My entire body sags in relief, and the man’s smile grows into a grin.
If I wasn’t so obsessed with my growly big-dicked neighbor, I might ask this guy for his number.
“Thank you.” I slip the passport into an interior pocket in my backpack, then zip it up, making sure there’s no way for it to fall out or for someone with skilled fingers to lift it. “Thank you,” I say again, then drag my suitcase—with my backpack attached to the handle—away.
It doesn’t take long before I spot a group of people I recognize standing next to the sign for transportation. It makes me feel a little better, but there’s a part of me that wishes Hans could’ve come with me. I still barely know him, but his don’t fuck with me attitude just makes me feel safe.
I square my shoulders and plaster a smile on my face.
I’ll see him soon enough. Time to face reality.
CHAPTER 56
Hans
I don’t even bother sighing when I see the hotel Cassandra’s company has her staying in.
The bus pulls through the open gate leading onto the property, and I follow.
I saw my Butterfly through one of the side windows of the bus, so I know she’s in the middle and not in the rear seat, which would be the only place she could realistically see me from.
Her company didn’t even spring for a coach bus. They’re in a fucking rented-out school bus. No tinted windows. Just clear glass and a front and rear entrance begging someone to hijack them.
The gate guard nods to me, and I nod back as I drive through, but what I really want to do is pull one of my knives out of my bag and throw it through his eye socket. Or at the very least roll down my window and shout ¡Haz tu trabajo, maldito idiota! But I don’t do any of that. Because he obviously is a fucking idiot. But also, his not doing his job makes this easier for me.
I back my rented car into a spot in the middle of the little parking lot.
There aren’t a lot of vehicles here, so hopefully that means they have a vacancy. And if they don’t, well, I have enough cash to create one.
I watch through my windshield as Cassandra’s coworkers drag their luggage off the bus.
Cassandra is next. I can see her red suitcase before I can see her.
A man reaches up to take the heavy bag from her, and I shove my door open.
She smiles at him, and I put a foot outside.
He grins back at her, and I’m reaching for my laptop.
I stop myself and take a deep breath through my nose.
My girl isn’t going to let him touch her. And I don’t want her to have to struggle with her bag. And I can’t just walk up there and join their fucking week of meetings.
My foot stays planted on the blacktop outside my car, but I stay where I am. Memorizing the face of the man helping my girl.
I won’t kill him just for that, but that’s his strike one. And if he reaches three, his punishment will be much different from Cassandra’s.
I rip open one of the bags of Skittles and shove a handful into my mouth.
I chew slowly and wait until everyone is inside.
I wait until the bus parks in a corner of the lot.
I wait for the bus driver to finish his cigarette and enter the hotel.
Then I get out, walk over to the bus, slap a magnetic tracker in the rear wheel well, and finally enter the hotel, requesting a room with a view of the parking lot.
CHAPTER 57
Cassie
“Alright, everyone, work is officially over!” Our VP of sales lifts his arms at the front of the bus.
The cheer is mostly enthusiastic, but I don’t think I’m the only one that is completely over this trip.
I’m over people. It’s hot. My deodorant has been working overtime since before we landed on Monday. It’s Thursday afternoon. We leave for the airport tomorrow morning, and all I want to do is take a cold shower, then lie naked on my hotel bed.
“Just settle in, and we’ll be at the distillery in…” He looks at his watch. “A little over an hour.”
I fight the groan that tries to come out of my throat.
There isn’t air conditioning on this bus. Or if there is, it doesn’t work. So that means I need to sit through the next hour with the back of my thighs sticking to the seat beneath me. Great.
At least our group is small enough for everyone to get their own little bench seat. If I had to sit shoulder to shoulder with one of my coworkers, soaking up their body heat, I’d crawl out the emergency hatch in the ceiling and end it all.
Slouching down, I put my knees against the back of the seat in front of me. My knee-length skirt drapes open beneath me, and the small amount of airflow against my bare legs is worth the risk that Suzanne across the aisle might see my underwear.