24
AUSTIN
“That’s it,” I say to Miles and Chance as we walk toward Sea-Air headquarters, located at their harbor base. Their dock is longer than where we land, with buoys and lights to warn boaters of landing planes. “According to Mom, Greg is manning this morning’s flight to Vancouver Island.”
Chance is walking a step behind me. “So he’s not flying for Lovering?”
I huff. “Hell, no. Mom fired his ass. I’ll be flying for Lovering.”
“For this week.” From Miles. “What about after that?”
I have no idea what will happen after that if we don’t find another replacement, and they both know it, so I don’t bother replying. Especially once the seaplane with the Sea-Air logo floats carefully to the dock. Someone’s there to tie it off, which reminds me I need to have a little chat with Ed, our dock man.
“That him?” Chance asks, his voice loud over the noise of the engine.
“I assume so,” I say. “I’ve never met the traitorous bastard.” I walk toward the plane as it stops, my two giant brothers in tow. The sway of the dock feels familiar beneath my feet.
The pilot—Greg, I assume—removes his headphones and deplanes. He’s tall but thin, and his jeans look like they’re about to fall off his ass. His stringy hair is pulled into a manbun. How the fuck does he get the headphones on over that thing?
“You Greg?” I ask.
“Guilty,” he says, looking between the three of us as he steps up from the running board and onto the dock. “You my passengers?”
“Fuck, no,” I say. “I’m Austin Bridger. Diana Lovering’s son, and these are my brothers. We’re here to get Lovering’s routes back.”
Greg backs away slightly. “Hey, I don’t want any trouble.”
“Then give Diana her flights back,” Miles said. “We’ll be happy to leave quietly with you in one piece.”
Chance has always come across as the more aggressive brother, but I have a feeling Miles has been in a fight or two and I have no doubt he can hold his own.
“What the fuck?” Greg asks, scratching his wild hair. “I thought Diana only had one son, and he’s in Montana or something.”
“Diana has one son,” I say. “Me. But Miles and Chance are my brothers.”
“What kind of asshole are you?” Chance demands. “Taking advantage of a woman who has MS? Who’s worked her ass off her whole life to build up her business? Who does that kind of shit?”
Chance listened when I explained my background. About my mom.
“Look, man.” Greg backs away, hands up, as if they will protect him.
Can’t blame the guy. Chance is the size of a Mack truck and I know what his punch feels like.
“Like I said, I don’t want any trouble,” he repeats. “I’m just the pilot.”
“Yeah, you’re a fucking broken record. Then you shouldn’t have taken our routes.”
“Take it up with my boss, man.” He points toward the end of the doc where the small Sea-Air office is.
“Oh, don’t worry,” I say. “We’ll take it up with him. After this.”
I step up and punch him in the face.
Unfortunately, he doesn’t fall to the dock or into the water, but he rocks back. “Ow, shit. What the fuck, man?” His hand goes to his clearly broken nose, blood seeping between his fingers and down his chin.
“You fuck with Lovering Air, you fuck with my mother, you get me.” I snarl. “That punch was for her.”
Greg’s right. He’s just the pilot. While he’s smart enough to get his license, he’s a fucking patsy for doing what his boss says, including being a slimy shit and stealing routes as part of his job. He could’ve manned up and told the fucker no and he’d have had a legit job at Lovering.