“No problem.”
A few seconds passed before he came back on. “Sorry ’bout that.”
“It’s OK. What’s up?”
“It’s Monica.”
“Is she OK?”
“If you’re asking if she’s healthy, yeah. Much better than when you last saw her.”
Part of Trent relaxed. “That wouldn’t have taken much.”
Jack didn’t laugh. “She was fired.”
Trent wasn’t sure what that had to do with him. “Yeah, there was trouble before she left. I’m sorry to hear about it.” He was more than sorry, but shouldn’t the person holding her hand through this be her fiancé? “I’m not sure what I can do to help.”
“It’s more than her job. There’s a huge blowup, and investigation… they stripped her license.”
“What? How can they do that? And investigate what?” And why did he care?
“I have lawyers all over it, Trent, but what they need is your statement.”
“About what?”
“They’re accusing her of taking the assignment in Jamaica to obtain a free trip to see her lover.”
If the wind hadn’t chilled him to the bone, Jack’s words did. “Me?”
“That’s what they’re saying. They’re also accusing her of working outside her license. Rushed her job to meet with you.”
“I met Monica on the island. If she rushed to do anything it was to keep people from dying.”
“I know that. But my lawyers need to hear you say it. They want a deposition before she goes before the board.”
Trent rubbed the bridge of his nose. “That is seriously f**ked up.”
“I know. Monica’s not going to be happy that I called you. But I promised my wife I’d do whatever was needed to help Monica. It’s hard enough that Monica won’t take any money. She’s drowning in debt and refuses to let us help. I’ll pay for your flight down, hotel… whatever. Or I can have my lawyers come to you.”
“That’s not necessary, Jack. When is the deposition?”
Jack hesitated on the phone. “Yeah… uh, it’s tomorrow in LA. Sorry for the short notice.”
It didn’t matter. There was no way he’d be able to rest until he knew he dispelled any rumors about Monica’s reasons for going to Jamaica. Yeah, she’d probably be pissed to have her fiancé know the details about their brief affair, but it was better than losing her career.
Trent ended the call to Jack and called his brother back. “Hey, Jason.”
“Everything OK?”
“No, actually. I need to go to LA.” He glanced into the hangar at his ride. “And I’m going to blow my cover to get there.”
“Seriously? Must be bad… or good. You gonna be a daddy or something?”
Trent actually stumbled when he walked into the hangar. He hadn’t even considered the possibility.
“Trent?”
“Ah. No.” Shit… maybe. “It’s important.”
“Do what you gotta do. We have your back.” Jason hung up.
Trent opened the hatch to the Citation and jumped inside. He took in the cockpit, checked the hours, did a quick once-over, and then exited the plane. He noticed one of the airport mechanics and waved him down. After a quick instruction, he made his way into the pilots’ lounge and dispatch. The girl behind the desk smiled as he approached.
“I need the Citation fueled and a flight plan filed for a one-way to LA. I’ll be leaving in an hour.” He wanted to get out of Seattle before the storm that was following this drizzle set in.
She narrowed her eyes. “I didn’t get a call.”
Frank heard him and walked over. “Watcha doing, TJ?”
Ignoring him, Trent walked into the manager’s office. Frank followed and took his ridiculous glasses off his face.
The manager, Cornelius something or other, shared a confused look as Trent went to the logbooks to check the maintenance schedule. “I’m taking the Citation. Probably be gone a couple of days.”
“Excuse me?”
For the first time he realized he looked like a lunatic. Trent grabbed the book he needed and turned toward the boss. He extended his hand. “Trent Fairchild. Call Jason if you need a replacement.” He flashed a smile at Frank and took a brisk walk to his car. He could be at the hotel he was staying in, pack a bag, and be in the air within an hour.
Chapter Twenty-Three
Monica sat beside not one, not two, but three lawyers who wore suits so expensive that she’d have to work for a month to pay for all of them, and this was only half of the team. Mr. Goldstein was the senior lawyer in this trio. Back in Texas Mr. Goldstein had two other associates whom Monica lovingly referred to as Mr. Silver and Mr. Platinum. Not their names, but it was how they presented themselves.
Goldstein sat beside her with his sharp suit and cologne that was a little too potent for her taste, but she had to admit he smelled nice. It was as if the olfactory nerve was on trial and he planned on beating anyone within a foot into submission.
“This is only a deposition,” Goldstein told her. “You’re not on trial, though you might feel you are.”
“Do I have to answer everything they ask?”
“Yes. If they ask anything objectionable, I’ll stop them. Answer everything as truthfully as possible and don’t elaborate. If you don’t remember, say you don’t remember and leave it at that.”