02 mile high, p.1
02. Mile High, page 1
part #1 of Up In The Air Series
Contents
Title Page
Copyright
Blank Page
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Four
Chapter Twenty-Five
Chapter Twenty-Six
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Chapter Thirty
Chapter Thirty-One
Chapter Thirty-Two
Chapter Thirty-Three
Chapter Thirty-Four
Chapter Thirty-Five
Chapter Thirty-Six
Chapter Thirty-Seven
Chapter Thirty-Eight
Chapter Thirty-Nine
Chapter Forty
Chapter Forty-One
Mile High
R.K. Lilley
Copyright © 2012 R.K. Lil ey
Al rights reserved.
CHAPTER ONE
I took a deep breath, then winced. I was trying to enjoy basking in the Miami sun, but I was still a little
sore. It had been over a month now since I’d sustained my injuries. I was fit enough to work now, but I
still got occasional reminders of what had happened to me when I moved or breathed just wrong.
My phone chimed that I had a new text message, and I winced again. I needed to remember to keep it in
the off position. It helped me to delay the inevitable. I reached down to the concrete below my pool
lounge chair, gripped my phone, and held down the off button until it powered off.
Just seconds later, I heard the Kings of Leon song that served as Stephan’s ringtone begin to play. He
sighed heavily from his lounge chair beside me, then rose, heading into the hotel bar that was nearest the
pool. If I hadn’t been sure my text was from James, I was now. It was his pattern lately. He would call
Stephan after failing to get ahold of me. And for some odd reason, Stephan felt obliged to answer his
calls. It had been the cause of an unusual new tension that had sprung up between us.
A different figure loomed over me a moment later, casting a shadow as it hovered near the seat that
Stephan had just vacated.
“Mind if I join you, Bee?” Damien asked in his heavy Australian accent. I didn’t open my eyes from
behind my dark shades, but I recognized his voice easily enough.
I made a humming noise that meant I didn’t care, and he lounged beside me.
Stephan and I had had to call in several big favors from another crew to get to Miami for our layover.
But I had wanted so desperately to avoid New York this week that Stephan had made it happen.
Somehow Captain Damien and First Officer Murphy had managed to do the same, after Stephan had
casually mentioned in a text that we would be missing our New York trip for the week. At first, I’d
thought it was rather stalker-ish of them, but more and more, the two men were growing on me. Damien
had made no overtures. He was, in fact, great company for a person who just wanted some peace and
quiet. He had no problem being comfortably silent, occasionally making light-hearted comments that
drew me out of my black moods. And he was accompanied by Murphy more often than not. Murphy
could make anyone laugh. Even me in the depressed mood that was dogging me lately.
“That cover-up is gonna give you an interesting tan line,” Damien said in an amused tone.
I wore a black swimsuit coverup that went to the top of my thighs. I wore it over my plain black bikini.
The coverup was see-through, but it was just dark enough to mostly obscure the faint traces of bruises that
still patterned my torso in a stark reminder of the violence I’d survived just weeks ago. They had faded
considerably, but they were still dark enough to need covering. I would draw unwanted attention if I
bared my skin for all to see. I’d already gotten enough unwanted attention lately. The paparazzi would
take any excuse to make me a headline nowadays. I wasn’t in any mood to encourage them.
“No one wants to see what’s under this cover-up. Trust me,” I told him, still not opening my eyes or
even twitching.
He coughed back a little laugh that made me uncomfortable. I was perceptive enough to know that
Damien was more than a little interested in me in a romantic way. Any reminders of the fact were
unwelcome.
“I beg to differ,” he said quietly, and I felt myself frown.
“Sorry, sorry,” he said quickly, before I could speak. I let it go. As long as he knew I wasn’t interested
in anything beyond friendship, I was content to let sleeping dogs lie.
Damien was handsome and funny and great company. He was also a shameless womanizer. I figured it
was just second nature to him to try to to show interest in any woman in his vicinity. And it was also in
his nature to flatter any woman when given an opening. I was usually more careful about giving him that
opening.
“Is everything okay between you and Stephan? I’ve never seen you guys like this before. You’re so stiff
with each other. Are you fighting?”
My gut clenched. Things did seem off between us, and I wasn’t sure how to make it better. I figured he
had to be at least a little resentful of me for making him miss his week’s worth of Melvin time this week.
Not that I had actually made him. I had told him more than once that I would understand if he still wanted
to go to New York. The crew we had traded with had even agreed to just do a single trade with me. But
Stephan had insisted we stick together. He was worried about me, I knew.
I liked Damien. I even thought of him as a friend. One of my few pilot friends. But I couldn’t imagine
discussing my difficulties with Stephan with anyone. It felt almost disloyal.
“He’s just worried about me, I think. Since the attack, we’ve both been on edge,” I explained. It was all
true, but didn’t address the reason for our awkwardness.
Damien made a neutral little hum in his throat. “What about that James guy? You two doing okay? I
saw a little bit of the media circus that surrounds him. You get tired of all that, and drop him? You could
have any man you want, you know.”
I sucked in a breath. Damien was usually very good about not asking questions like that. It was why he
had made good company lately.
“I don’t want to talk about it,” I said, my tone cool.
He got the hint. “Damn, sorry. I’m on a roll, putting my foot in my mouth, aren’t I?”
I gave a half-smile, finally looking at him. I gave a little nod, and he laughed.
“Well, I guess I owe you now. You want to ask me any rude, prying questions about my personal life?”
he asked. He had a great smile. It was all even white teeth, and self-deprecating humor. It would have
been hard not to smile back. I didn’t even try.
“Nope,” I told him with no hesitation.
He laughed again, as though I was much more funny than I actually was. “I guess when you answer yes
to that question, I’ll know I have you where I want you.”
I just wrinkled my nose and turned my face away.
“Wanna take a walk on the beach?” he asked, after several minutes of silence.
I realized in surprise that I did want to get up and move around a bit. I’d been so inactive lately, due to
my injuries. “It’s not a romantic stroll or anything, is it?” I asked him cautiously.
He sat up, grinning at me. He really was a good-looking man. He wore only low-slung black swim
trunks. He was tan and muscular. His dark hair and warm brown eyes were hollywood material. I really
didn’t understand why he would put so much time into a passably attractive girl who wasn’t even
remotely interested in him. I tried to use that characterization as further proof that he was just being
friendly, still strangely uncomfortable with his company.
I got up, moving slowly. I was still stiff, though I had recovered remarkably well, all things considered.
I hadn’t been released from the hospital until I’d had countless tests run, so I was in the clear of any
serious injuries.
I started walking, and Damien fell into step beside me. He seemed to know better than to try to help me.
I found the wooden crosswalk that led from our hotel to the beach, and crossed it resolutely.
I walked almost to the water line before I began to walk along the beach. My bare feet got wet, but it
felt good afte
the shoreline, passing the various ocean-front hotels. I counted the hotels we passed, absently keeping
track.
“Some weirdo just got a picture of us,” Damien told me as we walked.
Inwardly, I cursed. Outwardly, I shrugged.
“Want me to go beat him up and take his camera?” he asked.
I laughed. “The damage is done,” I said. I could only imagine what they would print about me this
week. I figured no matter what it was, it couldn’t be worse than the tangent they had gone on a month ago.
They had called me every derogatory name in the book. I was becoming quickly immune to it. It was
almost a pleasant surprise to me, how quickly I was becoming desensitized to being publicly insulted.
Someday I might even stifle my unhealthy urge to check online for what they were saying about me. I
wasn’t sure I’d ever have enough self-control to keep from checking to see what they were saying about
James...
“Are you really done with that James Cavendish guy, or are you just taking a break?” Damien asked,
walking close to my side, as though afraid I would lose my balance. He probably wasn’t totally wrong. I
did feel a little wobbly, but it was mostly because I was so stiff.
I gave him a level stare. I decided to be brutally honest with him. “I’d like to think I’m sensible enough
to be done with him. I’m realistic enough to know that, done or not, I’m ruined for other men. If you must
know, he and I have certain…tastes in common. I don’t really care to discuss it any more than that.”
Damien touched my arm briefly, giving me a warm smile when I looked at him. “If you’re a dominatrix,
Bee, I can live with that. Feel free to tie me up and spank me, anytime you feel the need.”
I laughed, because he was joking, and because it was the opposite of the truth.
“Um, no,” was all I said to him.
“Are you in love with him?” he asked. “Is it that serious? You can tell me, Bianca. I won’t judge. I
just want to be your friend.”
I grimaced. He was my friend. Why is it so hard for me to open up? I wondered. Even to a friend. I
thought over the question, trying to suppress my natural urge to just close up at such a personal topic.
“Yes,” I answered finally. “It’s hopeless, I know. Maybe that’s why my heart was perverse enough to
give itself. But I do love him.”
He squeezed my elbow. “Hey, I know the feeling. Don’t beat yourself up so much. What will you do?”
I took a few deep breaths, really thinking about it. “That’s what I don’t know. I can’t deny how I feel,
but I can deny where it has to lead. He still wants me. Will I let him have me again? That’s the million
dollar question, I suppose.”
Damien gave me a pained look. “It is.”
I gave a small shrug, the one I couldn’t seem to help. It was a gesture that seemed to drive everyone in
my life insane.
“He’ll grow tired of me, I’m sure,” I said softly. “It’s his M.O. The question is, am I so desperate for
him that I’ll just sign on for the ride?”
Damien didn’t have an answer for that. Neither did I.
CHAPTER TWO
Damien and I walked slowly back to the hotel. We found more neutral topics to chat about on the return
trip.
I noticed this time when my picture was taken by the man who crouched in the bushes outside of the hotel
that bordered our own. He was a pudgy, balding man. I had the urge to tell him that he didn’t need to
bother damaging his knees by attempting to hide. He was very visible, even hiding.
I made myself ignore him instead. His publication would say something horrible about me either way, I
was sure.
“Wanna hit up that Cuban restaurant on the corner?” Damien asked. We were almost back to our hotel.
I shrugged. “Let’s see what Stephan wants to do,” I said neutrally. The food sounded good, but I didn’t
want to end up going to dinner with just Damien.
“Okay. We’ll make it a foursome. Murphy will no doubt have an opinion on where to eat,” Damien
said cheerfully. His attitude reassured me. I’d been half-worried he was trying to corner me into some
kind of a date.
We found the other two men chatting with each other in our crew hotel’s large, crowded bar. Everyone
agreed on the Cuban restaurant easily enough. It did have killer food.
We split up to change for dinner, meeting back in the lobby twenty minutes later. I just threw on some
shorts and a tank top.
We walked to the restaurant, the men joking constantly, making me laugh. They really were good
company.
I ordered black bean soup and rice at the restaurant. It was a simple, if fattening, meal. I didn’t care. It
was my version of comfort food. I gorged myself, as I rarely did. I even ordered a second order of the
meal to go. It was a great breakfast, if you added orange juice. I did, grabbing a carton from the mini-
mart a block away from the hotel.
Stephan carried everything for me without a word. Awkward as it was between us, he was still a
gentleman to his core. His unusual mormon upbringing had ingrained in him a need to shelter me that I’d
never been able to talk him out of. I accepted him too much to even try at this point. I just thanked him
when he unburdened me of the bags.
Unexpectedly, he gripped my hand as we walked. I squeezed his hand back instantly. I couldn’t stand
distance between us.
“Are you mad at me?” I asked him. We walked just a few feet in front of Murphy and Damien, so I
pitched my voice very low.
He sent me a wide-eyed, surprised look. “Of course not, Buttercup. I’m terrified that you’re angry with
me for keeping in contact with James.”
I squeezed his hand again. “No. I understand very well how hard it is to ignore that man. He is
persistent. I was just worried that you were mad at me for keeping you away from Melvin this week.”
His mouth tightened. “Not at all. I’ve come to realize that Melvin isn’t relationship material. He
admitted to hooking up with another guy last week, even though we had said we were going to take it
slow, but be exclusive. And I also think he tried to talk to the press about you and I. I feel bad that my
judgement was so off about him. I was so attracted at first that I just saw what I wanted to see. You know
what I mean?”
I cringed. “Sadly, I know exactly what you mean,” I said, thinking of James.
He shook his head, giving my hand a little squeeze. “James isn’t the same as Melvin, Bee. I’m sure of
it. I just wish you could see it, too.”
I just gave him a look. It was my ‘drop it’ look.
Murphy and Damien wanted to go bar hopping on South Beach.
I declined their invitation quickly. Stephan followed suit. Murphy turned to his phone, texting the rest of
our crew. We had seen the three other flight attendants at the pool briefly earlier, but they seemed to be a
room-bound lot for the evening. Murphy looked crestfallen. An antisocial crew was his worst nightmare.
“A movie? There’s a theatre less than ten minutes away.”
Stephan sent me a questioning look.
I just shrugged. What I wanted was to go to my room and crawl under my covers until morning, but I
knew I would just drive myself crazy if I went that route. A movie seemed the lesser evil.
“Okay. Just let me a grab a sweatshirt. I always get cold in that theatre,” I agreed finally.
My room was down the hall from Stephan’s. Unfortunately, the hotel hadn’t been able to accommodate
us with adjoining rooms, as we preferred.
He handed me my bags of food and juice as we split up. I put the food in my mini-fridge, and grabbed a
sweatshirt from my suitcase.
I set my phone on the end table by my bed, plugging it in to charge. Reluctantly, I turned it on. I was
just intending to set my alarm for the morning, then leave the phone in my room, charging.
There were several missed texts and calls. There always were, lately. Most were from James, of
course, though a few were from other friends, and a few were from a strange Vegas 702 number that kept
