Then it happened.
She moved the air for him.
Sure as hell, the molecules around him started vibrating, touching him in ways he thought impossible. It was a legend, a myth of his kind. Nobody really believed a woman could do that to a man, and for a man possessed with air, it was more than an aphrodisiac. It was powerful, an all-consuming fantasy.
Oblivious to him, she bounced right on by him and headed for the car park. She got into a red Honda and turned the ignition. Music blasted from the open window. She flipped a pair of aviation sunglasses over her eyes, flung the car into gear, and squealed the tires as she popped the clutch.
“Careful,” Frank said next to him, “you’re going to drop the wing.”
Lann ignored the jab. “Who’s that?”
“Dunno. Control said they had a passenger for me when I got here. First time I gave her a lift.” His lips turned up in one corner. “Sure hope it wasn’t the last.”
The private club allowed people to hitch flights with their qualified pilots in exchange for donations. The funds were used to maintain the club and for general improvements of the grounds. Lann never took passengers up because he loved flying solo. That might just change. He could picture strapping her in, pulling the safety harness over her breasts and securing the clasp between her legs.
“Close your mouth,” Frank teased. “You’re drooling.”
“What the hell were you thinking? That was a dangerous move up there.”
“I knew what I was doing.”
“You took a risk.”
“Isn’t that the whole idea of flying?”
“No,” Lann bit out.
“Why do you fly, Lann, if I may ask?”
“What does that have to do with anything?”
“You’re a hell of a pilot, but you act like you’ve got a joystick up your ass.”
Up in the air was the only place where Lann had complete control. On the ground, his life was out of control often enough. “You know I have to report you.”
“Go ahead.” Frank grinned. “You won’t be the first.”
“Risk your life if you must, but not a passenger’s.”
“Look, the girl gave me flack, all right? She wanted it wilder.” Frank pulled his shoulders up to his chin. “What was I supposed to do?”
“Not what you fucking did up there.”
“Okay, okay, I get it.” He threw his hands up in the air. “Maybe they should ban her from the club. I heard she gave Jimmy a go for his miles last weekend.”
Lann’s anger simmered another degree hotter. Jimmy owned a microlight. Everyone knew how unreliable those motorized kites were.
“Need a hand?” Frank asked, already walking around the glider to grab hold of the other wing. “I’ll help you push her inside.”
Eager to get to the office, Lann accepted. After pulling a protective cover over the plane, he went back to the admin building to log his hours. He waited until Frank left, then walked to the reception desk where Steven, a young Cessna pilot accumulating hours for his commercial license, did weekend duty.
“That woman,” Lann nodded in the general direction of the gates, “who is she?”
Steven looked up. “The redhead?” He shrugged. “Never told me her name. Comes in a lot. She’s done all of them—acrobatics, Cessna, hang glider…”
Lann scanned the desk. “She must sign an indemnity form.”
Steven frowned. “Yeah.”
“Let me see it.”
“That’s against protocol—” Steven started, but when Lann leaned over the counter, he cowered. He removed a file from the shelf behind him and held it tentatively to Lann. “Can I get into trouble for this?”
Lann snatched the hardcover from Steven’s hand and flipped it open. He quickly paged through the indemnity forms. Only one woman had signed in that morning. He took note of the name and identity number and dropped the file on the desk.
He made it back to his Pagani in the parking lot and drove home fast, where he tapped into the paranormal crime task force’s database. Cain Jones, his boss, was going to fry his ass for using their resources on a private matter, but he’d first have to fly all the way from New York to Santiago first.
After searching the database for a while, Lann put his fingertips together and leaned back in his chair. Son of a bitch. According to Home Affairs records, the woman he was looking for didn’t exist.Chapter 2Lann threw the newspaper down on his desk. He leaned back in his chair and removed his glasses with a groan. Alfonso, his butler, paused in the open door. With what seemed like an evaluation of Lann’s mood, he entered with a tray and cleared a space on the desk.
“Bad publicity, Sir?” Alfonso asked as he set a silver pot and porcelain cup in front of Lann.
“Accusations,” Lann mumbled. His Russian accent was heavier than usual, as it always was when he was upset.
Alfonso tidied some papers. “What is it this time, Sir, if I may ask?” He straightened and clasped his hands behind his back before saying with a glint in his eyes, “Sorcery?”