Total pages in book: 70
Estimated words: 68509 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 343(@200wpm)___ 274(@250wpm)___ 228(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 68509 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 343(@200wpm)___ 274(@250wpm)___ 228(@300wpm)
Then he turned, looking around the airport one final time.
It was the eyes.
Because half of his face was covered in a beard that made his features difficult to see.
But those bright green eyes had my stomach flipping.
“Wait, wait, wait,” I mumbled to myself, reaching for my phone, powering it back on as my heartbeat tripped into overdrive.
I needed to be sure.
I couldn’t go making a scene at an airport. I’d get my ass detained by security and likely questioned like the crazy person they’d think I was.
My phone took a frustratingly long moment to load—long enough that the line he was in started to move, getting onto their plane, possibly taking him away from me.
Then, finally, the screen loaded.
And there was his face.
No, I couldn’t rely on his jaw or chin.
But it was the same brow, forehead, nose, cheeks, and, yes, those extremely distinct green eyes.
“Wait!” I yelled, pushing my phone into my pocket as I turned to run toward the gate. “Wait!” I yelled louder, seeing his white tee disappearing from sight.
“Ma’am,” the flight attendant said, stepping in front of the doorway. “Do you have your boarding pass?”
“No, I don’t have a ticket, but that man—“
“Ma’am, if you don’t have a boarding pass, you need to leave.”
“But—”
“If you don’t move along, I’m going to have to call airport security.”
Dammit.
“I’m going,” I assured her, holding up my hands. “Sorry,” I added, looking up at the digital screen for the gate.
Flight 1254.
To Cuenca.
That certainly sounded like it was in South America.
A quick search on my phone confirmed that suspicion.
He was going to Ecuador.
“Shit.”
I paused, staring up at the ceiling and sucking in a deep breath.
I guess I was getting a ticket to South America.
And asking my father to keep his criminal friends on standby.
CHAPTER THREE
Violet
I downloaded an offline editing app before I climbed on the plane to Ecuador, then spent an hour or so fiddling with his image to give him a beard that looked at least somewhat like the one he was currently sporting.
Done with that, I slept the rest of the flight, landing at the Cuenca airport feeling achy, hungry, and half tempted to just turn around and go back home.
I don’t know why, but I’d been expecting the weather to be similar to Florida—hot, and worse yet, humid. But Cuenca was pleasantly moderate as I stepped outside of the airport.
I glanced side to side, even though I knew the chances of my skip still hanging around were next to none.
Then, relying on my tentative grasp on my four years of Spanish in high school, I managed to figure out where the next town was, and how to get to it.
I crossed my fingers that Warwick would want somewhere to rest and recharge after his flight.
He likely had no idea he was being followed. There was no reason to assume he would be in a hurry to get out of the general vicinity. He would probably be hitting up the local haunts, spending some of that ill-begotten money, having the time of his life. Free as a bird.
For the time being.
Though I still hadn’t worked out how I would essentially kidnap a full-grown man without the local authorities coming for me.
I’d always been more of a brute force kind of bounty hunter. But my mother had regaled me with many stories of her glory days when a tight dress was her best method to bring a man in.
The thought of putting on a dress made me feel itchy. But I had to admit that the only way I could probably get this job done was to rely on the whole feminine wiles thing. And a shit-ton of that local “firewater” that sounded particularly capable of putting a large man on his ass for a few precious hours.
Long enough, I hoped, to get him gagged and bound, then smuggled out to some airport or boat that could get me back to the States without getting me arrested in the process.
“Oh, thank God,” I groaned as two magical words caught my eye.
Espresso Bar.
I made my way in, flashing the picture of Warwick around to a few customers and the barista behind the counter as I waited for my drink.
“You’ve gotta be kidding me,” I grumbled under my breath as I saw someone passing outside the windows.
Someone in a familiar white tee and cargo pant combo, only he’d added a new white Panama hat to the ensemble.
I cast a longing look at the coffee I’d already paid for before turning and booking it out of the café. I couldn’t lose sight of him. It would only make more work for myself in the long run if I lost him now.
I immediately broke off my run, though, as I spotted him a few yards ahead, paused to look in the window of a shop.