Wait... Edward Denton?
I peer at my brother out of the corner of my eye, not turning my back on George. I know he would never do anything to hurt me, but his current demeanor—despite no longer being scared of him—makes the blood in my veins run cold.
Nate rolls his eyes and grabs my hand, pulling me behind him onto the plane. "George will get your stuff. Won't you?" he remarks with a smirk.
I don't dare make eye contact with the man behind me.
The door is located at the rear, and my eyes bulge as I follow Nate on board. The inside is everything you imagine a private jet to be—and more. A door to the right is ajar and leads into a bathroom—an actual bathroom, not just one of those airplane lavatories you have to be anorexic to fit in and still can't turn around. The color scheme is light yet sophisticated. Each of the cream-colored leather seats could easily fit two people. There are eight in total, two opposite each other with a small table between them. Toward the front of the plane is a couch on one side with a bar across from it. A small kitchen area, a seat for a flight attendant, and the door to the cockpit could be closed off by a curtain, which is currently held back by a hook that looks like it's made of gold. It probably is. An almost-white carpet covers the floor, and a matching runner lays in the middle row.
Keeping everything this pristine must be challenging.
The jet takesoff an hour later.
As we gain speed on the runway, my heart is hammering out of my chest, not because I'm scared of flying, but because of the unknown. I feel like I'm in the dark again—this time because of the future, not the past.
I curl up in one of the buttery-soft leather seats in the back. George stretched out on the couch, one arm over his eyes, after he had placed my bag on an empty spot across the aisle as soon as he boarded the plane. The next few hours are probably the only rest he'll get.
Nate sits across from me, his laptop in front of him on the table. He’s been typing away since he made himself comfortable there—right after he showed me around the aircraft.
"I forwarded your messages as soon as you sent them."
My eyes snap to his. I hadn't even considered that he could send them while he was on his way here. He must've sensed my confusion, because he elaborates, "The jet has Wi-Fi. I wouldn't be able to work otherwise. I’ve spent a lot of time in the air over the years." The corner of his mouth quirks up.
Oh.
"Do we know if they got them?" My whispered question is barely audible over the pounding in my ears.
He clenches his mouth before speaking. "No. They were delivered and received by the devices, but I didn't have time to write a routine to check if they read them. I would assume they did, based on the time." He tilts his wrist, and I notice the fancy-looking watch on his arm for the first time. He follows my gaze and mumbles, "A gift. I was still wearing it when I left the house."
I smile at him. He always appears so...embarrassed?...uncomfortable?...when he has to showcase his money.
"You still haven’t told me what happened," my brother prods carefully.
I draw in a shaky breath and expel it at the same rate. "Turner was at Natty's school."
Nate's eyes widen, and George sits up instantly.
I guess he wasn't sleeping after all.
I tell them about Natty being targeted by the kids at school, specifically Katherine's little sister, and conclude how she recalled Turner showing up during her lunch break.
"We need to figure out what he wants. His endgame." George has switched to security mode.
"I'll start digging more into his past. There has to be something, and I haven't gone back far enough." Nate immediately starts typing on his laptop.
"Can you do that from here?" I don’t even attempt my surprise.
He glances up between his fingers flying over the keyboard. "Don't be silly, sis. I would never do that on such a minimally secured network. I'm letting Hank know that I am taking tomorrow off as well."
Nate just snubbed me. What the—?
The remainderof the flight is uneventful. Unable to do anything until we land, George resumes his pose on the couch, and eventually, he does fall asleep—soft snoring being the dead giveaway. Nate works on his laptop, and I listen to my playlist on repeat, letting the tears fall as they come. He looks up every so often but then leaves me to deal with it. If I want to talk about it, I will, and he knows that.
As we descend, the pilot's voice comes over the intercom. "We are approaching LA and will be landing shortly. Nate, I confirmed that your car is waiting for you in the hangar and that George's truck was also brought in."
Nate presses a button. "Thank you, Joel."
"Won’t he wonder who I am? To you?" I assume everyone has seen my name plastered in the media by now.