Fran didn’t like the sound of that. “You’re hoping you see something that triggers an anguished memory?”
He nodded, as if he wasn’t consigning himself to a grueling test. “I’m counting on it. With the memories I’ve had so far, there’s been no connection. But this place—if I’m right, it’s the last place I was in Garronia before ending up in the sea. It’s possible that walking these steps will be the bridge I need to remembering more about what happened that night…or at least to explaining why I can’t recall more about my family or my work.” He sighed. “There’s a block I’m throwing up, and I don’t know why.” He jerked a thumb to the airstrip. “The answers might be there.”
“But what if you collapse out there?” Fran asked, searching his face. He didn’t seem distressed, though he should be, this close to such a potentially impactful revelation.
He shook his head. “I won’t,” he said. “I feel that I have to see this for myself, but I don’t feel the pressure I expected to. I feel excitement. Anticipation. It’s different.”
“I don’t have a phone for you or any way to contact you if something goes wrong, though.”
“Nothing’s going to go wrong.” Ari turned to her, and Fran’s heart kicked hard at the look in his eyes. Since she’d met him he’d regarded her with need, affection, camaraderie, and simple laughter. But the expression on his face now was definitely different. It was one of hope.
“I’ll be careful, Francesca,” he said. “I know I can’t keep asking for your help, but this one thing—if you could do this, distract the security guard until I have a chance to stride among the planes, in the last place I know for certain I was… I think it could change everything.”
She sighed, then squinted at the squat building. “So what is it you want me to do?”
Ryker watchedFrancesca all the way until she disappeared into the building, then he immediately moved to the structure’s far side, taking the corner at an ambling walk. Francesca’s role was simple. She’d taken a cab to the municipal airport, not the international one, and had gotten out and trotted up the drive before realizing that she was at the wrong place entirely. If the guard would be so kind as to call her a new cab, she would be so grateful…and if he could talk to her a little about what he did, she adored Garronia and all its people, and this little airstrip was so cute, and…
In the end, she’d agreed it was a reasonable plan.
Ryker knew it was more than reasonable. Francesca’s beauty would bowl over the grouchiest of security guards, and her sweet manner and quiet speech would make her seem every inch the lady, despite her simple garb. By the time the cab pulled up, he’d be back on the street as well, ready to hop in a cab and speed back to the center of the city.
Now that he was alone and walking through the airstrip though, he wasn’t so sure. There were maybe about a half-dozen planes parked here, each in its own clearly marked section. The big plane with the royal crest stood at the far edge of the field, but there was plenty to look at while he walked.
To look at and churn through.
He hadn’t been entirely honest with Francesca—in fact he hadn’t been honest at all. The pain rioting through his mind was enough to make his eyes water, and it got worse the closer he stalked to the royal plane. There were purple flowers growing wild at the edge of the airstrip, definitely more of the borage blooms, as familiar to him as the back of his hand. He knew that, without question, he’d made this same walk hundreds—even thousands of times before. Sometimes alone, sometimes with others. Laughing, talking, joking—always joking. His heart had been light in this place, too light almost. It didn’t seem like he’d come here to work, as he’d thought.
But who came to an airstrip for pleasure?
He gritted his teeth, nearly stumbling as another flash of pain seared through him. He passed a man on his right who climbed out of the cockpit of his craft. Not a mechanic but a pilot, Ryker could see at a glance. The man glanced up and offered a half wave before checking the motion, his expression confused.
Then Ryker was past him and the man grunted something he couldn’t hear, and turned back to his plane.
There was no additional pain in his recognition of that man, if in fact he knew him. He wasn’t the problem here.
So what was?
Ryker blew out a long breath as he reached the royal plane. He stared hard at the insignia on its tail, its loops and swirls tugging at his memory. He’d been almost sure he was a pilot for the royal family, but now that he was here, even that certainty was wavering. His sight was beginning to flag with the intensity of his headache, but no one had challenged him as he crossed the field. He glanced back to the squat security station, and his blood ran cold.
Another plane stood there that he hadn’t seen at first, smaller than the royal craft. It was every bit as luxurious as the royal plane though. Sleek and light, it was painted bright white with a similar insignia on its tail to that of the Garronia royal family. Similar, but not quite the same.
“Who are you?” he muttered, as he staggered onward, certain that he needed to reach the royal plane. This second plane wasn’t the goal, wasn’t the problem. His answers were tied up with the royal insignia—an insignia he was sure he knew…one that was so close to the surface of his mind, so close.
Ryker finally made it to the plane on wobbly legs, his hand reaching out to stabilize himself against the wheel well.
The moment he touched the smooth metal of the plane, however, lightning seemed to crack in his mind—and he went down amidst a cacophony of screams.
11
Fran was staring out the window as the security guard droned on—the cab called and Ari’s plan working neatly—when she saw Ari drop to his knees.
He sprawled over the wheel of the farthest plane, the aircraft with the mark of the royal family, and her heart practically exploded to three times its normal size. She was about to blow her cover sky high when Ari staggered upright again, wheeling away from the plane. She counted three long moments until he was past the view of the window, then she beamed at the building attendant. He was expounding on the importance of air flight to Garronia’s economy, practicing his English on her, and according to the large digital clock on the wall, she waited another two full minutes until she broke in.
“You’ve taught me so much in such a short time!” she gushed, mentally projecting the amount of time it would take Ari to get from the plan to the road, assuming he was running straight. “I’m sorry to have interrupted you, and yet sorrier that I couldn’t see that the airport wasn’t the right one.”
He beamed at her. “It is no problem at all, Miss. You will catch your flight?”
“Oh, I’m sure I will. That shouldn’t be a problem,” she said breezily. Ari had to be nearly clear, even staggering the way he’d been when she’d last seen him. “I am meeting friends—they have my bags. I couldn’t pass up the opportunity to shop a bit more.”
