Page 92 of Rescuing You

The tapping stopped. “I’m serious, bro. What’s going on?”

Michael didn’t answer, just let his request hang in the miles between them.

After a minute, Derrick said, “You’ll tell me soon?”

“Yeah.” Not that he wanted to share his secret with another brother, but…

Actually, he did.

He hated hiding the most important thing about his life. Hated that nobody in his family—except Sam, after they’d spent so much time together a few weeks earlier—knew what Michael really did for a living.

“According to this,” Derrick said, “the Turkish government needs at least forty-eight hours’ notice before they’ll give permission for a private plane to land. This forum I’m on, though… Looks like people wait a lot longer than that for clearance. I’m seeing suggestions that people apply a month in advance. Unless you wanna wait a month⁠—”

“What about Mytilene?”

“Greece? Hold on.” More tapping, then, “Yeah, I can do that.”

“How soon?”

“Assuming I can get a copilot, tomorrow?”

Yes! Except… “Do you have to have a copilot?”

“It’s four thousand miles, bro. Even if it wasn’t the law, which it is—and I don’t exactly want to lose my license—nobody in his right mind would try to fly that far without a copilot.”

Which made sense, even if it increased their exposure. “I guess that’ll⁠—”

“Wait,” Derrick said, “You said ‘We need a ride.’ Who’s we?”

“There’ll be three of us. I’ll explain everything when I see you.” Well, maybe not everything. “Your copilot needs to be discreet.”

“I’ll ask Bryan. He’s been bugging me to let him come along more.”

What? “Our Bryan?” Michael’s second-youngest brother worked at Bowdoin. He wasn’t a pilot.

“He got his license awhile back. He’s been helping me out.”

“Did he quit his job?”

“Of course not. But it’s not like professors work that hard. They get their TAs to do all the hard stuff.”

Bryan would probably have something to say about Derrick’s assessment of his career.

“He’ll do it. Tomorrow works?”

“Yup. Gives us time to get there.”

“You’ll be safe till then?”

“Sure, no problem.” He just had to figure out how to get Leila and her twin across the Med to the island of Lesvos, where the city of Mytilene housed a small airport. “This needs to stay between you and me. Meaning, don’t tell anybody you’re coming to get me. Don’t even tell them where you’re going. Not Mom and Dad, not our brothers, not even Bryan, not until we’re on your plane. And not strangers. Definitely not strangers.”

“I don’t fly without filing a flight plan.”

“But do you have to?”

“Not technically, but⁠—”

“Then don’t. Please. You can reach me on this line. If⁠—”