Page 69 of Shared By the Pilots

Taylor shook his head. “I didn’t have the best of intentions. For one thing, I agreed to help you because I liked you. I wanted any excuse to spend time with you, more time than just happenstance run-ins at the private terminal in Houston. But the other reason I agreed was to try to balance my karma out. I thought if I helped you with this, and we caught somerealbad guys doingreallyhorrible things, then I could finally call myself a good man again.”

“Youarea good man,” I insisted. “Transporting antibiotics isn’t the same thing as narcotics, even if itisillegal. And besides, you got roped into all of this because you were trying to help after a natural disaster. The karma police won’t be arresting you anytime soon.”

I kissed him on the cheek, but he winced and pulled away. “Sorry! I forgot he hit you with the gun.”

Taylor lightly touched his cheek. “Do I have a shiner yet? Is it bad?”

“Um.” I hesitated. “It adds some flare to your rugged charm.”

“So that’s a yes.”

“I don’t mind. I’d still bang you.”

Now Taylor grinned properly. “Well, then I don’t mind either.”

38

Veronica

After a long discussion with Taylor, we decided not to notify the hotel or police about what had happened. But I still didn’t feel safe in that room, and Taylor agreed, so we packed up our bags and drove back to the airport. Taylor’s plane was parked on the runway, and we climbed into the rear seats and closed the door.

“Not the first time I’ve slept in here,” he told me as we snuggled up together. “But it’s the first time I’ve shared it with a beautiful woman.”

“How many times have you shared it with anuglywoman?” I asked.

“Oh, now that’s a different story,” Taylor replied while stroking my hair. “If we’re counting butterfaces, it’s five or six.”

“I was joking.”

“There’s Clara, the fisherwoman from Juneau. Then Lexi from San Juan…”

The airplane seats were cramped, but we were comfortable snuggled together. And more importantly, we were safe from anyone barging in and threatening to shoot Taylor’s finger off. We woke up with the sun streaming through the glass cockpit windows, my head resting on Taylor’s shoulder.

“You don’t have a coffee maker in here, do you?” I asked.

He stretched, then reached forward to open a compartment in the front. “Got a bottle of caffeine pills. Never was one for coffee.”

I scoffed at him. “You don’t drink coffee? That’s worse than trafficking drugs.”

The airport terminal had a private lounge area for pilots, which included unisex showers. And despite being at an airport in Mexico, they were pretty nice. I cleaned myself off, changed into some fresh clothes, and then helped myself to some coffee and muffins in the breakfast area.

“Brought one for you,” I told Taylor when I rejoined him in the plane. “And a bottle of water, since you’re too good for coffee.”

“I’d never claim to be too good for anything,” he replied smoothly. “I just hate the taste. It’s like water that’s been filtered through mud.”

“Coffee has a rich and complex taste!” I argued.

He nodded patronizingly. “Uh huh. You go on and enjoy your hot bean water. I won’t judge.”

We didn’t have to wait long; the Excelsior flight landed thirty minutes later. Taylor’s plane was parked facing the opposite direction, so we didn’t have a great view of the plane as it taxied and the passengers got out. But we did see them push the bag cart all the way across the tarmac to a waiting pickup truck, unload all of the suitcases, and then drive away.

“And now we wait,” Taylor said, glancing at his watch. “Since we have nothing else to do, how about a cockpit quickie?”

I gave him a playful glare.

He grinned broadly. “Can’t blame a man for tryin’.”

Time seemed to slow down while we waited. I pictured the truck driving to the tequileria, then loading up with bottles. I imagined them adding perfect bricks of cocaine to the bags, hidden underneath the tequila. That was horrible enough.

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