Gavin didn’t give him a fist bump back. “Will do. And Hammer, when I come home, we’re going to have a talk.”
“Brother, when you and Ginny make it back okay, you can have the first punch.”
It took a good fifteen minutes for Agent Collins to get the okay from his director in letting Gavin switch places with Hammer. Ginny remained a silent spectator as Gavin and Agent Collins argued back and forth. When Gavin gave the agent an envelope filled with documents, Ginny looked interestedly at the marriage certificate, amazed at the signature written on the bottom. She was going to have a long talk with Gavin about the perils of forgery. She hadn’t done the deal with the FBI to get him out of his legal problems for him to spend five to ten in prison for lying to a federal agent.
A phone call to Collins’ boss settled the matter, and Gavin was given the okay to board the plane with her. As they walked toward their plane, Ginny saw Train’s head buried in the plane’s engine before he said something to the pilot before walking over to them.
“Any problems?” Gavin asked as Train neared.
“No, not as far as I can see.” Killyama’s husband shoved his hands into his flight suit. “Any chance they’ll let me tag along?”
“None.” Agent Collins motioned her toward the waiting plane. “Mrs. James.”
Ginny ignored him.
“Did you see Trudy?” she asked Train instead.
“Yes,” Train’s answer was short.
“How was she?”
“How do you think she fucking was?”
Wincing from the stinging dart of anger from Train had her going onto the plane without another word. Taking a seat at the back, Ginny stared out the window, fighting back tears. She had known Trudy would be hurt with her decision to return to Clindale Island, yet from Train’s short reply, her sister must have been more upset than she expected.
When Gavin took the seat next to hers, she refused to show him how emotional she was. With legs snuggly fit against the seat in front of him, he didn’t show any commiseration with Train’s displeasure with her.
“Buckle your seat belt.”
She numbly fastened her seat belt, keeping her eyes pointed forward. If Train was as angry as he sounded, Ginny was willing to bet it wasn’t a quarter of what Gavin was feeling.
“I should have told you,” Ginny whispered under her breath as the airplane taxied forward.
Drawing to the side of her seat, away from Gavin, Ginny clung to the armrest under the window as Gavin planted his face in front of hers, so close that she couldn’t glance away.
“That’s the understatement of the century.” His low voice had shivers going up her back.
“I was trying to help everyone.”
“You should have stayed out of it. Didn’t it fucking dawn on you that you could make it worse for us?”
Her own anger came to her rescue. “No, it didn’t,” she hissed sharply. “It was damned bad enough that all The Last Riders were about to get arrested for three deaths.”
“Who told you that?”
“Hammer, when I asked him to look into Slate being a confidential informant. I didn’t want to see you arrested.”
“You should have minded your own business.”
Ginny quit shrinking away. He wasn’t going to hurt her. She was just being silly. Gavin might look like he could crush a can with one of his pinkies, but she was certain he would never lay a hurtful hand on her.
“Anything that could hurt you is my business.”
Gavin gave her an astonished look. “You didn’t consider that not telling me the truth about who you are and making a deal with the FBI—where you deliberately placed yourself in danger—is hurtful to me?”
“I was going to tell you this morning. I already told you all this.”
“When?” he said, ignoring her, “I sure as fuck must have missed you trying to start that conversation with me. I could swear on a stack of Bibles that I didn’t hear anything remotely like, ‘Hey, Gavin, by the way, my name is Evangeline.’”
She tightened her lips at his heavy sarcasm. “I will repeat myself again! I had every intention of telling you when you told me you were going to see Taylor,” she snapped back.
“Me going to see Taylor is irrelevant,” he ground out, their noses bumping each other’s.
“It was pretty darn relevant to me.”
“If Taylor was still important to me, why in the fuck would I offer to find us a place to live where you wouldn’t be embarrassed about us fucking under Silas’s roof?”
“Lower your voice,” Ginny whisper-screamed at him. Then she poked her head over the chair in front of them to see if any of the agents were listening.
Gavin rolled his eyes at her. “You’re wasting your time. I’m pretty sure they are recording our conversation.”
She swiveled her head toward him. “Why would they eavesdrop on our conversation? They didn’t know you’d be here.”
An exasperated Gavin made her feel like she had noodles for brains.
“They would want to listen to any conversation between you and Hammer or the FBI talking among themselves. This plane doesn’t belong to the FBI; it’s Allerton’s private jet.”
“Oh …”
“Yeah … oh,” he said snidely.
“You don’t have to be so rude.”
“Evangeline,” Gavin mocked, “if you think I’m being rude now, wait until I get you alone.”
Chapter Eight
Ginny was apprehensive when the plane began its descent onto Sherguevil Island. A confusing array of emotions assailed her—dread, fear, even excitement. She wanted to burst into tears at the thought of seeing her mother and father again, but the growing sense of panic at putting Gavin and herself under Allerton’s control overcame her.
“Will your parents be waiting?”
“I don’t know.”
The possibility of her parents waiting for her to step off the plane added another level of turmoil. Her natural instinct was to want to see them; however, Ginny was unsure how she was supposed to react or how she should feel. She was no longer a child or naïve enough not to wonder why her parents had remained on Clindale Island. The way they had washed their hands of Trudy was a unforgivable offense to her; they had basically chosen Allerton over their children. Even if they had left the island and returned to the States when she was grown, she was uncertain if she would have contacted them. It would have place Trudy in too much danger if her parents realized she was still alive, assuming that information would get back to Allerton. She never wished ill on anyone in her life, but she had hoped age would catch up with Allerton and solve the problem for her. She should have known better. The devil takes care of his own.
“Are they on Sherguevil or Clindale Island?”
“I don’t know.”
Feeling wistful, she tried to catch a glimpse of Clindale Island from the window, but from her viewpoint, it wasn’t possible.
“I guess we’re about to find out.” Her attempt at humor failed miserably.
“I don’t think I’ve ever seen you nervous before.”