LITMIR.BIZ

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he’d had to take a woman hostage to keep her from talking—a woman he never would have considered tying up in bed unless she’d smiled pretty, got naked and asked him to. And now he had a pilot who couldn’t stop hugging the toilet long enough to fly to Washington.

      Derek hated this. Hated it. His team’s reputation was built on jobs going off cleanly without a hitch, and now he was on the verge of having to phone Washington and admit he couldn’t pull this one off because he had no pilot.

      No. He wasn’t going to do that. Failure was not an option.

      Derek started the van.

      “Where are you going?” Kevin asked.

      “St. Andrews.”

      “The church?”

      “Yes.”

      “Wait a minute. Isn’t that where Gus is getting married tomorrow?”

      “Yes.”

      Derek wheeled the van away from the curb and hit the gas.

      “You’re gonna get him to fly the plane?” Kevin asked.

      “That’s right.”

      “But he quit the team a year ago.”

      “Do you know any other pilot we can get on short notice who can fly a Learjet to Washington and who won’t wonder why he’s transporting a guy in handcuffs and handing him off to federal agents?”

      Kevin sighed. “Good point.”

      Ten minutes later Derek pulled up in front of St. Andrews. He turned to Kevin. “Get in the back. I don’t want Gus to see you and think we’re double-teaming him.”

      “And if he won’t come?”

      “That’s when we can double-team him.”

      Derek parked behind a black stretch SUV. Nearby, several men milled around whom he took to be the other groomsmen. A white limousine was parked in front of the black one. Clustered around it was a group of young women who appeared to be the bridesmaids.

      Derek checked his watch. It looked as if the rehearsal was over and the men were heading out to the golf course before the rehearsal dinner tonight.

      As soon as Derek stepped out of the van, Gus spotted him and walked over.

      “About time you showed up,” he said with a smile, clapping Derek on the shoulder. Then he lowered his voice. “Tell me the truth. You asked for that job just to get out of the rehearsal, didn’t you?”

      Derek was relieved to see Gus in a better mood now than he had been when Derek had phoned earlier to tell him he had to miss the rehearsal. Of course, as soon as Gus found out why he was here now, that smile would be history.

      “Sorry, man,” Derek said. “Duty called.”

      “That’s the story of your life.”

      “Used to be the story of yours, too.”

      “Not anymore.” Gus leaned in and spoke quietly. “Guess I should have expected something like this when I asked you to be my best man, huh? ‘Sorry, buddy. Can’t make the rehearsal. Gotta tend to a congressman with his pants down.’ Or his panties down, as the case may be.” He gave Derek a smile, his voice still low and confidential. “So how’d it go this morning?”

      “Not well,” he said quietly. “That’s why I need a favor.”

      Gus’s grin evaporated. “What favor?”

      “I need you to fly the Learjet to Washington.”

      Gus just stared at him. “Come again?”

      “Learjet. Washington. ASAP. I’m in a bind, and I need you.”

      Gus held up his palms. “No way. I’m out of that business.”

      He turned and walked away. Derek followed, finally grabbing his arm, but he shook it off.

      “It’ll take a few hours, max,” Derek said.

      “I’m getting married.”

      “Not until tomorrow.”

      “So why aren’t you sending Lambert?”

      Derek sighed. “He has the flu.”

      Gus looked flabbergasted. “The flu? The flu?” He glanced over his shoulder, then dropped his voice to an irate whisper. “I once flew a C-5 Galaxy over enemy territory when I had malaria, for God’s sake. Tell him to get his ass out of bed and fly the freakin’ plane!”

      “I was with you when you flew that plane. My life flashed before my eyes.”

      “This is my wedding we’re talking about. Find yourself another pilot.”

      Derek glanced over to see a few of the groomsmen staring at them. He lowered his voice. “Look, I know it’s a hell of a lot to ask. But there’s a guy I have to get to D.C. for interrogation, and I have to do it right now. I took this job, and it’s my responsibility to see it through.”

      “Right. Your responsibility. Not mine.”

      “Gus—”

      “No! There’s a reason I’m out of the business. So I can have a life that doesn’t involve having to do this short-fuse crap anymore.”

      “Fly to D.C., hit the tarmac, unload the cargo, do a one-eighty and head back. That’s all I need.” Derek could see his friend starting to waver. “Come on, Gus. Haven’t we always watched each other’s backs? Always?”

      Gus blew out a breath. “Playing the loyalty card is really low.”

      “Hey, I’m stuffing myself into a tuxedo for you tomorrow. The least you can do is fly to Washington for me today.”

      Gus closed his eyes and shook his head.

      “It’s really no big deal,” Derek went on. “You’ll be back in time for the rehearsal dinner tonight. Hell, all we were going to do this afternoon is play golf anyway.”

      “I like golf.”

      “You also like to fly. Get in the van, and I’ll fill you in on the way to Love Field.”

      “I need to talk to Sally first.”

      “No. If you talk to her now, you’ll never get out of here. Phone her from the airfield. Tell her something came up, but you’ll be at the rehearsal dinner tonight.”

      Derek opened up the passenger door. Gus stared at the van, then back at Derek. “You owe me for this.”

      “You bet. Just name your price. After you get the guy to Washington.”

      Gus hauled himself into the van. Derek stepped into the driver’s seat, started the engine and hit the gas. He wanted to get out of there before Gus saw his bride and changed his mind.

      “Unbelievable,” Kevin said from the back of the van. “He talked you into it.”

      Gus gave Kevin a deadpan look. “I’m a sucker for a sob story.” He turned back to Derek. “So, fill me in. Who’s my cargo?”

      Derek gave him the short version of the predicament they were in, judiciously leaving out the part about Alyssa. No need to go there, particularly when it was a loose end he planned to tie up on his own later.

      “So we’ve got to get this guy to Washington for interrogation,” he told Gus, “or come Monday morning, either the president’s trade bill is going down because a few congressmen don’t want to see themselves in compromising positions all over cable news, or cable news is going to have a field day when they get hold of—” He stopped short, looking in the rearview mirror. “Damn it.”

      “What?”

      “Somebody’s following us.”

      Gus

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