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"Of course, he did." I wouldn't exactly be eager to announce that I was connected to a guy like Alexandre Davos, either. "Any chance he's the one who called about Rhea?"
"Doubt it. Jack tapped his phone with a trojan spyware app. If he contacts Davos, you'll be the first to know."
"And the Russian?"
"He's close. I can smell the grease and piss."
"Do what you have to,” I tell him. It goes without saying, but I want him to know we’re pulling out all the stops on this one. “We should be there about four. See you at the airstrip?"
"I'll be there." Jovich promises.
I don’t doubt him for a minute.
I hang up the phone and go back to the cabin to find Claire asleep, her neck quirked at an uncomfortable angle.
I only debate for a minute about waking her before I reason that the Ambien will pull her under quickly again anyway. I wake her with a gentle hand on her shoulder… apparently, even with a sleeping pill, she’s a light sleeper. She startles awake and then turns around, looking into my eyes. Everything I’ve seen in there to this point is gone, and I don’t know if it’s her exhaustion that has chased away the embarrassment, the interest, the coyness. The only thing she seems to fix me with is fear. Is it because of me or because of whatever dream I pulled her from?
Tipping my head toward the room I just came from, I tell her, "There's a bed in the back of the plane if you'd prefer to lie down."
Claire straightens up, rubbing the stiffness out of her neck. "No, thanks. I'm fine."
"She doesn't want to sleep in the bed where you seduce unsuspecting stewardesses." Rhea swipes at the paper she’s drawing on, using her finger to smudge the pencil lines.
"I don't sleep with women on the jet," I assure her, sinking back into my chair and grabbing my glass. "I did, however, get a very sensual lap dance from an eager journalist in that chair you're sitting in."
Rhea grabs a magazine off the table next to her and chucks it at my head. I dodge it with ease and chuckle. "I'm kidding. She was a news anchor. Channel Six."
Claire takes a deep breath, and then her eyes close again. How many pills did Rhea give this girl? And can she handle them? I eye her warily but decide that if she truly is as important to my sister as I’ve been led to believe, she wouldn’t do anything to hurt her, even unintentionally.
"You're disgusting." Rhea laughs in spite of herself. "I'm glad you got what you wanted though. A life of luxury as a too-legit-to-quit playboy. I'm sure Dad was proud."
"We both know that's not true," I say firmly, attempting to dismiss any further conversation that may stem from there.
But Rhea doesn't give up that easily. "You know, when you left, I thought you were just running. I mean, that's what we do, right?” A small, dry laugh punctuates her observation. She’s not wrong. “Mom ran from her obligations, Dad ran from his family, and I ran off to college. I thought you were just trying to get away from it all, but you weren't running from anything, were you?” Smiling a little, she shakes her head before I even get the idea to open my mouth and come up with a response. “You were running toward what you've always wanted, chasing your dreams."
"No, I wasn't." I relax into my chair, aligning my forearms on the armrests to avoid meeting her gaze. "I had nothing better to do. I had no ambitions in life, no goals, no plans. I just did what was expected of me and joined the family business. It's not like I’ve done anything important."
"I think you did," Rhea says softly. "I resented you for so long for leaving, but I think you did the right thing."
I have a good enough poker face, but under the surface, her words set gnawing guilt in motion. It’s like rats busting free from a too-small cage in my stomach and now clawing for an escape, wild with both hope and the realization that there’s only one way out.
I know how they feel.
"Save your praise for someone who deserves it.” I clear my throat before the weakness can leak into my words, before she can get a sense that there’s something I’m not saying. “You, going off to college on your own to a place where no one knows you, that's impressive.”
She smiles a little, and the tension in my shoulders eases at the realization I’ve successfully taken the attention away from myself. “So, what are you planning to do when you graduate? I think you said you're majoring in hospitality."
Rhea makes a noncommittal noise and lifts one shoulder. "Yeah, I am. And minoring in business."
That is news to me. How did that go overlooked? On top of the phone calls I have with my sister on a monthly basis, I’ve got contacts in place that keep me up to date on her. It’s a shame none of them ever told me that her best friend is so damn intriguing. "So, you inherited the entrepreneurial gene?"
"I guess you could say that."
"Well, enlighten me. What sort of business do you want to manage?"
"I'm not telling you." Rhea laughs.
"Oh, come on." I prod with the teasing tone I’ve used on her our whole lives. "Scared I'll judge you?"
