Taking Flight (A Devereux Novel)

by Whiskey, D. G.

  “Seriously?” Derek considered the implications. “Is it within the rules if he’s tinkered with his engine?”

  Tom nodded. “It should be, unless he’s done something outrageous. There’s nothing saying you can’t performance tune your vehicle, but most guys don’t take it past general optimization, since there’s very little to gain and a lot to lose if they push it too hard. The manufacturers know what they’re doing. Hey, I know that look. Don’t be tempted to go screw around, Derek. I’ve seen a lot of good guys have bad accidents, some fatal, by touching things they shouldn’t have.”

  Ugh. This could have all been avoided if I had made my retirement speech at the gala before Rex caught up with me and pushed me into this stupid bet. And the entire guest list and the media had been there and witnessed, which meant Derek could not back down unless he wanted to lose all credibility. Frederick’s been having a field day, hamming it up for the media, including it in all the advertisements, even though it’s a private bet between two pilots.

  Things had spiraled out of control in short order.

  “Well, thanks for the heads up, Tom. Enjoy your night.”

  “You too, Derek.”

  Derek had brought the Lamborghini to the airport. It was his second favorite part about flying regularly, the drive to and from the airport. He didn’t take the quickest route, but there was a certain back country road with hairpin turns and wonderful straightaways. Taking each of his cars out on a rotation and working them through their paces on the way to and from the airport was nearly as thrilling as flying, and a better use of the precision engineering than sitting in the garage or stuck in L.A. traffic, which was their fate the rest of the time.

  He pushed the car to its limits right away. Not in sheer speed, since it would be impossible to get up to the Lamborghini’s fastest over the short sprints available to him, but in maneuverability and finesse driving. Acceleration pressed him back into the seat and to either side as he navigated the turns and worked his way up the switchbacks through the hills.

  When he reached the highest point, he pulled off to the side of the road to enjoy the last views of the sun setting into the Pacific. It painted the horizon a brilliant red, a faint scattering of clouds catching the light and proclaiming the death of another day.

  Derek pulled back onto the road and saw headlights coming up behind him. It wasn’t often he came across someone on these back roads. No matter.

  The engine roared as he continued his hectic pace, pushing himself, and his vehicle, to the limit. The thrill of the run pumped him full of the sweet adrenaline he craved, his actions becoming ever more precise and exacting. He felt like he was at his best self when pushing himself to the brink; if it was possible, he would live his entire life on the knife’s edge between safety and ruin, always flirting with the boundary and sometimes barely recovering in time.

  He squinted as his rear view mirror reflected harsh white light back at him.

  “What? He’s still back there?” Derek spoke aloud, the words surprised out of him. “He should have been left in the dust a long time ago.”

  Not only was the car still there, but it had gained on him. It didn’t seem possible.

  Derek couldn’t make out what kind of car it was without the sun to light it up. Only a pair of mean-looking headlamps gave him any clue to the car’s identity, and not much at that.

  He poured himself into the Lamborghini, urging it on, cutting the corners as sharp as he dared. And yet, it didn’t seem to be enough. The car still gained on him as though a phantom that effortlessly drew closer and closer. Derek could almost imagine the anger and ill-intentions of the vehicle behind him, embodied by those headlamps. He considered pulling over to let the other driver pass, but his gut didn’t like the idea.

  Evan’s warning was bright and clear in Derek’s mind. If the driver of that car had tracked him down for nefarious purposes, then pulling over would be the worst thing he could do—it would put him at the other person’s mercy. There was no real reason to believe that was the case, but it was as plausible as the other scenario. The odds that someone else drove these roads in a sports car at the same time, with the same—or higher—level of skill, and who actively tried to catch Derek’s car were low.

  “Let’s dance, asshole,” Derek said under his breath. He ignored the mirror, his attention on the vicious stretch of road approaching. Derek had the benefit of knowing these roads like the back of his hand from driving the route so many times. He doubted his pursuer had the same level of experience.

  The turns came hard and fast. Derek wished he’d taken a better handling car, but he hadn’t known he might be drive for his life today. The squeal of the engine approached painful levels as he shifted, launching him forward.

  Tighter, tighter!

  He glanced into the mirror. It was a mistake.

  The other car was barely a length behind him now, and the headlights were painfully bright. Derek knocked his mirror to the side—he’d rather work blind than have to squint through the light.

  He felt it at exactly the wrong moment: a slight bump from behind just as he entered a tight turn.

  The impact forced the Lamborghini into an out-of-control fishtail he struggled to recover from. The steering wheel danced through his grasp, and he fought to wrestle it back into position, but it was too late. The ground disappeared in front of his car, and he sent a wordless thought through the ether toward his brothers, wishing them luck against whatever force aligned against them in the world.

  “Fuck!”

  The Lamborghini tumbled off the cliff. It wasn’t a sheer drop but a series of small ones, and the airbag deployed just in time to catch his face and prevent it from slamming against the steering wheel. The sharp pain of the seatbelt compressing his chest cut off his breath.

  The car tumbled, and for the second time that day Derek’s body lost all sense of where the ground was—this time gravity was thoroughly in control. Intense forces whipped Derek around, and he fought to keep his body limp to help limit any possible damage.

  After an eternity of being jumbled, tossed, and jerked around, the whirling world came to a standstill, although it took an extra couple minutes for his mind to make sense of that fact and calibrate his sight properly.

  He raised his hands and looked at them. His right hand was in proper working order, his left…

  “Well, could be worse, I guess.”

  The pinkie finger stuck out at an odd angle, and when he tried to move it, a sharp pain was his body’s response. Derek patted himself down as best as he could, and to his relief nothing else was painful enough to signal a serious injury. His entire body would be black and purple in short order.

  “Fuck. Evan will be insufferable. At least he’ll be happy he was right.”

  Luckily his cell phone survived, and even luckier, he still had signal.

  “Yes, that’s right, the Onyx Company. Have you heard… Hello?” Sara swore.

  “No luck, huh?” Becky asked from where she stitched together a new blouse. “Have you got a proper response out of anyone?”

  Sara flung herself down on the couch beside her roommate. “I wish. Either no one’s ever heard of the company, or else they hang up on me. I’m getting seriously worried, but I’m also captivated.”

  “That’s good, though!” Becky said. “You need something to focus on. Although if I were you, I would drop this company nonsense and just go straight to the source. Why you aren’t trying to spend every possible moment with Derek Devereux is beyond me. I can’t believe you went to his house! And even worse, that you didn’t bring me along!”

  “Oh, shut up, you horn dog,” Sara replied. “Of course you would go after Derek. You don’t care about the mystery of it all. But the Onyx Company is the key to everything, I’m sure of it. Beck, the letter I read said they made four billion dollars. Profit. In one quarter. That means sixteen billion dollars a year, and yet we’ve never heard of them. Doesn’t that make you the least curious?”
/>
  The redhead shrugged. “All I care about is the handsome man who represents the path to spending that ridiculous fortune. Who cares where the money comes from, Sara? Just try to marry him, and then it could all be yours. Just saying. Besides, you saw one piece of paper. Who knows if it’s even legit? Maybe it’s all an elaborate hoax.”

  The thought brought Sara up short. She had suggested as much to Ron, but she hadn’t believed it. After exhausting all of her usual avenues, she was thinking maybe it was worth another look.

  “I don’t know, Beck. He lives a substantial lifestyle. I mean, you could fake having more money than you do for a while. Take out a mortgage on a huge mansion, do a few expensive things, but only do them for show and in the cheapest way possible. It could happen.” She was still dubious. “It would explain a lot, but what about the lack of birth certificates or documentation? That needs an explanation!”

  Becky paused from her stitching to throw her hands in the air. “Hey, I’m not the journalist. I’m just asking questions. Seriously though, if you won’t take a real run at Derek Devereux, can you introduce me? I would be more than happy to be his wife and not have to worry about a thing ever again. Or even his mistress. Or a one-night stand. God, he’s hot. Let’s be honest, I’d let him do anything he wanted. He could smother me in Nutella and spank me, if he wanted to.”

  “Beck!”

  “Oh, whatever. I’m just saying, the man’s hot.”

  “Well, no arguments here.” Sara checked her phone. “Speak of the devil, and he appears. Look at that.”

  Becky shrieked. “You got a message from him? What does it say, what does it say?”

  Sara laughed, “Give me time to read it, you goofball. Let’s see… He’s asking if I want to meet him for a walk at the Griffith Observatory. So I can see the city better, since I’m new to town.”

  “Wow.” Becky stared at her, wide-eyed. “What a gentleman. I can’t believe that Derek fucking Devereux is asking you to meet him for a walk. This is so huge.”

  “You mean for my case?” Sara asked.

  “I mean for your life! I know you had Michael and everything, but he’s not here anymore, and girl, you need to realize he’s just never coming back.”

  That familiar painful, nauseating feeling was back. All it took was one mention of him, or even anything that reminded Sara of the accident, and it was like she was hearing it for the first time.

  Becky’s face softened. “Look, I’m sorry, Sara, but you need to hear the truth. This is an amazing opportunity in front of you, don’t miss it because you’re hung up in the past.”

  She’s right. She’s not a diplomat, but she’s right.

  “Let’s make one thing clear: I’m not going out with Derek Devereux to win him. I’m going so I can get to the bottom of this case and keep my job. You know, the thing I’ve wanted to do ever since I was a little girl.” The words sounded strong to her ears, but they weren’t entirely truthful. The moment she’d shared with him in the library at his house had been real, even if she’d tried to leverage it to get information out of him. That kiss had left her wanting more.

  “Whatever you say,” Becky said. “Just so long as you make me the maid of honor at your wedding and I can call dibs on one of his brothers.”

  She’s insufferable!

  “Any one will do, eh, Beck?”

  “Ouch!” Becky pricked her finger with a pin as she put the finishing touches on the new piece of wearable art she was creating. “So long as I’m fed and treated like a lady I’m not too picky, Sara. I mean, I love making clothes, but I’d rather be designing them and letting others do this part, you know?”

  “I hear ya. I better get ready to meet Derek. Hopefully I can get him to open up about his past more. If I can get him to say anything about the company, even better!” She forced herself off the couch. With a critical gaze she looked down and patted at her belly. “I didn’t take care of myself properly over the past couple years, did I? I’m lucky I didn’t swell up like a balloon.”

  “Well, when you barely eat anything because you don’t care about life anymore, one of the great side effects is staying pretty thin. Still, it’s nice to see you filling out now,” Becky said. She cocked her head to the side. “When’s the last time you got yourself off? I know for a fact you haven’t had sex with anyone since Michael, but I hope you at least kept yourself up to speed, otherwise you might be a little rusty when push comes to shove with Derek.”

  “Beck! Oh my God!” Sara’s face heated quicker than a microwave at her roommate’s forthrightness. “You can’t just say that!”

  “What? We used to talk about sex all the time. Just because you stopped having it doesn’t mean sex disappeared from the world. I’ve been doing just fine, thank you for asking. You should at least think about it. You don’t want to miss your shot with a billionaire because you flunk the final exam.”

  “Flunk the final… Jesus, Beck!”

  As Sara got dressed in her room, Becky’s words turned through her head. They did use to be more open about that stuff, but when Michael had died, her appetite for anything sexual—and life itself—had shriveled. She had been certain she would never want to draw close to a man ever again, no matter what. Michael had been the one, the perfect fit, her soul mate. The thought of being intimate with anyone else made her almost sick to her stomach without fail.

  Until Derek. He was too perfect to be real, so it was safer to have those thoughts. At least so she’d thought. What if it got to that point? It would compromise the hell out of her investigation, but would she be able to turn it down? Would she want to?

  It was all a huge mess. This wasn’t how she had pictured the investigation going. She should have entered the city, conducted her interviews and asked her questions from afar, gradually sussing out the reality of the situation. Then, and only then, would she attempt to approach Derek Devereux, once she had all the facts and could confront him with the truth, and be able to look into his eyes and see if he was lying.

  Instead she looked into his eyes and lost herself.

  Oh girl, what have you got yourself into?

  Derek fidgeted with the splint on his finger. It was uncomfortable, but he couldn’t complain. Considering the state his car had been in, it was a wonder he’d survived at all.

  Once he’d recovered enough to think properly, he had ducked out of the car and gotten away into the night as much as he’d been able, in case the faceless driver came back to finish the job. After waiting in darkness and silence for as long as he could stand it, he had called for help. It wasn’t the first time he had totaled a car among those rocks, but this time was different. There was someone out there who was after him, and like Evan said, he wanted it to look like it was an accident.

  He hadn’t mentioned the other driver to the police. It didn’t feel right. He didn’t know who to trust—he might not have anything to fear from the cops but he couldn’t trust anyone outside of his brothers. Even Sara, the bright patch of sunlight that had drifted into his life, was suspect.

  Derek had her investigated, and she had been telling the truth about everything. He read all her articles and the depth and care she put into her research was clear, the passion pouring forth from the pages as though she was there reading it to him in the animated way she had when she enjoyed a topic.

  The sun shone down on him where he waited on the park bench. They’d agreed to meet here where it was airy and light.

  She came into sight around the side of the observatory, the sun catching her hair and lighting it like spun gold.

  I think this is the first time I’ve seen her during the day.

  She was a revelation, adorned in a short blue sundress that matched her eyes perfectly.

  “It’s so nice up here!” she said as she neared him. Her cheeks carried a slight hint of red that seemed to be a constant feature.

  He nodded. “It really is. I love it up here. The views of the city are unmatched, and the park itself is just gorgeous.�
��

  “We’ll have to come back at night next time.”

  “Shall we?” Derek held out his hand, delighted when she took it. They strolled along the dirt path toward the popular vantage point.

  “What happened to your hand?” she asked, pointing out the splint strapped to the pinky and ring fingers of his left hand. “You didn’t have that a couple nights ago at your party, did you?”

  “Oh, this?” He held it up and shrugged. “It was stupid.”

  “What? Is it too embarrassing?” She smiled. “You can tell me, honest! I won’t make fun of you—too much!”

  All right, let’s see if there’s any sign she knows more than she’s letting on.

  “Well, I was driving back from the airport last night, and I crashed my car. Totaled it.” He said it in a matter-of-fact way, but it was tough to keep the raw emotion of the chase and the crash off his face. It was still so new, so recent, that he shouldn’t have even been out of the house again. He watched her face as she took in his words.

  Fear when he mentioned the airport, concern when he said he crashed. And shock when he said he totaled it.

  “Oh my God, Derek! This happened last night? Are you all right?” She caught herself. “I mean, you’re obviously okay, but how are you feeling? What happened? Is your finger the only thing you hurt?”

  Her response was how he would have expected someone hearing about it for the first time to react. She didn’t wait to see if he would mention another component to the crash. Derek let himself relax a little, lowering his guard.

  “I’m fine. A fractured left pinky is all I got out of it—a shame. I wouldn’t have minded more daring battle wounds.” It was a mindset that drove people nuts. Sara wasn’t an exception.

  “Battle wounds? That’s crazy. Why would you want to be injured? That makes no sense.” She examined him as though maybe he had suffered head damage.

  It wasn’t easy to explain. “It’s like a badge of honor. I ran the bleeding edge of performance, and it scored a hit on me. This one just wasn’t too major.” Sara continued to look mystified. “I guess I should explain. I was racing along this series of intense back roads in the Lambo. I always do this, and I try to go just a bit faster every time, cut the corners a little sharper, push myself to the edge just a little more. It’s satisfying, I guess, to know I can conquer the road in a way no one else can.”