“Jaros? What about the Maserati?”

“That’s going in a different direction.”

Allie shook her head. How amazing to have minions who smoothed every obstacle out of the way.

Jaros carried everything except Pie downstairs. Allie took care of the little cat. When they got to the car, Ludmilla popped out. “Let me see kitty,” she said, reaching for the cat case. She peered through the mesh. “Pretty little Pie kitty.”

Allie cast a questioning glance at Gavin. He shrugged. “Pie is going to have a nice ride out to Southampton in the Bentley with Jaros and Ludmilla. If you look inside the car, you’ll see the handsome tent Ludmilla’s own cat uses for travel.”

“A cat tent.” Allie stuck her head in the open door and saw a structure complete with a litter box, bed, and cat toys, strapped into the seat. “Are we taking the Maserati, then?”

“We’re going by helicopter,” Gavin said from behind her.

Allie nearly hit her head on the door frame as she straightened. “What?”

Ludmilla patted her on the arm. “I take good care of Pie kitty. She so beautiful. We be good friends.”

“I know you will,” Allie said, not wanting to insult Ludmilla’s cat-sitting abilities.

Ludmilla patted her again and got in the car so Jaros could pass Pie’s carrier in to his wife. He closed the door gently and turned.

“She love cats. She make Pie happy.”

“I know. It’s just . . .”

But Jaros had walked around the car and ducked into the driver’s seat.

Allie turned to Gavin. “Did you warn them that Pie barfs in cars?”

“I gave them full disclosure.” His gaze roamed over her face. “Does it upset you too much to have Pie ride with strangers?”

The truth was that Pie liked almost every human she met. “I hate to have them clean up after her.”

The Bentley slid away from the curb while Allie watched helplessly. Gavin took her by the shoulders so she had to look at him. “Tell me what will make you happy,” he said.

His face was grave with concern. With an effort, she banished her guilt about Pie and the Bentley. After all, Gavin could buy another car if the smell was too bad. The thought sent a small bubble of hysterical laughter spinning in her throat. “I’ve never ridden in a helicopter before.”

The smile that flashed across his face was worth the pretense. “That’s my Allie.” He slung his arm over her shoulder and escorted her to the Maserati.

She spent the brief drive to the heliport alternating between nervousness about the flight and wondering if Pie had barfed yet.

“You’re very quiet,” Gavin said as he drove the Maserati up to a chain-link gate. He flashed a card of some kind, and the guard waved him through.

“I’ve heard helicopters described as flying typewriters,” she said, trying to lighten her own mood. “Which would explain why you like them.”

Gavin smiled as he slotted the car into an empty spot between a Rolls-Royce and a Ferrari. “My helicopter is checked over three times before it flies, by my own personal mechanic, by my pilot, and by my copilot. And in case you’re wondering, in an emergency, I can fly the chopper, although not smoothly.”

“So you own the helicopter?” Allie had assumed it was a charter, which would have been expensive enough.

“And a jet. I think that’s a requirement for membership in the Bellwether Club.” He got out of the car and came around to hold Allie’s door.

“Is that a joke?” she asked.

“Maybe.”

He escorted her through another gate and into a permanent trailer with a door marked VIP LOUNGE. She surveyed the narrow space furnished with leather chairs, and snorted. “We have nicer trailers in Sanctuary, West Virginia. At least they’re double-wides.”

“No one actually lounges here,” Gavin said, walking through the trailer to another door. As he opened it, the wind walloped her in the face. The only thing between them and the white-capped waves of the Hudson River was a stretch of asphalt holding several helicopters, their rotors drooping slightly.

A man walked up to Gavin, who handed over his car keys. “The bag’s in the trunk.”

“Yes, sir,” the man said, taking off at a run.

“Do you mean my bag?” Allie asked. “I could have carried it.”

“Since the trailer didn’t impress you, I had to come up with another method,” Gavin said, taking her hand and leading her toward a sleek black copter with blood red stripes.

She could barely hear the last of his words as the rotors on one of the other choppers began to rotate. The wind whipped her hair around her face like snakes while the noise rose to a deafening volume. When the rotors got up to speed, the aircraft lifted off as lightly as a dragonfly before turning to zoom out over the expanse of choppy water.

“I can’t decide whether I’m excited or terrified,” she said as Gavin helped her through the side door of the aircraft. Six cushioned armchairs faced one another across a polished wooden table. The interior reminded her of the Bentley, all leather and fancy-grained wood paneling, although the color palette here was deep red and silver. The opulence of it left her speechless.

Gavin climbed in after her, and the door was slammed shut. She heard the thud of latches closing and locking. “I assume you would prefer to face forward,” he said, waving to a chair.

She nodded and sank into its pillowy embrace. “Can we talk while it’s flying?”

He sat in the chair nearest her, stretching his legs out so his glossy loafers nearly touched her boots. “Of course.” He cocked his head. “This isn’t your average sightseeing chopper.”

“No kidding.” A vibration ran through the aircraft, and the pilot’s voice sounded in the cabin.

“Please fasten your seat belts. We’re ready to lift off.”

Allie fumbled with the seat belt. It was configured just like an automobile’s, but nerves made her clumsy. Gavin reached over, took the metal buckle out of her hand, and neatly clipped it into the latch.

She felt a slight sense of movement and peered out the window to discover that they were rising off the asphalt pad. Her fingers dug into the leather armrest as they climbed higher and executed the same maneuver the other chopper had, turning their nose to the river and skimming forward.