by Sarah Wynde
***
The pilot was a surprise. He was the tow-truck driver from Akira’s car accident of several weeks earlier.
“You fly planes and drive tow-trucks?” Akira glanced at Zane uncertainly but he was busy filling out paperwork at the tiny airport’s front desk.
Dave grinned at her. “Drive one buggy, you can drive ‘em all,” he assured her.
That was why he’d seemed familiar before, she realized: he was the pilot who had flown her to Tassamara on her very first visit. He’d been wearing a baseball cap and sunglasses, and she’d been so nervous at first that she hadn’t remembered his face.
“Dave used to fly the space shuttle,” Zane drawled from behind her. “A little plane like this is nothing to him.”
Was Zane teasing? Akira looked at Dave and he shrugged. “Not a lot of jobs with NASA anymore.”
Akira wasn’t sure whether it was reassuring or not to know that the pilot had flown in space, but she didn’t say a word when he handed control over to Zane and let him bring them most of the way to North Carolina. She could see Zane’s hands on the controls from her forward-facing seat behind the pilot, and between the soothing sound of the engines, the lack of sleep, and the smooth flight in clear blue skies, she spent most of the trip in a pleasant half-daydream, half-doze, thinking about the way those hands had touched her, and how they felt on her skin.
At the airport, however, there was no Lucas, just a car with a driver.
“Oh, hell,” muttered Zane. “I’m going to kill Lucas.” He strode across the tarmac toward the car as Akira and Dave followed him out of the plane.
“So,” Dave said to Akira, voice casual, as they watched Zane’s back receding. “Ghosts, huh?”
Akira glanced at him and frowned. It had been weeks since their first encounter: why were ghosts still on his mind?
“You should go with him.” Dave wasn’t looking at her and his tone was unrevealing.
“Why’s that?” Akira asked warily.
“I need to stay with the plane, and he could use the company.”
Akira’s frown deepened. Did that have something to do with ghosts?
The pilot looked at her and smiled, a twist of his lips that didn’t reach his eyes. “You might be able to help him.”
“How so?” Akira asked.
“Grace let me know when she called to schedule the flight that it was a lost kid case. If the kid was alive, Zane would know where he is already.”
Oh, hell. Had Zane brought her here thinking she’d talk to a ghost for him? The stab of pain was almost physical; the betrayal a bitter taste in her mouth. And then she looked at Zane, leaning down and talking to the driver of the car, and bit her lip.
She’d go with him. She’d see what this was. And if he had been manipulating her—well, she’d deal with that when she was sure it was true.
