Page 53 of Shared By the Pilots

Adam shrugged. “I don’t know. But I doubt it’s as nefarious as you think.”

“You both sound like Luke,” I muttered.

“I call them like I see them,” Adam said with an apologetic smile.

“What about submitting an anonymous tip to, like, the FBI or something?” Dex asked.

“Luke suggested that too.”

“Because it’s a good idea.” Adam braced me by the arms. “Let’s say you’re right. This guy is trafficking humans or drugs or weapons on these private flights. And let’s say you snoop around a bit. What if you get caught? What if they discover that you’re on to them? There’s no way they would allow a potential witness to live. They’llkill you.”

“And we don’t want that, sweetie,” Dex agreed.

“You have good instincts,” Adam told me. “But if what you suspect is true, you’re out of your league. You’re not equipped to deal with that sort of crime. Submit an anonymous tip to whichever agency is in charge of that, and let them handle it.”

The passengers started filing onto the plane, so we had to return to the forward cabin and prepare for the flight. As I thought about what Adam and Dex had said, I knew they were right. Everything they said made sense.

But it still felt like nobody wanted to believe me.

29

Veronica

After doing some research, I determined that the FBI was in charge of investigating human trafficking in the United States. There were still pay phones in the Houston airport, so I called the anonymous tip line from there and reported what I had seen from the Excelsior Air passengers. Then, for good measure, I did the same for the Texas Attorney General’s office, which had a similar tip line.

Even though it felt pointless before, I was relieved once I had made the calls. Doingsomethingwas better than nothing, even if that something was inadequate. I slept great that night with the knowledge that someone in a position of power might handle it.

The next few weeks flew by now that I had a clear conscience. I flew my regular routes with Gulf Airlines, and continued accepting Excelsior flights once a week. I wasn’t given any flights with Broussard, or with anyone else who seemed suspicious. It was mostly rich businessmen flying down for golf, and the occasional groups who were heading down to the Caribbean for longer vacations.

Bernie Langston will eventually get busted, I told myself.One day I’ll show up to the private terminal and the police will be arresting him, and then I’ll be the hero.

Adam and I went on our trip to Marfa. It was a weird little town in the middle of West Texas with a population just shy of 2,000, situated at the crossroads of two state highways that stretched across the endless flat desert. It was a nine-hour drive from Houston, which was a harsh reminder that Texas was way too freaking big.

But the long drive emphasized that the two of us were reallygetting awaytogether. We walked through all the small shops and got burritos at a local joint. We visited the Prada Marfa, a standalone Prada building that was an art exhibit rather than an actual store. We even visited something called the Marfa Holocaust and Historical Model Ship Museum, which was a combination I never thought I would read on a sign. The owner was obviously eccentric, and followed us around the little museum explaining all of his theories for the original tribes of Israel, but the hundreds of hand-made model ships were fascinating to admire.

And at night, Adam and I went back to our Airbnb and devoured each other without any rush or reason. He made love to me under the covers, wrapping me in a warm cocoon of safety and sex. He bent me over the makeup table in the hallway and pounded me until the walls rattled and the ground shook. Once, while we were showering after an especially intense bedroom session, he dropped to his knees behind me and ate me out, tongue licking up my pussy and ass until my cries echoed off the shower tiles.

Then we went out into the backyard of the Airbnb, with nothing but desert all around us. Adam got a fire going in the fire pit, and we roasted marshmallows and shared a blanket while staring up at the impossibly-bright stars.

We stayed there three nights, but it passed in the blink of an eye. And on the drive home, we held hands.

“I really like you, Veronica,” he said when we were still a few hours from Houston.

I grinned over at him. “I like you a lot, too.”

“I know you still have to say yes to one more person. Dexter has made it very clear he’s going to hold you to that. And I know you and Luke are still…something. But when all of that is over, I want to sit down and talk about us. And maybe if we want this to be serious.”

“I’d like that,” I said. “And for what it’s worth, I don’thaveto say yes to one more person who asks me out. I can forget about the challenge.”

“Sure,” Adam said, “but then Dexter will spend the rest of your life holding it over you. Even if, in a hypothetical future, we got married and had kids and eventually grandkids, he would be there at their birthday parties complaining that you didn’t uphold your end of the bargain.”

I giggled to myself. “You’re right. He would be insufferable.”

Adam mentioning a hypothetical future with me, with imaginary kids and grandkids, didn’t freak me out the way I expected it to. Commitment had always been a terrifying concept, but the more I thought about it the more I realized I was afraid of commitment with thewrong person.Now that I had been in a pair of successful—and healthy—relationships thanks to Dex’s challenge, the idea of settling down was exciting.

Although Luke and I hadn’t hooked up in the weeks since our fight, I still thought about him a lot. I had called the Excelsior Air scheduler and requested to be put on different flights than Luke, but I still saw him occasionally with Gulf Airlines. Each time he passed me in the forward cabin, or when he came out of the cockpit to get a meal or drink in the middle of a flight, I resented him a little bit less than before. Soon I was smiling at him, and he was smiling back without any of the awkwardness.

And then, one Friday night, he texted me.

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