Skylar knew it was childish to believe such foolishness, but her hesitation to look down gave credence to the notion that Petrol was right. To her dismay, the knife had found its mark in the floor, in between her bare feet. When she twisted the knife and tried to pull it free, about three centimeters snapped from the blade’s tip, leaving it jagged.
“Are you kidding me?”
Rummaging through several drawers, she discovered a whetstone. She set to work, rounding the tip of the knife and adding a sharp edge to it. Then she studied her handiwork and was fairly pleased with the results. In some strange way, restoring the knife had given her control over it, while at the same time, strengthening her commitment to Dylan.
The cordless house phone began ringing. Skylar set the knife down on the counter before picking up the receiver. “Hello?” she said, then waited for an answer.
“Hi Skylar…it’s Lily.” Her mother’s voice sounded remarkably cheery. “Dylan asked me to check in to see how everything was going. Did you have a chance to call your family? I’m sure they must be worried sick about you.”
My family? There was no doubt about it. Lily wanted her gone. This seemed rather impertinent with the danger they were facing, but then Skylar herself was an intrusive guest. “Sorry,” she managed to say. “I got distracted while driving to the airport. I’ll try to find other accommodations today.”
“That’s really not necessary. I just assumed your family was living close by. Anyway, Dylan told me how you had offered to help us, and that means a great deal to me. I know it’s a poor excuse, but it’s been hard for me to trust people lately. And I truly didn’t mean to sound harsh…especially to one of Dylan’s friends. Please make yourself at home for as long as you’d like, Skylar, and let me know if you need anything. I’m only a phone call away.”
Who was this person? The mother Skylar had known could care less what people thought, and she certainly wouldn’t go out of her way to offer anything free, especially to a stranger. For as long as she could remember, Lily spent her days drinking, shooting up, popping pills, and snorting coke. She didn’t roll out of bed until the middle of the day, if not later. She sold herself for the money it took to keep a roof over their heads and her pimp satisfied. By the age of seven, Skylar had become her full-time caretaker—taking cigarettes out of her hand, cleaning their disgusting apartment, washing her underwear and filthy clothes. Forging her mother’s name on checks to keep the lights and heat on, until the manager showed up with a bounced check and eviction notice.
“Skylar? Are you still there?” Lily asked.
“Yes…yes, of course,” she answered. “Thank you. I’m hoping to be gone soon anyway. But I do appreciate you allowing me to stay here. By the way, would you mind if I spoke to Dylan? For just a moment? I’d like to thank him as well.”
Skylar blew out a nervous breath. She hated being the bearer of bad news. However, under present circumstances, she had little choice.
“I believe congratulations are in order,” Dylan said in a sweet, singsong voice. “We made it official at the Chapel of Love with Elvis officiating. You would have loved it, Sky. He put on a show just for us. And then the hotel manager sent a bottle of pink champagne to our room. With Lily being pregnant, she could only enjoy a small glass, but I’m sure she’ll make up for it when our baby is born.”
Indeed, she would.
“So how’s everything going there?” he asked. “Did you get a chance to see Ethan?”
Skylar cleared her throat. “That’s what I wanted to talk to you about.” She paused, keenly aware that more than two ears were listening. “He had a slight mishap and is laid up in the hospital. I’m hoping to visit him later today and maybe find another mechanic to get the work done on your plane.”
“A mishap, you say…” Although Dylan’s voice remained light and calm, and he gave no obvious sign of anger, Skylar sensed a chill emanating from him. “That wouldn’t have anything to do with his little problem, now would it?”
“I really don’t know. I’ve been told that he’s…umm…in bad shape. And I thought with you being gone—”
Dylan’s tone lost all sense of mirth. “We’ll be home in a few hours.”
“Are you sure? Lily won’t be happy to hear that—”
“Some things are more important, and Ethan just happens to be one of them.”
“I suppose you’re right.” What could she say with the police listening? There had to be a way to warn him. Perhaps a clue he could pick up on. “By the way, I don’t have any plans for dinner tonight. Maybe we could meet at Sky Terrace and have a celebratory drink together…”
“Really? A drink? Like a vodka soda?”
“Sure. Why not?”
“But I thought you said—”
“You shouldn’t believe everything you hear in this house…especially from outsiders.”
There was a long pause before Dylan added, “Well then, the Sky Terrace it is.”
Skylar hung up the phone, silently cursing herself. Deception had never been her strong suit, even with her loathsome roots.
After tossing her burnt toast, she returned the jam to the fridge. Then she walked into the bathroom and turned on the shower. When the steam had built up sufficiently, she took off Dylan’s t-shirt and climbed inside. If Barillas’ men were listening, they could be watching as well. The unnerving speculation left her covering herself with a washcloth and staring up at the edge of the shower door. How was she supposed to figure out a solution to all their problems with her privacy being invaded?
Skylar dried off quickly. She pulled on her jeans and slipped on a clean long-sleeve shirt—the one Lily had insisted she borrow. Then she combed her hair into a ponytail and checked her reflection in the mirror. Sleep deprivation was beginning to show on her face and in her thinking process too, leaving her mind fuzzy and dark circles under her eyes. But one thought remained constant. She needed to get to the hospital to check on Ethan as soon as possible and to forget about the entertainment she was providing.
After opening the garage door and backing Dylan’s car out, her stomach growled again, reminding her of its empty state. She drove to the closest Gas Buddy station, keenly aware of the white van pulling into a nearby parking spot. She rested her head on the black steering wheel and let out a huge sigh. Nothing was going to come easy today. Not in this world. And especially not with Barillas involved.
A couple minutes passed, then Skylar grabbed her wallet, took out a few bills, and got out of the car. A brisk wind washed over her body, helping to wake her up. The sun was covered by gloomy clouds, alluding to the possibility of rain. She walked into the store, squinting her eyes from the quick change of light. When they adjusted, she walked around, deciding what to get. She grabbed a bag of her favorite corn chips and tore it open. As she munched on a mouthful, she made her way to the drink section and heard the bell ring again, indicating that someone else had entered the store.
Ah, yes. It was one of Barillas’ men—the guy behind the steering wheel. He had a shaggy brown beard, average-looking street clothes, and an angry as hell expression. As he approached the dog food aisle, Skylar found herself wondering if he naturally looked mad all the time, or if he was simply frustrated by the boring assignment he’d been given.
Turning back to the cooler along the wall, Skylar scanned for a potential candidate to quench her thirst. After grabbing a few Coca-Cola products, she turned to walk up to the counter, only to bump into the angry stroller. He didn’t say anything, just stared at her with a menacing look. Skylar stepped to the right, allowing him room to pass, and he stepped to the same side.
“My bad?” she said, feeling slightly uncomfortable from the vibe he gave off.
Before walking around her, he looked straight into her eyes and growled, “Yeah, you’re bad.” His voice was raspy and deep, making him just a scarier man all around. He pushed past her to get to the drinks, and she was left stunned by his natural rudeness.
She reached the c
ounter, ready to get her stuff and leave. The young woman at the cash register rung her up. “That will be $8.89.”
Skylar handed her a ten-dollar bill and waited.
“So what are you doing in this old, boring town?” the woman asked, while fishing in the cash register drawer. “You don’t look like a gambler to me.”
“Just passing through,” Skylar glanced around. The man who had followed her into the store was nowhere in sight.
The woman handed over her exact change. “Where you headed?” she asked.
Skylar stuffed the change into her pocket. “The hospital. Is it still on Milton Drive?”
Her eyes widened a bit. “It is. Do you have family there? I sure hope it’s nothing serious.”
“So do I. It’s just ten miles up the road, right?”
“Last I remember. Did you need a map too? They’re on the rack behind you.” The woman glanced past her to the next customer in line.
“I think I can find it,” Skylar said. “Thanks.” She collected her items and headed out of the store. When she reached Dylan’s car, she set her snacks on the passenger seat. Then she pulled the car door shut behind her. After opening her can of Diet Coke, she threw back a long swallow and grabbed a handful of chips. The driver in the white van hadn’t returned yet. From her viewpoint, she could see him waiting behind two other customers at the register, shuffling from side to side.
Perfect. This was her best chance to escape from Barillas’ men.
Pulling out of the parking lot, she was relieved to find the main road mostly empty, with the exception of an occasional car passing by. Dylan’s phone rang inside her back pocket, starling her. She leaned forward, pulled it out and recognized his voice immediately.
“What’s going on?” he asked. “Are you okay?” Noises erupted in the background, sounding like slot machines and random people talking.
“Yes, but the house isn’t.” She realized how horrible that sounded. “I mean, it’s not safe there anymore. At least, not for you. The police planted bugs in your house and have been listening to everything, so I’m sure they know all about your upcoming trip. And that guy Julian…you know, the psycho that attacked you? Well, he doesn’t exist anymore. Detective Barillas made sure of it, which makes me wonder if he’s really who he claims to be.”
“Shit! Well, don’t do anything until I get there. Lily is shopping for new clothes at the fashion mall. I’ll drop her off at the house, then I’ll meet you at Sky Terrace.”
“Not necessary,” she said, steering with one hand. “I only said that to warn you. Actually, I’m on my way to the hospital to see your friend Ethan. I understand he was beaten up yesterday. There’s reason to believe he knows how to get you out of this mess, which is probably why he’s a threat to the cartel. I’ll find out what I can and let you know where I end up.”
Skylar ended the call and noticed headlights flashing in her rearview mirror. She tried to see who it was, but in the back of her mind, she already knew. Stepping down on the gas, she took the first turn she could find. The car rolled down a graveled road, dirt flying with the speed she was going. The van behind her sped down the same road, getting closer. Skylar swerved, turning the car’s rear end south. She sped away, trying to find a way to get back onto the main road and ended up in the middle of a cow pasture. The van made the same maneuver with ease, catching up with her in seconds flat.
Skylar shoved the gas pedal to the floor, flew over a huge bump and kept going. As the grass got taller, she realized she had no idea where she was headed. But at least the van was gone, and she could get to the hospital without being followed.
She traveled close to another mile with no cars in sight. Then it suddenly occurred to her that maybe Barillas’ men got a call involving another shooting. If that was the case, then she could be a sitting target, waiting for someone to find her. She opened the glove box, pulled out the gun and tucked it into the back of her waistband. At least it would be easy to grab should anyone find reason to threaten her.
Skylar was still driving across the pasture, hoping to discover the main road, when a new car came into view—an unmarked vehicle with lights flashing red and blue. She pulled over and parked in the tall grass. Her heart was beating wildly in her chest. A cop was walking toward her, wearing sunglasses and tight lips. If he told her get out of the car for any reason, there was a good chance he’d see the gun.
Putting on a straight face, she asked, “What’s the problem?” She looked at the man’s name tag, pinned on his uniform. “Officer Williams?”
“Do you realize you’re doing sixty in a forty-five?” His southern accent was unmistakable. “You’re also on private property and need to get this car moved right away.”
“I’m sorry. I didn’t see a sign posted anywhere. I must’ve taken a wrong turn.” She could feel the gun shift and quickly adjusted it, while keeping her eyes on the cop’s face.
“Something wrong?” he asked.
“Just an itch.”
The cop eyed her for a few more seconds, apparently deciding whether to believe her or not. “I’ll let you off with a warning this time, but you need to drive safely, Miss. And try to keep your car on the road.”
Skylar could feel the tension in her body ease slightly. “Thanks, officer. I promise to do better.” She smiled, and he went on his way with a quick wave.
Shit! That was close. Skylar put the car in gear and eased her way out of the field. When she reached the graveled road, she returned to her mission of finding the hospital. The long stretch of highway behind her remained empty. She had barely traveled three miles when the same bright headlights flashed in her mirror, giving her a sense of déjà vu. Her nervousness evolved into anger. It wasn’t the van, but after a few turns, she was confident that a black car was following her.
She turned down a private dirt road and parked next to a sign marked Boones Development Company. Too bad no one was working today. A few witnesses might have made her situation a little less grim. Only the big yellow back hoe parked between her and the nearest house would be a witness to whatever was going to go down.
A black Lexus circled around her and parked right beside her. But the driver didn’t shut off his engine, and the van was still nowhere in sight. Skylar adjusted the gun in the back of her waistband and waited. The tinted window on the driver’s side rolled down, and a strange character came into view. The man was a broad, muscle-bound heathen. He had dark hair that he wore long and swept-back on top and short on the sides. He also had black tattooed crosses covering his neck and a red rose with a knife piercing it on the side of his face.
“Why are you following me?” she demanded to know. “What do you want?”
“You need to come with me,” he said. He held up a photograph taken with a telephoto lens. “This is you, right?”
Skylar was stunned to see her face in the black and white image. She felt her stomach clench and the warm gun against her back. “Who are you?”
“Volkov,” the man answered. “And you’re Juan Alvarez’s new pilot.”
She shook her head. “You’ve got me mixed up with someone else. I’m a stunt pilot. I got turned around and don’t even belong here.”
He handed her a business card through the window, as if it would clarify everything.
Juan Alvarez, President
Melvco Imports
Glassware and Pigskin Luggage
1414 Maclovia St.
Santa Fe, N.M. 87505
“This means nothing to me,” she said, attempting to hand it back. “Like I said, I don’t belong here.”
He tore the photo in half and glared at her. “Tell that to Alvarez.”
Skylar’s heart was racing. “I don’t think so.”
He backed his car up, blocking her from driving forward. Then he jumped out of his vehicle, grabbed hold of her door handle and jerked it open. “You’re coming with me! Now get in my car!”
She shifted Dylan’s car into reverse. She had only backed up a f
ew feet when she heard pounding and yelling coming from inside the gangster’s trunk.
“Let me out of here! Let me out of here!”
Not thinking clearly, she climbed out of the car and rushed over to the trunk. “What the hell is going on here?”
Volkov walked up behind her. He stood with his feet slightly apart and his hands clenched at his sides. He inched forward, adding intimidation to his list of crimes. “You’re coming with me. Now get in my car!”
“Let me out!” The man yelled again. His voice was slightly familiar, but Skylar couldn’t place where she’d heard it before.
“Who is that?” she asked Volkov. “Why is he in there?”
Volkov stepped around her and pulled a semi-automatic pistol from the back of his jeans. She couldn’t help noticing the silencer on it, adding angst to her churning thoughts.
“Shut up or die!” He screamed at the trunk.
It was quiet for a few seconds, then the pounding started again. Volkov fired twice over the top of the trunk, silencing the hostage and confirming the threat in front of her. Skylar jerked Dylan’s gun from her waistband and cocked the hammer back. She looked down the sight of the gun, taking aim at Volkov’s back.
Hearing the clicking sound, he froze in place. Then he stole a look over his shoulder, cool, dark and deadly. “I wouldn’t do that if I were you.”
“Too late,” she said. “You better hope whoever is in there is still breathing.”
“And what if they aren’t?”
“Then neither are you.”
Volkov spun around pistol first, and Skylar pulled the trigger. The rest happened in slow motion. The ear-splitting bang. Volkov falling to the ground. Gun powder filling her nose.
Skylar’s hands were shaking so hard she almost dropped the gun. She looked at the weapon in her hand and back at the man. He wasn’t moving. She squatted down and gently set the pistol on the ground. Oh my God, what did I do?
A knock from inside the trunk pulled Skylar out of her rising panic.
“Hello?” The person in the trunk asked timidly. “Is someone out there?”
Skylar found the key fob still in the ignition. When she released the trunk she found a man with both arms over his head, prepared for another beating. He was dressed in a blue hospital gown, blinking rapidly and trying to see in the bright light. He was also trying to discern who had won the confrontation he had just heard. Friend or foe? His face was swollen and badly bruised, but she had no problem identifying him. Ethan Edwards. She had never seen his face without a mustache, but there was no doubt in her mind who she had rescued.
High Flying Page 11
