“Cassie!” I run a quick glance over the plane’s control panel, instinctively checking that everything is going smoothly before turning to Cassie, who still has her face tipped over the open end of the airsickness bag. I touch her shoulder. “Are you okay?”

Cassie tilts her head enough to give me a one-eyed glare. “What do you think?” she snaps.

“Right. Stupid question. Don’t know what I was thinking.”

Apparently deciding her stomach was done having a fit, Cassie cautiously straightens her neck. She waits a moment before sealing the bag and tossing it in the small trashcan.

“You weren’t thinking.” Cassie’s voice is hoarse.

I run a quick, assessing glance over her. She’s breathing heavily, her face is pale, though her cheeks are just a tiny bit flushed, but otherwise she looks okay.

She grabs one of the napkins Alice left and uses it to wipe her mouth. “Hand me one of those water bottles.”

I slip the cold plastic bottle out of the cupholder, remove the plastic top and hand the bottle to her.

She rinses out her mouth and spits the water into the trash can.

“Are you sure you’re okay? I can handle the rest of the flight if you want to lay down or something.”

Cassie shakes her head. “I’m fine,” she says.

“If you were really fine, you wouldn’t have needed that bag,” I point out.

“My stomach has been a little—” Cassie wiggles her hand back and forth in the universal sign for so-so. “—all day. The smell of the grilled cheese set it off.” She straightens in her seat. “I actually feel pretty good right now.” She digs into her uniform pocket and pull out a pack of gum. She unwraps a stick and pops it into her mouth.

The color is starting to slowly return to her face, but I’m not convinced. Something about her expression tells me she’s worried about something.

I insist that Cassie take it easy for the rest of the flight. I handle the controls and manage the landing when we reach the airport in San Antonio. The fact that she doesn’t protest my taking over concerns me. Cassie is too independent to simply let me run her plane. Something is seriously wrong.

After completing the post-flight check, I loop an arm around Cassie’s shoulder. Pulling her close to my side, I kiss the top of her head. “How ‘bout I see if Aaron can drive you home so you can get some rest?”

She studies my expression. “And what are you planning on doing?”

“I want to find out what happens to those macaws.”

Concern darkens Cassie’s pretty eyes. “Are you sure that’s a good idea? Breaking into a zoo and stealing monkeys and macaws might not seem like the most dangerous crimes in the world, but I’ve got to believe that anyone who would do that would also be prepared to go to some pretty extreme lengths to keep their operation afloat. Getting on the wrong side of them doesn’t seem like a good long term health plan to me.”

Her concern triggers a warm glow to envelope my heart. Aside from my immediate family, I don’t think anyone has ever genuinely worried about my safety. Cassie might not be in love with me, but I’m taking her worry as a sign that she’s getting there.

Unable to resist, I turn her toward me and cover her mouth in a sweet kiss. “If that crate contains the stolen macaws like I think it does, this is my best chance at finding out who is involved and what they have to gain.”

Cassie rests her head on my shoulder. I stroke her back.

“How are you going to find out if there are really macaws in that crate or if it’s nothing more than a massive pile of luggage?”

Truthfully, I hadn’t thought that far ahead. “I suppose I’ll just follow the crate and then wing it.”

Cassie rolls her eyes. “That’s a great plan.” Sarcasm drips from each word.

“I’ll come up with something.” I pull my cell phone out of my pocket and type in Aaron’s phone number. “I’ll give Aaron a call. He knew when we were supposed to be getting back so he’s probably already here. Once you’re heading home, I’ll start tracking the parrots.”

Cassie sets her jaw. “You know, I really don’t like people assuming they know what is best for me. There’s no reason why I have to go home while you’re here.”

“You took one look at your lunch and puked,” I remind her.

“And now I feel fine,” she growls.

“You’re probably in the first stages of the flu,” I tell her. “Going home and getting lots of sleep will keep it from getting worse.”

I hit the call button and lift the phone to my ear. Cassie’s eyes focus on something over my shoulder. One corner of her mouth kicks up in smug smile.

“You should know that the birds are on the move,” she says.

I spin around and see that the large crate has been loaded onto a small skid steer. Paul Canton is at the controls. It’s not moving fast enough to draw attention, but fast enough that it won’t take long before it’s out of sight.

“Shit.”

Without thinking, I disconnect the call and start looking around. My mind spins as I try to come up with a plan to find out where Canton is taking that damned crate.

Exasperated, Cassie moves around me. Moving with long, ground-eating strides, she makes her way to a small sheltered spot where three of the electric scooters the ground crews use to navigate the airport are plugged in. She unplugs one and straddles the seat.

She looks at me. “Coming?”

Silently berating myself for not thinking about the scooters sooner, I sit behind Cassie, grabbing ahold of her waist as she turns it on and drives a slow circle before pointing the front tire in the direction that Canton took.

It’s a good thing Cassie is driving. Had I been the one at the handlebars, I would have hung a ways back from Canton and simply followed him. Cassie takes a different approach. She has a knack for choosing a route that allows us to keep an eye on Canton’s progress without actually looking like we’re following him.

Near the far end of the airport are six weathered hangars that don’t have any activity surrounding them, probably because they are too far away from the runway to be practical. Cassie parks the scooter in the shadow of one. Silently we watch Canton drive the small skid steer into the third hangar.

“What do you know about this hangar?” I ask Cassie as I swing off the scooter.

“Nothing.” She shrugs. “I never gave it any thought. The airport uses some of these old hangars for storage, and one or two might be leased for private use, but I don’t know which ones are used for what. I don’t spend much time in this part of the airport.”

No one probably does, making it the perfect place to temporarily keep exotic animals that have been stolen from zoos until they can be moved elsewhere. “How ‘bout we check it out?”

Cassie doesn’t have to be asked twice. She takes off across the faded tarmac without making any effort to hide.

I reach down and catch hold of her hand. “Shouldn’t you be trying to sneak up on the place?” I hiss.

“If we try sneaking around, someone’s bound to notice and wonder what we’re doing. By acting like we belong here, people just assume we do and won’t stop us.”

I suppose it makes some sort of sense.

We reach the hangar and Cassie starts to loop around its perimeter.

“Using an old hangar is a pretty good idea,” she says. “There aren’t any windows, so no one is going to accidently peek in and see what you’re up to. The only way to know what’s going on is by going through one of the doors, and those can be guarded and protected.”

We pass the large bay doors that a plane would enter and walk along the side of the hangar until we find a smaller door.

Cassie reaches out and grasps the rusty doorknob. It turns easily in her hand.

Our eyes meet and she pushes the door open.