“Probably in one of the hangars.” Several had garage style doors on the end facing them.
He whipped the Jeep into a space in front of the small double-wide trailer that served as the private terminal building. “The strip is small enough that there can’t be more than one or two planes out there fueled and ready.” He cut the engine and didn’t even bother telling her to stay in the vehicle. “Stay behind me, okay?”
She surprised him by nodding, but he knew she wouldn’t stay there if she thought Vivi was in any danger.
They went through the terminal without talking to the sole gate agent, who trotted after them, calling for them to stop. Even at a private hangar, there were security protocols, but now Wyatt’s spidey-senses were tingling, too. They could claim ignorance later and hopefully avoid any serious consequences.
They burst through the rear door to the tarmac just as the Rolls driver was handing Vivi out of the backseat. They had apparently driven through the hangar and right out to the plane. Valet-to-airplane service.
“Vivi!” Chey shouted, trying to be heard over the sound of the small jet engine and the wind that had kicked up. The rain hadn’t started yet, but it was imminent.
Wyatt was surprised they were boarding, given the lightning flickering in the clouds. He reminded himself about the power dynamic that came with wealth, but air traffic controllers were hard to buy off.
Vivi had tied a scarf around her hair and was holding her hands over her ears to keep it on and, presumably, to block out the whining sound of the engines. She didn’t turn around.
They were still a good twenty yards away when Wyatt very clearly heard the cocking of a gun and the shout of “Stop! Federal agent!” right behind them.
He grabbed Chey’s arm and spun them to a stop, turning to face the uniformed woman who had her gun aimed right at them. They both lifted their arms, hands up. “We’re afraid the woman boarding that plane is in danger,” Wyatt said, figuring they were in for a penny now. Might as well go for the full pound. “With the red floral scarf.”
Their federal agent didn’t appear to have a partner, and Wyatt was thinking she was going to focus on them and not Vivi, but she pulled a radio unit from her belt with her free hand and barked into it to order the flight held until further notice. A moment later, the engines wound down, leaving only the sound of the prevailing wind.
“For heaven’s sake, what on earth?”
Wyatt dipped his chin and shook his head. Because he knew the owner of that voice, and Vivi didn’t sound like a woman grateful for a last-second intervention.
Vivi walked right past them and said to the agent, “I know both of them, Miss—” She looked at the name tag on the woman’s blazer. “Agent Jarman.” She eyed Chey and Wyatt both. “I can’t say that I know why they’ve lost their ever-lovin’ minds, but I can vouch that the only danger here is the full dressing down they’re about to get from me.”
Wyatt caught the agent trying to tamp down the urge to smile. “I’ll have to ask you all to return to the terminal to answer a few questions.”
“But—” Vivi began.
“Ma’am, your flight has been grounded until further notice.” She glanced skyward. “Not that you were going to get liftoff anyway.”
“What about the driver and whoever else is in that limo,” Chey asked, speaking for the first time.
The agent holstered her gun, and Wyatt and Chey lowered their arms. “I don’t need to speak to them. I know who they are. Just you three. Come,” she said, motioning them to proceed to the trailer terminal.
Wyatt looked over his shoulder, hoping the gentleman, or whoever was in the car, would get out so Wyatt could at least get a good look. He was also mildly annoyed that whatever his identity, he was apparently unconcerned that Vivi was being led away by a federal agent. Some white knight you are, buddy.
“I appreciated you swimming halfway across Firefly Lake, I truly did,” Vivi told Wyatt as they were escorted into a small, spare office, and the agent closed the door behind them. “But trust me, if and when I need a helping hand, or my boat pulled to shore, I’ll be the first to let you know.”
“We were afraid you couldn’t let us know,” Chey said.
“Are you saying he’s done this before?” Agent Jarman asked, sounding newly concerned. She motioned for them to sit in the thinly padded metal chairs crowded in front of a laminate wood desk; then she took a seat behind it.
“No,” Vivi assured her. “Well, yes, but I asked him to. Well, not him exactly. I asked—”
“Agent Jarman,” Chey began, calmly and with a steady smile. “This has all been a horrible misunderstanding. My friend here had a date that didn’t go well recently, and so today we were a bit concerned and—”
“I assure you I am perfectly capable of choosing whom I spend my time with,” Vivi said, affronted all over again. “If you recall, I had dispatched Mr. Hammond long before your arrival. I merely lost my paddles.”
“Dispatched?” Jarman repeated, looking concerned bordering on alarmed now. “What do you mean, dispatched.”
“She ended the date early. He swam to shore,” Chey explained. “Nothing happened. Everyone was fine.” She turned back to Vivi. “I was just worried. I had this gut feeling and they’re rarely wrong. We just wanted to see who it was, make sure you were okay. We weren’t going to interfere—but an airport, Vivi? I mean, this was a business meeting. We thought you were going to Turtle Springs; then you come all the way out here, and we thought, okay, upscale meeting means upscale restaurant. Then you got to a hotel—a hotel—and then you get picked up in a Rolls Royce, which proceeds to take you to an airport? Who needs an airplane for a business meeting? And where is he right now? He just watched you get hauled off by a law enforcement agent and he’s not going to follow up? Make sure you’re okay?” She folded her arms and leaned back in the chair. “I’m not feeling bad about my choices right now.”
“I often use an airplane for business meetings,” came a very deep, very recognizable voice from the doorway. “And I wouldn’t dream of leaving this lovely woman to be interrogated alone.”
Wyatt and Chey both turned, their mouths having already dropped open. “Oh my God,” Chey whispered. “You’re Grant Harper.”
The exceedingly handsome, multiple-Oscar and Tony-winning actor nodded. “Every day.”
Chey’s head whipped around to look at Vivi. “You know Grant Harper?”
“I’ve worked with a number of well-known actors,” she said, still clearly miffed. “You know that.”
“But Grant Harper?” Chey whispered. “You gave me a hard time about not mentioning Wyatt, and you never mentioned you know Grant Harper?” Chey looked back at Grant, still goggling.
“Gee,” Vivi said dryly, “I can’t imagine why.”
Grant stepped into the room and extended his hand. “Agent”—he paused and read her badge—“Jarman. I think we can all agree that this has been a well-intentioned, and possibly even cinematic, moment, but otherwise harmless.”
“It’s against the law to—” Agent Jarman began, but then he took her hand in his and covered it with his other hand, and she faltered slightly.