I'm on my feet, pissed off. Seriously, this is just too much. “Shut the fuck up, Peter. If you'd calm down and stop acting like King of the Big Easy, I'd be able to answer your question.”
I find that I'm pissed, but it's a cool pissed, if I can explain it. It's like I'm supposed to be pissed, and even though I'm pissed, I'm still under control. My body is exactly where it's supposed to be, standing up, my shoulders squared, showing him I'm not intimidated by his bullshit. My voice is loud, but not shrill, and I feel like I'm the one in control of the conversation.
Peter senses it too, and he wavers. “Fine,” he says after a minute. “So where is she?”
“We've got a lead in Savannah,” I say, pulling a city out of my head. Peter doesn't have any connections in the Savannah area that I know of, and it's far enough away that I can disappear for a few days and he's not going to suspect anything. “Nathan and I were confirming our information, and we were going to take off soon as we could.”
“Well, what the hell are you waiting for?” Peter asks. “Keep me posted. I want updates as you get more info.”
He leaves, and I chug the rest of my shake, rushing off to find Nathan before Peter can trip me up. Thankfully, Nathan's out walking his dog, and I find them in the stable again. “Road trip time.”
“Oh?” Nathan asks. “And where are we going?”
“You're going to Savannah,” I tell him, reaching down and petting Maverick behind the ears. The huge dog woofs softly and pants, happy for the attention. “You think you can be okay by yourself for a few days, Mav?”
Maverick woofs again, but Nathan shakes his head. “If you're heading to Miami, I'm taking Maverick with me to Savannah. I'll take my Tahoe.”
I remember Nathan's Tahoe, an older SUV that is certainly big enough for the giant dog to stretch out in if he puts the back seat down. “Fine by me. I need you to just check in with me from time to time, in case I do need backup. Think we can do that?”
Nathan nods. “I'll go tell Peter, like I just got the information confirmed. I assume you're telling me this because he approached you?”
“He did.”
“That's fine. When do you want to head off?”
“Let me check with her, and we can get going this afternoon. I was thinking you drive, we'll fly.”
“Deal. Well, let me take my dog for a walk, and we'll get ready.”
Chapter 17
Kat
“You don't have a problem with flying?” Jackson asks quietly as we wait in line for the TSA check. “I mean, you said you don't even have a library card.”
“I don't,” I whisper back. “But Kit Misery does.”
I'd prepared for this contingency, and actually have a few false IDs set up, although I doubt any of them are as elaborate as what 'Michael Ball' has. The TSA tends to be overworked and understaffed, and as long as one of my IDs doesn't get flagged for a terrorist watch list, I'll get passed through. I don't have the time to go into it with Jackson here, but he nods and we get through. Ironically, Jackson is the one tagged by the gate agent for an additional pat-down, and he flushes a bit red when the bored, obviously rushed agent cups his balls perhaps a bit differently than the book says.
“How'd you like the grope show?” I chuckle as he grabs his bag and we head down the hallway. “Looked like fun.”
“Yeah... not something I'd like to do again,” Jackson grumbles, until he sees me chuckling. “What?”
“Even if I were the one doing the groping?” I tease, and Jackson is surprised. “Come on Jackson, we need to keep up the appearance of a young couple going on vacation, if anyone wonders. A little... banter isn't out of place. We show up at the hotel looking like two strangers sharing a room, and we're going to create more questions.”
Jackson blinks, then nods in understanding. “You're right, of course. But do I have to call you Kit the whole time?”
I shake my head. “Nope, the hotel reservation is totally different, and it’s one of those places that doesn't ask too many questions.”
Jackson stops and pulls me to the side. “Katrina, are you sure you want to go slumming the whole time? I mean, no offense, but wouldn't it be nice to treat yourself to at least a night or two in a decent place? Hell, even a Marriott?”
I smile and pat his cheek, he looks so cute. “It's the way I operate, Jackson. Now, maybe it doesn't look nice, but the way I live provides me something your lifestyle doesn't.”
“What's that?”
“Freedom,” I tell him, reaching down and taking his hand. “Besides, if there's time, maybe we can do some nice things. They just have to be untraceable and paid for in cash. You put anything on your credit card, and Peter's going to wonder just what the hell you're doing in Miami.”