Not Quite Enough (Not Quite series) (29 page)

Everyone complained about the itchy and smelly part of having a cast restricting one’s movement. She’d take the itchy and smelly over the crampy every day of the week. Lighting her way into her kitchen, Monica found a banana and ate it. She knew the potassium would help ward off more cramps, but probably wouldn’t make this one go away any faster.

She leaned against the counter and forced the banana down. She considered the peel, the color… and thought of the bananas Trent had cut from the tree right before they descended to the beach and hidden cave.

“How can I miss someone I barely know?”

She did. She missed talking to him, seeing him… smelling him. Even in the dark he’d whisper in her ear and chase away the shadows.

Monica swiped away the tear on her cheek and realized the pain in her leg had eased.

The pain in her chest, however, grew.

Once the peel was in the trash, she moved into the living room. It might have been three in the morning, but that didn’t mean she had to sleep. Besides, ever since she returned, sleeping at night became more difficult. Maybe when her job was reinstated she’d ask for the graveyard shift. Then at least she could sleep during the day, where her room was never really black. She could roll over, peek through half-opened eyelids, and know she was safe.

She turned on her computer and opened her e-mail. A few online bills came through reminding her that her savings was dwindling. She’d accumulated some sick time, but the last of those checks had come the previous week.

Now that the medical bills were accumulating, her bank account had a hard squeeze around its neck.

She turned on Pandora radio and listened to her private station while perusing the inbox. She clicked on an e-mail from the Board of Registered Nurses. She assumed it was some kind of spam, some notice of pending changes within the organization.

Instead, she was faced with a direct e-mail to her.

Dear Monica Mann RN,

It has come to the attention of the Board of Registered Nurses that pending litigation and grievances have been filed
against Monica Mann RN. Temporary suspension of Miss Mann’s license is in effect immediately.

Monica’s vision blurred. She kept reading, and at the same time found herself hyperventilating. The letter went beyond an internal issue between her and the hospital for unsubstantiated reasons for her termination. This letter accused her of acting outside her license and endangering the lives of patients. It took Monica three times reading the letter to recognize the name Shandee Curtina. Curtina meant nothing to her, but Shandee?

Nausea rose in her throat. How could this be happening?

All her life Monica only wanted to be independent. Helping people and finding fulfillment from it was a by-product of the profession she chose.

Fighting for her job at the hospital was one thing… this was entirely different. If she wasn’t a nurse, what was she? Who was she?

She needed help. She reached for the phone and realized the time. Up until that moment Monica had been willing to step back a little and let the wheels of the hospital investigation take place. Let the union hold court. Not anymore.

This was
not
happening.

Three hours later, Monica was on the phone with Jessie relaying all the shitty details. “I’d never ask if I thought I could do this on my own,” she told her sister. “I’ll pay you back.”

“Don’t be stupid, Mo. What they’re doing to you is wrong on a colossal level. How the hell will Borderless Nurses or Doctors ever recruit anyone to help if they get away with this?”

The anger in Jessie’s voice matched that boiling in Monica’s blood. “I know Jack and Gaylord have a team of lawyers.”

“Say no more.”

“I think I’m going to need character witnesses from the island. Shandee wasn’t happy with me at first, but I can’t believe she’d
throw me under the bus.” Her name was on the actual complaint, so obviously Monica wasn’t a good judge of character.

“We’ll let the lawyers figure out who needs to be brought in. I’m so sorry you are going through this, sis. What else can I do?”

Hold her while she cried. “Just see if we can assemble a posse and make Pat and her minions shit their pants.”

“Oh, hon… we’ll do that. And I’ll call Katie, too.”

“OK.”

“How are you otherwise? Are you sleeping?”

Monica hesitated. “Ah, yeah. I’m… yeah.”

“Why don’t I believe you?”

“My leg hurts at night.” That certainly wasn’t a lie.

“When do you get the cast off?”

“Next week. Then I’ll start physical therapy.” She knew walking with the cast was easy compared to what she had to look forward to in the coming months.

“That’s something at least. I’ll bet you’ll feel better then.”

Yeah, her physical wounds were healing. That was something.

Trent huddled under his windbreaker, cursing the cold wind. His blood had certainly thinned in the last couple of years. That was proven as he stood on the private airstrip just south of SeaTac International shivering his ass off. He’d been introduced to the management of the Pacific Northwest team as TJ Childs. He wasn’t sure how far he could convince any of them that he was a pilot new to the company and considering a transfer to Seattle.

Trent circled around the Citation, inspecting the seven-passenger private jet. The hours logged into this aircraft exceeded what the flight log suggested. The FAA wasn’t happy about the discrepancy
and it was going to end up an external investigation if Trent and his brothers didn’t find the culprit.

“She’s a beauty, isn’t she?” Frank was a hotshot thirty-six-year-old who’d flown for Fairchild Charters for a few years. He reminded Trent vaguely of the high school football star who always wanted to be the center of attention. After only a couple of days, Trent’s gut told him that Frank was their man. He had yet to prove he used the aircraft for anything other than work, so Trent kept his thoughts to himself as he acted the curious observer.

“She’s sweet. Take her out often?”

“Often enough,” Frank said. “We have a couple of execs that request her on a routine basis.”

The door to the hangar that housed the plane was open, whipping in the wind from outside. How did the locals handle the constant drizzle? He’d been there for only a few days and was already done with it.

Trent asked questions, though he knew the answers. “How long is her range?”

Frank told him the miles the bird would fly and the cargo weight restrictions. He knew his planes.

“It would be nice to have your own. Go anywhere… anytime.” Trent planted the seed and waited for Frank to bite.

Frank lowered his sunglasses over his eyes and looked up at the engine. Who wore sunglasses on rainy days? “We’d have to be doing more than flying them in order to own them. Besides, we have the privilege without the headache.”

“Oh, how’s that?”

“The cost of housing, maintaining… fuel. You know what that all adds up to?”

Yeah, he did.

“But you’re flying other people where
they
want to go.”

Frank shrugged. “Works out sometimes.” With that, he turned and walked away.

Trent removed his cell phone as Frank walked away with the intention of dropping Frank’s name on Glen. He noticed two missed calls, both from numbers with which he wasn’t familiar.

The callers didn’t leave messages so he went on to text his brother and then turned the ringer on.

Twenty minutes later, his phone rang. “Yeah?” he answered.

“Trent?”

“Jase, how ya doing?” He ducked away from any ears, stood outside the hangar doors, and watched the rain pelt the runway.

“I got your text and have Sally checking what we know on him.”

“Sounds good. It’s a hunch. I don’t have anything solid.”

Jason laughed. “Listen to you sounding all spy-guy.”

“Call me Bond.”

“How does it look up there?”

“Rainy. But the operation runs well. Management is efficient and the planes are in great shape.” He walked out in the rain and elaborated on the business.

“It sounds like you have it figured out,” Jason said. “Oh, another reason for the call.”

“Yeah?”

“I got a call from Jack Morrison. He’s looking for you.”

Monica!

Trent turned away from the wind. “Did he say why?”

“Something about his sister-in-law needing your help. Isn’t she the one you were in the cave with?”

“Monica… yeah. Is she OK?” Something inside tightened and felt as if it were going to snap.

“How would I know? I told him I’d pass on the message. He did say he wouldn’t have called if it wasn’t important.”

Trent thought about the missed calls on his cell.

“Do you know his number?” Jason asked.

“I got it. Thanks.”

His throat tightened when he dialed Jack Morrison’s cell. As the phone rang, Trent walked farther away from the building.

Jack answered on the second ring. “Morrison.”

“Jack? It’s Trent Fairchild. I hear you’re looking for me.”

“Yeah, I am. Can you hold on a second?”

“No problem.”

A few seconds passed before he came back on. “Sorry ’bout that.”

“It’s OK. What’s up?”

“It’s Monica.”

“Is she OK?”

“If you’re asking if she’s healthy, yeah. Much better than when you last saw her.”

Part of Trent relaxed. “That wouldn’t have taken much.”

Jack didn’t laugh. “She was fired.”

Trent wasn’t sure what that had to do with him. “Yeah, there was trouble before she left. I’m sorry to hear about it.” He was more than sorry, but shouldn’t the person holding her hand through this be her fiancé? “I’m not sure what I can do to help.”

“It’s more than her job. There’s a huge blowup, and investigation… they stripped her license.”

“What? How can they do that? And investigate what?” And why did he care?

“I have lawyers all over it, Trent, but what they need is your statement.”

“About what?”

“They’re accusing her of taking the assignment in Jamaica to obtain a free trip to see her lover.”

If the wind hadn’t chilled him to the bone, Jack’s words did. “Me?”

“That’s what they’re saying. They’re also accusing her of working outside her license. Rushed her job to meet with you.”

“I met Monica on the island. If she rushed to do anything it was to keep people from dying.”

“I know that. But my lawyers need to hear you say it. They want a deposition before she goes before the board.”

Trent rubbed the bridge of his nose. “That is seriously fucked up.”

“I know. Monica’s not going to be happy that I called you. But I promised my wife I’d do whatever was needed to help Monica. It’s hard enough that Monica won’t take any money. She’s drowning in debt and refuses to let us help. I’ll pay for your flight down, hotel… whatever. Or I can have my lawyers come to you.”

“That’s not necessary, Jack. When is the deposition?”

Jack hesitated on the phone. “Yeah… uh, it’s tomorrow in LA. Sorry for the short notice.”

It didn’t matter. There was no way he’d be able to rest until he knew he dispelled any rumors about Monica’s reasons for going to Jamaica. Yeah, she’d probably be pissed to have her fiancé know the details about their brief affair, but it was better than losing her career.

Trent ended the call to Jack and called his brother back. “Hey, Jason.”

“Everything OK?”

“No, actually. I need to go to LA.” He glanced into the hangar at his ride. “And I’m going to blow my cover to get there.”

“Seriously? Must be bad… or good. You gonna be a daddy or something?”

Trent actually stumbled when he walked into the hangar. He hadn’t even considered the possibility.

“Trent?”

“Ah. No.”
Shit… maybe.
“It’s important.”

“Do what you gotta do. We have your back.” Jason hung up.

Trent opened the hatch to the Citation and jumped inside. He took in the cockpit, checked the hours, did a quick once-over, and then exited the plane. He noticed one of the airport mechanics and waved him down. After a quick instruction, he made his way into the pilots’ lounge and dispatch. The girl behind the desk smiled as he approached.

“I need the Citation fueled and a flight plan filed for a one-way to LA. I’ll be leaving in an hour.” He wanted to get out of Seattle before the storm that was following this drizzle set in.

She narrowed her eyes. “I didn’t get a call.”

Frank heard him and walked over. “Watcha doing, TJ?”

Ignoring him, Trent walked into the manager’s office. Frank followed and took his ridiculous glasses off his face.

The manager, Cornelius something or other, shared a confused look as Trent went to the logbooks to check the maintenance schedule. “I’m taking the Citation. Probably be gone a couple of days.”

“Excuse me?”

For the first time he realized he looked like a lunatic. Trent grabbed the book he needed and turned toward the boss. He extended his hand. “Trent Fairchild. Call Jason if you need a replacement.” He flashed a smile at Frank and took a brisk walk to his car. He could be at the hotel he was staying in, pack a bag, and be in the air within an hour.