Keeping Gemma (Holiday Cove 2)

“I don’t know what I’ll tell them…I wasn’t exactly doing things…” I glanced at Lana. “…by the books.”

Jack shot me a dark look. I’d just confirmed his suspicion.

“Holly, can you take Lana back to the museum?” Holly nodded and started to extract herself from Lana’s clinging hands. “Lana,” I barked, hoping to snap her out of whatever she was so worked up over, “—I need you to be strong, okay? We can’t have this affecting business. Keep the FAA people away from the visitors. Make sure the staff is all friendly and happy. Let them know I’m okay. No stress. No tears. Business as usual. That’s the only way we’re going to make it through this. We have to keep confidence high and keep on trucking. Got it?”

She nodded, her face pink and swollen. “Of course.”

“Thank you.”

Holly took her by the shoulders and steered her out of the room. Jack shut the door behind them and pocketed his hands, planting his feet wide, at the end of my bed. “Okay, flyboy, what is it you’re not telling me?”

I raked my uninjured hand through my dark hair. “It’s nothing, it’s a little…complicated.”

He rounded the foot of the bed, sat down on the chair beside me and said, “I’m all ears.”

As I started telling him the whole story, starting from the charity auction where I’d beat O’Keefe out of the F-4 jet, the resulting brawl in the parking lot, and meeting Talia at the club that night, he just listened. I rattled off the facts in a bullet point fashion, the offer O’Keefe made me, his attempted blackmailing, and then Talia coming to me the night of the crash, telling me she’d been threatened and was scared for her life. When I got to the part about the friend who could smuggle things in and out of Mexico, Jack sighed, his only reaction to the entire story.

“God, that’s pretty fucked up, Player.”

“Yeah, tell me about it. And now…Talia is dead. The plane is history. And it’s all my fault,” my voice was hollow and emotionless.

“It’s not your fault. Don’t put yourself through that.”

I scoffed. “I was the pilot. I should have caught the problem before the wheels even left the ground. And if I couldn’t have caught that problem ahead of time—I should have had the sense to land—well, crash—in a way that we both walked away. I mean, for fuck’s sake, we were hardly off the ground! Talia should still be here.”

Jack shook his head. “Buddy, you’re gonna have to let that go. That kind of guilt will only eat you alive. Pilots—even good ones—have situations that are out of their control. I get that you’re messed up over this. I get it. Trust me. But I’d hate to see you let this freak accident destroy your career.”

“I don’t know if I’m gonna have much of a choice. The FAA could take away my license.”

Jack leaned forward, bracing his elbows on his knees. He nodded, “They could, but I don’t think they will. They’ll look over the plane and figure out what went wrong. It’s not like you were drunk or high. I don’t see how the blame could be on you.”

I didn’t answer. In my mind, the blame lay on my shoulders, and there wasn’t anything Jack—or anyone else—could say to take it away.

The following day dawned earlier than I would have liked, with a visit from Gemma.

“Aaron, there’s some people here to see you,” she said, stepping into the room. “They say they’re with the FAA.”

I groaned. “Can you get rid of them? I’m not ready to go over everything yet.”

Gemma considered me for a minute, then nodded. She pivoted on her heel and left the room without another word. I sank back against the mountain of pillows—each nurse that came into my room had brought another one—and shut my eyes.

A part of my brain knew it would be better to talk to them, give my statement, and let them get on with their investigation. I wasn’t doing myself any favors by shutting them out. It would only prolong the waiting period. But the other part of my mind wasn’t ready to face the truth I knew they were bound to uncover.

I’d been the pilot in a fatal plane crash. I didn’t see how that could end well for me. Especially if they found out that I was helping smuggle someone into Mexico with a fake passport. The whole thing sounded insane, ridiculous and terribly illegal.

“Okay, I think you’re in the clear for now,” I looked back up at Gemma’s smooth, confident tone. She floated into the room, her white coat billowing behind her. “Has Dr. Andrews been in this morning?”

I shook my head and closed my eyes again, content to let her voice roll over me.

“Hmm. Okay. Well, let’s see how things are going.”