A Fare To Remember_ Just Whistle_Driven - Vicki Lewis Thompson [73]
For now, Rachel would concentrate only on that goal. Only once she was successful would she allow herself to contemplate if she’d ever see Roman again—and if she did, what then?
YOU WOULD THINK AFTER saving the world, the CIA or the FBI or whatever agency she’d really been working for could have sprung for tickets on a plane that actually departed on time.
Realizing in her exhaustion that her wrist had slipped from holding up her head and ended her nap, Rachel shook consciousness into her body and reached for the caffeine-laden diet soda she’d balanced on her backpack. The warm, fizzy bubbles scraped down her throat, and once her vision cleared, she glanced down at her watch. The plane was now more than two hours late. A quick look around told her that Mario and Iris had once again left her for a stroll around the terminal. She couldn’t blame them. She wasn’t exactly delightful company, especially since the two of them had stars in their eyes only for each other.
In spite of her own foul mood, she grinned a little at the way Iris and Mario’s romance had developed. Mario had a reputation as a matchmaker. This time, however, her ill-fated affair with Roman had actually spurred Mario to make a move on Iris. About time, too, since he’d been sniffing after her for as long as Rachel could remember. She was happy for them.
And miserable for herself.
After yawning unattractively—something she realized only when a blond guy in a baseball cap leaning against a nearby wall chuckled and made brief eye contact—Rachel shifted in her seat. She rubbed her makeup-free face, combed her fingers through her hair and hoped she didn’t look as exhausted and cranky as she felt.
Once she’d turned over the new graphics to the Agency, she’d expected to hear from Roman. Perhaps even see him. How hard would it be to run into him in the Agency’s headquarters? But he’d not only made himself scarce, she’d also had no further dealings with Amelie Tremayne. None of the other agents seemed to know how to contact Roman, and this time Rachel didn’t feel like chasing him.
She’d done her bit as the hunter. Might be nice to be the prey again. Maybe she’d find someone new in Puerto Rico. Someone whose career didn’t interfere with pursuing a real life with real lovers and real relationships. Someone who would tell her his real name the first time they met. Someone who would be honest that their affair would last only a few hours or a few days, instead of playing her by her heartstrings. Not that Roman was guilty of all that, but the longer they remained separated, the worse his crimes and misdemeanors would become. It was the law of ex-lovers.
“Ms. Marlowe?”
Rachel looked up into the serious gaze of a rather official-looking airline employee. A woman. At least, Rachel was almost sure she was female. The gruff tone and boxy suit made it hard to tell.
“Yes?”
“Could you come with me, please?”
The please, while tacked on, definitely held no graciousness.
“Why?”
The employee curled a strand of her short hair around her ear, revealing a small earpiece like the ones worn by the agents Rachel had been working for all week.
“The delay will be minimal, I assure you. Please.” The woman gestured toward the hallway, and from the wide-eyed stares of her fellow passengers, Rachel was fairly certain her travel mates had pegged her as some sort of terrorist moll. Did terrorists even have molls?
She grabbed her backpack and laptop, glancing around for Mario and Iris, who were nowhere to be found. She hadn’t been around these Agency types much, but she figured the disappearance of her friends had been no accident. She had no idea why the Agency wanted her again—their business had been concluded. But this imposing woman’s attitude unnerved her and she had to fight the instinct to flee.
The people around her murmured and stared, but no one said anything. The blond guy in the