Taking Flight (A Devereux Novel) (17 page)

The plane engine sputtered and died.

Derek smiled. The day’s
practice runs had gone even better than he expected. There was no chance Rex
could beat him if he flew like that in the race tomorrow. He had shattered his
previous competition records on every single run, coming in far ahead of his pre-season
flights.

If being with Sara will always make me feel like this, there’s no way
she’s ever going back to Chicago!

He had been running on a
high ever since waking up that morning. The way she looked into his eyes… it
gave him warm and fuzzy feelings he had never experienced before. He’d never
been able to resist teasing Gary when his little brother became entrenched in a
relationship, but here he was on the other side of the fence and suddenly he
understood.

There was no room for error,
and Derek didn’t want to leave anything to chance, especially with whoever was
out there trying to hurt him and those he loved. The post-flight checks were
onerous, but he did them twice, leaving the plane in the best possible state
for the race tomorrow. It was a sacred task, a ritual he used to prepare his
mind for the intense mental highs and lows of a race. After so many practice
runs and preparation, it always came down to one final attempt. No more room
for mistakes, no more time to visualize
himself
roaring to victory.

The plane was perfect. He
kept it in top shape, but it still gave him a sense of satisfaction to know
just how great the condition of the vehicle was, a finely tuned machine that
was ready and waiting to respond to his every command. He locked the hangar.

“Look who it is.”

Derek froze. He would
recognize that despicable voice anywhere.

“Rex, why are you slinking
around my hangar? Did you see my runs today and realize you had no chance of
beating me in the air?”

He turned to face the other
pilot. Rex leaned against the corrugated metal side of the hangar.

“Oh, I’m not concerned about
that. You aren’t a threat to my winning the bet—that fifty million is as
good as mine. I’ve already picked out what I’ll spend it on. Does that bitch of
yours like mega yachts? She digs me, so it shouldn’t be hard to convince her to
come take a trip with me. She’s got a fine ass, Derek. I’m looking forward to
smacking it while I fuck all memory of you out of her mind.”

Derek was on him in a flash,
pushing Rex up against the wall with his hand on the other man’s throat. “Shut
your fucking face,” he said, murderous intent clear in his voice. “You would
never stand a chance with a woman like Sara. She’d see right through your
slime.”

Rex just grinned and didn’t
bother trying to wrest himself free of Derek’s grasp. “We’ll see. Maybe you’ll
push yourself too hard tomorrow and crash, and then you won’t be around. I’ll
help her get over you.”

Was that a threat?
The one thing pilots never did was
tell
another pilot to crash, no matter what their feelings about each other were.

The other pilot’s presence
around his hanger was even more suspicious. “If you try to mess with my plane,
Rex, you will have a whole world of hurt coming to you. There’s no way you
would get past my security, first of all, and then I will see you put in jail
for a long time. And that’s assuming I don’t find you before the police do.”

“Hey, who do you think I am?
I’m just here for friendly banter before the race. It wouldn’t seem right not
getting jabs in before the big show, especially with so much on the line for
this one. I don’t need to play with your equipment to beat you, Devereux. I’ll
lay down a run for the record books, and you won’t be able to touch it even if
your life depended on it.” His voice was sleazy, oily, and the way he kept
putting emphasis on certain words did nothing to allay Derek’s suspicions.

Derek shoved Rex
away,
making him stumble a little as his back came off the
hard, wavy metal wall. “Get out of here, Rex. I don’t want to see you until
it’s time for me to take your money from you tomorrow. You make me sick.”

He stalked
away,
angry at the other pilot and the way he seemed
specially engineered to make him lose his cool. Derek renewed his goal to
destroy Rex. It wasn’t about the money—it never was. Rex had become
dangerous, a potential threat to him and the people he cared about.

He was threatening me there. Could he be the one after my life?

Derek had entertained and
dismissed the thought before, but Rex’s taunts forced him to reconsider. The
attacks hadn’t started until after the bet was made. Maybe he’d been right
about Evan’s paranoia all along, and his brother’s incidents were unrelated.

With no proof, there wasn’t
much Derek could do about it except to have him followed. Even then, there was
no guarantee of catching him in any wrongdoing.

As he climbed into his
Maserati, Derek forced himself to take a deep breath and settle his emotions.
He was meeting Sara for dinner, and it wouldn’t do to have her see him all
worked up before the big race she had urged him not to fly in. She had good
reasons, but his were more important to him. Pride was the driving factor in
everything he did, and if he didn’t have his
honor
,
he wouldn’t be himself.

The ride back to his house
was longer than usual. He took his usual scenic route, but he didn’t race along
the curves and bends as he usually did. Instead he spent the entire trip on his
phone, calling a few places and making arrangements for the coming night. He
was determined to make things up to Sara for bringing her into such a dangerous
situation.

The intensity of his
feelings for her surprised him. It was unlike anything he had ever been a part
of. The way she looked at him, made him laugh, made him feel—it was
extraordinary, and made him feel like he was in an old-time movie. People
weren’t supposed to fall for one another like this anymore.

When he pulled up to his
drive he was unsurprised to find no evidence anyone had left. All the cars were
still there.

Good.

“Hello?” he called as he
entered his front door. “Everyone here?”

He smiled as he heard Sara’s
voice from the living room. “We’re back here. Come join us!”

To his surprise, his brother
and the two girls played Jeff’s game,
Roego
, gathered
in a circle around one of the low coffee tables. They were deep in a round,
intent on their cards and the game pieces in play.

“This is a little
unexpected,” Derek said. “How did you convince them to play, Gary?”

His brother winced as he
drew a card from the deck. “Convince? Sara forced me to teach them how to play
it. She said she’d gotten a glimpse of it here the other night and wanted to
try. Little did I know I was in for a world of
pain.
These two women are way too devious for their own good. I’m not even sure they
should be allowed to play. The way they think is too twisted for any male to
stand a chance.”

“You know, Rachel won the
other night by turning Jeff’s ideas of the optimal strategies on their head.
You might be onto something there.”

Becky rolled the die on her
turn and laughed. “Oh, Gary, just wait until you see this!” She moved her game
pieces in a big spiral shift, which pitted all of her strongest men against his
weaker support pieces. It was a massacre. “This game is so fun! I’ve never
gotten into board games before, but I can totally see the appeal now.”

Gary groaned. Derek slapped
him on the shoulder. “I wish I could say well fought, little brother, but it
looks like you got thoroughly destroyed. Are you sure you didn’t bump your head
too much on the way down those stairs last night?”

“Is it too late to claim
injury?” Gary said. “You might be onto something there, bro. No matter what I
do, it isn’t enough.”

Sara looked up from the game
board. “How was flying? Do you feel ready for tomorrow? I’m a little surprised
to see you back already, to be honest.”

“I wanted to catch you
before you ate dinner,” Derek said. “How do you feel about going downtown for
something a little special? I want to show you my
favorite
spot to eat. The chef is a good friend of mine and creates these masterpieces
you have to taste to believe.”

Her face lit up the way he
found so charming, like an extra bit of radiance shone out through her cheeks
and lit up her hair to an even brighter sheen of pure gold. “I would like that!
I don’t know if I have anything to wear though…”

Becky spoke up. “Yes, you
do! I made a new dress, the first in the second generation of Becky Williams
evening wear.” She looked between her friend and Derek. “Something told me you
might need something of that nature relatively quickly.”

“You are a hero, Beck,” Sara
said. “Thank you so much!”

The dress was beautiful.

Becky’s passion for her art
was clear to see, and Sara was impressed by her roommate’s ability and style.
Her friend had been talking and dreaming about being a big fashion designer ever
since they were little girls, and to see it on the verge of fruition was an
amazing feeling.

She always wanted to be a famous fashion designer, and I always wanted
to be a famous journalist. I guess we both can make it, although there’s a lot
more work to be done.

Sara sat in the passenger
seat of a ridiculously expensive car. She wasn’t certain what the make and
model were—she wasn’t a car person by any stretch of the imagination.
Michael would have been able to tell her the name of the car, how many horsepower,
the country of origin of most of the parts, and the sticker price, but he was
no longer there for her. Would never be again. She looked over at Derek, and
for the first time the hollow sadness at the thought wasn’t as crushing as it
usually was.

His hand left the shifter
once he got up to speed and found hers. It was a warm comfort, and it felt
nice. She hadn’t held hands while riding in a car with anyone since Michael had
died.

“Where are we going?” she
asked. “I’ve been meaning to try new places in the city, but I never get out as
often as I would like.”

He winked at her. “It’s a
secret. You’ll see when we get there. Trust me, you won’t be disappointed. It
will be a proper night out. I haven’t given you one of those yet.”

She would have begged to
differ, but she was curious to see what constituted a proper night out for
someone like Derek Devereux. As much as she felt she had learned about him over
the past week or two, he was still enigmatic in many other ways. Even though
she had made the difficult decision to shelve her story, it didn’t prevent her
from wanting to hear everything there was to know about him. If anything, her
need to know him had grown stronger since their union the night before.

It wasn’t a long drive to
get where they were going. In just fifteen minutes they pulled to a stop in
front of a fancy glass building bursting with light. She read the sign and lost
her composure.

“Derek? Are you sure? I
heard that this place is hundreds of dollars per plate! Don’t feel you need to
spend money to impress me!”

Her response felt silly a
moment later when she remembered he had billions of dollars and could buy the
restaurant without noticing.

He chuckled. “I’ll tell you
a secret, Sara. When you have lots of money, it’s cheaper than you’d think to
get around. Remember how I said the chef is a good friend of mine? I have never
even received a bill from eating here. When you take care of your friends, they
take care of you—if they are the right friends.”

It was a strange concept.
She had the average person’s equivalent, getting a free drink at a bar because
her friend was the bartender, but this was another level.
A
crazy level.

Derek got out of the car and
hustled around. Sara hadn’t expected the
maneuver
and
already opened her door, but then he was there, offering his hand to help her
up and out of the low-slung vehicle. It felt incredibly chivalrous, and despite
being an independent woman and able to take care of herself, the gesture felt
good.

He took it further, pulling
her tight against him as she rose, until they wound up in a tight embrace. Her
breath left her as his nearness overwhelmed her. “Thank you.”

His lips dipped down and
claimed her mouth for a brief second, rising back up and leaving her frustrated
and searching for more. He laughed softly—a gentle, delighted
sound—when he saw the look on her face.

“Shall we?” he asked and
offered his arm as his other hand flipped the keys to the waiting valet. The
young man’s eyes widened when he saw who had just entrusted their car to him.

It was still relatively
early, but the restaurant was packed when they walked through the front doors.
The amount of light shining through the air was
astonishing
,
with fantastical chandeliers featuring multiple tiers centering each section of
the rooms. They were masterpieces in their own right, with hundreds of light
bulbs, shards of glass, and tiny mirrors all arranged in wondrous manners.
Spears of light splintered and focused on works of art strategically placed
around the establishment, and the whole setup formed a brilliant sculpture the
likes of which Sara had never seen before. It was awe-inspiring, but somehow
not overwhelming.

A stunning brunette hostess
in a black dress smiled welcomingly at them as they strolled up.

“Ah, Mr. Devereux, we are
honored
you’ve chosen to come and dine with us this
evening. Shall I let Chef Aiken know you have arrived?”

Derek smiled at her, and
Sara felt a touch of jealousy. It was odd seeing his considerable charm turned
on another woman, even if it was only for politeness’s sake. “Thank you,
Pauline, that would be excellent of you.”

“Please come with me and
I’ll seat you in your usual spot,” she said.

They trailed behind as she
guided them through the restaurant. In keeping with the theme of light,
spotlights placed far above shone down to illuminate the waitresses as though
they were angels walking among the tables. Each was heartbreakingly beautiful
to boot. Derek turned to Sara. “I may come here a lot,” he said with a grin.
“Possibly even a little too much. I enjoy cooking for myself, but it’s hard to
justify when Rich does it so much better than I ever could.”

“I don’t know,” Sara said,
shaking her head a little. “How good could it be?”

Derek faux-gasped and looked
around in an exaggerated manner. “
Shh
! If anyone
hears you speak such blasphemy, they might kick us out and never let me come
back. That would be a fate worse than death.”

Sara giggled. “Seems a
little off-color, considering the circumstances, don’t you think?”

Their cheer dimmed at the
reminder of the danger awaiting them around every corner.

“It’s possible in these
times we need to laugh a little more and a little harder to make up for the
difference.”

It was a more optimistic
view than Sara expected out of the man. He surprised her in the most unexpected
and excellent ways.

They reached the table
Pauline had set aside for them. A bottle of Moet sat in a bucket of ice on the
table, and a single rose lay across the setting that must be meant for Sara.
Derek whipped it off and offered it to her with a graceful flourish and bow.

“My lady.”

Sara had never been the type
to want a prince charming. Half the reason she and Michael had worked so well
was because each treated the other like an equal who didn’t need fawning over.
It was what Sara had always wanted, but despite that long-held view she felt a
tug on her heart at Derek’s actions and words. Being his lady sounded nice.

“My lord,” she said. When he
rose from his bow, she sank into as deep a curtsy as she could pull off without
falling over. He rewarded her with a wide grin, the kind that crinkled his eyes
and made them sparkle. She wanted to make his eyes
do that
as often as she could.

In keeping with the general
gallantry he had adopted for the evening, he pulled her chair out for her and
tucked it in behind her.

“Would you like me to pour
the champagne or do you need anything else?” Pauline asked.

“No, thank you, this is
great,”
Derek
said. “Just tell that knave of a chef to
come out and see me when he has a moment.”

By the time Derek had popped
the cork on the champagne and finished pouring the two glasses, a man
approached the table
who
could only be the
aforementioned chef. He wore a stylish but functional white jacket that was
mostly clean but was peppered with sauce as though he’d been shot in the most
delicious battlefield.

“Derek Devereux!” the man
exclaimed. “It is excellent to see you! And who is this beauty you brought to
grace the floor of my restaurant?” He held out his hand and captured Sara’s in
it, bringing it to his lips and barely brushing them against the back of her
hand.

“Rich, this is Sara. She
said no chef could cook better than she could, so I brought her here to try to
knock some sense into her head.”

“Hey!” she protested. “That
is out of context!”

The chef clutched at his
chest as though his heart had just exploded. “Say it isn’t so! Another woman
with designs to throw me out on the street to become a destitute bum, no longer
fit to cook for the soup kitchen. I shall hang my hat in shame and drag my feet
to the unemployment line.”

Sara tried to keep a severe
look on her face as she glared at Derek, but a smirk wormed its way onto her
lips. It was impossible to contain herself with Chef Aiken’s antics to deal
with. He was a character.

“What do you feel like
cooking tonight, Rich?” Derek asked him. “I’ve always been partial to your bone
marrow, so maybe do that up as a course, but I want you to have free rein to
cook whatever you feel like doing for us.”

Sara had never been to a
restaurant and ordered in this manner. She wasn’t sure what to think about it,
but apparently knowing the chef meant playing by different rules than most
people.

The chef appeared to love
the freedom and challenge that Derek presented him. “Oh, never fear, my good
friend. This lady won’t know what hit her taste buds by the time you arrive at
the dessert course. She’ll laugh, she’ll cry, and it won’t be long before she
admits she wants nothing more than to have me cook her every meal for the rest
of her life. Have you told her about your offer yet?”

Derek shook his head, “Not
yet. I was going to after we’d had the first course and she realized the true
extent of your mastery. But judging by her puzzled look, I won’t get away with
waiting that long. What Rich is referring to is the offer I made him after the
first time I came and ate here. I was so impressed I offered him five million
dollars a year to come and live at my house and cook all my meals for me.”

Sara stared back in
amazement and then looked up at Rich. “Really? And you didn’t take it?”

“No, I couldn’t do that.
It’s more and easier money than I’m making now, but I’m not in it for the cash.
I love the challenge of owning a restaurant and creating masterful dishes every
night. I could do that for Derek, but it wouldn’t be on the same scale or level
of what I can do here.”

It was an admirable outlook.
Sara could understand—she wouldn’t be able to give up her line of work
either, even if she were to end up marrying Derek.

Easy, Sara.
It was the first time she
had mentioned the “M” word about Derek, even internally. It was a dangerous
line of thinking she wasn’t ready to get into, even if things had been getting
more serious between them so quickly.

Rich took his leave, and
they finally dipped into the champagne.

“Here’s to new beginnings,
and exploring possibilities,” Derek said, lifting his glass. The fine crystal
clinked with a clear, pure tone.

The bubbly was better than
what she was used to drinking. It rolled across her tongue so smoothly she
could have sworn someone had bottled velvet. The effervescence lifted the
flavor
off her tongue with a light, delicate touch. It was
delightful.