Page 80 of The VIP Doubles Down
She felt a slight sense of movement and peered out the window to discover that they were rising off the asphalt pad. Her fingers dug into the leather armrest as they climbed higher and executed the same maneuver the other chopper had, turning their nose to the river and skimming forward.
Gavin’s hand closed over hers where she gripped the armrest, his fingers warm and strong. “Morley Safer claimed that helicopters induce a view of the world that only God and CEOs share on a regular basis.”
“Which category do you put yourself in?” she asked.
He laughed and gave her hand a playful squeeze. “In my fictional world, I play God.”
“I figured CEO was too boring for you,” she said, tensing as the chopper dipped suddenly.
“It’s just a touch of turbulence over the river. Think of the air as a road with a few potholes in it,” Gavin said.
“Potholes, right. In New York, you can break an axle in one of those.”
The laughter left Gavin’s face. “I would never put you in danger.”
That reassured her more than his pothole analogy. She nodded.
With that, Gavin switched into tour-guide mode, pointing out landmarks and tossing out intriguing facts or funny stories about them. “How do you know all this stuff?” Allie asked.
“Research. No one understands how much of it goes into a work of fiction. They think I can make it all up because my characters aren’t real. But the settings are real, so the buildings and streets, the sounds and smells, even the quality of the light in any given season need to be accurate.” He tapped his temple. “Of course, the weird, useless factoids are what stick in my brain.”
As they flew over Queens and Long Island, Allie began to understand Morley Safer’s quotation. They were close enough to see details, like the color of the cars in parking lots, but high enough to grasp the larger picture of the geography spread out around them like a relief map.
As they flew farther east, the expanse of the Atlantic Ocean began to dominate the view. A few ships crawled over its corrugated gray surface, but mostly it was empty as it stretched to the horizon.
“Make sure your seat belts are snug. It’s windy, so we might hit a few bumps on the way down,” the pilot’s voice said.
Allie tightened her hold on the armrest again, but her nerves were only mildly frayed by the occasional jolting. Gavin’s fingers were wrapped around hers as though he would never let go. She gave him a grateful smile and found him watching her.
“Mark flew combat choppers in the Middle East,” he said. “He could land this craft in a hurricane under missile fire without breaking a sweat.”
“As long as you’re holding my hand, I’m fine.” She turned her hand under his so she could return his grasp.
He looked startled, his gaze jerking down to their intertwined grip. He flexed his fingers as though he was testing the strength of their connection. “I’m not sure I’m worthy of such trust.”
“Believe me, I trusted Ludmilla far more when I gave her Pie.”
He sat back, his dark hair disheveled against the red leather of the seat. “Ruth would like you.”
“Ruth?” Allie’s grip on his hand turned convulsive as the helicopter jinked sideways.
“My oldest stepsister. She never lets me get away with anything, either.”
Chapter 20
The helipad was just an asphalt-paved rectangle that faced Shinnecock Bay. As Gavin helped her out, Allie felt the chill of the sea air cutting through her clothes. It smelled of brine and foam and deep, rolling waves.
She started to look around, but her attention was drawn to the man beside her, his head thrown back as he faced into the wind, his black clothes plastered against his long, lean body, his hair combed away from his face by fingers of moving air, and his nostrils flaring as he inhaled. He looked as though he could wield the power of the elements with a gesture of his hand, and she remembered her impression of him as a dark wizard.
He turned to meet her gaze, his eyes lightened to almost silver by some emotion she couldn’t name. “Thank you for coming here.”
She surveyed the starkly beautiful salt marsh in front of them. “I’m glad I did.”
Gavin steered her toward a chain-link fence that separated the landing pad from Meadow Lane, the two-lane road Gavin’s house was located on. Gavin had given her all the local names as they flew in, but he hadn’t shown her his house from the air.
Across the road was another asphalt rectangle surrounded by dunes, the parking lot for cars meeting incoming passengers. A single car stood in it, the driver leaning against the front bumper.
“You rich guys are really into reverse psychology,” Allie said, pulling her jacket closer around her.
