Sabrina stared at the text message from Aaron. She’d put him in charge of keeping an eye on the Holden situation. Obviously, her assistant was the only one she could trust to get anything done. The fool she’d hired to damage the engine of the corporate plane had let her down. She’d certainly paid for more than getting the job half done. One dead pilot wasn’t enough. She needed two. That doctor had told her Holden had amnesia, and she’d assumed he’d be in the hospital for at least a few more days. How had he escaped a crash like the one he’d been in with only a concussion and minor scrapes and bruises? She’d seen pictures of the plane taken by the team she’d sent out to clean up the mess. It had been good and mangled. No reason Holden Lancaster should still be alive. None. After looking around the conference table at the San Fran execs still hashing out the details of the first shipment of altered DE products, she texted Aaron back. Where? A moment passed before he responded.
