Privately.
In any case, he was left alone to wander around the airport, in and out of the different hangars, refamiliarizing himself with how the place ran.
Just being here brought back memories; of coming here with his father, high on the purchase of the ’44 Beechcraft. They’d planned on a complete renovation, then selling the RC-455 at a huge profit to start all over again.
And then Eddie had met Sally.
Sally’s smile had transfixed his father into a love-struck fool, and Bo could do nothing but helplessly watch as Sally broke his father’s heart so much that he’d lost concentration and driven off a bridge, plunging to his death.
Bo had been left all alone and devastated and, yeah, he’d acted impulsively by going into the military. But it had turned out to be a good thing for him. He’d gotten his business degree and had become a pilot, and by the time he’d gotten out, he’d gone from boy to man. Then the man had been destroyed all over again when he’d finally gone through his father’s things and discovered Sally had done more than broken Eddie’s heart.
She’d somehow conned him out of the Beechcraft and the cash, leaving nothing but the deed to the decidedly less-valuable North Beach.
Why had Eddie made that deal? What could he possibly have been thinking as he’d signed their life over? Bo didn’t know, and he probably never would.
As the day went on, a few private jets came and went, but with North Beach’s fuel pump down for the day, many customers bypassed the place entirely, which meant a huge loss of income.
It boggled Bo’s business-oriented mind. Ernest was still working on fixing the pump, and supposedly they had another guy coming out tomorrow or the next day. Bo himself could have probably lent a hand to the efforts, but as no one had exactly welcomed him or tried to even talk to him, he figured fuck it. Sure this place was his now, but damn it, it wasn’t what he wanted. What he wanted was the Beechcraft his father had loved. The money would have been welcome as well.
To get either, he also needed Sally. Where was she?
And what was pretty Mel hiding? He knew it was something, because things were not adding up. She couldn’t talk to him. Odd, since he didn’t have a beef with her. Though he was beginning to understand she had a beef with him.
Something else that didn’t add up…
Each of the employees here was interesting, to say the least. Not a one eager to make friends.
Bo didn’t care, but he’d hoped for some answers. And yet they were an incredibly tight-lipped, loyal bunch.
He’d thought he’d start with Dimi, but she threw him such a fulminating look, he just kept walking, instead trying Danny. The mechanic was quiet but steady as a rock, and knowledgeable as hell for someone with flip-flops on his feet and the surf report blaring on his radio. He warmed up a bit when Bo revealed his love for all things aircraft, but was careful not to take the bait with any of Bo’s careful probing, giving nothing away of Mel or Sally or anyone here.
Bo tried again with Kellan and Ritchie in the employee break room. They were playing darts, and after awhile, seemed to forget Bo was there, which scored him all sorts of interesting but useless gossip; such as the fact that Dimi serial-dated men, and Mel rarely dated at all.
Must be that cheer and sweetness she had in spades.
Later he tried the café. Char cooked him an orgasmically good burger while singing along to an old STYX song, although singing was a debatable word. She was clearly curious about him but managed to restrain herself from answering any questions.
It was seriously starting to piss him off.
Ernest came next. He was an odd bloke who muttered to himself and spent a lot of time looking at spiderwebs, and was definitely not going to warm up to Bo enough to give him any valuable information.
A bust. The whole day had been a bust, with the exception of the one piece of knowledge he’d gained about the people here: they shared a deep, abiding, unwavering love for this place, and an even deeper one for Mel.
He told himself he didn’t care. He was on a mission, and he’d only just also realized that the mission was going to have to include something he hadn’t expected: clearing his father’s name. Because no matter what happened, whether Bo got the Beechcraft or the money back, Eddie Black did not deserve to be remembered as a con artist, and the thought that it could happen started a slow burn in his gut. Eddie had once saved the young Bo’s life, then had raised him while trying to get his own dream off the ground, and as far as Bo was concerned, Eddie had been a fucking hero, and by the time this was over, everyone else here would sure as hell know it.
Mel came back in the late afternoon. Bo watched as she connected with everyone there, making sure all was okay.
Like a mother cat checking on her kittens.
Actually, he thought, it was probably a lot more like a wild tigress checking on her feral cubs. She’d apparently had a long layover and had gone shopping. She’d brought Dimi some crystals. She had a book of old prints for Al, something that made him grin from ear to ear. For Char she’d bought a vintage Warrant T-shirt that made the woman squeal, her maroon hair bouncing as she ran to kiss Mel right on the lips. Kellan and Ritchie scored a new bunny calendar for the employee break room, and not the furry kind of bunny, either. Even Danny got something, a special wax for his surfboard that made him pull Mel in for a warm hug.
Bo himself got diddly squat, unless he counted the cool glances she kept throwing his way.
By six o’clock, the staff began to vacate, and by six fifteen, North Beach was a ghost town.
Bo was waiting. His plan: search the place up and down and sideways for some clues as to what Sally had done with the Beechcraft and/or the money.
A long shot, sure, but Bo had always been a gambling man. He’d already begun to check out the leased hangars on the premises. All but two were longtime rentals, and locked up tight. He’d been through the unleased two today when he’d lifted the master key from Mel’s office.
Both had been empty. No worries. Somehow he’d get himself into the other twelve, but that was for another day. For now he made his way through the maintenance hangar. He was checking out the planes kept there, considering where exactly to begin snooping, when Mel found him.
She was wearing her coveralls again, unbuttoned, the arms off and tied around her waist, exposing a black tank top and a pretty pink bra strap peeking out on each shoulder. So apparently, beneath all the tough swagger and talk there was a girlie girl in there somewhere. In another time and place Bo might have tried to draw that woman out, but he was frustrated and tired, and blamed a good part of that—fair or not—on the woman staring at him.
“I’m leaving for the night,” she said evenly. “And so are you.”
“What, you don’t trust me in here? Shock.” And because he’d noticed that she didn’t like it, he shifted closer.
He had to hand it to her. She remained cool, except for the slight widening of her pupils, which even she couldn’t control.
Or the hardening of her nipples.
Yeah, now that reaction he really liked.
She crossed her arms over her chest. “Fine. Stay the night for all I care, I have nothing to hide.”
“Now, see,” he murmured, running a finger over the strong line of her jaw, her skin smooth and softer than he expected, “that I doubt.”
She smacked his hand away, but not before he saw the leap in the pulse at the base of her neck.
Fascinating. Suddenly all those answers he wanted included something new—knowing more