The Spiral Down (The Fall Up #2)(5)

I rolled my eyes. It could have been raining bullets from the sky and I still could have landed that thing on a motherf*cking postage stamp. I didn’t need a reminder on how to fly.

“Right. Smooth.”

“I’m serious, Roth. Jump your cocky ass off your pedestal and do me a solid here.”

Weighing my decision, I glanced back at the door as if Nikki might barge through it at any minute. She wouldn’t. She’d have to come back and get her stuff eventually, but it wasn’t going to be today. No point in waiting. Flying was the only thing that could make me feel better.

Pushing off the couch, I started toward my bedroom. “I’ll be there.”




Hurry up and wait.

I’d made it to the airport in plenty of time, but due to the heavy rains in the area, all flights had been delayed. Air traffic was backed up for at least an hour.

I wished I’d stopped to grab some food on my way. I was starving, but the tiny, private airport wasn’t exactly brimming with restaurants.

After dropping a few coins in the vending machine, I made my selection then once again checked my cell phone.

Nikki hadn’t replied to my text. And the more time that passed, the more I worried she wasn’t going to.

Not if she’s smart.

“Shit,” I mumbled to myself as my dinner became stuck behind the glass.

Suddenly, a man’s yell snapped my attention from the snack machine. “No!”

A tall guy with messy, blond hair was staring at me from the other end of the hall. His hands were fisted at his sides, but his eyes were wide with absolute terror.

“No,” he repeated on an eerie whisper.

I quirked an eyebrow. “Uhhh,” I drawled before looking over my shoulder to see who he was talking to.

When my search came up empty, I glanced back in his direction and found that a behemoth had sidled up beside him. At six-two and two hundred pounds, I was a big guy. But I could only assume that this guy went by the name of Brutus, Butch, or Damien.

“Henry,” the giant warned.

The obviously frazzled man strode forward, closing in on me. He was an inch shorter than I was, but while my frame held bulk, his was lean with a toned, muscular build. How a simple pair of jeans, a black V-neck T-shirt, and a pair of boots screamed money, I’d never understand. But he might as well have left dollar bills instead of footprints on the tile as he stormed toward me.

Squaring my shoulders, I stood my ground. “You need something?”

“Please, God, tell me you’re not my new pilot.”

Ah, yes. The spoiled rock star.

It didn’t take but a second for me to recognize him. Hell, most people could have identified Henry Alexander. He was about as famous as they came and had been on the cover of every magazine over the last few years. The moment he released a new single, radio stations across the country joined forces to cram it down the throats of Americans everywhere. His music was good—the first five hundred thousand times. After that….

There was no denying he was a superstar. Women adored him, despite the fact that he was openly gay.

My heart sank at the thought.

Nikki loved this guy. She would have died if she knew he was my passenger today. Something I’d probably never get the chance to tell her.

“No way you’re a pilot,” he said when I failed to answer.

I’d already been in a shit mood, but thoughts of Nikki only made it worse.

I smiled condescendingly and then smoothed down the white shirt of my uniform. “Nah, but I figured I’d give it a try.” I popped a shoulder in a half shrug. “It can’t be that hard, can it?”

It was a joke. But, judging by the way his face paled, it wasn’t even remotely humorous.

“Carter,” he choked out, bending over and propping his hands on his knees.

“Seriously?” Carter, whose name I was disappointed to find didn’t fit him at all, said to me as he marched forward. “He’s kidding,” he informed the drama queen.

“I’m kidding,” I echoed when Henry began hyperventilating. “I’ve been flying for years.”

“He…” He stood up, but his chest continued to heave. “He’s an infant.”

“He’s a pilot with an impeccable record,” Carter replied.

“No,” Henry wheezed.

“It’s either this guy or cancel the show. We don’t have time. You’re already going to be late. The Red Dot agreed to extend their set until we can get you there, but I don’t think your fans are going to like eight hours of an opening act so we can drive.”

“Then cancel the f*cking show,” he ordered, standing up straight but no less panicked. “I’m not going with this guy. Call Jackson and tell him either he finds me someone other than Doogie Howser or I’ll take my business elsewhere.”

Shit. Jackson was going to hand me my ass if I lost this guy. And I kind of needed a job. I’d become pretty attached to that whole eating thing.

“Okay. Wait. I’m sorry. Let’s start over.” I extended a hand toward him. “Hi. I’m Evan Roth. I’ll be your captain today. I’m thirty-one, but I’ve been flying for most of my life. My stepfather was a pilot, and we had a small plane he used to let me copilot as a child. When I was eighteen, he helped me get my license. I was qualified to fly commercial liners before I was even old enough to drink. My parents were partial to college though. We compromised on the Air Force Academy.” I shrugged and tossed him a half smile. “I did three overseas deployments before getting out of the military almost a year ago.”