Two Crazy, One Wild

by Shaye Marlow

  Zack caught up to me just as I reached the airplane, and my body mourned as I saw he’d pulled on his shirt. We finished our walk-around and once inside, I pointed out the instruments. He showed no knowledge of any of it.

  “Do you even have a textbook?”

  He shook his head.

  “Order one,” I said. “I probably have an old one you can borrow till then. You’ll also need a medical certificate to get your pilot’s license. Make an appointment.”

  He was practically laughing with glee as I gave the engine gas and we zoomed up over the trees. I showed him the controls, had him swing us to the left and right, and reminded him to watch for other airplanes. Within an hour, I was pretty confidently sitting back while he concentrated on keeping our altitude steady and wings level.

  Then Zack dug in his pocket and pulled out his phone.

  “It’s illegal to use that while you’re flying.”

  “I just wanna check the time… shit. We gotta go back. We have an expert that’s supposed to be showing up at two.”

  “What kind of expert?”

  “The catapult kind.”

  “You know, the longer we stay up here, the faster we can get this over with. You need at least forty hours of flight time.” If we could manage five-hour blocks, I could theoretically be done in eight days.

  “Yeah, but I told Rory I’d be there. We’re gonna do a twenty-catapult salute, and I’m manning the catapults on one side.”

  “You’re serious?” At his affirmative, I groaned, then pulled us into a turn. A few minutes later, we were back on the ground.

  Rory and the ‘expert’ pulled up to the dock soon after. Rory ran up ahead, leaving his dark-haired and bespectacled friend in the boat. Upon standing, the expert revealed himself to be built like one of those bendy toys, and at Rory’s signal, he climbed up onto the lawn. To either side, the brothers had set up a row of catapults, leaving a wide alley through which Bendy could walk. His eyes lit up when twenty catapults fired, peppering the house and shop with mixed nuts.

  After that, Rory ran forward to talk excitedly to his new best friend. Moving to join them, Zack glanced back at me.

  I propped my hand on my hip, wondering if he could tell how irritated I was. He’d worked so damn hard to get me here, had claimed to want to learn to fly so damn badly…

  Rory slung an arm around his brother and dragged him into their little huddle. From the sounds they were making, they found discussing catapults as stimulating as my dad’s men found killing things. Heads together like a group of teenage girls, they headed toward the shop.

  …And now he was walking away? As a rule, men didn’t walk away from me.

  “Hey!” I called.

  Zack looked around only when a pebble bounced off the back of his head.

  “Are we going back up today?” I asked.

  “No, no,” said Rory, shoving his brother toward the door. “We don’t have time for that. We’re behind schedule. You won’t see him for the rest of the day, sorry.”

  Zack didn’t argue, and didn’t resist. After they’d all filed into the shop, Rory shot me a smug glance before slamming a door that might as well’ve had “BOYS ONLY” stenciled on it.

  I hated being ignored. It was a sore point for me, always had been. So, I climbed back into my airplane, fired it up, and flew away.

  George was waiting for me in my room. He dwarfed the floral-upholstered chair he lurked in, a deeper spot of darkness in the shadowy space. When I was younger, I’d been half-convinced my dad was a vampire, because of moments like this. Though, in all the time I’d known him, he’d never once done his dark-and-sinister thing in my room. That’s right, folks. He’d never told me a bedtime story, never tucked me in, nor comforted me when I had a nightmare.

  “What do you want?” I asked.

  “Why, to compliment you on your aim,” he said, his voice seeming to slither through the air between us.

  “Uh-huh.” I set down my flight bag.

  “And to remind you that you owe me. Twenty-five years, I fed you, housed you—”

  “Actually, I managed to escape you for six of those. College, you know, which you didn’t help with.”

  His rant continued while I talked.

  I raised my voice. “And before that… should a child really be indebted to their parent for providing the minimum of physiological needs, when they didn’t even ask to be brought into this world?”

  “—cleaned up after you, changed your diapers—”

  “Is there a point to this?” I demanded, tired of not listening to him. I was baiting the bear, yeah. But with my father, as in the wild, to show fear or weakness was just asking to be chased down and eaten.

  “You owe me,” he said, “for the past year.”

  I sighed, wondering if good dads actually existed. “What do you want?”

  He stood, and the darkness rose with him. “Information,” he said, caressing each syllable as though it were his favorite. And hell, maybe it was. Find their weakness, he liked to say. Find a person’s weakness, and you can control them.

  “About?”

  “These Adderack boys you’ve fallen in with.”

  I waved a hand. “They’re loons.”

  “Oh, I agree. Completely. But until we know what makes them tick—”

  “You want their greatest weakness? It’s each other. Hurt one, and you hurt the other. Bam, done. End of story. You can get out of my room now.”

  George moved a single step closer, but it was a threat, clear as day. His expression was thoughtful, and frankly, that creeped me out more than anything. The only thing George ever ruminated about was hurting people.

  “And, what else have you learned about them?” he asked.

  I grimaced. I didn’t want to give him fodder, didn’t want to see the brothers hurt. Didn’t want to see anyone hurt. Except, maybe, the bastard standing in front of me.

  “Frances, do we need to discuss what I’ll do if you don’t give me what I want?”

  I looked away, hoping he didn’t see the sudden sheen to my eyes. “No.” Twelve years, he’d been manipulating me this way. If I let myself think about it, I became so angry I wanted to shoot him.

  The fact that I had shot him, just last night, made me smile. “How’s that bullet hole treating you?”

  Another threatening step, and his lips peeled back from his teeth. “If you ever draw a gun on me again, I will break your fingers.”

  “Which ones?” I asked, keeping my voice artificially light. “I wanna know what I’m risking, here.”

  He was so close now, I had to crane my neck to meet his gaze. “All of them,” he said. “Every. Single. Bone. I have this little ball-peen hammer that—”

  Not wanting to hear any more, I started talking. “They have a bunch of catapults and a shop where they’re building some sort of new, experimental catapult….” Over the next five minutes, I told him everything I’d learned about the brothers. It wasn’t much. My father wasn’t real impressed with “Zack paints”, to say the least.

  “You’ll have to do better than that,” he growled. “And I want whatever you can find out about the rest of the neighborhood. Ed, in particular, and the bar. You teaching this idiot to fly is actually a great opportunity for us. You’ll be there, living amongst them, and you’ll keep your eyes and ears open for me,” he said, gripping my jaw to make me look at him, “won’t you, Frances?”

  I shook him off. “Yes. I will.”

  His eyes narrowed. “If you’re teaching him, why are you here?”

  I could tell him I’d been in the company of three men, all of whom found catapults more interesting than me, and so I’d flown off in a huff. Or, I could tell him a lie, which is how I’d been handling my father since I was old enough to talk—when I wasn’t outside, avoiding him entirely. “My room wasn’t quite ready.”

  He stared for a long moment, waiting for me to look away, or fidget, or show some other sign that I was lying. I gave him none.


  He finally nodded, accepting my answer. “I had your door fixed.” He waited a beat, and I knew exactly what he wanted.

  “Thank you, George.” I’d been calling him that since I figured out I didn’t want him to be my dad.

  “I also took the liberty of sealing your window,” he said. “So we don’t have any more incidents.”

  This didn’t come as a surprise to me. I was pissed, but not surprised. “How thoughtful of you,” I murmured. For only the millionth time, I wished that it’d been him who died, instead of my mom.

  I collapsed into the chair after he’d left, and simply concentrated on breathing. Emotions welled up, threatening to choke me, but I beat them back down.

  As I gazed into the shadows, Zack’s smile surfaced in my thoughts, his pride at how much I’d liked his painting. Inexplicably, I remembered huddling behind that ‘coffee table’ with him. I’d wanted to reach out and touch his face.

  I’d been terrified when he’d grabbed me, of course, because I hadn’t known him from Adam. But then the pair had proved to be so ridiculous, disarming in their disorganization… Zack could’ve hurt me when I’d been wrestling with him in his living room, could’ve knocked me out, tied me up, and taken what hadn’t been offered. But, he’d proven he wasn’t that kind of guy. Somewhere between his apology note, and him flapping his arms on the lawn, he’d grown on me. Even now, thinking of him brought a smile to my lips.

  A smile that flattened when I remembered Lucy. Irritated, and tired of being irritated, I popped to my feet. The place was quiet as I descended the stairs, most of the guides probably out doing their killing thing.

  I swung out the door, and the Rottweilers came running. Their ears were tucked, tail-less rumps wiggling as they crowded up to me.

  “Hey, guys. How’ve you been? Hmm?” I hunkered down to pet them, accepting their licks, letting their unconditional love soothe me. Animals were the opposite of my father, who dangled his regard like a carrot. Find their weakness echoed in my mind, and I hated that he knew mine.

  “Hey, now,” I said, nudging Olive back when her lips peeled away from her teeth, ready to snap at Basil. “I can pet you all, see?” I said, soothing her with some scratches under the chin. Daisy licked a spot under my ear, making me laugh, while Sage tried to crawl into my lap. They’d had some interesting names before they’d come into my possession. Sage had been Snake, Basil Brick, Olive was Old Lady, and Daisy’d been Maddog.

  I made sure they had food and water, then went to the garden. As I worked with the plants, I felt the riotous tumble of emotion start to bleed from me. I took a deep, mint-scented breath, and let it out slowly.

  I’d acted childishly, flying away like that. I thought about going back, but I was here now, and so was the garden. And Zack would be busy all evening.

  I’d fly back tomorrow, I decided, after swinging by the closest airport to fuel up the plane.

  As I pulled the tall grass growing around my roses, I remembered I’d told Zack I wanted half the cash up front. He hadn’t put 10k in my hand—I’d’ve noticed. Maybe I’d bug him about it later.

  One thing was certain: I’d go back and teach him. A month’s reprieve from my father? Yes, please. Even if he was demanding I spy.

  He’d had a feud going with Ralph ever since I was little. It’d had to do with the bar, and my mom’s death. That feud had been in limbo for the last couple years, after Ralph had died. But the bar was still standing, and I wouldn’t be surprised if George had decided to transfer his attentions to Ralph’s son and the bar’s new owner, Ed. Ed, whom he’d once tried to pressure me into marrying…

  My dad was nuts. Always had been, and it was only getting worse as he aged. His name should’ve been Maddog.

  I was really upset that I’d been driven back—if not into his arms, then into his home—a year ago. It’d been a series of poor decisions leading up to a catastrophic one. And I got the feeling, now that I was once more under his thumb, that I might never be free of him.

  Chapter Seven

  FRANCES

  Zack ran out of the cabin as I taxied to a parking spot in the weeds next to their runway. I swung the tail around, then shut everything down.

  He yanked open my door, and yelled something at me. Finally, he pried one cup of my headset away from my ear. “What the hell?” he demanded.

  I batted his hand away, removed the headset, and slithered from my seat. He backed up nary an inch, and I found myself cornered in the open door, boxed in by an apparently angry man. I felt an indecent thrill.

  “You’re cute when you’re mad,” I observed, proud of the fact that my voice betrayed very little. It was cool, and indifferent, and basically everything I was not. Also, if I was going to be 100% truthful, Zack was cute all the damn time. He had that Dolph Lundgren thing going, crossed with hmmm, Tom Hardy, maybe?

  He sputtered, making even that indelicate action attractive, then slapped his hand against the side of my plane and leaned in close. “You are supposed to stay here,” he growled, looming like a sexy beast.

  I blinked up at him. “Am I?”

  “Yes, goddammit. You’re supposed to stay here, for one month.”

  “I don’t remember that being part of the deal.” Poking the bear…

  “I don’t care what you ‘remember’,” he said. “The deal was that you’d stay here until I got my pilot’s license.”

  My eyes narrowed. I tilted my chin up. “I won’t stay here while you draw this out into two months, and then three, and then somehow a whole year.”

  “The deal was a month,” he ground out.

  “At an hour of flight time a day, you’ve already screwed that pooch,” I said.

  “We can do more than an hour.”

  “Really? What are you offering? Two? Three? How many will you give me before your brother calls you back like a whipped dog?”

  His mouth opened and closed a couple times.

  Mine curved into a smile as I observed that Zack was even cuter when he was speechless.

  “A whipped dog?” he finally wheezed.

  “Your brother owns you, far as I can tell,” I said cheerfully.

  He shook his head before visibly gathering himself. “You’ll stay here,” he said, “for the month. If we go over, then you can fly back and forth. You knew this was part of the deal, you can’t tell me you didn’t. I made up a room for you, you brought your violets and your clothes—”

  “Half my clothes.”

  He slapped my plane again. “You’ll stay here,” he growled. God damn, that was sexy.

  “Okay.”

  My sudden agreement seemed to derail his bossy train. “Okay?”

  “Yep. Now get out of my way.”

  He blinked at me and sucked a nice, slow breath into that lovely chest of his.

  I made it a question of whether he stepped back or I pushed him, and once free of his little cage, I spun around. “A couple things,” I said. “You need to put in tie-downs for my plane.”

  “Tie-downs?”

  “A buried weight or anchor with some sort of hook emerging, so I can tie my airplane to the ground.” I slipped a finger into the eye-hook at the top of my wing strut. “If it gets windy, the plane can blow away,” I explained.

  He nodded. “I’ll do that tonight.”

  “Good. And you can start your walk-around now.”

  “But you were just flying.”

  “I don’t care. I could have broken out my landing light. I could be out of gas. And even if I’d just done a pre-flight check, I could still order you to do one. For you, it’s a ‘learning opportunity’.” I knew I was being pissy, but he was paying me to teach him to fly—no more, no less.

  His jaw tightened, but what he said was, “All right.” Eyes flashing, he pivoted and walked away. At the front of the airplane, he began his inspection.

  Following at a distance, I kept my hands and tongue to myself while visualizing him without his shirt.

  “Let me take off,” Zac
k said once we were loaded into the airplane.

  “You’ve only had one lesson. It’d be much safer if I get us into the air, and then you take over.”

  “I can do it,” he said. “I’ve got the hang of this.”

  I’d been wondering when it would happen, when Zack would go all cocky-male on me. Inevitably, my male students did, though it usually took more than one lesson to get there.

  “No,” I said. “This is a short, narrow, gravel runway. There are trees all around. It’d be much safer if I fly us up to Dotty and Harv’s, where you could do some touch-and-goes—eventually.”

  “I’m telling you, I got this.”

  I shook my head, then pulled on my headset. “Fine. Let’s see what you got.”

  He stared at the instruments. “So… where was the throttle, again?”

  Laughing at him, I tapped it.

  He jammed it in, and we went roaring down the runway.

  When it looked like we might clip a tree, I gave the rudder a little pressure, guiding us back toward the middle of the strip. “You need to pull up.”

  “I’m gonna. We need some speed first.”

  “Those trees are approaching. And you’re past takeoff speed. Pull back on the damn yoke.”

  He did. We lifted off. The trees loomed tall as we roared toward them.

  “Harder.” So that we didn’t die, I pulled that sucker back myself. As we gained altitude, green and red and blue steel rooftops appeared scattered amongst the trees, and then lower areas of marsh and the wide silvery-brown band of the river off to our left.

  “What’s the plan for today?” Zack asked at two thousand feet. He let off the throttle, almost killing it.

  I covered his hand with mine, helping adjust us into an appropriate cruise speed while ignoring the zing that went up my arm. “Why would I have a plan? You apparently already know everything.”

  “I’m just naturally talented at this driving stuff,” Zack said. “But I’m sure you still have something to teach me. You gotta remember, despite how well I’m doing, that I’m new at this.”