“Keep in touch,” Dillon said and hung up.
He whirled around and faced Jack. “Or what?”
“We have a plan, we stick to it.”
“I think we need backup.”
“I think you’re wrong.”
Dillon looked out the window. It was dawn, the sun coming up on the right side of the plane. They were flying low; it looked like they were somewhere over Arizona. Deep canyons and high plateaus in red and gold gleamed in the morning sun.
It would have been romantic if he was with any other woman on any other trip.
“How did you learn to fly?” he asked Kate.
She glanced at him, said, “My boyfriend. Evan Standler.”
“He’s the one who died five years ago,” Dillon said.
She nodded. “Evan had a small plane. Saved up every dime to pay for fuel. I put in enough time, got my license. I’ll admit I haven’t kept up on my license. It expired four years ago. But it’s like riding a bike.” She glanced at Jack. “But I’m sure the Colonel can pitch in if I get in trouble.”
Jack winked.
Kate smiled. She was beautiful when she smiled, looking like the girl next door instead of a mercenary. “I always wanted to fly.” She turned wistful. “I remember sitting on the roof of my grandparents’ house and watching the sun rise. The birds would wake up, start flying around, and I wanted to join them. I’ve always thought the Wright brothers were incredible. I mean, to see a dream, work their asses off, and achieve it. Not many of us can say that. We could barely get off the ground at the beginning of the century, and way before the end of it we’ve put a man on the moon and the rover on Mars.”
She sighed. “Originally, I wanted to join the air force. I needed a way to pay for college.”
“Why didn’t you?”
She glanced at him, smiled again. “A problem with obedience to authority.” She looked over at Jack. “I think your brother understands that.”
Jack just grunted and closed his eyes again.
“What happened to your parents?” Dillon asked.
“You
“I’m making small talk.”
“Right.
Dillon tensed. “That’s not fair, Kate. I haven’t done or said anything to make you feel uncomfortable, other than question your motives and reasoning.”
“You’re right,” she said quietly. “I don’t know who my father was. My mother left me with my grandparents when I was five. Couldn’t stand me.”
“I’m sure that’s not-”
“Don’t placate me, Dillon,” Kate snapped. “My mother was raped, okay? And I’m the end product. She went in twice to have an abortion but couldn’t go through with it. When she left me with my grandparents she told me, ‘I’m sorry, Katherine, I tried to love you but I can’t.’” Kate took a deep breath. “I must look like him, because I look nothing like my mother.”
“I’m sorry.”
“I don’t want your pity.”
“It’s not pity.”
“I can’t believe I said anything,” she mumbled and fidgeted with the controls. “Shit.”
“What?” Jack asked from the back.
“I don’t think we’re going to make Red Rock.”
“It was those headwinds outside of Phoenix,” Jack said. “They ate up the fuel. How long?”
“Fifty miles before I start getting really nervous.”
“That’s almost there.”
“Almost ain’t good enough.”
“It’ll have to be. I’d offer to jump and lighten the load, but you’d probably be shot down. My friends are a little sensitive.”
“Great.”
“Trust me, we’ll make it,” Jack said. “My license isn’t expired.”
Kate rolled her eyes.
“Nice friends.”
“I have a lot. Surprised?”
“It sure isn’t for your bedside manner.”
“Ouch,” Jack said. He leaned over and whispered in Kate’s ear, “Just because I’m for hire doesn’t mean the government doesn’t hire me.” He looked at the controls. “Ten degrees north, we’ll come at Red Rock from the east, which should help with the fuel. The wind will be behind us.”
“It’ll add another fifteen miles that we don’t have fuel for.”
“Trust me.”
“Right.”
Dillon had always assumed Jack was still in the military, one way or the other. “Who do you work for?” he asked his brother.
“Mostly the good guys,” Jack said, leaning back in the seat and closing his eyes again, but he wasn’t fooling Dillon.
“So you’re not in the military anymore?”
“What does it look like to you?”
“It looks like you won’t answer my damn questions.”
“Double ouch.”
And he didn’t answer Dillon’s questions.
Stonebridge Academy had a gated entrance, ivy-covered brick walls, and a huge, stately brick mansion in the middle of the grounds, flanked on either side by long, two-story buildings. In the center was a large grass area where young men were playing polo. Sports for the rich youth, not the urban hellhole Special Agent Abigail Resnick had grown up in.
During the two-hour drive, which she’d done on personal time, Abigail hoped Hans Vigo was right and she wouldn’t be answering to anyone for what she was doing. She didn’t mind breaking rules-she didn’t much care for rules anyway-but she didn’t want to get caught.
She took the circular drive up to the mansion, but before she could get out of the car, a tall, distinguished man-
“Thanks,” she said and flashed him a smile that had melted icier men.
No dice. Heart of stone in this one.
“Who do you have an appointment with?”
She flashed her badge. “I need to speak to the headmaster. George Fleischer.”
The butler frowned almost imperceptibly. She’d done her homework while on the road-gotta love wireless Internet-and knew Fleischer had been the headmaster for the last twenty-eight years.
“Follow me.”
She did.
The inside of the mansion was even more opulent than she’d expected. She almost gawked. Her pathetic public school in the heart of Richmond, Virginia, was functional. Metal, wood, desks, graffiti. None of this Victorian furniture, oil paintings-which had to be real-or polished wood.
Instead of being embarrassed or intimidated, she grinned. “So, how much to send my kid here?”
“You have an applicant?”
“No. Just curious.”
He didn’t answer her. Maybe it wasn’t just money. A poor girl from the wrong side of the tracks in Richmond
