Her Mile High Mates [The Hot Millionaires #4] (Siren Publishing Ménage Everlasting) (16 page)

“Safe?” Fabia made a scoffing sound at the back of her throat, her elation already on the wane as the impossibility of rescuing her sister from that fortress struck home.

“Do you know the name of the organization they plan to hit?” Peyton asked.

“No, only the select few know the details. All I can tell you is that it’s a major British institution and it will go down while the gala’s on.”

“Presumably, Sonia could tell you,” Fabia said.

“No.” Peyton spoke sharply. “Don’t put her in that position.”

Clyde nodded. “Good point. If we know, we’re kinda duty bound to pass the information on,” he explained in response to Fabia’s quizzical expression. “The target company would be warned, they’d take measures to protect themselves, and Asimov would know there’d been a leak.”

“And my sister would be the prime suspect.” Fabia’s eyes moistened with gratitude. “Thanks for putting her interests ahead of national security.”

Peyton offered her a lingering smile that melted her vulnerable heart. “No contest,” he said softly.

Sergio cleared his throat and encompassed both men with his eyes. “I’ve told you the truth. Now I need you to help us.”

“That we can do,” Peyton said with assurance. “We’re connected with Interpol, and this sort of thing is right up their street.”

“Thank God!” Sergio scrubbed a hand down his face. “Once this is over, Asimov can’t afford to let Sonia and me live. I’ve always known that. He doesn’t do loose ends. I’ve been racking my brains, trying to think of a way out. I have freedom to come and go, within reason, but if I leave the grounds I’m carefully watched, and all the phones in the Kremlin are tapped.”

“But not your cell?”

“I hope not. If it was, we would have had visitors by now. It’s a pay-as-you-go, and they don’t know I have it. I got it after I met Sonia so we could keep in touch.”

“Programme my number into your phone,” Peyton said, reeling it off. Sergio did so. “We’re going to go to Valencia tomorrow to have a face-to-face meeting with my boss. Ring me when you safely can tomorrow evening, and I’ll tell you what we’ve decided to do. Tomorrow’s Wednesday. We don’t have much time.” He clapped Sergio on the shoulder. “Don’t worry, we’ll get you out of this.”

Fabia spontaneously reached up to kiss his cheek. “Send Sonia my love and tell her not to do anything stupid.”

For the first time, Sergio flashed a genuine smile. “That’s asking a little much,” he said.

“What’s that thing?”

Fabia stared at the shiny yellow plane that sat on the runway. Red stripes ran all the way down the fuselage, and there was a multicoloured pattern on the tail fin. She gulped back the panic that threatened to overwhelm. She so didn’t like flying.

“That’s not a thing,” Peyton said, slipping an arm round her shoulders. “It’s our pride and joy.”

“Our newest acquisition,” Clyde confirmed from her opposite side. “Known to his friends as Toxic Charlie.”

“Planes are identified by the last two initials of their call sign,” Peyton explained. “This one is Tango Charlie but—”

“I get it.” Fabia glanced at the five-letter sequence painted on the fuselage. “Toxic Charlie it is, then. Don’t tell me we’re going to Valencia in that? I’m not that keen on flying at the best of times. Valencia’s only an hour away by car. Can’t we—”

“No,” they said in unison.

“Don’t sound so worried, sweetheart,” Peyton said alone. “Charlie’s in tip-top condition, and he’ll take real good care of you. He has two engines, which makes him faster and safer than his single-engined cousin. He also has two of the best pilots in the area. You’ll be travelling first class.”

“I hate to burst your bubble, guys,” she said sweetly, “but you’re the
only
two permanent pilots round these parts.”

Clyde clutched a hand over his heart. “She knows how to wound.”

“Rule number one,” Peyton said, kissing the end of her nose. “Don’t upset the pilots until you’re safely back on terra firma.”

“Something’s going on.” Fabia glanced between them and narrowed her eyes suspiciously. “You both look far too pleased with yourselves. What is it that you’re not telling me?”

“Nothing,” Peyton said casually, and far too quickly. Fabia’s suspicions multiplied. “This is strictly business. You don’t need to come with us. We can—”

“Don’t go there.” Fabia held up a hand to stop his flow of words. “I’m coming, and that’s final. I realize our news will be a big feather in Interpol’s cap if they can stop the scam, but I absolutely don’t want my sister caught in the cross fire. If your boss man even suggests anything that might make her situation worse then I shall find a way to get word to Asimov”—she waved her hands dramatically in the air—“or something.”

“We understand how you feel,” Clyde assured her. “That’s why you’re here. You’ll hear everything we say to Edmunds and are free to add your own suggestions.”

“Don’t worry, I will.”

“You still feeling guilty about calling in sick?”

“Yeah, I guess.” Fabia shrugged. “It’s not something I make a habit of.”

Clyde touched her arm. “These circumstances are hardly normal.”

“Just so that you know,” Peyton said, rubbing the small of her back as they watched Clyde stroll off to do the external checks on the Aztec. “We’re not letting you out of our sight until this thing’s over.”

She cracked a smile for the first time that morning. “I gathered that by the way you both stayed in bed with me for the entire night.”

Peyton flashed a smug grin. “Didn’t hear you complaining.”

“You didn’t leave me with enough breath to say much of anything.”

“Glad to be of service.” He pulled her against his side. “You’re something else, Fabia. You do realize that you’re making me crazy and I can’t get enough of you?”

She reached up to kiss his cheek. “Doesn’t mean you need to stop trying.”

“Baby, when it comes to you, I’m never gonna stop wanting you.”

Fabia gulped. Could he really mean that? The man was a hunk. They both were. Once this was over, they’d tire of her and move on to their next victim.

Hold that thought and stay grounded, Fabia.

She giggled at the inappropriate nature of her thoughts, given that she was about to hit the sky in this flimsy-looking, yellow tin can. She must be in love. Nothing else could account for her willingness to climb aboard.

“What’s so funny?”

“Nothing.” Her smile faded as she voiced the question that their joint attentions had prevented her from asking the previous night. “What did you make of Sergio?”

“I thought he was pretty genuine, at least about your sister.”

She expelled a relieved breath. “I did, too.” She frowned. “But why the proviso? Why only when it comes to Sonia?”

“Asimov’s a villain. Sergio must have known that but still went to work for him. Even if he hasn’t got dirty hands himself, he’s still guilty by association.”

Fabia gasped. “But he helped us. You wouldn’t turn him in, surely?”

“No, I wouldn’t. I’m just making a comment about his character.”

“It’s easy to stand in judgement when you come from a western country and have every opportunity to improve yourself. I don’t imagine it was like that for Sergio.”

Peyton slipped an arm round her shoulders and kissed the top of her head. “Me neither. I was just saying. Come on.” He moved toward the plane. “Clyde’s finished his checks. We can go now.”

“If we must.”

“Your faith in our abilities is totally underwhelming.”

Clyde was already in the left-hand seat, completing his internal checks when Peyton helped Fabia into the back of the plane. Both guys watched her, seemingly interested in her reaction.

“Oh, it’s different from what I imagined. There’s so much more space. It’s like the back of a large car.”

Peyton chuckled. “And you know what goes on in the back of cars, don’t you?”

Fabia was too apprehensive to answer. Peyton helped her to buckle her harness and gave her headphones similar to the ones she’d worn in the chopper. As soon as he’d taken the other front seat, Clyde started up the engines. She watched them run through the final checks, perfectly in accord with one another, talking in a kind of aviation shorthand that meant nothing to her.

“Ready, babe?” Clyde asked.

She shuddered. “As I ever will be.”

He taxied the plane to the end of the runway, stopped completely, and increased the power until the plane felt like the aviation equivalent of a grayhound in the starting trap, quivering, desperate to escape. Clyde released the brakes, and the little plane surged forward, lifting smoothly into the sky and immediately banking sharp left. Fabia didn’t realize she’d been holding her breath but released it in one long rush now they were off the ground. She glanced out of the window and saw Tosca Brava spread out beneath them, looking like a toy town.

“We’re at our cruising level now,” Clyde said through the headphones. “The plane’s flying itself.” He removed his hands from the wheel to prove his point.

“Shouldn’t you keep hold of that thing?” she asked nervously.

“Have faith!”

“I have complete faith in you both.” She paused, trying to suppress a grimace. “When we’re on solid ground.”

The journey to Valencia took no time at all. The guys kept chatting to her the whole way, as though trying to keep her mind off her fear of flying and the meeting to come. They were fighting a lost cause. Fabia couldn’t stop thinking about her sister, forced into criminal acts just because she’d fallen for the wrong guy or asked the wrong questions. It was
so
unfair! Worse, Interpol was bound to try and stop Asimov from ripping off the British institution they’d targeted. Everyone agreed that he was ruthless, which didn’t bode well for Sonia, no matter what her guys said to the contrary.

“We’re coming into Valencia now,” Peyton’s voice told her. “You still buckled in back there?”

“Yes, I’m ready to reacquaint myself with planet earth just as soon as you are.”

Peyton chuckled. “We’re gonna have to convince her that flying’s not so bad.”

“You’ll have your work cut out.”

They appeared to be flying straight into Valencia’s main airport. She could see huge passenger jets taxiing, taking off, and landing. They were a tiny speck by comparison, but landing there didn’t seem to be a problem. Peyton now had control and radioed ahead. He was given directions to a runway by a Spanish voice speaking in the international aviation language of English.

“Understood. Tango Charlie, roger.”

Peyton spoke in a smooth, calm manner as the little plane turned a sharp angle and tilted toward the ground, too low and too fast, surely? It seemed as though they were skimming the tops of the trees just north of the runway. Neither man seemed the slightest bit concerned, so Fabia could only hope they really did know what they were doing.

“Tango Charlie on final approach.”

“You’re cleared to land, Tango Charlie. Wind…”

Fabia didn’t have a clue what the tower was talking about. All she knew was that the ground had suddenly gotten a lot closer and whistled past at a tremendous speed. Fabia gripped the arm of her seat so tightly that her knuckles turned white. They were going far too fast. Peyton must be showing off and had lost control.

She felt ashamed of her thoughts when Peyton landed the plane so gently that she barely felt the wheels bump the ground. She could see those flap things on the wings deployed to slow them down and felt their speed rapidly reducing. Now that it was over, she was starting to enjoy herself. How many people got to do what she’d just done for free?

“That was fun,” she said.

Both guys roared with laughter. “You were scared shitless,” Peyton said.

Fabia inverted her chin. “Only most of the time.”

They were directed to a parking space by a guy in a fluorescent jacket and hard hat, waving bats around. As soon as the engines stopped, they deplaned. The paperwork didn’t take long, and they were soon in a taxi, heading wherever they were heading. Fabia didn’t have a clue where that might be. She sat in the back of the cab between her two guys, and they held her hands like they understood how nervous she was.

Fabia imagined Interpol would have some sort of fancy office in the best part of town. When the cab deposited them close to the marina that had been rebuilt to host the America’s Cup some years previously, she couldn’t have been more surprised.

“Don’t judge a book by its cover,” Peyton said, winking at her.

They entered what looked like a yacht club, walked through an empty restaurant and up a flight of stairs. Someone met them when they reached the corridor at the top, shook hands with both guys, and gave Fabia a swift once-over.

“He’s waiting for you,” the man said, leading them to a room overlooking the marina and closing the door softly behind them.

A tall man in casual clothing stood up when they entered, and more handshakes were exchanged. This time, Fabia was introduced.

“Fabia, this is Walter Edmunds, a fellow American,” Peyton said.