“I wouldn’t dream of sneaking around,” Leo lied. He had been contemplating slipping onto the grounds, but he didn’t want to risk getting caught and spending the night and morning in the pen. Then he would never have the chance to inspect Mattie’s aircraft.
After he left the bulldog of a guard, Leo parked his motorcycle and walked around the perimeter of the airfield. The pylons stood out as black pillars against the faint glow from the moon, their tall, narrow forms blocking out patches of the now-star-carpeted sky. A fence ran the whole way along the field, although Leo could have easily scaled itifhe had noticed any planes. But he didn’t. The night watchman had been telling the truth about the Fabins being housed indoors.
Even if Leo could sneak into the building undetected, which he sorely doubted, he did not know which aircraft Mattie would be assigned. He’d have to check each one, and he had no idea how many he would find tucked away in the sizable hangar.
Battling down frustration, Leo returned to his bike. He couldn’t allow his irritation to affect his thinking. He needed to remain methodical. His first plan had failed, but he had time to devise another.
After starting the motor, he tore up the road. There were even fewer lights burning on his trip north, and he swore the sea sounded angrier, as if intent on beating the beach into submission. When he reached the inn, he had barely an hour before they had all agreed to gather before leaving for Oceanbreeze.
Leo didn’t even attempt to sleep, but he didn’t pace in his room, either, or go out for a walk. That would have been a waste of energy. Instead Leo lay in bed and stared unseeingly at the high ceiling, concentrating on how he would try to slip away from the group once theyarrived at the airfield. Hopefully, he could manage to inspect the Fabin’s engine with no one noticing, especially Mattie herself. She’d made it patently obvious that she didn’t desire his assistance, but he couldn’t let her soar into danger, no matter the cost to their relationship... or to him.
He stayed on his back, thinking and planning, until the time came to join the others downstairs. Quietly, he slipped from his room and padded down the grand wooden Victorian staircase that led to the quaint lobby. Outside on the front porch, Leo heard the murmur of low voices. When he stepped through the inn’s entranceway, he found Mattie and Carrie in conference. Carrie was doing most of the talking and Mattie most of the listening. Leo was glad Mattie had another even-tempered pilot to strategize with, since she clearly wouldn’t take his advice at the moment.
At the tread of his shoes, the women looked up. Carrie waved cheerfully, and Mattie sent him a polite but decidedly not-welcoming smile. Shoving his hands into his pockets, he stayed on the other end of the veranda. Mattie didn’t need another argument, and he knew if he tried speaking with her, their conversation would almost immediately devolve into one. She needed to focus on her flying, and he—he needed to continue fine-tuning his own plans.
Soon the others joined them. When they piled into the vehicles, Leo chose Vera’s motorcycle. He didn’t want any distractions—or anyone to guess his intent.
Sunrise was still almost an hour away, so once again he found himself hurtling through blackness, although not quite as thick as before. Even with Vera in the lead, their caravan moved slower than his previous mad dash. Birds that made their homes along the shore had begun to awaken, and Leo was traveling slowly enough that he could catch their songs here and there between the rush of the wind, the whoosh of the now-retreating sea, and the roar of his motor. Normally he found the chirps cheerful, but today they seemed sharp and demanding. Hedidn’t know if the avian calls were urging him onward or scolding him to turn back.
When they arrived at the field, the gray predawn light had rolled in, almost like a thick, unfriendly fog. The pylons looked even more menacing now. Instead of giant shadows, they seemed like black fangs piercing holes in the colorless sky. A few people were milling about, including some who were clearly reporters with their notebooks and ever-present cameras. A handful of spectators had taken their seats in the crude stands that Fabin Flyer must have temporarily erected for their showcase. Representatives from the company strode to greet Mattie’s group, their suits perfectly tailored, their shoes shining, their fedoras at rakish angles.
Leo paid no attention to the pleasantries that the men exchanged with the members of Vera’s Flying Flappers. Instead he scanned the field, his gaze alighting on two planes sitting near the course. Shifting toward one of the more junior Fabin Flyer men, Leo jerked his head in the direction of the aircrafts.
“Which one will Miss McAdams use?” Leo asked without preamble. Luckily, the man was distracted enough by the conversations swirling about them that he didn’t seem to notice the abruptness of the inquiry.
The fellow pointed to the Fabin on the right. “That one, sir. The one with the red nose.”
Of course Crenshaw would have somehow wrangled for Mattie to fly a plane with a pattern associated with Germany’s Ace of Aces, the Red Baron, Manfred von Richthofen, and his squadron, the Jagdgeschwader I. It was clear how the former American fighter pilot envisaged himself as the hero and Mattie the villain. Given how mercilessly Crenshaw had pursued their foes on the front, Leo didn’t like how the bully had framed Mattie as the opposition.
Crenshaw himself appeared riding a motorcycle at a breakneck speed. He churned up the ground as he skidded to a stop. But even with his theatrics, he didn’t come close to upstaging Mattie’s arrival ina Duesenberg. Still, his presence prompted a flurry of activity. Sleepy reporters snapped to attention. Pringle in particular hurried to his crony’s side.
Questions pelted both Crenshaw and Mattie. Leo noted ruefully that the ones directed at Crenshaw seemed related to his flying technique, while Mattie’s were about whether she was terrified and if she had a sweetheart, and if so, how did he feel about her flying?
“Oh, I don’t get into personal details.” Mattie’s voice sounded light, but he recognized the diamond-hard undercurrent in her tone. “But whenever I fly, it is on my terms alone.”
Alone.Mattie had sought her whole life for independence, while he’d sought for interdependence on a family. Perhaps their relationship had always been headed for a tumultuous landing on rough terrain.
But regardless of what Mattie wanted from life and what he’d always dreamed of, he couldn’t watch Crenshaw lure her into a dangerous booby trap.
With the attention focused on the competitors, Leo took the opportunity to slip away. No one tried to stop him as he moved silently across the field. He stayed in the shadows of the buildings and kept his posture and pace casual. A few Fabin Flyer maintenance workers were drifting around the airfield, and he wanted to blend in.
Forcing himself to maintain his unhurried walk when he yearned to jog straight toward the red-nosed airplane, Leo finally crossed over to his goal. Fortunately, someone had left a ladder not too far from the aircrafts, probably for some final inspection. Hooking it under his arm while whistling “When My Baby Smiles at Me,” Leo never slacked on his slow, steady progress. After setting up the wooden legs near the Fabin, he first checked the shiny, new propeller. There wasn’t a single ding, let alone any pitting.
Yet Leo still didn’t feel assured. He next ducked under the nose of the Fabin to evaluate the motor. Luckily the plane didn’t have cowling on the bottom of the radial engine, which saved him time. He had noidea how long it would be before someone noticed him. Mattie would have his head for this impromptu examination.
Leo scanned his eyes over the mass of piping and wires. Out of the corner of his eye, he thought he noticed something wrong with one of the rubber tubes connected to the oil line. He was just about to study it more closely when a rough hand yanked him backward.
“Hey, what are you doing tinkering with that engine! Only Fabin Flyer personnel are allowed back here before the start of a race.” The voice sounded as hard as the fingers digging into Leo’s shoulder. Leo awkwardly managed to pivot his body to find a man about four inches taller than him and forty pounds heavier.
“You need help over there, Jimmy?” Another worker began running in their direction, followed by a third. All the shouting had begun to draw the attention of the crowd gathered around Mattie and Crenshaw.
“Someone tampered with the engine,” Leo said, but his captor’s bruising hold didn’t lessen.
“Yeah, well, no one has been around this machine except for you.” Jimmy shoved his face close to Leo’s, clearly not impressed with his excuse. “The night watchman did say a fellow matching your description was lurking about last night, though.”
Leo realized the man wouldn’t listen. There was a good chance no one would check over the motor. Frantic, Leo searched for Mattie’s face in the group of now-avid onlookers. When his gaze fell on her, his heart plummeted faster than a stalled-out fighter. Her features had crystallized into raw, frozen anger and betrayal, just as they had on the day her brothers had stopped her from flying during Alfred’s memorial.
“I think there’s something wrong with the oil—” he started to shout, but she squeezed her eyes closed, as if shutting out his words. He knew then that he’d just pushed Mattie into jumping into the cockpit. She wouldn’t want his theatrics to cast aspersions on her bravery.
