Calder Storm (Calder Saga 10)

But first he had to get there.

With the decision made, Max issued instructions to his assistant to notify the crew he was on his way to the building’s rooftop helipad. After that, Edwards was to call the airfield and order his fastest jet to be waiting for him when he arrived. Any call from the security agent was to be patched through to him as soon as it came in.

The helicopter was a few feet from touchdown at the airfield when the phone call was relayed to him. The news couldn’t have been better. Tara’s plane had taken off roughly nine minutes earlier, after encountering some minor mechanical delays.

Sloan sat in a plushly upholstered seat across the aisle from Tara, doing her best to hush the fussing infant in her arms. Tara threw an irritated look at the pair. “What is that baby crying about now?” she said with impatience. “Don’t tell me he needs his diaper changed again.”

“His ears are probably hurting from the change in cabin pressure. I should have remembered that and had his bottle ready for him,” Sloan answered while she rummaged through the bag on the adjoining seat.

“Good heavens, give it to him, then,” Tara snapped in ill temper.

“It needs to be warmed first.” Locating the bottle, Sloan removed it from the bag, sounding as cranky and harried as Tara.

Tara motioned to the attendant. “Kurt—Dan—Whatever your name is—heat that bottle for the baby,” she ordered. “And bring me some aspirin.”

While the bottle was being heated, the attendant returned with the aspirin. Tara washed down three tablets with some water and leaned back in her seat. Eyes closed, she tried desperately to shut out the baby’s strident cries and silently congratulated herself for never having one of those smelly, squally infants of her own. Motherhood was something Tara regarded as vastly overrated.

At long last the baby’s cries diminished to an occasional whimper, bringing a semblance of quiet to the cabin. Confident that she would now no longer have to compete with the bawling child for Sloan’s attention, Tara sat up.

“Tell me the whole story,” she commanded. “Everything that happened. Don’t leave out any details.”

“All right,” Sloan agreed, then paused to organize her thoughts before relating the events that had culminated in her arrival at Tara’s Fort Worth mansion.

When she finished, Tara questioned her about the telephone conversation Sloan had overheard. To Tara’s annoyance, Sloan focused on one aspect of it.

“I felt like such a fool when I realized Trey had been telling me the truth all along—he wasn’t seeing another woman,” Sloan recalled. “All those phone calls seemed so damning, but how easy they were for Max to arrange! And that redhead with the diamond bracelet—Trey never gave it to her. It was something I just assumed. Max probably set that up, too.”

“Let’s go back to the drugs,” Tara insisted. “Max has someone who intends to plant drugs on Trey. You don’t know who, do you? Max didn’t mention any names.”

“No. I don’t even know if he was talking to a man or a woman. It could be that redhead at The Oasis—or possibly the man who owns it. I think his name is Donovan.”

“Maybe I was wrong,” Tara murmured absently.

“About what?” Sloan eyed her curiously.

“About calling Trey,” Tara replied. “That conversation took place when? Two days ago?”

“Almost two days.”

“Then that plan has already been put into motion.” Reaching down, Tara unfastened her seat belt and crossed to a swivel chair anchored next to an executive-style writing table, complete with a telephone. “I think I’d better call Trey and warn him about it—before he’s lured into the trap.”

“Let me talk to him,” Sloan said quickly.

“It will be better if I explain the situation first,” Tara insisted and took her seat, then picked up the phone. After two abortive attempts to place the call, she summoned the cabin attendant. “Why isn’t this phone working?”

“It’s probably part of that electrical malfunction they were trying to fix before we left,” he replied.

“We brought a mechanic along. Tell him to fix it. I need to make a call.”

“Sorry, ma’am, but I don’t think it’s something he can do while we’re in the air.

Annoyed, Tara dismissed him “That’ll be all.”

“Don’t you have a cell phone?” Sloan asked when Tara returned to her aisle seat.

“I never carry one. I always found them to be more of a nuisance than a convenience,” Tara stated. “We’re less than two hours away. We’ll wait and explain everything to him when we get there. There should be sandwiches and salads on board. Would you like anything?”

“No, thanks.”