Page 84 of Shared By the Pilots

“You should have thought about that before you told me,” he replied. “Now it’s your duty as my best friend to give me every sweaty detail about what happened. Start spilling. Whose penis went into what orifice?”

I laughed and promised to tell him when weweren’ton a plane descending into Miami. We landed, opened the door to the jetway, and then began saying goodbye to all the passengers as they deplaned.

“That was a smooth landing, Captain Hendricks,” Dex said when the cockpit door opened.

Luke gave him a suspicious look, then turned to me. “He knows, doesn’t he?”

“It’s possible that I told my best friend what happened,” I said. “In very broad strokes.”

“Oh, I heard it’sbroadall right,” Dex said with a wink.

Luke grumbled something and returned to the cockpit.

I got lunch in the Miami airport with Luke, which frustrated Dex, who had hoped I would get lunch with him and tell him all about what happened. But later that night after returning to Houston, we got drinks and I spilled all the details. Even the ones I didn’t originally plan on sharing.

“It’s official,” Dex said. “You’re my hero.”

The next two weeks were a flurry of activity. Luke and I were questioned by the authorities several times, since we had been present for many of the flights where animals were illegally trafficked. Just when I thought we were done being grilled, we would receiveanotherrequest to meet and discuss new details of the whole operation.

Eventually we discovered why: they were building an airtight case against Broussard, and had to continuously come back to us to verify minor details against what he was telling the authorities. Soon after that, he pleaded guilty to the entire operation.

It looked like Bernard Langston would hold out longer; he was hiring a team of lawyers who probably cost more per day than I made in an entire year. Luke and I were told that we might have to testify in court. But more evidence must have come out, because he, too, pleaded guilty in exchange for a reduced sentence. Luke and I breathed a sigh of relief at the news; it was officially over.

But it wasn’t over for all of us. One night, while the four of us were at dinner, Taylor confided in the others all the trouble he was in.

“I don’t understand,” Adam said. “Antibiotics?”

“Probably a whole black market for that sort of thing,” Luke speculated.

Taylor pointed at him and nodded. “Exactly. They’re in short supply down there, especially these new antibiotics. They’re expensive, and they aren’t as strictly monitored as narcotics. But what I’m doing is still technically illegal.”

“Do you have any options?” Adam asked.

“None that are good. Aside from continuing to deliver them.”

“Which is something you can’t keep doing,” I insisted. “I don’t want armed men barging in on my hotel again.”

Luke nodded. “I’ll share Veronica, but not with a man who puts her in danger.”

“I know, I know,” Taylor said. “I have to do something. The longer I put it off, the worse it’ll be for everyone.”

“Then let’s come up with a plan,” Adam said.

We talked it out that night. Went through all the pros and cons—and went through a few bottles of wine in the process. Eventually, we came up with a plan for Taylor. Luke knew some old Air Force buddies who now worked for one of the three-letter agencies in Washington. He called in a few favors, and before we knew it, Taylor was meeting with them and spilling his guts. He turned over names, numbers, addresses.

The government typically worked slowly, but in this case they had a sting operation planned and prepared within two weeks. Three separate deliveries were arranged—one to Puerto Rico, one to Cabo, and a third to Cancun. They had to happen in quick succession to keep word from spreading about the sting. Two seaplanes similar to Taylor’s were brought in for the operation, as opposed to Taylor flying his plane to each location.

I wasn’t privy to the details of the sting, but apparently it went off flawlessly. Arrests were made in each location, and even back in the United States with the two pharmacists who were supplying the antibiotics for delivery.

Taylor didn’t get off undamaged, though. Part of his plea deal was having his pilot’s license temporarily suspended, pending review from the board after one full year.

“I’m so sorry,” I told him when he received the news. The four of us were at my place watching football on Sunday. I hugged him tightly. “Having your license suspended…”

But Taylor was grinning from ear to ear. “You kidding me, Veronica? I’ve spent the last few years thinking I would be permanently grounded if I ever got caught. I can handle one year without flying. Hell, that’s a nice vacation.”

I kissed him and wrapped him in a tight hug for a completely different reason. “You’re going to have too much time on your hands.”

“Afraid I’ll be in your hair?”

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