The Elite: The Complete Series of Boomer and Player (With Bonus) (48 page)

“I’m so sorry.”

I nodded. “Me too. She was the best.”

I must have drifted off entirely at some point, because when my eyes opened, Jack and Holly were sitting cross legged on the floor around the coffee table, digging into their burgers and fries.

“Hey Player, we got you a milkshake and a double combo with onion,” Jack called over to me. “Your favorite.”

“Where’s Gemma?” My voice came out scratchy, like I’d been sleeping with my mouth open. Bet that was sexy.

“I’m right here,” her soft voice warmed me as she stepped back into the room. She grinned at me like she’d caught me with my hand in the cookie jar. “Did you think I’d abandon my favorite patient so suddenly?”

I laughed and shook my head.

I didn’t know what she was doing to me, all I knew was—I liked it.

Chapter Seven

“Open up Mr. Rosen! We need to speak with you! Open up.”

Shit
. The day of reckoning had come. I rolled to my uninjured side and slowly worked my stiff muscles out of bed.

“Mr. Rosen.”

“I’m coming!” I bellowed in the general direction of the door. “Fuck,” I muttered irritably under my breath. “No fuckin’ patience…”

I slipped into my waiting pair of slippers and padded gingerly across the hardwood floors towards the front door. A peek through the security window confirmed my suspicion. The FAA agents had rooted me out and they weren’t going to leave without answers.

“Good morning, agents,” I sneered, flinging the door open.

There were two agents standing on the front porch. A stocky male, a few inches shorter than me, but about twice as wide. Then, to his left, a female agent with dark shades, dark hair, and a thin lipped smile that fell as soon as I glanced at her. “Mr. Rosen, my name is Gary, and this is Frankie,” he gestured to the woman. “We’re here to talk to you about the crash.”

I sighed. “All right. Come on in.”

They stepped into the living room and both took a quick, sweeping glance over the odd setup with my mattress taking up most of the space, and the couches all pushed against the walls. “Stairs are tricky right now,” I explained.

“Right. How are you feeling?” Frankie asked.

“Been better. Been worse.” I shrugged. I wanted to cut to the chase as soon as possible. The last thing I felt like doing was rehashing the crash in graphic detail for them, but I knew it was a necessary evil. They wouldn’t leave me alone until they had their answers. “Let’s go to the dining room. That might be more comfortable.”

They followed as I led them into the kitchen that had a small dining room attached through a large arched opening. Gary and Frankie sat on one side of the table and I took a seat opposite Frankie. Gary pulled his phone out of his pocket, tapped the screen, and set the device on the table. “Mind if we record?”

I shrugged.

“I need an audible yes or no. For the record.”

“Okay, yes, you can record.”

“Great.” He punched one more button and a red light flashed on the center of the touch screen. “So, let’s start with the basics. You were flying the Cessna when the crash occurred?”

“Correct.”

Gary stared, obviously waiting for more details. When it was apparent I was only offering simple answers, he sighed. “Mr. Rosen, we’re not the enemy here. I know a lot of pilots may have the impression that we swoop in at the slightest mistake to strip licenses. I want you to know that’s not the case. We’re here to help.”

“Slightest mistakes?” I repeated the odd choice of words. “Someone died, Agent. This wasn’t a little event. Not to me anyways.”

Frankie leaned in. “We didn’t mean to trivialize. Obviously, we understand the gravity of the situation. What my partner means is that we’re not on anyone’s side. We’re only here to get the most information we can as to the events leading to the crash.”

“I understand. Next question?”

Gary eyed me and I could tell I wasn’t winning him over. Not by a long shot.

I really didn’t care.

“What was your destination?”

“San Francisco.”

“For?”

“I was taking a friend—Talia—to visit some family she had in the area,” I lied. I highly doubted they would follow up with her family to check my statement.

“I see. And Talia Soto was just a friend?”

I held his stare for a moment and flexed my jaw. “I don’t see how that falls under the scope of the investigation.”

Gary shrugged. “It helps us to get a full picture.”

“Next question,” I growled.

Frankie opened her mouth, ready to jump in, but Gary started before she could. “What happened before takeoff? Did you perform a safety check?”

“Are you questioning whether or not I’m a good pilot?” I scoffed. “This is ridiculous. I don’t have time for this shit.”

“Answer the question, Mr. Rosen,” Gary’s tone was sharp—almost like a warning.

I glared at him from across the table. “Yes,” I replied, tersely. “Of course I did the fuckin’ checklist. You can ask any of my employees. I’m a damn good pilot and I will not sit here and have you question that. Whatever happened on that plane was some kind of a malfunction.”

“So, when the results from your blood test come back, we won’t find any alcohol or drugs in your system from the night of the crash?”

The air left my lungs and was quickly replaced by fire. I bolted up from my chair—ignoring the pain tearing through my side—and pointed at the open archway. “Get the fuck out of my house. You have any other questions—you can call my damn attorney.”

Frankie stood and put an arm between myself and where Gary was still sitting. “Please, Mr. Rosen, if we can just—”

“Out!” I roared.

Gary stood slowly, his expression stern but unruffled. Frankie sighed. “As you wish, Mr. Rosen. Please get your attorney’s information to our office so we can contact them with the rest of our questions. In the meantime, you’re grounded. There will be no flights in or out of your little operation here.”

“You can’t do that!” I slammed my good hand down on the table. “My other pilots are not involved in this. You can’t damage my business over something that has nothing to do with it.”

Gary shrugged. “If you would answer our questions, we could see what we could do, but as it is, we don’t know if this accident was a singular incident, or the sign of a much more serious problem.”

I wanted to throttle him when he tossed me a smile and a helpless gesture. “We’ll see what my attorney thinks about that…”

“Yes, yes, of course.” Gary smiled again, cold and reptilian, and then stood slowly from his place at the table. He pushed his chair back in and strode from the room, taking the same path back to the front door.

I followed, my side splitting, and waited until they both left, before I exhaled and allowed myself to collapse into the nearest chair. Adrenaline and rage were coursing through my veins, but I couldn’t move without more pain, so I forced myself to calm down as I sat in the living room, staring at the door I’d just slammed behind the two agents.

“What the fuck am I gonna do?” I asked myself, burying my face against my casted arm.

* * * *

“What are you doing here?” Lana’s voice was a mix of happy and alarm when I walked through the front doors of the museum a couple of hours later. After the agents left, I took another dose of meds, fell asleep, and woke up feeling better than I had since leaving the hospital the day before. I figured it was time to get back to work, and crossed the gravel driveway between the house and the museum to see how things were going.

“I’m here to clean up this shit show,” I growled in reply. “What the hell is going on out there?”

When I’d crossed over to the museum, I found a growing group of protesters at the front doors, waving signs about getting justice for Talia. They’d somehow managed to get her picture and had signs donning her face. I’d sneaked around the side of the building to avoid the circus—but even from a distance, their chants and angry cries pissed me off.

Lana glanced at the large windows and glass doors that made up the majority of the entrance into the museum. Like she hadn’t noticed the chaos breaking loose just on the other side.

“Lana!”

Her eyes snapped back to mine. “I don’t know, Mr. Rosen. They showed up this morning, waving signs, and chanting for us to close our doors.”

“Why?” I asked, completely bewildered. How had they gotten the pictures of Talia? As far as I knew, her identity was still concealed until her family could be notified. Maybe they had already…God…that was an awful thought. I scrubbed a hand over my unshaved face. “Why do they want us to close? Has anyone gone out to talk to them?”

Lana bit her lip and her eyes went beady as she stared back at me. “They’re under the impression that we’re flying illegal planes here, that the planes are too old to be safe…and some of them…well…they think you don’t even have a pilot’s license.”

“Seriously?”

She nodded.

“Assholes.” I stomped off to the back of the museum where my office was located. I dug through my paperwork, collecting inspection paperwork, and before I left, I grabbed my pilot’s license off the wall where I left it hanging next to my dad’s. I carried it all out to the front with a roll of clear tape and starting taping the papers to the window, facing out to the group of protesters. They quieted as I worked, staring with interest as I attached each new piece of information.

“Call the media,” I barked over my shoulder to Lana. “I want this thing spun in our favor.”

Lana scurried away and I crossed back to the front desk. Kylee, one of our interns, was standing there, gaping at me. “Have we had any traffic today? What flights are scheduled? Have the FAA agents been back over here this morning?”

Kylee shook her head.

“No? To which part?”

“All of it?” She replied, her voice unsure and apologetic.

“Fuck.” I shook my head and pushed past her to take over the computer. I scanned the schedule and saw red cancellation stamps over every previous tour slot. “We haven’t had
any
walk-ins?”

“No.” Kylee tapped her fingers on the counter as I searched and the irritating sound only added to my foul mood. “Lana!” I pushed off the counter and started back towards the offices in the back, knowing I’d find Lana in mine. She was nothing, if not reliable.

“Lana,” I said, stopping in the doorway of my office. She was sitting at my desk, my phone raised to her ear. She motioned for me to wait a minute and I planted my feet wide, each booted foot touching one side of the doorway.

“Okay, that was Debbie, the field agent correspondent from channel six. She said she’ll send someone out to cover the protest. They’ll also do an interview if you want…”

“No. No interviews. I just want them to see the protesters standing there with the proof that everything they’re arguing against is wrong, there, taped inside the window. Kylee told me we haven’t had any customers all day. No flight tours either?”

Lana nodded. “I’m sorry, Mr. Rosen. I would have called…but I didn’t want you to worry. Jack told me to leave you alone and filter things through him first.”

“What?” I shook my head. “So, Jack knows about these protesters?”

Lana nodded again. “I called him this morning. He was at Carly’s getting breakfast with Holly.”

“Of course.” I rolled my eyes. “Why should my business getting flushed down the crapper interrupt his vacation…”

“I don’t think that’s fair—” Lana started, but quickly stopped, at the flash in my eyes. “What do you want me to do? How can I help?”

“Send everyone home. There’s no point in them all standing around here when there’s no work to do.”

As much as I hated to admit defeat, there was nothing I could do to fix the problem. At least not immediately. No point in fucking up everyone’s day.

“Okay. Should I stay?”

“No, that’s fine. Go ahead and go.”

“What about the news? Who do you want to talk to them, if you don’t want to?”

I grinned. “Oh don’t worry, I have just the perfect person…Mr. Congeniality himself.”

Chapter Eight

“Why aren’t they leaving?” I asked, peeking between the horizontal blinds on my kitchen window.

“I don’t know, man. I told them everything you wanted me to,” Boomer replied.

“Your Captain America persona might be wearing thin…” I said, only halfway teasing. I’d sent Jack out to be my mediator between the media and the protesters, hoping that the combination of my licenses and passed inspections for all of the planes in my hangar and the word of America’s hero would be enough to get them to go away.

And yet…hours later…they were all still camped outside my museum.

“Sorry Player.”

I shrugged and dropped the blinds. “Not your fault.”

“What are you going to do next?” Holly asked.

“I have no idea…” The news vans had come and gone. They had my side of the story. I could only sit back and hope things would improve by morning.

The problem was that sitting back and waiting was not my favorite thing.

“You want to go out to eat?” Jack asked. It was his and Holly’s last night in town. In the morning, the plan was to get breakfast at Carly’s and then they’d be on their way up to the airport to fly back to Germany.

“Sure,” I replied, knowing that if I didn’t go with them, I’d end up staring out the window all night, willing the protesters to go home and never come back.

Jack got up from the table and clapped me on the shoulder on his way out of the kitchen. “You treating tonight, Player?”

I laughed. “First round’s on me.”

Holly gave a little whoop and we headed out to Harvey’s Bar and Grill, the best place to get a burger, beer, and chill.

Which, is exactly what we all did.

“So, Aaron, what’s up with you and Gemma?” Holly asked, once we were all seated, and halfway through the first pitcher of beer we’d ordered up. She gave me a wide smile.

“Damn, Boomer, I didn’t think anyone could give you a run for your money in the stubborn department, but you really met your match here, haven’t you?”

Holly laughed. “Like you should talk!”

I held up my hands. “All right, all right. Fair enough.”