I stitched up the wound I’d created with the needle and thread. I’d rinsed it all in isopropyl alcohol first, but I’d still need to keep an eye on it for any infection. Luckily, the conference had been rife with pharmaceutical reps handing out sample meds like they were candy. There were bound to be a few antibiotics in there if I needed them.
After I’d taped a bandage over the whole grisly mess, I glanced around the bathroom. It looked like a crime scene with blood smeared across the counter. With a shrug, I moved into the bedroom, trying to decide what to take.
My computer? Phone? God, they’d be able to trace me with those.
Better get a burner phone.
I grabbed the biggest shoulder bag in the room—one with a pharmaceutical company’s logo on it, a conference-attendee gift—and threw a change of clothes into it, along with a sample bottle of antibiotics and all my drugstore purchases.
The television was still playing in the background, and Vos had just drawn another name. “Amelia Rivers,” he announced.
I turned around as if in a trance. There it was. My face on the screen behind him.
Shit. Time to go.
No time to dye my hair, either. Maybe I could duck into a casino bathroom for that. Or better yet, find a way to do it at the airport—assuming I got that far.
But before I left the room, there was one last thing I needed to do. Moving in front of the bathroom mirror, I lifted up my long, blonde ponytail. Then I used the nail scissors to snip it off. I shook my remaining hair out. It was a shaggy mess, but at least I looked a little less like myself than usual.
I carried the ponytail out of the room and dropped it in a trashcan as I bypassed the elevators and opened the stairwell door.
“Here goes nothing,” I whispered to myself as I headed down.
The heavy door closed behind me with a final-sounding click as I walked away from everything I’d ever known.
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About the Author
USA Today, Wall Street Journal, and New York Times bestselling author Margo Bond Collins is a former college English professor who, tired of explaining the difference between “hanged” and “hung,” turned to writing romance novels instead. Sometimes her heroines kill monsters, sometimes they kiss aliens. But they always aim for the heart!
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Entered in the Alien Bride Lottery Page 12
