The Boss Vol. 2 (The Boss #2) (6 page)

And silence reigned once again.

G
race was late
.

I stood, hands in pockets, surveying the city from the lofty height of the roof. The wind up here was fierce, and once the helicopter had been turned on again, it would be even worse. I’d waited for a few minutes for Grace before disembarking the cockpit. She’d never been late to work, and I was becoming agitated. I had to be at Jimmy’s early to give a speech. I hated fucking speeches, but for this cause, I’d do it. I’d do whatever they asked of me.

Besides leaving Grace behind.

She might’ve decided not to meet me. It wasn’t a work day, and I hadn’t really requested her presence. I didn’t know how to do that. We weren’t dating, and any time I offered her something as small as my umbrella, she tossed the gesture back in my face. So I commanded.

This might end up being the first time I’d ever been stood up.

I debated calling her, then decided I’d give her a few more minutes. I’d built in extra time for our departure. I had a helipad on another of my holdings that I planned to land on near the site of tonight’s gathering, but air travel required extra clearances.

At least the weather had cleared. A hint of rain still scented the air, but last night’s storms had passed, leaving behind puddle-laden streets and a clear moonless sky. Our trip wouldn’t take long. I probably shouldn’t have bothered with the helicopter for such a short flight, but what good was having money if you couldn’t have some fun now and then? I wasn’t trying to show off. Grace had loved to swing so high and had gotten such delight from a simple thing. Maybe she’d enjoy this too.

If she ended up being afraid to fly, though, I’d be truly fucked.

Without any other options to pass the time, I flicked open that infernal coloring book app. Stupid thing. I didn’t even like it.

The door to the roof banged open five minutes later. Grace hurtled through the doorway, her hair flying wildly around her shoulders, and a complaint on her lips. Then she caught sight of the helicopter and clutched her throat.

“I—what is this?”

“This is a modern convenience called a helicopter.” The devil on my shoulder made me grin. Or maybe it was just relief that she’d actually shown up.

“I know that. Why is it here? We aren’t—no. Why would we?”

“Because it’s a quick, convenient method of travel. No traffic,” I said lightly, holding up my phone. Luckily I’d discreetly exited out of the coloring book app with my thumb. “Handy because you’re late.”

“I’m sorry. I lost track of time.”

Her flushed face and bright eyes—revealed by the roof’s powerful lighting—made me frown. Her rosy cheeks could’ve been caused by rushing. The glow that settled around her like starlight, however, could not.

I moved toward her. “Where have you been?”
What have you been doing? And with who?

I had to right to ask her. She was a free woman, just as I was a free man. We had no hold on each other. Yet the idea she might’ve been with someone who put
that
look in her eye—

“My studio.” Her throat bobbed and she tucked a piece of flyaway hair behind her ear. “I’ve been working on this piece forever and it just wouldn’t come together, but today somehow it did. It was like this fever came over me…” She bit her lip and shook her head. “You wouldn’t understand.”

I did understand, all too well. I’d understood it all the nights I’d been driven to sketch, and sculpt, and design for my own pleasure first, long before it had become the way I made my living. Now my artistry, such as it was, was responsible for the paychecks of all those I employed. Flights of fancy weren’t permitted.

Except on the showcase level of Carson Covenant Inc. And in my sketchbook. And hell, in that ridiculous app she’d told me about, where the whirls of colors competed with black and white designs that made me want to shade outside the lines. To fuck a beautiful girl whom I could never, ever have and to take a helicopter ride over downtown Boston on a clear night, just because I could.

Because she would be at my side, and she would enjoy it too.

I stepped closer. “What piece did you complete?”

She tugged on the sides of her short jacket, pulling them down as if they could protect her from the brisk wind. Beneath it she wore a long, floaty dress made of melting blues and greens that perfectly matched her eyes. The dress whipped around her calves, but she didn’t seem to notice, focused as she was on me.

“I didn’t complete it yet. It’s an angel. Made of panes of colored glass, bound together with copper and wire. I’d originally wanted it to have a light behind it, something to make the glass shine. But I realized it should be hung in a window, so that it could reflect the light that already existed.”

“A suncatcher.”

The somewhat childish term didn’t offend her. Instead she smiled faintly. “Yes. Higher end, of course. But yes.”

I walked to the helicopter and then removed the narrow cardboard box I’d stowed within. Wordlessly, I handed it to her.

She withdrew one of the blue tinted rectangular boxes of glass. They’d been treated with special reflective paint and the base was sturdy enough to hold a battery-operated tealight. Or a real candle if someone was feeling brave.

“A lantern,” she said, tracing her finger over the embossed words along the base.

Find Jimmy
.

Not pray for him, not think about him, not spread the word. He needed to be found.

“With enough light, you can banish the darkness.” As soon as the words were out, I looked away, feeling like a grade A asshole. But when I glanced back at her, she was still studying the lantern, nodding.

“So I guess my suncatcher needs to be bigger.”

I don’t know why that made me laugh, but it did. I’d never known anyone who understood what it was to marry art and business, even if we were on opposite sides of that table.

Opposites in so many ways.

“Come,” I murmured, gesturing to the helicopter. “We don’t want to be late.”

“We’re really taking this?”

“We really are. Unless you don’t like flying?”

“No, I love it. Like seriously frigging love it. But oh my God, it’s been so long. And never in one of these!” She hopped up into the passenger side like a pro and set the box of lanterns between her feet, then started tugging at the harness.

She went still as I leaned in to secure the straps. The side of my hand brushed her breast—and her hard nipple—and she sucked in a breath as I turned my head.

“Feel okay?” I asked, fixated on her mouth. She’d glossed it with a coat of barely pink lipstick and the shade made her lips look even more plump than normal.

“Y-yeah. Umm, not that this isn’t hella cool and all, but you’re not going to pull a Christian Grey, right? There’s an actual pilot that goes with this ride, isn’t there?”

I frowned. “You’re comparing me to a man who has his hired help clean his butt plugs?”

She coughed and covered her mouth with her hand. “Excuse me, what?”

“Or so I’ve heard,” I added. “I haven’t actually read it.”

But Jack had, due to some pushy ex-girlfriend, and he’d delighted in telling me that little factoid. Yet another thing he’d tossed at me to drive me insane.

The guy should have a degree in the art.

“Yes, there’s an actual pilot, and it’s me. If you don’t trust me to get you to Springfield safely—”

“How many flights have you actually piloted?”

“Hundreds, beyond flight training, of course. It was one of my first indulgences, learning to fly. As was this helicopter.”

“Seems like you indulge yourself a lot.”

I shifted my head until our faces were close, so close that her cinnamon-scented breath wafted over my lips. I didn’t know if the smell came from candy, gum or toothpaste, but that hint of spice drew me more strongly than mint ever would.

“More lately,” I said softly, searching her gaze, “but not nearly enough.”

I rounded the helicopter to the other side before she had a chance to reply.

There were cameras up on the roof as well. My security set-up was thorough. But I’d craved the sight of the face of the girl who loved to fly more than I cared about what I’d risk by being so close. She was my temptation, and even the idea of giving in was more alluring than sex with any other woman would’ve been.

I took my seat behind the controls and went through all my pre-flight checks. “This will be over in a flash, so make sure you look your fill.”

She nodded and checked the tension on the straps. “I’m ready.”

Ready or not, she still screamed as I started to take the helicopter up. I hadn’t named her. I thought the practice of naming inanimate objects was ridiculous. Hell, I’d had a cat I called Cat for two years straight in college. But I still referred to the helicopter as “she” so I guess I wasn’t as immune as I thought.

The whir of the rotors wasn’t enough to drown out her shrieks of laughter as she hung on to the harness and whipped her head in every direction to take in every thing at once. With as loud as the ascent was, I didn’t hear anything but Grace begging her grandmother to go faster, push harder, make her go higher.

So I took her higher.

“Oh my God,” she chanted, fixated on the panorama of water and city and sky. The view was dazzling, even to a hardened flier like myself, and her reaction only doubled the sense of wonder. “Blake, oh my God.”

Hearing her say my name again made me smile, but I didn’t look her way. I focused on what I was doing. On keeping her safe.

She was precious cargo, one I’d been entrusted with many years ago.

We landed on the top of the Triton Tower, one of my holdings in Springfield. When we put down, Grace clapped a hand over her mouth and faced me with sheer joy in her eyes. “Can we do that again? Please?”

I had to laugh. I wasn’t used to being around someone so unabashedly excited about life. Well, other than Jack.

My mood instantly darkened at the edges. Jack would be perfect for Grace. They could have untold adventures together, while I watched from the sidelines and ran a running snarkumentary in my head.

“Yes, we can, since we have to go back.” I leaned over to fuss with her harness, only realizing then that her chest was rising and falling as if she couldn’t haul in enough air. “Are you all right?” I asked, glancing at her face.

She was glowing again, even more so than before. The night was no match for that kind of wattage.

“I’m so good. So good.” She grabbed my arm, the one she’d marked so thoroughly yesterday. My dick stiffened at the first scrape of her nails. “It was like flying. No doors, just air between us. Oh my God, what a fucking rush.”

I’d no sooner unstrapped her that she grabbed the box of lanterns and hopped down. She twirled in a dizzy circle, laughing maniacally as her hair spun out like golden ribbons around her.

And I just watched her, mesmerized.

Of course I couldn’t have her. No one could. It was impossible to trap a beam of sunlight. The only thing you could do was enjoy the warmth for as long as it lasted.

I climbed down and grabbed another box of lanterns from behind the seat. She was still buzzing excitedly as we made our way down to the street, then continued up the block to the park where the rally was being held. From a distance, I could see the giant reflective panel of glass Carson Covenant had sent to the event, the perfect backdrop for all the lights that were beginning to fill the park.

This event was a symbolic gesture more than anything else, and while I disliked the futility of such, even I could acknowledge this night would garner attention. That was all we could ask for, short of bringing Jimmy home.

We were at the outskirts of the park when Grace finally quieted, her happy chatter turning into a frown. Seeing her glow disappear into the shadows of what we were about to do was worse than the helplessness I still felt that Jimmy was still out there. Maybe alive or maybe not, but alone. His parents didn’t have closure, and an entire town was in flux.

And a playground that had once signified safety and happiness and childhood to me had been forever tainted.

I passed her the other box of lanterns. “Would you mind handing these out to whomever doesn’t have one?”

She nodded silently and clutched the boxes to her chest.

“I’ll be back soon,” I told her, nearly bending down to kiss her forehead before sense returned. I had so little lately that I was surprised the gauge still registered.

She nodded again and opened her mouth, then shook her head before the words escaped.

I spoke to the organizers of the event, as well as a few of the people who’d led the early efforts to spread the news about the boy’s disappearance. Jimmy’s father shook my hand, and I couldn’t get anything out but “I’m sorry.” Just those two words.

I’d prided myself for years at my readiness to face any situation at a moment’s notice yet here was a man who could’ve used a word of encouragement and I had nothing. Absolutely nothing.

I could lie to so many others and pretend I still had faith, but I could not lie to him. Staring into his knowing dark eyes humbled me to the point that I had nothing left.

When I climbed to the podium after being introduced, I gripped the makeshift lectern and searched for Grace’s face amidst the sea of people and lights. I didn’t expect to be able to find her, but somehow I zeroed in on her as if she were a beacon.

Holding my light in her hands, she was.

The tremor in my hands I hadn’t even fully been aware of subsided as I greeted the crowd. I’d given many speeches and talked to many groups before, often ones made up of the very rich and powerful. None of those talks shook me like this one, where I faced honesty and had to give back my own.

“Jimmy Calagnino is six years old. Not was six years old, is six years old. Because until we hear otherwise, he’s as alive as you and me. He has dreams and hopes and wishes just like all of us do, but the difference is that for this moment, we’re charged with fulfilling his. And the number one wish we need to fulfill of Jimmy’s is that we never forget his name or his face so that we can bring him home.”

I sought Grace’s gaze again and again as I spoke. Knowing she was watching me kept me steady and focused. Without her there, I would’ve floundered, lost in a sea of my own recriminations. Not about Jimmy, but about my own life. Faced with such innocence—and its potential loss—it was impossible not to see all the opportunities that had been squandered.