Unlike the military choppers we’d all ridden in, the cabin was quiet enough not to need headsets to talk.
My phone rang, and the image on the screen was a problem.
“What happened to your house?” Mom practically screamed across the airwaves.
“We had a problem,” I explained. “The people who are after Peyton attacked.”
“Is she all right?”
“Peyton is safe. We’re moving her right now.”
“There’s a hole in the wall, and shit everywhere. This is going to take forever to clean up.”
“I know, Mom.” Now I was the one with a problem. “You can’t stay at the house. It’s too dangerous.”
Peyton smirked, probably able to hear what Mom was saying.
“I have a seminar tomorrow, and the drive is too long from home,” she complained.
“I said it’s dangerous, Mom. The house is not an option.”
Yates tapped me on the shoulder. “I can put her up at the Century.”
“Do you have any idea how long it takes me to drive?” Mom asked. “And the last motel the department put me up in had bedbugs.”
“Tell her to go to the Century and ask for David, the concierge,” Yates insisted.
“Mom,” I cut her off mid-complaint. “I have a solution for you. Drive to One Century Drive. It’s a large tower. Ask for David, and he’ll set you up.”
“I don’t know,” she hedged.
Yates held out his hand to take the phone, and I handed it over.
Terry rolled his eyes.
Duke was focused out the window.
“Mrs. March, my name is Yates Sinclair. Listen to me carefully… Ask for David at the concierge desk. He will take you to my unit. You can use a spare bedroom for as many nights as you need. Now, I need to go. We’re about to land.” He handed me the phone back.
“Mom, I trust him. Do as he said. Go to the Century Tower,” I said.
“You’re flying?”
“Mom, just go there. Love you. Gotta go.” I clicked off the call as we settled onto the helipad atop another tall building near downtown.
“Welcome to the Sapphire,” Yates said.
Ever the pessimist today, Duke complained, “A freaking hotel is not a safehouse.”
Yates seemed to take the comment as a personal attack and did a good approximation of Lucas’s death stare. “All of the last three presidents have stayed in the Presidential Suite here. It is the most secure place in the city. That’s where we will be.” He opened the door and stepped out. It was much noisier outside.
I urged Peyton to the door, leaving no question that we were staying here whether Duke liked it or not.
“I guess it’s worth a look,” Duke grumbled.
Terry decided to poke the bear. “You’re just afraid of heights.”
“Fuck you,” Duke retorted.
