A moment later, the patio door opened, and Ethan stepped out with a look on his face that made my blood run cold. “Can you two get dressed and come inside?” he asked. “Please?”
14
ETHAN
When Adrianne told us that she would have to travel to Australia to film the big action sequences for the Falconi movie, I didn’t expect to take a private jet, but after finding the barbwire-wrapped teddy bear on the front porch three days before we got the notice that on-location filming had been greenlit, I was grateful for the indulgence.
The jet’s interior was cream and a royal blue. There was a couch that looked at a television and regular seats for if we hit turbulence, and at the very end of the jet was a door that led to a small bedroom in the same color scheme. It was opulent, and as we boarded behind Adrianne, who had transformed herself into this Hollywood goddess for the flight, we looked like farmers escaped to the big city.
“Welcome!” the flight attendant said with a wide smile as we climbed aboard. “The bar is stocked with beverages and snacks, and I will be serving dinner in a few hours. If you need anything at all, please don’t hesitate to ask!”
Adrianne handed her some folded bills, a tip. “Thank you so much,” she said, oozing charm. Then, she looked back at us. “Come on and get settled.”
We put our carry-on bags in the overhead bins. The bigger luggage was being loaded below. Foster and Adrianne sat on the couch in the middle of the plane. Callan buckled himself into a seat. He was almost grey. “Callan, you all right?”
He looked at me, scowling. “I’mfine,” he said through gritted teeth.
But he wasn’t. Callan had been terrified of planes ever since he’d been forced to jump out of one during a sea rescue. A boat had capsized, and they were closer than the Coast Guard, so they’d sent us out in a helicopter, and Callan had to be physically booted from the copter to the turbulent water below. Since that mission, Callan had hated flying. Come to think of it, a commercial jet would have been slightly better for it because of its size.
“Is he going to be okay?” Adrianne asked as I settled into a seat that I could swivel to look at her and Foster.
“He’ll take a Dramamine and be fine,” Foster said. “He just may sleep for four hours or so.”
Adrianne’s nose wrinkled. “That can’t be healthy.”
“The bottle says it’s fine,” Callan said without turning around. He rustled around in his pocket, and I knew he’d found his meds. “Goodnight,” Callan called over his shoulder. “See you in Sydney.”
By the time we were ready for takeoff, Callan was passed out cold, head lolling against his chest. “Remind me if I’m ever having insomnia that Dramamine works better than any sleeping pill I’ve ever seen,” Adrianne said absently, staring at Callan in a mixture of wonder and horror. “Should we put him in the bedroom so that he’s comfortable?”
Foster and I both laughed. “Absolutely not,” I said. “He’s going to be out of it for the next few hours, at the very least. He won’t know whether he’s in a chair, a bed, or stretched across the floor.”
“Besides,” Foster said, “we might have some plans for that bed.”
Adrianne’s eyebrows shot up, and a smile twisted at the corners of her mouth. “Oh, really? And what might that be?” she asked.
I patted her arm. “You’ll see,” I promised. “But we’ve got a while yet.”
Adrianne pouted, but neither Foster nor I would let her in on our idea to pass the time. Instead, we watched a movie provided on the television, and we ate dinner when it was served. Foster and I agreed with keeping this as calm and relaxing as possible. The last three days were incredibly tense. Adrianne basically wouldn’t sleep without one—or more—of us wrapped around her. She didn’t feel safe in the house, even after we promised to have the security system entirely revamped while we were in Australia.
When the sun began to set and the cabin filled with the colors of dusk, Foster met my eyes and motioned with his head toward the bedroom. “Come with us?” I asked, looking at Adrianne, who had been swiping through social media on her phone.
She gave us a dreamy smile and nodded. “Sure.”
“Will the flight attendant...?”
Adrianne shook her head. “Don’t worry about her. She’s paid very well to be quiet,” she said. “Will Callan be okay?”
“He’s out cold. He’ll be fine,” Foster said.
“Trust us,” I added, “he’s much happier that way. He really does hate to fly.”
The three of us moved to the tail of the plane and through the door to the bedroom. It was a tight fit with three grown adults, but we could make it work. Adrianne sat on the bed and stared up at us through her long, dark lashes. Where she had been grinning before, that had faded a bit.Thathad been happening more and more over the last few days, and I hated seeing her so afraid.
“We’ve noticed that you’ve been tense,” Foster said, “and we want to help you relax.”
“I’m fine,” Adrianne rushed to say, and I’d learned that she minimizes her own feelings. I wasn’t sure if it was a natural instinct or a learned one, but it had become my personal goal to get her to stop.
“Adrianne.” Her eyes snapped to me, and her mouth twisted. “You haven’t slept well in days. We know that you’re stressed out.”