Robbi Plomb is murdering me.

I'm coasting along in my plane several days after our talk over wine. What should be a long, relaxing flight in the helm from L.A. to Chicago makes my guts churn instead.

I can't stop thinking about the way I walked out on her at the bar.

Walked out for the second time.

Shit, I haven't ever stopped thinking about the day I decided to walk out of her life.

There's a storm building over Nebraska. Dense, thick clouds with thunderheads lighting up the underbelly of my plane every time the wind whistles below. My hand tightens on the controls, and I clench my jaw, trying to make myself focus at a time when a pilot needs his wits most.

Too bad they're a million miles away in another time and place. Every time I blink, I hear our last argument over the phone again, where I told her to have a nice life without me.

I remember marching up to my old man's office after the crap she said about him blackmailing her mom. If he really did something to Ericka against her will, then I vowed I'd make him pay. My fists were hungry for pain already because he made me lose her.

I remember like it was yesterday, as vivid and monstrous as seeing her explode in rage the other night.

I kick down the door. He's lying on the floor alone with his blazer open, an almost empty bottle of scotch at his side. Surprise, surprise. I expected to find him with the new girl, the tart half his age he's already replaced Ericka with.

The door swinging off its hinges doesn't get a reaction. Neither does walking up to him. Dad doesn't even open his eyes until I press the toe of my shoe into his ribs, hard enough to make him squirm.

“Lucus?” he groans, lifts his hand, trying to block the dim light like it's a desert sun.

“Up.” I don't wait. I knock his hand away with mine, grab him by the wrist, and pull him to his feet. He wobbles. Growling, I shove him into an overstuffed leather chair in the corner, standing over him so he doesn't think he's going anywhere before we're done.

He's sickeningly light. The strong, smug man I remember as a kid has probably lost at least five pounds every year since the bottle became his ritual. Booze and melancholy atrophy his muscles and his heart one day at a time. The shit eats down to his soul, too, I'm sure.

I should feel sympathy, but today I can't. There's no room for anything except the raw, angry need for answers. And then violent revenge if I don't like what I hear.

“Really, boy? You're resorting to common hooliganism to push me around now?” He sneers, turning up his face, angling it so I get a perfect view of the bruise I left on his jaw the other day. “What is it this time? The girl, she's left you, hasn't she? You'll realize in the years to come how big a bullet you just dodged when you're done mourning.”

I reach down, grab him by his lapels, and shake the miserable old fart until his lips stop moving in protest. “Shut the fuck up. I'm here to talk about Ericka, asshole, and you will answer my questions.”

“Or what?” he whispers, his eyes going wide and lucid. “You'll finish the job you started on me last week? I'd like you to explain it to your brothers, boy. How you beat your poor father, crippled him, or worse. I'll cut you out of the inheritance, and your grandparents' trust! You can spend your days in jail. Probably an improvement over your flights to the ends of the earth.”

“Do it. I don't give a shit.” I slam him back against the chair, digging my hands into his shoulders, letting him know I mean business. “Robbi told me some things. She said you forced yourself on her mother.”

“Forced?” He snorts, a vile frown twisting his lips. “One drink was all it took before the bitch was all over me. Typical star struck gold digger. As soon as I brought her up to my private balcony overlooking the gardens for an evening nightcap to talk bonuses, she had her tongue down my throat. My, that woman could work it, but I guess you know a thing or two about that with the younger, hotter daughter.”

My hands move like lightning. I slam him deep into the chair again, baring my teeth. “Shut. The. Fuck. Up.”

“You're after the truth, aren't you? This is it.”

“Stop lying, old man. You blackmailed her. You made her suck your drunken cock. Told her you'd throw her out on the streets, just like she fucking said. You –“

“Of course, Lucus. It was me. I'm the lone monster in this. Not the woman who laughed when I warned her about her husband on my payroll, before she opened my belt. Not the woman who showed me utter lust in her eyes when I took her in the library, rough like she wanted, and told her I'd fuck her in front of that sad, weak prick she married.”

Fuck.

I close my eyes, remembering the day I learned the awful truth about them, before everything went to hell. I don't trust anything he says, normally, but now he's reminding me what I heard with my own ears.

No. No, damn it, I'm not letting him off this easy.

One hand grabs his shoulder, and the other goes around his throat. I start squeezing into his Adam's apple while he looks at me with the same sad, eerie calm. “You better not be lying. I'm only going to let up once when I let you speak again. Tell me the truth, the whole truth, all the fucking truth. Tell me you forced her into it and come clean, if that's what happened. Dad, I need to know.”

When I let go, I see the scariest thing in my life since cutting Robbi loose. Hot tears stream down the lines in his cheeks, and his face dips to the ground while he chokes for air.

“You've got me, boy. Guilty as charged. Yes, I seduced her. I made a play, knowing she was a married woman. She took the bait, sure, but she cast the first glance the day I hired her. She gladly took the money I offered after every trip to my bed. Took it with a smile on her lips and a kiss to my cheek, told me it was for her little girl's college. Just a classless, willing whore – the kind I always jump at.” He lifts his head, all his inner turmoil boiling in his eyes. I take a step backward. “Let's be straight – you're not here for the truth, boy. You've come to watch me suffer, to witness a break in the wall, and now you've fucking got it. Are you happy?”

I'm disgusted. I just don't want to throttle this asshole until he stops breathing anymore because I know he's telling me the truth about Ericka.

I turn my back and start walking away when I hear the thud on the wooden floor. Stopping near the door, I turn around, see him shuffling toward me, crawling on his knees. He grabs my trousers, pulls on them with his hands.

“Forgive me, son. I'm a terrible man, and I live every damn day of my life knowing it. I miss her, you know.”

“Who?” I whisper the question, shaking my head, even though I know the answer.

“Helene. She reigned me in. She made me happy. Made me better than the pussy chasing maggot I've become, who can't go three months without new skin sharing his bed.” He lowers his head again, mumbling the part that causes my heart to drop like a deadweight. “And there's so much of her in you it makes me want to puke. That's the real reason I can't stand the fact you won't follow in my footsteps, and can't form a normal goddamned business like your brothers. Hayden and Grant are too much like me, minus the flaws. You...you're her blood, her spirit. I'm ashamed I've let her down every time I look at you.”

It's hell giving him the stern look, showing none of the emotion ripping through me while he quivers and sniffles. I pull his hand off my leg and reach for the doorknob, clenching the cold metal in my palm.

“Forget this ever happened,” I say, looking past him to the old picture of mom and her plane. He keeps it on his desk, a piece of his humanity lingering like an idle ghost. “Get some fucking help, dad. Rehab. Counseling. Whatever it takes. If you don't learn to control it, whatever your malfunction is, you're going to destroy yourself one day with too much booze or the wrong woman.”

* * *

I know I've let her get under my skin when I'm thinking about the last real talk I ever had with my father in the middle of a storm. Turbulence doesn't care about my woes.

A gale reaches up beneath the plane and slams itself into the underbelly. Sensors I've put off maintaining start to hiccup, screaming warning lights. I grab the controls, my eyes flicking over the mess on the panel, trying to guess which one is real while rain beats down on my windows.

I'm thinking about Robbi again when another warning illuminates and begins screaming.

STALL.

This is no mistake.

The plane drops like a ten ton anchor, nose-down, into the black, stormy atmosphere howling around it. Sweat drips into my eyes as I grab at the controls, trying to recover pitch, pull the fuck up before I'm vaporized on impact.

It's like an out-of-body experience. My fingers jerk the lever as hard as I can. Sweat pours off me. The metallic smell of pure adrenaline fills the cabin. Every instinct I have focuses on saving my aircraft and my life, but my mind is a thousand miles away.

I'm there, and not there, if that makes any sense in what-the-zen-is-happening sort of way.

Death has a way of making a man see everything with crystal clarity. My entire life doesn't flash before my eyes. Just the most important parts, the ones with her.

I see the first time I screamed at her when she walked in on my edgy music. See the other night when I slammed the door in her face a second time, walked away from the minuscule opening she left for me.

I see my mistakes, my dreams, my disappointments. They're written in time, but they seem so fluid with my life on the line, like it isn't too late to erase anything.

I did it for a good reason...right?

Fuck, if I could do it all again, would I?

Yes, I tell myself, clenching my teeth. I've known all along her bitch of a mother lied to her. Ripped her away from me and blamed it on my dead father. She was a willing co-conspirator all along.

I knew, and I owned that knowledge. Didn't have a choice.

I kept her away from me. I kept her safe. Kept her sanity intact and saved her from being dragged into the self-loathing shadows that were a constant drag on my young life. Pushed her out of the family drama poisoning her life, all so she could have a good one without me.

Tore my own heart out protecting her from pain, shielding her from me, and it still wasn't enough. Because the improbable threw her into my life, forcing us to share a spotlight when we should've had our own.

Separate sunrises, and sunsets. Separate lives. Separate road leading her to a man who'd make her happy, without my problems, and would take me to the place I've always sought for some shred of peace.

So far, I haven't found it. I never will if I don't pull out.

“Pull the fuck out, damn it!” My whole body hurts down to the bone, trying to right the plane, just a few thousand feet before recovery becomes impossible.

Lightning flashes near my right wing, blinding me. When I open my eyes, ready to see the ground threatening to kill me, I'm drifting upward again.

My heart doesn't beat normal until I'm flying steady, heading into the calm blue morning ahead. It's twenty more minutes before there's sun reflecting on the wings. That's when I start laughing like I've lost it.

You almost died, you magnificent bastard.

I'm wide awake. Wondering. Thinking about how insane it seems that I can't just walk right up to Robbi, tell her the damned truth, wait for her apology, and get on with our lives.

I'll come to my senses when I'm on the ground. But up here, after I've just survived a brush with the end, it seems like anything is possible.

I'm still shaking off my stupor, under two hours to Chicago, when the satellite phone in my ear goes off. “Hello?”

“Hey, brother.” It's Grant, his voice as crisp as the big smile he always wears, peaking through his lumberjack beard. “Hayden and his girl are square again with the public. Thought you should know. He's already talking about having a proper wedding reception soon, and he wants us both there.”

“Fine. Good riddance to the baby mama drama,” I growl into the mic. “Not that I really give a shit what's tarnishing the Shaw name this week.”

Grant chuckles. “Lucky for you, Hayden and I care enough for the three of us. You'll get your inheritance out of the trust soon, too. Kayla's fled since Hayden found out she put the bitch trying to derail his marriage up to it. He would've sued her into the ground with the statement he got for the court.”

I close my eyes, wincing when I think how it went down. Kayla was dad's last woman. A gold digger of the highest order, and one he was stupid enough to marry before he croaked. She would've gotten everything, if Hayds hadn't forced her to flee the country, relinquishing her claim to our trust.

Sometimes, I'm afraid the fateful confrontation I had with my father led him down to disaster. The poor SOB fell for her plastic looks and very eager doting. Fell for it so hard he married her, wrote her into his trust, and almost screwed Hayden's real estate empire to ruins.

“I don't care about the money. Glad it's wrapped up, for your sake.”

“Yeah, well, there's something else.” His normal jovial tone disappears.

“Don't tell me. You're flying to Alaska next week to fight grizzlies with your bare hands because tromping around in the Maine forests aren't enough.” Why my brother spends his free time out of New York City in the wild, I'll never understand.

“Fuck you,” he says with a laugh. “It's Hayden's Penny. She's got herself a bun in the oven. Hayden told me himself last time we talked.”

“Smart enough to run circles around the big guys on Wall Street, and you still haven't figured out how babies are made.” I stop yanking his chain for a second to allow myself a smile. It's perfect timing with the sun splashing into the cockpit, warming my face. I pull my sun glasses over my eyes. “Seriously, that's great. Always thought I'd make an awesome uncle.”

“You and me both. Just thought I'd let you know, Fly Right.” He calls me by the old nickname he's used ever since we were boys, and I discovered my budding fascination with flight. It's a savage irony since I'm anything but perfect, the black sheep of the Shaws. “See you soon at the reception. Heard you're going back to Chicago for your porno.”

“It's an erotic romance, jackass,” I snarl. “Won't even be an NC-17 rating by the time the studio gets through with it. We're making art here, whenever we're allowed to get back to it, after they resolve their union issues.”

“Uh-huh. Remind me again when I have to see your balls hanging out at the world premier.“ He pauses, letting his words sink in.

I'm about to lay into him, tell him he's a fool for thinking there'll be any full frontal nudity in our production. But it's Grant's job as my eldest brother to bust my balls. I take the brotherly sucker punch with silence.

“Honestly, brother, hope you kill it. Keep up the great work doing what makes you happy. I'll see you soon. Try not to crash that thing.” He cuts the call.

Another Shaw. A new generation, and a clean slate. I think about the baby, wondering what it'll be like to have a nephew or a niece. It doesn't matter, as long as the kid coming from Hayden and Penny winds up happier than my brothers and me.

Children aren't even on the radar. Haven't given baby making much thought since I went looking for Robbi's ring, thinking about our future. There's no settling down when I'm playing lead with an ex who hates my fucking guts.

Despite my wink from death an hour ago, it might be for the best. There's no fixing what went haywire between Robbi and me years ago overnight.

Hell, there's practically no chance at fixing it in a thousand years.

What's done is done. I have to work with her, get on with my life, and stop second guessing.

Maybe I'll always have questions, what ifs, and second guesses. Maybe they'll fly out and hit me in the face whenever I let them, like when my plane spirals out of the sky.

Having them boxed up neat in a dark, secret place I control is no sin. I'm only in danger if I release them. If I let them consume me.

Then there's no excuse for fresh mistakes. And any attempt to re-kindle an old flame that's better off extinguished would be the biggest fuck up of my life.

* * *

One week of negotiations turns into two, then three, then five. I hate being back in Chicago, especially with nothing to do. Riding the city's L-line like a normal person and casual flights over Lake Michigan get old after awhile. I don't do the fancy balls and limo rides to cross the streets like a normal billionaire.

I take a couple trips out to the old place in the country with Hayden and Penny. They're selling our family's old estate now that Kayla is out of the picture. Their reception in a couple weeks is the last time we'll gather there as a family, before it passes into the new owner's hands.

Good fucking riddance. That's what I think when I wander through the overgrown gardens, walking down the path to the rundown bungalow.

It's like a historic marker where everything went wrong in my life. I've never told my brothers about the trouble with Ericka that cost me Robbi. Hayden and Grant have a rosier view of dad than I do. They were older, lucky to leave our ancestral mansion behind before his drinking and skirt chasing led him off the rails.

I'll let them keep their memories untarnished. There's a large tree with its branches stretched over the old servants' quarters. A single robin sits on it, singing into the lonesome evening.

I should look up and think some symbolic shit about the beautiful little bird who got away from me. There's nothing. Sentimental, mopey thoughts left my head years ago.

Turning my back, I walk, heading to the car.

There's no rebuilding what was ruined here. I have to stay strong when it's time to work again.

Looks like the time has come when I see a voice mail from my agent, Jim. “Studio says we're back in business, my man! They want you downtown tomorrow, and they're pretty picky about making up for lost time. Pierce is in a bad mood with these delays. Be on your best behavior.”

My best? I don't know how to give anything else to the biggest break of my life, even if there's a mad, sexy obstacle I never imagined.

I can't bow. Can't break. Can't ever stop to think how I'd lure Robin into my embrace, put her where she belongs, and slam the door shut. Not even if a tiny whisper deep inside me won't let go of the idea.

I set my little bird free for a reason. There's nothing more important than remembering why.