Page 128 of Maximum Dare
She was right…
Swiping the screen, I saw a slew of messages had come in from my mum. No surprise there. There were five texts from Nick, which was kind of unusual.
And one from Daisy.
I stared at the screen.
“What does it say?” Gylda’s expression was full of hope.
“I have to go back.” I slammed my palm to my forehead. “I have to go back right now.”
Gylda let out a delighted squeal, and it matched my inside voice.
I’d been too distraught to think straight, to think we had a chance. My life was flashing before my eyes—because that’s how much it hurt to think I’d almost lost her.
There was still time…
A company car was put on standby to take me to the airport. Gylda arranged for a private jet to fly me back to London.
Not caring that I had no luggage, I grabbed my passport from my desk drawer and hurried down to the waiting car.
Gylda escorted me down and waited with me on the curb.
Before getting into the car, I hurried back and pulled her into a big hug. It felt like she’d saved my life, and in many ways she had.
“Call Maria Alves,” I told her. “The woman looking for a Civil Rights Attorney. Tell her I’ll represent her brother.”
“I remember her.” Gylda’s eyes watered with emotion.
On the backseat I checked my watch a hundred times a minute. It was going to take me a lifetime to get back to Daisy.
A confirmation email came in that a plane was ready. I’d have jumped on a regular flight—I didn’t need the luxury of a private jet. What I needed was to get back to London.
The car pulled through to the VIP parking area.
Within the airport, I hurried through the pre-flight check-in. With no baggage, I made it through security quickly and was escorted to a private jet at the end of the runway.
I’d call Daisy once the plane was in the air, hear her voice again. Reassure her that everything would be fine and I was on my way back.
Reaching the metal steps of the plane, I took two at a time, hurrying as though take-off was imminent. I willed the pre-flight check to go quickly.
“Mr. Marquis,” said Angus Baxter, one of our loyal pilots, greeting me warmly at the top of the steps.
“Thanks for this,” I said. “Sorry about the short notice, Angus.”
“We can’t take off yet, sir.”
“Why not?”
“This plane just landed from Heathrow. The last pilot advised us we have a passenger still onboard.”
“Who?”
“Your mother—”
“My mum’s on here?”
“No, she gave instructions to make sure you were notified when they landed. I’m glad we finally reached you.”
