by C. L. Parker
“Shit,” I mumbled to myself as I turned to leave.
Wade Price was walking toward me with his briefcase in hand and a jacket hanging from his arm. I could be wrong, but I thought he even had a little extra pep in his step. “Well, you don’t sound as happy as I’d thought you’d be.”
“Um, sorry, sir. I needed to speak to Cassidy. Looks like I missed her, though.”
“Let me guess: to gloat? Boy, you two are competitive to the very end,” he said with a chuckle. “I hope you’ll go easy on the poor girl. She’s taking it pretty hard.”
“I’m sorry? Taking what hard?”
“Don’t be modest now, Matthews! You deserve the congratulations. It was a hard-fought contest, but to the victor go the spoils, eh?” he said with a hearty clap on my back.
“You already know I got the Rockford contract?”
“Whalen told me,” he said. “And don’t you be mad at her for spilling the good news before you could—she was pretty much forced to tell me in order to explain why the hell she was leaving.”
“Leaving? As in she quit?” Oh, it would be just like her to do something that drastic, even if for no other reason than to rub salt in my eye.
“No, no, no. She didn’t quit.” He stared off in contemplation. “Or at least I hope that wasn’t what all of that was about.”
“All of what?”
He shrugged. “She asked for an indefinite leave of absence. Said there was something she had to take care of and she’d let me know more details later.”
Son of a bitch. Just when I’d thought I couldn’t be any madder at the woman, she’d gone and proved me wrong.
“Truth be told, I think she was feeling a little embarrassed by the loss and didn’t want to show her face. Although she really doesn’t have anything to be ashamed of. She’s still my number one. Now that you have the partnership, anyway.” He winked and threw his arm around my shoulders as we walked toward the elevator.
“When did this happen?”
“First thing this morning.” The elevator door opened, and we stepped inside the car. “She spent some time coordinating things with her clients, and then she left.”
Run, little girl, run. Run to your heart’s content. Run until you can’t run anymore. I’ll still find you.
To my disappointment, Quinn was the one who answered the door, and he didn’t look much happier than me with that scowl on his face.
“Where is she?” I asked, getting right to it.
Quinn slapped a slip of paper to my chest. “Was this your doing?”
I took it from him, reading the hurried yet elegant script.
Had to go home. Will be gone for a while. I’ll call later to explain. Don’t worry.
—Cass
I felt like roaring at yet another fucking wall being thrown up in what was turning out to be a goddamn maze designed with the express purpose of blocking me from having the final word.
“Why would you think I had anything to do with this?”
Quinn put one hand on his hip. “Oh, I don’t know. Maybe because you just so happen to show up here, all in a huff, moments after I find the note?”
It wasn’t my intention to be hateful with Quinn, I knew he’d been through it lately, but I really couldn’t afford to waste time with an explanation I didn’t want to give in the first place. “When is she going to be back?”
“You read the note. She doesn’t say, but something tells me she’s not planning on coming back at all. And the woman isn’t answering her phone, either.”
“Why don’t you think she’s coming back?”
Quinn leaned against the doorjamb. “You’re just full of questions today, aren’t you? My guess is you’re the one holding all the answers.”
I stared blankly at him, trying my best not to ask another question, though I supposed my expression must have done that for me.
Crossing his arms, he continued: “Look, I know I’ve been dealing with my own shit, but that doesn’t mean I haven’t noticed that my best girl has something going on. Y’all been fucking.”
Whoa! “She told you that?”
The grin he wore was full of sass and pride. “No, but you just did.”
I closed my eyes, trying desperately to rein it in. “Quinn, I’m sorry, but I need to talk to Cassidy. Where can I find her?”
“I’d say the airport, but you better hurry.”
“Why?”
“Because I found her flight information written on the page under this one on the notepad.” He went over to the counter and ripped the sheet off the pad, handing it to me. “Here. Go get her, Romeo.”
Christ, he had it all wrong, but if I told him that, he’d probably try to stop me from going after her. And Cassidy’s flight was scheduled to take off in no more than an hour. Without saying goodbye, I pivoted on my heel and headed for the exit.
“You’re welcome!” he shouted after me.
San Diego International Airport was just as much of a madhouse as the bumper-to-bumper traffic to get there. Then I had to go and make a scene when I tried to get to the gates without a ticket in hand, which meant I had to spend money on a ticket to Philadelphia that I had no intention of using. And to make matters worse, I was in so much of a hurry to catch Cassidy before her flight took off that I wasn’t paying attention when I went through the metal detectors, prompting an intrusive pat-down that fell just short of my body cavities being searched. Normally, I liked to at least be on a first-name basis with someone getting that fresh with me. Two tits and a vagina would’ve also been preferable.
After that, I nearly collided with four different people who were also running to their gates, and I considered plowing through a group of elderly people with no place to be other than the middle of the major flow of traffic while they carried on their mundane conversation. Naturally, Cassidy’s gate was at the far end of the terminal, directly opposite the front of the building, which meant no one else in the building had farther to go than me to get there. My calves were cramping and my pulse was at cardio-workout level by the time I reached my destination, but that didn’t stop me from trying to break the handle off the closed door to the Jetway when I found I was too late.
“Whoa, whoa, whoa! What do you think you’re doing?” A brunette put herself between the door and me to stop my assault. I almost hadn’t seen her: she was less than five feet tall, and that was counting the bun on the top of her head. But when I looked down, she was mean-mugging me like she was a monkey’s breath away from climbing me like a tree and giving my branches a shake.
“But they haven’t left yet. They’re right there!” I could appreciate the importance of international security as much as the next person, but if I’d already spent fucking forever being x-rayed and patted down to get to this point, what did they think I was going to do now?
Even if she was petite, my friend the gate agent meant all business. “Sir, if you don’t back up, I’m going to have to call security.” She put her hand on the phone, prepared to do just that.
“Ah, come on. You don’t have to do that,” I said, turning on the old Shaw Matthews charm.
Under thick, bright blue makeup, her eyes softened, though it didn’t make a difference. “The flight has been boarded and the door shut. I’m sorry. You’ll have to go to the ticket counter to see about catching another flight to Bangor.”
“No, you don’t understand. This isn’t my flight. I just need to talk to someone on board before she leaves.”
The gate agent’s face took on a dreamy look I’d seen far too often when a woman got swoony on me. Clutching her chest, she sighed. “Aww, how romantic!”
“What? No, it’s not like that.” For a second, I thought about going with her assumption just to see if appealing to the woman’s obvious need to believe in the chick-flick cliché would get me what I wanted.
“I’d love to help, but only ticket-carrying passengers are allowed on board.”
Great. Finally, we were getting somewhere. “I’ll go g
et a ticket then. Just don’t let that plane take off.”
“The flight is full. Besides, the door is already closed.”
“Please?” I’d never begged for anything in my life.
She stuck out her bottom lip and gave me the puppy-dog eyes. “I’m so sorry. It’s out of my control.”
Surely there had to be another option. “When does the next flight leave?”
“You’ll have to check with the ticket counter, sir,” she said, then leaned in conspiratorially. “I’m not supposed to do this, but how about if I check on it for you?”
“Yes! Thank you so much!” I said, feeling a little relief now that she was willing to help.
“I see you have a ticket to Philadelphia in your hand.”
Lifting the ticket I’d all but forgotten about, I shrugged. “Yeah, there was no other way to get to the gates.”
“It’s actually a good thing,” she said, scanning the monitor before her. Then she looked up at me and smiled. “There’s a flight to Bangor leaving Philadelphia at six forty-five in the morning. It’s not completely full. You’ll need to run to catch your first flight on time, and you’ll have a long layover, but that’s the best you’re going to do.”
“Where’s my gate?”
“Gate forty. But you might want to go get that ticket to Maine first.”
Looking up at the gate information, I groaned when I saw that we were on the opposite side of the airport.
“Thank you.” The wink and smile I gave her was about my being grateful for the information she’d volunteered, even though I’d been acting like a dick. It wasn’t like it was her fault, and I was sure she’d dealt with enough shit from every other person and didn’t need mine.
I wasn’t quite sure how far I was willing to go to say my piece to Cassidy, but as I watched her plane back out of its spot and taxi down the runway, I figured out the answer.
Moments later, I stepped up to the ticket counter and slapped my credit card down in front of the agent. “One ticket from Philadelphia to Bangor, Maine, please.”
Apparently, I was willing to go another three thousand miles.
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
Playing Dirty started slinging mud at me somewhere around the fourth chapter, and it didn’t let up on its assault until the cavalry arrived. They pulled me out of the trenches, and together we launched a counterassault that ended with me owning its ass. Obviously, this page is dedicated to acknowledging those people who gave a little bit of their blood, sweat, and tears to help me make that happen. So let’s get on with it, shall we?
I still can’t believe how lucky I am to have scored my very remarkable agent, Alexandra Machinist, and my extraordinary editor, Shauna Summers. Though “agent” and “editor” seem like such blasé words to describe what you two do, because you truly make dreams come true. Thank you for taking a chance on me.
To my bestie, Patricia Dechant. You know what I want to say, even when I haven’t done a very good job of saying it. So then you just rewrite it completely and make it all pretty and mushy. Much like you do to my life. You are my morning cup of joe, the emergency lifeline that yanks me back to shore when I drift too far, and the constant I depend on the most. If you ever try to quit me, I’ll have to hunt you down and kill you, because you know entirely too much.
Huge thanks to Bobbie Butler (my ma), Maureen Morgan (my muse), Melanie Edwards (my dear diary), Janell Ramos (my sentry), Carrie St. Julien (admin extraordinaire), Whittney Sherman (my sister), Kimberly Rackley (my guru), Jowanna Kestner (my friend/beta/assistant), and Lance Grebe (my real-life Landon, a true hero). Each of you has a special role in my life. You are my anchors, my sounding boards, and my biggest cheerleaders. Love you. Mean it.
Big, puffy heart thanks to Casey Salsman. Your presence in my life has been vital to the completion of this book. Thank you for making me smile, for helping me find my words again, and for being my partner as we tag-team the world. You truly get me like I’ve never been gotten before. Please don’t ever disappear.
Last but not least, I must thank my readers. You amaze me with your support, loyalty, and encouragement. Plus, you’re super naughty and never judge me for being the same. The absolutely most important request that I could ever make is that you show your favorite authors some love. Leave those reviews and talk them up to all of your friends. We truly could not do what we do without you. I fucking love you and shit!
