Page 33 of Tattle Tail
Joseph’s ass barely touched the seat before Winter launched into a lengthy list of instructions. “Customs forms will differ from what you are used to. The port authority will try to charge you, but this is an item from a charity auction, so there is no tax. Do not let them charge you. They know charitable organizations are exempt and will line their pockets with my credits,” Winter said, nearly a growl. “I refuse to line the pockets of corrupt officials.”
“I’m confused,” Joseph said. He expected the grumpy growling. That was a standard-issue Winter mood. Everything else about the conversation made no sense.
“The gala’s auction. You will deliver the piano,” Winter said. The auction had several donated items, but the showstopper was the piano once owned by Rebel Cayne, famous musician and Winter’s first wife.
“Sure. As soon as possible, or after the New Year? Will there be other cargo?” Joseph asked. Flying with an empty hold seemed wasteful to him, but the winner splashed out a lot of credits for the piano. Rich people didn’t care about fuel efficiency.
“If you leave tomorrow, you will return in time for the New Year,” Winter said.
That was nearly a month. “Where’s it going?”
“Talmar. Peaceable will accompany you for insurance purposes,” Winter added.
Peaceable opened her mouth to protest but slammed her lips closed. Joseph took the lead.
“Both of us? That seems excessive,” he said.
Winter narrowed his eyes. “My best pilot and my most trusted employee. It is not excessive.”
“Fair enough.” Joseph slumped down in his chair. Ten days to Talmar, half a day at least for paperwork and refueling, and another ten days back. Twenty-one days stuck together in a ship.
It was a disaster in the making.
“Is there a problem?” Winter asked. “I understand there was…unpleasantness last night. That will not affect your professional relationship.” An order, not a question.
Joseph glanced at Peaceable. She closed her eyes before speaking. “No. Of course not.”
Flight plans arrived on his tablet. Joseph scrolled through the orders. Everything was set for launch tomorrow, just after dawn.
“I’ll see you in the morning,” he said.
Twenty-one days trapped on a ship together. They’d be lucky if they didn’t tear each other apart.
* * *
Peaceable looked even worsethe next morning. Luggage and a carrier sat on the ground where she dropped them.
The maintenance crew skirted around her as they finished prepping the ship. They should have been done hours ago. Joseph had been surprised to find them still working on the ship. It was odd, but Peaceable’s haggard appearance stole all his attention.
“You don’t have a hangover,” he said. Without thinking, he pressed his hand to her forehead. She was warm.
“I never said it was. You assumed,” she said, but there was no bite to her voice. She was sick. Really sick.
“We can’t leave if you’re ill,” he said. He wasn’t a medic, and the ship only had basic supplies. He glanced at the sky.
Ominous gray clouds blocked out the sun, and a cold wind kicked up. There was a massive storm coming. If they were leaving, they needed to go within the next half hour, or they’d be grounded for the next few days. There was no time to order a pharmacy delivery.
“I am not ill,” she said.
“For such a practiced liar, you are remarkably bad at it.”
A mechanic prodded him with a tablet. Paying more attention to Peaceable than the work order, Joseph signed off. The ship was cleared to go.
“At least lay down on the bunk and sleep.” He took the carrier containing Nettle, the bag, and steered her to the cabin. With a verbal command, the lights dimmed.
She followed him, allowing him to help her to the bunk and remove her shoes. She slumped against him and muttered an apology about bringing Nettle. She could not leave her at a kennel for so long.
“Don’t worry about it,” he said. The fever was alarming, but what frightened him was the complacency. This was not Peaceable.
