“Sounds great.” A quick wave and she was out the door.
She drove a half mile away to a hidden pull-off on the side of a soybean field in order to plan her next move. Several hours later, her neck ached as though someone had twisted it, a pasty film coated her mouth, and the moon had disappeared. So much for a quick escape. She had to find a more efficient means to travel to Massachusetts than driving a stolen car or boarding a plane with a stolen passport. She would use her real passport, but it had expired several years before. She’d only held on to it in case she ever required assistance from the US embassy. Using it on a plane now, she’d be pulled into security and never get home.
The drive to Charlotte, North Carolina, took four hours. Her driving skills were rusty, and the buffeting from the massive tandem trailers and big rigs screaming by her kept her wide awake for the entire journey. The adrenaline charging her system while running from the hotel decreased to a simmer. Except for a knot in her stomach, a rock in her throat, and a dagger in her heart, she felt fine.
She arrived in the parking lot of an all-night Walmart in a cookie-cutter suburb by 6:00 a.m. She fluffed her hair, put on Henry’s jacket, and cruised into the store as though she was picking up a gallon of milk after a long night at work.
She found a sports duffel bag to carry her limited worldly possessions. She then made her way over to the electronics department searching for the right television, the right person. Her target wore a University of North Carolina sweatshirt. A twentysomething with a yearning for a huge plasma television set. After leering at it for several minutes, he shrugged and moved on to a smaller version. Bingo.
“Excuse me, sir?”
He glanced at her outfit and grinned, apparently thinking she was worth speaking with for at least a few minutes. “Yes?”
“I was wondering if you could do me a huge favor? I have to access some cash for a plane ride back to Tampa, but my boyfriend seems to have emptied my bank account.”
Doubt and suspicion clouded his face and lowered his eyebrows. “So you want my money? Sorry, babe, but…”
“I don’t want your money. I want to use my credit card to buy that television for you.” She pointed at the flat screen of his dreams. “For six hundred dollars, cash. It’s a savings of over a thousand dollars, but no returns, for obvious reasons.”
He stared back at the TV with a lust he’d probably never harbored for a woman. “Six hundred?”
“Cash.”
“I’ll need to run to the ATM.”
“I can wait.” She wandered around the store while she waited as though she made transactions like this all the time. The hunting department contained a few side display cases with a selection of bowie knives. She picked out one with an ivory handle and a leather case, although in reality, the ivory was a cheap laminated knockoff. It seemed shorter than the others, about a six-inch blade instead of the usual nine-or twelve-inch blade. At least it was 1095 carbon steel. Strong enough to pierce Luc’s malevolent heart.
Ten minutes later, her mark arrived with a tall, muscular friend dressed for a day on a construction site in worn jeans, a faded blue T-shirt, and work boots. From the grins on their faces, they obviously thought she was desperate. She was, but she wouldn’t be held hostage. She still had the car, a half tank of gas, and eighty-eight dollars and thirty-two cents.
“Jesse was waiting for me in the truck. He can help carry it,” her target said in response to her lifted eyebrows.
She assisted them in moving the massive box to the checkout counter, along with help from the store stock crew. The cashier also rang through the duffel bag, the knife, a bottle of water, and a bag of Doritos. She hadn’t enjoyed those since she’d left for Europe. Pulling out the credit card she found in Simon’s closet, she held her breath, hoping the transaction went through. It did.
In the parking lot, a thick wad of twenty-dollar bills filled her pockets, providing her with her first reason to smile since seeing Luc. The two men walked away with their dream television. All in all, a good deal for everyone, except Simon.
Next item of business, she had to ditch the car. Too bad, because it was a sweet ride, but she’d never make it up the East Coast alone in a shiny red convertible with a LoJack beaming her GPS coordinates. She abandoned it in a garage a few blocks from the train station in Charlotte.
The next train departed toward Providence, Rhode Island, via Washington, DC, at 7:00 a.m. Alex purchased a coach seat and hopped aboard. Ten minutes later, the first train of her journey left the station.
Chapter Twenty-One
Simon hung up his phone and cursed. The conniving wood nymph had stolen his credit card and was out shopping for a television set. What the hell was she going to do with it? Sell it?
He punched the bed in his third-rate Parisian hotel room hard. Yes. She’d sell it for a fraction of the cost and walk away with the cash. Damn it to hell. He’d misjudged her over and over again, from letting her gain access to Henry’s house to not searching her before leaving his bedroom, to flying her to the States, her home turf no less, with enough cash to go anywhere and a smitten earl at her beck and call. He’d never botched an assignment more in his life.
His blond conquest from the night before stirred. “Simon, ?a va?” Her bronzed skin looked decadent on top of the bunched-up white sheets. His already-heated blood shifted focus. The temptress stretched her arms above her head, flexing the muscles in her chest and elongating her lean stomach. A perfect respite from the chaos brewing outside. She turned on her side and motioned him over.
His smile returned. “Yeah. Everything’s fine.”