The Black Sheep and the English Rose (9 page)

Another clerk stepped out of an office door behind the counter. His name tag read
BRIAN
, and he was younger than Finn's new friend, Andrea, enough that he didn't appear to be shaving yet. But not so young that he didn't get hung up, at least briefly, when he caught a glimpse of Felicity Jane. Maybe they should take turns, he thought, depending on gender.

“Whatcha need?” he asked, all willing to provide the cheerful customer service Andrea was not.

“I have it,” she said, at the same time Felicity smiled at Brian and said, “Lexus, white, two-door?”

“I—I do have one,” Brian said, all but beaming with pride. He stepped over to another terminal and began tapping on a keyboard.

Felicity followed him, after casting a brief, smug smile Finn's way.

He was pretty sure his responding smirk rivaled Andrea's. Or was a close second.

“It was just turned in, but it's not done being cleaned,” Brian continued, looking a bit more tentative now.

“Dammit,” Felicity murmured, but not so low that it didn't carry to the young rental agent.

“I'm really sorry, ma'am,” the agent rushed to add. “But regulations state that we have to go through a check list of items before we can release it for rental again.”

She looked up at Finn, all plaintive and uncertain. Damn, she really was good. “What do we do now?” she asked, as if their only other choice might be life-threatening. Given the barely suppressed level of hostility Andrea was aiming at Felicity Jane, that might not be an exaggeration.

“It won't take that long, ma'am,” Brian hurried to assure her. “I can get them to put a rush on it; it's just we had to go retrieve it from one of the hangars—” He broke off when both Finn and Felicity turned to look at him. “What? What did I say?”

“It was left at a hangar?”

“Yeah, some hot shot called and informed us we'd have to go pick up the car ourselves, like we have that kind of crew available. Some people just aren't considerate, but I'm sure we can accommodate you. How about I offer you an upgrade, free of charge? I have a nice—”

“That's quite kind of you,” Felicity responded, this time with a smile only Finn knew was forced. “We need to go discuss this; then we'll get back to you.”

“Sure, no problem. Let me know if there's anything else I can do. I'll put a rush on the Caddy for you, just in case. It's a convertible!”

“Much appreciated,” Finn said, then steered Felicity back outside, leaning down to speak quietly in her ear. “I saw a sign pointing to the main flight office. It's over there, about halfway down the line of private hangars. We'll head there and see what we can find out.”

“If she's on Reese's plane, they could be heading anywhere. He doesn't fly in anything small.”

“I'll bet,” Finn muttered.

Felicity let that pass. “We'd be lucky to find anyone in the office who'd talk to us.”

Finn smiled as they both ducked into the waiting town car. “You underestimate yourself. You had the car rental kid ready to offer marriage if it would keep you in his proximity a minute longer.”

She did smile at that, despite the concern still clear in her eyes. “It's the accent. You Yanks just don't know what to do with it.”

“It does hold a certain charm.” He sat back and pulled his iPhone out once more, his smile fading as he went back to work. “You know, I'm going to have to rethink the whole leased limo thing. This is coming in pretty handy.”

“It does that,” she responded, still sitting on the edge of the seat, looking out the window as the driver maneuvered along the narrow road leading toward the hangars and other outbuildings.

Finn noticed the pensive look on her face. “We'll track them down.”

“I wish I had your confidence. I'm concerned that we're heading off in the wrong direction. If it turns out Julia isn't involved, or doesn't know who John sold it to, then we've wasted valuable time, and the stone will have left the country.”

“I'm betting the private plane belongs to Reese. We find the plane, we'll find Reese and, hopefully, the stone. My gut says Julia helped him broker a deal with one of her clients back home and they're headed to California.”

“And if you're wrong?”

He waited for her to glance his way, then grinned and said, “Well…we could always discuss dessert.”

T
he town car swung around toward the final hangar, mercifully preventing her from responding. Dessert. Like they weren't in the midst of racing about, trying to track down a priceless gem before it disappeared again. Like they had time for some frivolous liaison.

She kept her gaze focused out the side window…and away from the temptation seated across from her.

They pulled up in front of the small office, which was wedged between the much bigger metal structures that were the hangars. Most were relatively small, the ones they could see anyway, but there were a few in the distance that were rather large. Large enough to house a decent size jet.

Once again, Felicity exited the car before either the driver or Finn could assist. This time, she was going to do all the talking. And, again, Finn caught up to her just before she pushed open the glass door. The room on the other side was decorated with a few fake palms, a row of airport chairs, and a table with several magazines scattered on it. Behind the counter stood yet another pair of people wearing blazers. This time in navy blue. No one else was in the small waiting room area. Felicity tried not to feel disappointed, but it sure would have made things so much easier if Julia or Reese happened to still be making flight arrangements. No such luck.

Finn placed his hand over hers on the door, keeping her from pulling it open. “I'd go for finding out what plane Julia is booked on, as we know she's brought her car back, so she's here somewhere, or was. Leave Reese out of it, for now. I'm sure you'll come up with some plausible story.”

“And you'll be where?”

“I'm going to jog over to the big hangars and nose about.”

Momentarily surprised at his decision to leave her to handle any part of this alone, it took her a second to regroup. She looked over her shoulder at him, catching his gaze long enough to gauge if this was some kind of test, or if he was trying to pull a fast one of some sort. Maybe he'd recognized something with one of the jets as they'd driven in…She was tempted to keep him with her; then they could head out together to check on the hangars and planes, but with time ticking down, dividing and conquering was the best plan. She just hoped it was a plan she could trust. “Okay,” she said, knowing she sounded less than confident, despite its being her desire to divide and conquer in the first place. It was easier to trust when it was her idea. “I'll meet you outside when I'm done.”

He smiled a little, as if amused by her wariness. “Good.”

He stepped back and let her open the door. She waited for him to head off toward the private hangars, then signaled to her driver to wait specifically for her. If Finn had to count on her for transportation, that gave her at least a bit of an edge. She approached the counter with her most engaging smile and a slightly flustered demeanor. “Cheers, I'm hoping you can help me. It seems a friend of mine has changed her plans at the last moment, and only a part of her cell message came through.” She put on her most crisply accented tone and proceeded with her tall tale. “We were supposed to dine in town tonight, then fly out to Paris tomorrow. We purposely decided to rent private so we could fly on our own schedule.” She laughed gaily. “But, of course, it's just like Julia to get a wild hair and want to fly out tonight, instead.” She leaned forward. “Or a wild man. I wouldn't be the least bit surprised if she's flying out on Sir John's plane.” She leaned farther over the counter, all best pals and seemingly unaware of the boundaries she was crossing. “Could you be ever-so-kind and help me track her down before she flies out? Reese is his last name. John Reese. And Miss Julia Forsythe. I really need to get a better cell service when I'm in the States.”

She scanned the papers on the desk as quickly as she could, before they could cover them up, but there was too much there, too much scrawled rather than typed, for her to absorb much of it before one of the agents deftly scooped the paperwork into his hands. “I'm sorry, ma'am—”

“Oh, my, I must look more dreadful than I thought,” she said, patting at her hair. “Ma'am, is it now?” She laughed as self-consciously as she could.

The young man blushed and stammered. “No, ma'am. I mean, miss. I mean—I was just being polite, it wasn't—”

The other agent, unfortunately female and, while pleasant looking enough, not quite as entranced by Felicity's Britishness—at least once she saw her coworker tripping over his tongue, anyway—stepped forward and butted into the conversation. “We can't give out any manifest information, I'm sorry. It's very strictly regulated.”

The crestfallen look Felicity gave them both wasn't hard to pull off. “Oh, dear. I certainly understand, but however am I to find her, then? I'll be stranded here and, well—” She looked back toward the door, to the tarmac beyond, then back to the agents. “Is this the only area serving private jets? Can you tell me if there are any planning to leave shortly, or that have just left? You list arrival and departure information for commercial flights; surely it's not against any regulation to give me that much.”

“It is when it's a privately owned plane,” the woman agent informed her. “I'm sorry,” she added, and seemed to mean it. Mostly. Andrea could take lessons. For a brief moment she wondered if Finn could have swayed her, then snapped out of that. It would be unwise to get used to having him around. In any capacity. Surely she could handle this much on her own. She'd tackled far more challenging obstacles and won. Most of the time.

Felicity's shoulders slumped, but not overly dramatically, as she placed her bag on the counter. “Whatever am I to do?” She pulled out her cell phone and pretended to look at the screen. “No signal at all now. Oh, dear. Oh dear, oh dear, oh dear.” She once again scanned a longing look outside, then back to the agents. “Would it be possible for me to book a private flight from here? Is there a service I can contact or another office?” She sighed. “Although, what if I book to Paris and Julia's gotten it in her head to fly back to San Francisco instead?”

From the corner of her eye, she watched both agents and noted the way the male agent's eyes darted to the papers in his hand when she said, “San Francisco.” Bingo. She tucked her cell phone back into her purse and pulled out a slender wallet. “If I could just reach her to find out what the rest of her message said. She's going to feel awful for stranding me here.” She kept the male agent in her sights as she let go with another aggrieved sigh. “Of course, if Sir John is with her, she's likely distracted and—”

“Is he truly a knight?” the young man blurted, eyes almost glowing with interest. He took the sharp elbow of his coworker with a little wince, but didn't take his eyes off Felicity. “I'm sorry, it's just you called him sir and I wondered, and—”

“The Queen herself thinks so,” Felicity said, which, for all she knew, was true, as John was known to be quite the charmer when he wanted to be and, despite his less-than-lily-white reputation, had been known to grace more than one royal function. The fact that he hadn't exactly been knighted in the traditional sense and likely never would be wasn't really important. He was quite young for that honor anyway. Something the even younger agent here obviously wasn't aware of, and about which she had little regret in harmlessly exploiting if it got her the information she needed. No harm was being done, after all.

“Have you met her? The Queen, I mean?” he asked, eyebrows climbing halfway up his forehead.

Felicity ignored the aggrieved glances of his coworker, who was clearly embarrassed by his outburst, but fortunately was forced to duck away to answer a ringing phone. Felicity knew that this was her only chance, so she turned all of her attention on the young man in front of her, who had no name plate on. More was the pity. “We've met on several occasions,” Felicity said, this time quite truthfully. She had graced a number of royal function guest lists, as well, but her attendance with the Queen had been limited to long receiving lines and very brief curtsies. “She's quite awe-inspiring.”

“I bet,” he gushed. “Do you know any other knights?”

“I've met my fair share, yes. Mostly I just need to reconnect with this particular one.” She leaned farther forward and braced her arms on the counter, pushing her advantage as she lowered her voice conspiratorially. “To be perfectly honest, Sir John can be quite the scoundrel, and I'm very much afraid my friend Julia will fall prey to his rather finely honed charms. She's not quite…worldly enough, if you take my meaning.”

“I thought she seemed pretty sharp,” the agent said, so entranced by Felicity's let's-gossip chumminess that he seemed to forget what he was letting on. “I overheard them discussing something when they walked in, and she wasn't letting him walk over her, that's for certain. Although she did let him do the talking when it came to setting up their flight.”

“See?” She threw up her hands in mock disgust. “Here we were supposed to fly out together, a girlfriends-only European weekend in the offing, and he's already got her head all turned around. I'm just afraid what else he might get turned around once he gets her twenty thousand feet up.”

“She didn't seem to be that big a pushover to me,” the agent told her, trying to reassure her.

Felicity wrung her hands. “When it comes to business, she's a shark, but as her best friend, I know her history with men, and trust me, she loses all common sense. Sir John is way out of her league, and I'll simply never forgive myself if I don't at least warn her as to what she's getting herself into.”

The young man looked over his shoulder, to where his coworker had disappeared into an adjoining office, then back to Felicity, clearly torn. “I wish I could help you, but even if I told you what hangar they were using, you'd never get there in time.”

“If she leaves the States with him—”

The agent darted another quick look over his shoulder, then quickly shook his head at Felicity, his expression quite earnest, as if trying to signal her in some way.

“They're not leaving the States?”

He smiled, looking relieved that she'd picked up on his oh-so-clever signal.

She laid her hand on his arm. “Thank you for doing what you could. I appreciate it.”

“I—I'm sorry I couldn't do more,” he stammered, obviously a little overcome by her touching him.

“It's more than I had. Cheers.” Felicity squeezed his arm, then quickly turned and headed toward the door.

“Cheers!” the agent called out behind her.

She didn't have to look far for Finn. He was presently running toward her in a long, loping stride. He had the natural kind of athleticism a person could only be born with. Any other time, she'd have taken pleasure in watching him move. She hurried toward him.

“I tracked down two flights, both leaving in the next forty-five minutes. Then nothing till morning. Nothing international tonight.”

“They're not flying out of the country. I got that much. Was one of them to San Francisco?”

He shook his head. “Detroit, and Dallas.”

“Maybe they're making a stopover for gas midway. Did you get a peek at the passengers for either flight?”

“I don't think either of those flights are theirs. I think they've already taken off. There were three flights out in the past hour.”

Felicity swore under her breath, then noticed Finn was grinning. “What could possibly be amusing?”

“One of those flights was to San Francisco. It left about ten minutes before we got here.”

Her eyes widened. “Then what are we standing here for? We should go back into the office and arrange something with whoever can get us up in the air first. I've managed to build some rapport with the agent in there. I'm sure for the right price, we can find someone to fly us out of here tonight.” She turned around to head back to the office. “If nothing else is available, we can go commercial and take a red-eye shuttle out.”

“Already done,” he told her, snagging her elbow, and neatly turned her back around. “We leave in forty-five minutes.”

She gave him a surprised look. “Quite certain of yourself. What if I'd come out and said it was Paris?”

“Flight plans can be cancelled.” He grinned. “Your faith in me is touching. You could give a guy a complex, you know.”

She couldn't help it; she glanced down, then quickly back up. “I hardly think that will ever be a concern of yours.”

His grin only broadened, and made her quickly shift the subject back on topic. “Besides, you'd have to care what people think to develop a complex. And if you were so damn clever out here being one of the boys with your fellow adrenaline jockeys, then why did you leave me in there, making googly eyes at that poor young man, when you knew all along—”

“I was coming to your rescue when you hustled out the door. And never underestimate the potential future help of the freshly googly eyed. I'm sure, along with Brian, he'll be your devoted fan for life. You never know when you might need a car or another last minute flight. They could come in handy at some point.”

She rolled her eyes, but she was thinking that she wished Finn was as easily “googled” as the young agent had been. She wasn't used to dealing with someone as sharp as he was. Hell, she wasn't used to dealing with a partner at all. “Which one is our hangar?”