Freed Page 16

  Never.

  Shit.

  But I cannot, simply cannot, wimp out in front of Elliot. I swallow my apprehension as we enter the building.

  My brother has booked us an exclusive jump. After a short informative video, we sit through a briefing with Ben, our instructor, and I’m grateful that it’s just Elliot and me in the class. I was coached on how to use a parachute as part of my glider training, but I’ve never actually done a jump. While Ben is explaining what we need to do and what to expect, it occurs to me that I haven’t provided this training for Ana. She needs to do this before she goes up in ASH 30 again.

  When Ben, who looks younger than me, has completed our instruction, he hands us each a waiver. Elliot signs it immediately, while I read through. My anxiety begins to climb, settling in my stomach. I am about to jump out of an aircraft from a high altitude.

  Deep breath, Grey.

  I realize that if something were to happen to me, Ana would be left with nothing.

  To hell with that.

  Once I’ve signed the form, on the back I write:

  This is my last will and testament. In the event of my death I leave all my worldly goods to my beloved fiancée, Anastasia Steele, to be dispensed with as she sees fit.

  Signed: Christian Grey

  Date: 07/23/2011

  I take a quick photo with my phone and zap it to Ros, before handing the signed waiver back to Ben, who laughs.

  “You’ll be fine, Christian.”

  “Just preparing for all eventualities.” I give him a quick, forced smile.

  He laughs again. “Okay. Let’s get you suited up.”

  We leave the building and head across the tarmac to an open-air hangar where all the safety gear is located: chutes, helmets, and harnesses.

  I’m detecting a theme.

  Elliot swaggers to the hangar as if he doesn’t have a care in the world; it’s infuriating, and right now I envy him more than ever. Ben hands us each a jumpsuit.

  Literally. A. Jumpsuit.

  Whoa!

  “Hey, hotshot. More kinky shit!” Elliot crows as he pulls the safety harness over his attire.

  I roll my eyes and turn to Ben. “I apologize for Elliot. He only speaks asshole.”

  “You two related?” Ben asks.

  Elliot and I exchange a look. Yes. But no. But yes.

  “Brothers,” Elliot responds, looking at me, and we both break into that secret smile that adopted siblings share. Ben knows he’s missing something, but says nothing and helps first Elliot, then me, into our harnesses.

  It’s decided that I will tandem-jump with Ben, and we’re joined by Matt, who will tandem-jump with Elliot. Another instructor, Sandra, tags along, complete with a GoPro to film the whole escapade.

  “Hi,” Matt says as he shakes our hands. “Special occasion?”

  “My brother’s bachelor party. He’s experiencing the last gasp of freedom,” Elliot says.

  “Congratulations,” Matt says.

  “Thanks,” I mutter dryly. “This is a surprise.”

  “Good surprise?”

  “Jury’s out.”

  Matt laughs. “You’ll love it. Let’s go, pilot’s ready.”

  The five of us make our way across the runway to the waiting single-engine Cessna.

  Last chance to change your mind, Grey.

  There are only two seats at the front of the plane, behind the pilot. But Matt and Ben sit down on the floor and motion for us to sit in front of them. We comply and they start the process of buckling us onto their harnesses. As his hands move over the straps, I realize that I’m not unnerved by the physical contact with Ben; he’ll have my life in his hands.

  “You flown before?” he asks, raising his voice above the sound of the engine.

  “I’m a qualified commercial pilot,” I respond. “Rotorcraft. And I have a couple of sailplanes.”

  “This’ll be easy for you.”

  My laugh is hollow.

  Yeah. No. I’m a pilot for a reason.

  I’m in control.

  I take a deep breath as the plane leaves the runway and begins its ascent. Snohomish Valley falls away as we climb higher and higher into the cloudless sky.

  Matt and Elliot are talking crap. Ben joins in. I block them out and think of Ana.

  What’s she doing? Is her wardrobe complete? I think of her in my arms this morning, wrapped around me. I place my hand on my chest where her finger traced small circles.

  Calm, Grey. Calm.

  As we near 12,000 feet Ben hands me a leather cap complete with chin strap, and some goggles. As I put them on he runs through a quick reminder of all that I need to know. The other instructor opens the rear door; the draft is almost deafening.

  Shit. This is happening.

  “You got that?” Ben shouts, referring to his quick refresher.

  “Yes.”

  Ben checks the altimeter on his right wrist. “It’s time. Excited? Let’s go.” We shuffle toward the open door, the sound of the single engine and the wind rush even more thunderous. I glance at Elliot, who gives me a thumbs-up sign and a fuck-you grin.

  “You asshole!” I yell, and he laughs. I cross my arms and clutch on to my harness like my life depends on it…because my life depends on it. Then I’m hanging, attached to a man I don’t know, over fucking Washington and the Snohomish Valley. I squeeze my eyes shut, and for the first time in a billion years offer a prayer to the God that abandoned me years ago. Then I open them again.

  Whoa. I can see the Cascades, Possession Sound, the San Juan Islands—and nothing but air beneath me.

  “Here we go,” Ben shouts, and launches us out of the aircraft.

  “Ffffuuuuuccccckkkkkk!” I bellow.

  And I’m flying.

  Really flying, above the earth. Either I don’t have time to be afraid or the adrenaline streaking through my body has blotted out the fear. It’s super-exhilarating. I can see for miles, and because I’m not behind glass or plastic, it’s hyper-real. I’m in the sky, cloaked in it. It’s holding me up. The rushing sound of air as we dive to the ground is familiar, like an old friend. I free my hands and hold them out to feel the wind racing through my fingers. Ben holds a thumb up in front of my face and I return the compliment.

  This is beyond amazing.

  Scanning above, I get a glimpse of Elliot and Matt. And Sandra comes whooshing past us, the camera turned toward Ben and me. My grin is goofy.

  “This is great!” I call out to Ben as we surf the sky.

  I see Ben raise his wrist. We’re at 5,000 feet. He tugs at his rip cord and we slow immediately as above us a multicolored canopy unfurls. The nature of the dive changes from terminal velocity to slow motion, and all is quiet as we hang in the air. My anxiety evaporates, replaced by an inner calm that surprises me. I’m on top of the world, quite literally walking on air. Ben’s got this; he knows what he’s doing. And from somewhere deep in my mind, the thought materializes in my head: I hope that my marriage to Ana is this thrilling and this easy.

  The view is breathtaking.

  I wish she were here.

  Though it would give me a coronary watching her jump out of a plane.

  “Want to steer?” Ben asks.

  “Sure.”

  He hands me the risers; I tug on the left and we turn, slowly and gracefully, in a wide circle.

  “Dude, you’ve got this,” Ben calls, patting my upper arm.

  We do another circle before Ben takes the risers back in order to steer us toward the landing zone. The ground is approaching at speed, and I lift my knees as instructed as Ben gently drops us to the ground. We both land on our asses, and the ground team is there to welcome us.

  Ben unclips his harness from mine and I stand, feeling a little unsteady from the adrenaline rush. Behind us, Elliot and
Matt land, Elliot whooping like a gorilla again—his favorite form of expressing excitement.

  I pause and catch my breath.

  “How was it?” Ben asks.

  “Man, that was sublime. Thank you.”

  “Great!” He offers a fist-bump and I return it.

  Elliot rushes over to join us.

  “Fuck, man!” I exclaim.

  “Rad, huh?”

  “I was shitting bricks.”

  “I know! It’s good to see you finally losing your fucking cool for once. It’s a rare event, bro.” Elliot laughs, but his grin reflects mine. “Better than sex?” he asks.

  “No…but close.”

  Fifteen minutes later we’re back in his pickup.

  “Dude, I could use a drink after that,” I say, and I can’t shake my shit-eating grin.

  “Me, too. Well, we’re going to part three of your bachelor party.”

  “Fuck, there’s more?”

  Elliot clams up. Smug asshole. He’s not telling me. I check my phone.

  ANA

  Home. We shopped till we dropped.

  I’m going to have a bath.

  Then get ready to meet Kate.

  I haven’t heard from you.

  You know I worry.

  Axxx

  We were SKYDIVING!!

  from 12,000 feet. You were right to worry.

  But it was amazing!!

  Reminds me. You need parachute training.

  If I don’t see you—enjoy your night out.

  But not too much.

  ANA

  Skydiving. Wow!

  Glad you’re safe.

  Parachute training?

  Didn’t we do that last weekend in the Red Room? ;)

  I laugh out loud.

  “What?” Elliot asks.

  I shake my head. “Nothing.”

  Elliot drives back to Escala, though this time he lets me play some decent music from his phone. As we ride the elevator up to the penthouse he says, “You need to get changed. Something smarter.”

  “What have you got planned?”

  He winks.

  “Asshole.”

  “That’s a given.” He grins.

  The doors to the elevator open, and I’m hoping to see Ana.

  “My gear is in your spare bedroom. I’ll see you down here in half an hour. We’re leaving then.”

  “Okay.” I’m hoping to catch Ana in the bath.

  She’s not in the living room, and I worry that she’s left already, but I find her in the bedroom. Halting on the threshold, I watch quietly as she adds the final touches to her makeup.

  Wow! Ana looks stunning. Her hair is styled in an elegant chignon. She’s wearing high heels and an off-the-shoulder black dress that shimmers. She turns, and is startled when she sees me. She takes my breath away. Hanging from her ears are her second-chance earrings. “I didn’t mean to spook you,” I whisper. “You look lovely.”

  She smiles her warm, welcoming smile that’s full of love; it swells my heart, and she sashays toward me. “Christian. What a lovely surprise. I wasn’t expecting to see you.” She raises her lips to mine, and I give her a quick kiss, then pull back. She smells of heaven and home.

  “If I kiss you properly, I’m going to mess up your makeup, and peel you out of that elegant dress.”

  “Oh, that would never do.” She giggles and does a quick twirl. Her skirt flares up slightly, revealing a little more leg. “You like?” she asks.

  I lean against the doorjamb and cross my arms. “It’s not too short. I approve. You look great, Ana. Who’s going to be there?” I narrow my eyes, feeling at once ridiculously proud that she’s mine, but also territorial—she’s mine.

  “Kate, Mia, some girlfriends from WSU. Should be fun. We’re starting with cocktails.”

  “Mia?”

  Ana nods.

  “I haven’t seen her in a while. Say hi from me. I hope there’s food on your itinerary.” I arch a brow in warning. “Drinking rule number one.”

  She laughs. “Oh, stow your twitchy palm, Christian. We’re having a meal.”

  “Good.” I don’t want her getting drunk.

  She glances at her watch. “I’d better go. I don’t want to be late. I’m glad you’re back in one piece. I’d never forgive Elliot if anything happened to you.”

  She offers me her lips once more and I get another swift kiss.

  “You look gorgeous, Anastasia.”

  She picks up her evening bag from the bed. “Laters, baby,” she says with a coquettish smile, and she struts past me out of the room, looking like a million dollars. I follow her out and watch her join Sawyer and Reynolds in the foyer. I salute them, and they all file into the elevator.

  I head back into my en suite for a quick shower.

  Twenty minutes later, dressed in a dark navy suit and crisp white shirt, I’m in my kitchen, waiting for Elliot. In the fridge, I find some pretzels.

  Fuck, I’m hungry.

  Elliot appears in the doorway. He’s wearing a dark suit, a gray shirt, and a tie.

  Shit.

  “Do I need a tie?”

  Where the hell are we going?

  “No.”

  “Sure?”

  “Yep.”

  “Why are you wearing one?”

  “You get to dress like this all the time. I don’t. Changes it up for me. Besides, a suit and tie is catnip to women.”

  What about Kavanagh?

  Elliot smirks at my questioning look, and Taylor joins us.

  “Ready, sir?” he asks Elliot.

  Taylor drives us south on I-5.

  “Where the fuck are we going, Elliot?” I ask.

  “Relax, Christian. It’s all good.” He looks out of the window, seemingly at ease, while I drum my fingers on my knee. I hate not being in the know.

  Taylor takes the turn off for Boeing Field, and I wonder if there’s some seedy strip club based around here. I glance at my watch: 6:20 p.m. He turns into Signature Flight Support and behind the terminal, sitting on the tarmac, is the GEH Gulfstream.

  “What?” I exclaim to Elliot.

  From his inside jacket pocket Elliot produces a passport. “You’re going to need this.”

  We’re leaving the country?

  Taylor drops us at the terminal entrance, and I follow Elliot into the building, bewildered.

  “Elliot!” Kavanagh’s blond, surfer-dude brother strides up to my brother and shakes his hand. He scrubs up well in his pale gray suit. I note he’s not wearing a tie, either.

  “Ethan, great to see you,” Elliot responds, and claps him on the back.

  “Christian.” Ethan shakes my hand.

  “Hi,” I respond.

  “Mac!” Elliot exclaims, and Liam McConnell—who works at the GEH shipyard, and also looks after my yacht, The Grace—strides toward us.

  Mac! We shake hands. “It’s good to see you,” I tell him. “I’d just like you to know that I have no idea what the hell is going on.”

  He laughs. “Neither do I.”

  We all laugh and turn to Elliot as Taylor joins us.

  “You knew about this?” I ask Taylor.

  “Yes, sir.” His look is earnest and amused in equal measure.

  I laugh and shake my head.

  “Shall we go?” Elliot says.

  “Canada?” I guess.

  “Correct,” Elliot responds.

  We are installed in the first four seats of my G550, sipping Cristal champagne and eating the canapés that Sara, our flight attendant, distributed as we taxied onto the runway. Taylor is at the back reading a Lee Child novel. Stephan and First Officer Beighley are at the controls.

  “I’m guessing Vancouver,” I say to Elliot.

 
“Bingo! I figured you might have less of a chance being recognized behaving badly in British Columbia.”

  “What the hell have you got planned?”

  “Easy, tiger,” Elliot responds, and raises his glass.

  Once we’re airborne, Sara serves beer and fresh, hot pepperoni pizza, from a local pizzeria in Georgetown. I think this is a first, pizza in my private jet—but this is Elliot’s idea of heaven. Frankly, I’m so hungry, it’s mine, too. Mac, who’s sitting opposite, and I both wolf down our food.

  “That didn’t touch the sides,” Mac says in his Irish brogue.

  “Elliot has had me zip-lining and tandem skydiving already today.”

  “Holy shit! No wonder you’re starving.”

  The journey time is less than fifty minutes. When we pull up outside the Vancouver Signature Flight Support terminal Taylor is the first off, carrying our passports for the immigration official who has come to meet the plane.

  “Ready?” Elliot says, unbuckling his seat belt and standing up to stretch his legs. Taylor is at the wheel of a Suburban on the tarmac. We all pile in, and he sets off for the bright lights of downtown Vancouver. We have a cooler full of beer. My three companions dive in, but I decline.

  “Man, you are not staying sober tonight,” Elliot splutters in disgust and hands me a beer.

  Fuck. I loathe being drunk. With a roll of my eyes, reluctantly I take the bottle. It’s early. We’ll be drinking more; I’ll need to pace myself. I clink bottles with him, and Mac and Ethan, who are seated behind us. “Cheers, gentlemen.” I take a sip and let the drink linger in my hand.

  Our first stop is the bar at the Rosewood Georgia hotel. I’ve been before, on business, but never in the evening. Its wood-paneled walls and leather seats give it an old-world charm and tonight it’s heaving with the great and the good of Vancouver. Men in suits, women elegantly dressed. It has a lively vibe. Elliot orders a round, and we sit at a reserved table and our conversation turns to Ethan’s endeavors to get into Seattle University to do a master’s in psychology. Since Ana moved out, he’s now living with Kate, in Ana’s old room. Maybe living with his sister is challenging, I wouldn’t be surprised—perhaps that’s why he’s outpacing us on drinks. He’s finished his beer first and volunteers to buy the next round.

  Mac talks to us about The Grace. He’s one of the craftsmen who built her, but it seems he’s turning his hand to boat design and has some ideas to make the catamaran we custom-build even more aerodynamic.