Chapter 6 #3
Ryder kept silent, but he knew what she meant.
A woman who would willingly seduce her sister’s man wasn’t the kind of woman who could ever be trusted.
He took a long sip of coffee. Even if the sister wasn’t sleeping with the man herself, it was still crossing a line no family member should ever cross.
Tilly topped off Ryder’s coffee, then did something she’d promised herself years ago never to do. She meddled in family business.
“You watch out for that woman,” Tilly warned.
Ryder glanced up, more than a little surprised.
“I know more than you think I know,” she said softly. “I saw what she tried to do the other night.”
Ryder’s eyes narrowed as he braced himself for a retribution that never came.
“And I heard what you said.”
He shifted uncomfortably in his chair and busied himself with adding sugar to coffee he didn’t want.
Tilly put her hand on Ryder’s shoulder and kept it there until he looked up.
“I have my notions about things,” she told him.
“I’ll just bet that you do.”
Tilly refused to be swayed by the engaging grin he gave her.
“First time I laid eyes on you, I knew you were a good man. After what I saw the other night, I know you’re going to be good for my Casey, too.”
This time, Ryder was more than uncomfortable.
“Look, what’s between Casey and me is strictly business,” he said. “She asked for help. I offered. It’s as simple as that.”
Tilly lifted her chin and turned away, refusing to listen to what he had to say. “You’re wrong, you know. Nothing is ever simple between a man and a woman.”
Ryder set his cup down with a thump, sloshing the freshly sweetened brew out onto the white-tiled tabletop.
“I better be going,” he stated. “The Lincoln needs gas, and I’ve got to find out where the airport is before noon.”
Tilly turned. “You go on and get your gas. You find that airport and do your job and bring Mr. Miles on home. But you just remember this. It doesn’t matter how long and how hard you work during the day, come nighttime, you and Casey Dee are going to be all alone.”
Ryder reached for his hat. He damn sure didn’t need anyone reminding him of that.
“Find yourselves some common ground,” Tilly called out as he left the room. “You hear me? You have to start somewhere. Forget the gap and look for the bridge.”
* * *
He was still thinking about that bridge Tilly had been talking about when he took the highway exit leading to the airport. A small, twin-engine Cessna lifted off directly in front of his view and he found himself stopping in the middle of the road to watch its ascent.
Even though the plane was a good half mile away and already several hundred feet in the air, his toes curled in his boots and he caught himself holding his breath until the plane leveled off. He lost sight of it when it turned toward the sun.
A car honked behind him, and he slipped his foot off the brake and drove on. But the damage had already been done. The hunger to fly was mixed up in his mind with the fear of repeating a deadly mistake all over again.
Get it in gear, he reminded himself, and began looking for a place to park.
He didn’t have to fly. He was only here to give a man a ride home.
No big deal. But his hands were shaking when he got out of the car, and the closer he got to the terminal, the slower his stride became.
It was all he could do to make himself walk inside, but he did it.
Cool air hit him in the face, and he inhaled deeply, welcoming the change in temperature as his nerves began to settle. He paused while he got his bearings, then started toward the arrival gate of the flight on which Miles Dunn would arrive.
His nerves were strung so tight, he caught himself holding his breaths. Twice he had to remind himself to ease up. And he should have known this would happen. Just because he wasn’t piloting the planes didn’t make this experience any easier.
He settled the Stetson firmly upon his head and gave the announcement boards a closer look. Being here brought back too many bad memories. That was all. Just too many memories. And no man ever died from memories.
“Flight 1272 from Atlanta and New Orleans is now arriving at Gate Three.”
Buoyed by the announcement, Ryder took his bearings then started walking. Erica had claimed that Miles didn’t like to be kept waiting and God knows he didn’t have any desire to linger in the place himself.
* * *
Miles was hung over. His head throbbed and his belly kept lurching from one side of his rib cage to the other as he filed out of the plane along with the other passengers.
Bile rose as he stared at the drooping diaper of the toddler in front of him.
An all too pungent odor drifted upward, adding to the nausea he already had.
That kid was carrying a load and badly in need of a change.
When a sickly sweat broke out on his upper lip, he mumbled an excuse and shoved his way past them, desperately searching the waiting crowd for Erica.
He saw the Stetson first, then the man beneath it and groaned. Damn her, why didn’t she come herself?
“Here are my claim stubs,” he said shortly, slapping them into Ryder’s hand. “I’ll meet you in baggage.”
Ryder took the stubs without comment and waited beside the men’s room until Miles came out.
“I thought I told you I’d meet you in baggage,” Miles muttered.
Ryder gave him a pointed look. “Wasn’t sure you’d make it that far.”
Miles’s face turned red.
“Lead the way,” Ryder said, and Miles did.
Luggage was just beginning to come through the roundabout as Miles dropped onto a nearby bench.
“Rough flight?” Ryder asked.
Miles looked up from where he was sitting and belched.
Ryder cocked an eyebrow and stifled a grin. “Tell me which ones are yours,” he said, pointing toward the varied assortment of circling suitcases.
“Four pieces. Brown-and-green alligator. Can’t miss them.”
Ryder nodded and a short while later, pulled the last one from the rack. Miles watched with a bleary eye, unwilling to move until he had to.
“That’s it,” Ryder announced, and lifted a bag in each hand. “I’ll get these. You bring the rest,” and started toward the exit without looking back.
Miles sat with his mouth agape while blood thundered wildly through every minuscule vein in his head. He stared at the remaining two bags in disbelief. The nerve of the man! Expecting him to carry his own luggage!
Miles staggered to his feet and hefted a bag in each hand before following Ryder’s retreat.
“This just figures,” he mumbled, as he staggered out of the door. “You can’t get good help these days no matter how hard you try.”
When they started home, Miles began to relax, reveling in the cool, quiet ambience of the Lincoln’s spacious back seat. But that was before the car phone rang. After that, Mites’s homecoming took an unexpected turn.