Homeward Bound

 

Hannah drove Griff to Chicago Executive Airport, while Lance tended to the collection of a retainer from JR and issuance of the engagement letter. They sat on the sofa in the Atlantic Aviation passenger lounge waiting for the NetJets Cessna Citation to arrive under Tiffani’s watchful eye. Not unaware of their audience, Hannah took Griff’s hand and gently massaged it.

Griff stared at the sign pointing down the hall to the pilot lounge. He could not help but feel a sense of déjà vu all over again, so much so, he could almost smell Ralph Lauren Perfume Notorious in the air.

The high-pitched whine of turbine engines grew as the Citation taxied up. With a last look over her shoulder at the reception desk, Hannah walked Griff out on the tarmac. They watched the jet stop and the line boys roll out the red carpet on the asphalt. The cabin door opened. The co-pilot motioned Griff aboard while the engines idled.

Griff took a step forward, but Hannah pulled him back. Too loud to speak, he pulled her to him and gave her a long, smoldering kiss.

Hannah gave Griff a last peck on the cheek, then let him go. She watched him walk over and step up into the jet. The doors closed. A moment later the engines spooled up.

When he stepped into the fuselage, Griff was brought up short by the two passengers already on board. “Wilkinson? And you…Does your grandfather know where you are?”

“What is it with you and blondes?” Maura pointed out the window at Hannah on the tarmac watching them taxi away. “Papa warned me about boys like you.”

“What are you doing here?”

“Unfinished business…and I figured it was about time I explored the land on the other side of the Mississippi River…and you promised me the day I visited you in jail that I could come see the ranch. Remember? Or were you just being your typical lying skel?”

“A promise is a promise.” Griff sat down across the aisle from Maura and strapped himself in. “And I keep my promises. How’s Johnny?”

“Anxiously awaiting your next call from jail. He ain’t had that much fun in a long, long time.”

Griff laughed. “I’ve had my share of that kind of fun.”

It wasn’t long before they were cruising nearly eight miles high over the corn fields of western Illinois. Maura watched out the window as they crossed the Mississippi River.

When the “Fasten Seat Belt” light went out, Roger Wilkinson came up from the back row and sat down at the table across from Griff. He set a stack of file folders down on the table.

“I’m really sorry about Eply,” Griff said. “I thought you didn’t want to be seen with me.”

“I don’t, particularly—and hopefully haven’t been.”

“Can you blame him?” Maura asked. “Besides, I don’t trust Helena’s brother any farther than I can throw him. How could you stand to be in the same room with him?”

“The mental exercise of planning the death of the person sitting across the table from you sometimes has an oddly calming effect.”

“I don’t know if I want to be hearing that,” Wilkinson said.

“I am represented by Stein, Baylor and Stein, which means you’re my lawyer, too. So, it’s covered by privilege.”

“Yeah…but I happen to be sitting across the table from you.”

“Come on, Griff. We need Roger,” Maura said.

“For what?”

Over the next two hours, Wilkinson briefed Griff on the information gathered on the Talon Technology Group and its two principal partners. He also handed over maintenance files on Cliff Nickolson’s Bell 407 and information on an upcoming Highlands Group meeting the following week.

Maura went through a very disturbing file full of information from T-Rex on Seth Valance.

“I’m not getting off,” Wilkinson said when they landed and parked at Harvey Field in Rawlins, Wyoming. “I’m meeting JR in Los Angeles to go over the Hornet Investment Group books.”

“I’ll get this guy, Valance,” Griff said.

“We’ll get this guy,” Maura corrected.

“We will get him—and the rest of them, too.” Griff held out his hand.

“Just have Lance let me know what I can do to help,” Wilkinson shook Griff’s hand.

“You be careful, Roger,” Maura said. “I still don’t trust him.”

When Maura and Griff stepped off the plane, Rodya bounded towards them across the ramp. Griff went down on one knee and let the Husky lick his face as he scratched his head.

“Who’s that?” Maura pointed to the gate.

Griff stood up. “That’s our ride home.”

Rodya sniffed at Maura’s feet, then sat down next to Griff.

Ben walked over.

“Maura, this is Ben, the best friend and ranch hand a guy could have. Ben, meet Maura. She’s a bounty hunter—”

“Recovery agent.”

“I stand corrected.”

“Pleased to meet you, ma’am.” Ben tipped his Bullhide leather cowboy hat, then gave Griff a wayward glance. “Though I can’t say as I speak for Swan.”

“It’s not like that,” Griff said.

“It never is, is it? We’ll see.” Ben grabbed Maura’s duffel bag. “I hope you brought your appetite, ma’am. You made it in time for dinner.”

They piled into Ben’s Silverado for the drive home to the ranch.

 

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