that included Malcolm Douglas.
She snapped her seat belt on and tugged it extra tight while glancing at the controls and the thin sides, the surrounding glass. Okay, so maybe she could do this in a different seat. She turned to ask the pilot if she could sit in back but he slid out before she could speak. He passed his headset to Malcolm and put Malcolm’s ball cap on his head. The pilot sprinted toward the Maserati.
Malcolm slipped into the pilot’s seat. He tugged on his headset and passed a second set to Celia. She pulled them on, her ears filling with chatter over the airwaves.
He leaned toward her. “If you want to speak privately, just tap this button.”
And with that, he ran a check of the controls, his voice resonating in her ears as he called in to some tower for takeoff. How could the people on the other end of the radio not know they were speaking to Malcolm Douglas? His smooth baritone caressed her senses even when he just spoke, his voice utterly recognizable to her even without looking at him.
There was no denying he knew exactly what to do. “Um, Malcolm? Are you actually going to fly this—”
The helicopter lifted off. She bit down a yelp and grabbed her seat, terrified of touching something. It wasn’t as if she was afraid to fly, but this was all happening so fast, with so little explanation. She looked out at the house growing smaller and smaller the higher they flew.
“I guess you really are flying the chopper. You have a license, right?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“You can’t tell me Elliot Starc taught you to drive this, too.”
“Not Elliot.” He glanced at her and winked. “Private instructor.”
She sagged back in her seat. “Of course. How could I not have known?”
Reservations about her decision were pointless now. She was going to Europe with the man who’d stolen—and broken—her heart eighteen years ago.
Malcolm steered the helicopter through the sky.
He had to admit there were definite perks to having an unlimited bank account. He had the coolest toys. His work with Interpol had only expanded the scope.
Plowing through the sky in a helicopter, having the little bird at his disposal, beat the hell out of the days when he and his mom could barely afford to keep a rusted Chevy running. Vulnerable women were his weak spot, and he knew that. When it came to Celia and their history, his tendency to protect was all the more powerful.
He monitored the controls, his feet working in tandem with his hands—like playing the piano, it required two-handed coordination along with his feet. He played the chopper through the air, over tiny houses far below. Far above the threat to Celia, for now.
Because no matter how much he wanted her in his bed again—and he wanted that so much it gnawed at his gut—he could not lose sight of his primary goal here. He had to keep her safe. And that meant keeping his libido in check. A more restrained approach once he had her tucked far away from here seemed the better plan than pressing her on that kiss now.
Given her death grip on the seat, it appeared Celia had left her daredevil days behind. Her paling face sucker punched him, making him feel guilty as hell for being cranky with her when she talked about sappy emotions. Love hadn’t pulled him out of his messed-up life. He’d put his world on track with practical determination and hard work.
Still, he couldn’t stand to see her hurt …
He thumbed the private mic button. “It’s going to be all right, Celia. I swear. We’re going to meet up with a school friend of mine at his vacation home in the Florida panhandle. He’ll be able to help us slip out of the country without the fanfare, attention and danger of going through an airport.”
At least he had her away from Azalea now. One step in the right direction.
She looked away from the windscreen and over at him. “A school friend?”
“Yeah, a few of us have kept in touch.” A few? A select few. The ones who worked for Salvatore, a group of pals from school who’d dubbed themselves The Alpha Brotherhood.
“Close friends?”
“Definitely,” he said simply. “There were two types of people at that boarding school. Those who wanted a life in the military. And those of us who needed the regimen of a military education.”
“You were already incredibly regimented and motivated.” Her soft voice caressed his ear, the hum of the helicopter engine fading until he only heard her. “You didn’t need that.”
“Apparently I did.” He couldn’t deny it. “Hanging out at bars underage, knocking up my girlfriend. I wouldn’t call that succeeding at life.”
“I played a part in that.” Her voice held so much regret it reached across to him.
“I’m damn lucky I ended up there, where they could straighten me out.”
“How bad was the school they sent you to?” Her hands slid from the seat to twist in her lap. “I worried about you.”
“Not as bad as jail would have been. I know I was lucky. Like I said, I got a top-notch education, music lessons and discipline.” It wasn’t what he would have chosen for himself, but he’d made the most of the opportunity, determined to prove himself to all the doubters. “And the major bonus? My mother didn’t have to work double shifts anymore.”
“Ahhh.” Her melodic voice hummed softly. “So you really stayed at the school for your mother.”
“You always did see right through me.” He checked the controls again, refusing to let the tension knotting his gut affect his skills. “I was so angry back then that I wanted to tell the judge where he could stick his ‘deal.’ I was innocent and no one was going to label me a drug user. But one look at my mother’s face, and I knew I had to accept.”
“So you left town.”
“I did.” He’d left her. That had been the toughest part, knowing she was carrying his child and he’d failed to provide a future for them. “Chances of me walking away from that trial with a clean slate were slim.”
She’d already told him she planned to give up the baby, and as wounded as he was by her decision, he had nothing to offer to change her mind. He’d left town. There’d been no reason to stay.
“Tell me about these close friends who are going to help us out?”
A safe enough subject. Most of the press knew who his friends were; they just didn’t know the details of what bonded them to each other. “Troy Donavan will be meeting us when we land.”
“The Robin Hood Hacker … I didn’t expect that.”
Troy had hacked into the Department of Defense’s computer system as a teen to expose corruption. He’d done the crime and proudly served his time at the military school. If anything, Troy had griped about not being sent to jail.
He continued naming. “Conrad Hughes will meet us along the way.”
“A casino magnate with questionable ties? And Elliot Starc, as well, playboy race-car driver?” She laughed, but she also sank deeper in her seat. “I’m not feeling all that safe here.”
If only she knew …
He explained what he could. “Yes, we landed at that school for a reason and came out better men. If it makes you feel any better, our Alpha Brotherhood includes Dr. Rowan Boothe.”
“The philanthropist doctor featured in People magazine’s 100 Sexiest Men issue? He invented some kind of revolutionary computerized surgical technique …”
“With our computer-expert buddy Troy. Do you trust my friends now?” He glanced over at her and found a twinkle in her eyes.
Damn. She’d played him, getting