they were halfassed at best. Yet she wouldn’t admit it to him. Not even to make a comment about how poorly others filled out forms, which would have been what he expected from her. Instead, she closed him out and denied everything.
He thought he could sense a bit of fear in her as well, and that concerned him. What was she afraid of? Was she worried he’d find out she was involved in covering things up? Or was she afraid of something else?
Either way, he’d find out why she was so jumpy on certain topics.
There was no time to pursue it any further. Sam could see cargo handlers approaching the jet out the window.
“Looks like they’re eager to get us unloaded.” Sam nodded toward the window. Inwardly, he wished he had more time.
Emily slammed the clipboard back in place and headed for the hatch. Sam barely heard the curse she let out under her breath. She was definitely upset about something and Sam was going to figure out what it was.
She opened the oversized cargo doors and Sam assisted when she directed him to perform small tasks. The cargo guys did the rest. Sam noted that these cargo handlers didn’t wear the same uniform as the rest of the airport workers in the vicinity. They were some kind of special group with matching coveralls that held no insignia whatsoever. They had to have passed muster with the TSA in order to work at the airport but they weren’t part of the regular airport staff. Maybe they were a private firm that worked for individual clients or something. Sam made a note to have the team look into it.
He could do little more than stand there and observe while the cargo was offloaded and whisked away, crate by crate. It chafed. A man more used to taking action, sitting and watching wasn’t really his thing. He really wanted to find out where they were taking the cargo, but didn’t see a way to do so without raising suspicion.
“We’re refueling and flying on to Portland for a quick drop off. Grab a cup of coffee in the hangar, if you want one. We’ll only be on the ground for a little while longer.” Emily had come up beside him as he walked onto the tarmac, taking in as much of his surroundings as possible.
Sam flipped a casual salute in her direction on the noisy airfield and headed toward the small hangar a short distance away. They’d parked outside, on the section of airfield dedicated to charter airlines. A number of independent air services shared the hangar.
He greeted the office folks, keeping his eyes open as he learned as much as he could about this stop. The folk inside were friendly enough and pointed him toward the coffeemaker in the break room. Sam snagged two cups and prepared Emily’s with cream and sugar the way he’d seen her take it back in Wichita.
Task done, he arrived back at the plane to find Emily nowhere in sight as the last of the cargo left the hold. A fuel tanker had come up alongside the jet and was doing its duty.
Sam knew he would have more opportunities to question Emily tonight when they had a layover in Portland before heading back to Wichita. It wasn’t the greatest work schedule in the world, but such was the life of a charter pilot. In a way, it was useful to have the extra time with Emily. He wanted to know what made her tick.
Meanwhile, the best evidence he’d seen so far was being taken away on a beat up cargo loader. Sam watched the cargo roll down the tarmac with building frustration.
“Archer. You ready?” Emily shouted from a dozen yards away.
Turning away when the truck holding their cargo drove out of sight around a corner, Sam went to meet her. The mysterious cargo and any chance to find out what it had been, was gone.
“We’re all gassed up.” She was folding a piece of paper that was probably a receipt for the jet fuel as she spoke. “We need to be in Portland in two hours to drop off our last little bundle of joy for the day.”
“Should be enough time,” he commented. “Let’s saddle up.”
In addition to the five mysterious crates, there was one small box that had all its paperwork in order. It was heading to a business conference in Portland. Apparently, the client had been willing to pay top dollar to get it there as fast as possible. It was a prototype of a device that was being introduced at the conference that had been left behind by mistake, or so Sissy had volunteered when Sam had run into her this morning in Wichita before takeoff.
The flight to Portland and the big airport designated as PDX was quick and quiet. Sam’s mind was working overtime on the problem posed by the cargo they’d dropped off. His instincts told him something was definitely fishy with the cargo but he didn’t have enough to go on in order to call for reinforcements. He didn’t want to blow this undercover operation before it got started. And Emily’s behavior was off. She wasn’t a very good liar, which counted in her favor to Sam’s way of thinking.
A little more time in her presence and he figured he’d be able to read her like a book—as much as any man was ever able to read a woman’s mind. Which was to say, not much, Sam had to admit. But her tells were there. The way she tensed her shoulders and that little frown that wrinkled her brow. He’d noticed those and a few other things about her in the time they’d already spent together. He figured this layover was as good a time as any to begin deepening the relationship and trying to get a read on whether or not she could be trusted.
Sam had done a great deal of research on the charter industry, in general, before arriving for his first day at Praxis Air. John Petit had also given him pointers about undercover work. As a former Marine and current CIA operative, John had way more experience in this kind of operation than Sam, but he wasn’t a pilot. Only a pilot could infiltrate into a position that could potentially give the team access to the information they needed, so it was up to Sam.
They’d made arrangements for Sam to check in by phone during layovers when possible and during his off duty hours. He had a secure phone that looked like a regular phone only the signal was scrambled. The other team members’ phones had the codes to unscramble it.
Sam filled in his log while Emily parked them near one of the charter hangars at PDX. The charter area was on the opposite end of the airfield from the commercial hub that was Portland International Airport.
A very relieved and harassed looking secretary met them at the door to the small passenger concourse. Sam had carried the precious box marked with the company’s logo from the jet to the terminal. This particular contract had included hand delivery to an agent of the client’s company. The woman signed for the box and was off like a shot, headed for her conference. It would have been comical if the poor woman hadn’t been so relieved to see the package delivered safely.
“Another happy customer,” Emily observed as she finished the paperwork. “And we don’t get our new cargo until tomorrow afternoon so we’ve got some time to kill and hotel reservations downtown. Wait’ll you see this hotel. I did a favor for the CEO of the chain once and he gives me a cut rate when I’m in town so you lucked out this time. No El Cheapo hotel for you.” The humor in her expression was contagious.
“Can’t wait.”
Chapter Three
“Y
ou weren’t kidding about this hotel.” Sam looked distinctly out of place in the delicate interior of the lobby. “Is the whole place like this?”
ou weren’t kidding about this hotel.” Sam looked distinctly out of place in the delicate interior of the lobby. “Is the whole place like this?”
“Not entirely. Wait ’til you see your room.”
Emily went with him to his room to see his reaction. He didn’t disappoint. She watched from the doorway as he took in the swaths of curtains and boldly striped wallpaper.
“Did you pick this special just for me or is the whole hotel like this?”
“Don’t flatter yourself. This is standard issue for this place. You should see the more expensive suites.”
“It’s like a toned down Arabian Nights fantasy decorating scheme. What’s with all the curtains?” He turned in a circle, dropping his overnight bag on the floor while she enjoyed his bemusement.
“It’s their theme. They have a couple of hotels—this one is tame compared to the one in Seattle. Same decorating scheme, but much bolder colors. Dark red and bright lemon yellow.”
“I guess I’m lucky. The pale yellow and cream are kind of nice once you get used to the big vertical stripes on the walls.”
“Their restaurant is top notch,” Emily informed him as she rolled her pilot case away from the door to his room. “Shall we meet there in an hour?”
She looked up from wrestling with her luggage to find Sam standing in front of her. He’d moved so quickly and silently, she hadn’t known he was there. A little gasp of surprise escaped her mouth. One of his muscular arms rose to lean against the doorframe, crowding her space in an intimate way.
“Why the hurry? You could always stay here and we could get room service.”
The huskiness of his deep voice almost had her purring—until she realized who and what he was. Just another pilot who thought he was Casanova, chasing anything in a skirt.
Dammit. He’d really had her going there for a minute. Too bad he was just like all the rest. She rolled her case down the hall as she shook her head with a smile glued to her face.
“Better luck next time, fly boy.”
“Hey, you can’t blame a guy for trying.”
“Try me.”
She hated the edge of steel that crept into her tone. She hated being bitter and fought against showing how her past experiences had turned her against certain types of men. She hated showing weakness of any kind in front of those who could very well exploit it. Working day in and day out in a man’s world, she had to be tough. She couldn’t afford to let many people see the woman she was underneath the professional pilot’s exterior.
When she glanced back he was leaning against the doorframe, his muscular arms folded over his chest as he watched her walk away. The speculation in his eyes belied his easy grin. No doubt about it, the man was hot with a capital H, but he wasn’t for her. Too bad. He really was a looker. Smart too.
But Emily wasn’t ready to be one in a long line of women trailing out of his bedroom. She’d done that once and she’d vowed never to let it happen again. No more pilots. No more players. If she ever got involved with another man, he’d be a stable, secure type who wouldn’t cheat on her. He’d be an accountant or a lawyer . . . anything other than a pilot.
The peace and quiet of her hotel room was a relief to Emily’s frayed nerves when she finally reached it. Sam had been asking questions all day and she wasn’t sure if that was just normal new guy behavior or something more sinister. Then that badly framed proposition. She still didn’t know what to make of that. She was concerned she might be overreacting, but she couldn’t be sure who to trust. She was beginning to see spies and assassins around every corner and she was afraid she was going nuts.
Scott and his veiled threats might very well have driven her around the bend.
Or maybe her suspicions were correct. Maybe something terrible was going on at Praxis Air and she seemed to be the only person who saw it. Maybe it was up to her to stand up to Scott and expose him.
The thought terrified her but there was nobody else. She had to do it. She owed it to her mother and to all the people who depended on Praxis Air to put food on their tables and money in their wallets. They had a loyal staff, many of whom had been with the company since the beginning. She wouldn’t let Scott and his double dealings put them all out of work.
Secret flights and no-questions-asked charters were somewhat common in the industry, but the recent onset of fatal crashes that had plagued the company made her hackles rise. That, along with the odd cargo flights to and from backwater locations had her questioning the company and its new management. If Scott was running drugs there was every possibility Praxis Air could go under, its assets seized if and when the authorities caught them. That’s why she had to do what she could to stop him.
Quietly, of course. The brake failure in her car made her wonder if maybe Mr. Southerland’s
accident
had been entirely accidental. Just like those last two plane crashes. The NTSB final reports still weren’t in yet, but a few questions had been raised about why those jets had gone down and operations had been halted for a while until every Praxis Air jet had been inspected and approved.
accident
had been entirely accidental. Just like those last two plane crashes. The NTSB final reports still weren’t in yet, but a few questions had been raised about why those jets had gone down and operations had been halted for a while until every Praxis Air jet had been inspected and approved.
They were flying. For now. Another shut down could ruin their business completely. As it was, they’d lost customers over the recent problems. That was one of the excuses Scott had used to convert more of their jets to cargo haulers. He’d convinced the board but she wasn’t sold.
Don Juan was waiting for her in the hotel restaurant when she went down an hour later. She’d taken the time to reinforce her defenses against Sam’s charm. She had to work with the guy but that didn’t mean she had to like him.
The problem was, aside from the overinflated innuendo of those last few minutes, he’d been the perfect gentleman. In fact, that last bit about sharing room service had seemed out of character with what she’d learned about him in the short time they’d been together.
She couldn’t quite figure him out. Was he the player his smarmy invitation had implied, or something altogether different? A man like him probably didn’t have to work too hard to get women. So why the abrupt and rather paltry attempt to get her?
Something didn’t ring true. She’d be wise to stay on her toes with him. For all she knew, he could’ve been sent by Scott to spy on her . . . or worse. She didn’t think he was a killer, but then, what did she really know about the guy?
Emily shoved those thoughts aside as she joined him at the table he’d already claimed. The restaurant wasn’t too busy at this hour and the seating was designed in such a way as to provide the maximum of privacy for each diner. The atmosphere was intimate.
“Glad to see you’re punctual,” she said as she slid into the luxuriously upholstered booth he’d secured for them.
“I’m hungry. That sort of motivation will get me moving every time.”
She laughed at his small joke as a server placed full glasses of water with elegantly thin wedges of lemon in front of them. Another man handed them each menus and began listing the specials for that evening.
When the waiter left, an uncomfortable silence fell between them.
“I should apologize for earlier. I didn’t mean it the way it sounded—”
“Think nothing of it,” she interrupted his rather painful apology. “Just don’t try it again and we’ll get along fine.” Dammit, had she jumped to conclusions? She went back over his words in her mind and realized that it was a possibility. Embarrassment flooded her.
She didn’t look at him as silence fell again. This was even more awkward than she feared. Most of the men she worked with wouldn’t have batted an eye about propositioning her. But the enigma that was Sam surprised her yet again.
“I can’t promise that.”
“What?” She looked up from her study of the menu.
“I can’t promise not to find you attractive, Emily, though I will try to curb my baser instincts and potentially indecent proposals in future.”
His eyes sparkled in an inviting way. She should have felt discomfited by his words. Instead, she found herself amused. Amused and . . . intrigued?
No. That would never do.
“No problem. I get propositioned every once in a while. Jet jocks just can’t help themselves. Forget it. I have.”
“I guess you’ve dealt with your share of asshole pilots in your time. A girl as pretty as you must have had your share of problems.”
She didn’t know how to take the compliment. Had she been right the first time, thinking he was looking for a little nookie along with the room service? Or had it been an innocent proposal that she’d taken the wrong way? Sam confused the heck out of her.
Thankfully, the waiter returned at that moment to take their orders. After a short conversation with the talkative waiter about how the salmon special was prepared, they were alone once again.
Emily decided to take control of the conversation, to keep it from straying into dangerous or uncomfortable areas. She launched into a discussion of the ongoing airport construction at PDX and the different sights to see in the city. Before she realized it, Sam had maneuvered her into going with him to Saturday Market the next morning.
“We don’t have to be back at the airport until midafternoon. If we meet for breakfast around nine, we can spend a couple of hours at the market before we have to head out.”
“Sounds like a plan,” Sam agreed. “I’ve heard about the market but I’ve never been to it before.”
“It’s worth seeing. There are lots of different kinds of things for sale and it’s nice to walk around in the downtown area near the river. We can take the light rail to the market and hop on it again to get to the airport when we’re ready to leave. It’s very convenient.”
They’d finished their main courses and were nibbling on desert by this time. More than an hour had passed while they talked about different things. Sam was a man of few words but oddly, he was a good conversationalist. Or maybe he was just good at letting her talk. He asked questions that made it seem like he was truly interested in what she had to say, which was refreshing but also somewhat worrisome. Only after an hour of talking did she realize she’d probably talked the poor man’s ear off. Yet he didn’t seem bored or annoyed with her. Curiouser and curiouser.
The attentive waiter cruised by one more time and Sam ordered a carafe of coffee. It seemed he wanted to stay longer, prolonging the conversation. She was amazed he wasn’t making haste to get away.
They spent another half hour chatting over coffee. They formed a tentative bond of friendship over the meal, the earlier confusion over his maybe-proposition almost forgotten in light of their new camaraderie.
Sam let her get the bill on the corporate card though he made sure she wasn’t going to pay out of her own pocket before allowing it. She liked that concern, even as she assured him they were traveling on an expense account.
“Pilots normally have a limit on meal expenses but you get a little more leeway when you travel with me,” she explained. “I’ve been with the company since before I could fly, so I get a few extra perks.” She wasn’t about to go into the details of her minority shareholder status. If Sam lasted long enough with the company, she was sure he’d hear all the scuttlebutt from the other employees.
Not a one of them knew the whole story except maybe Buddy. He’d been with the company from the beginning and was a truly silent partner. Only the really old timers knew that Buddy was one of the co-founders of the airline and he’d asked them not to advertise that fact. He liked to keep a low profile and just be one of the boys. Emily respected that, even though she herself was often the topic of gossip surrounding her stakeholder status in the company.
They finished the carafe of coffee between them and lingered over desert. The crème brûlée had been as spectacular as she remembered it, but gone all too fast. Still, they sat companionably, talking over all kinds of topics until finally Emily began to notice the impatient looks some of the wait staff threw in their direction. It was near closing time and the staff probably wanted to clear up and go home.
“I think we’d better go.” Emily nodded toward the bus boy heading in their direction.
Sam nodded and before she could rise, he was around the table, politely pulling out her chair. He had great manners. Most ex-military men did, in her experience. Still, it was nice to be treated like a lady for a change, instead of one of the guys.
The conversation didn’t lag all the way up the elevator until they arrived outside the door to her room. She hadn’t realized their destination until she was faced with the door that had her number on it.
“I guess this is my stop.”
Darnit, she sounded nervous. Why did she have to sound wimpy all of a sudden? She thought they’d done a good job of repairing the damage caused by their earlier misunderstanding—though she was still unclear as to whether she’d misinterpreted his words or he really had been making a lame attempt at seduction. Either way, she wanted it put behind her as quickly as possible. She couldn’t work with the guy with that kind of uneasiness between them. The cockpit was too close a space to bear that burden.
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