When she unzipped her tatty black case, she frowned. This morning, she’d folded her toilet bag inside the t-shirt she usually slept in and tucked it on the right-hand side. Now it lay on the left, and not so tightly wrapped. Summer stared at it. She hadn’t made a mistake. Accurate observations were her lifeblood.
Not hard to conclude someone had been in her case. She wondered if Piero had slipped in a present for her, but she checked and there was nothing she didn’t recognize. A lump formed in her throat. Nothing had been taken out, nothing obvious put in, but what about something not obvious? She was in a country where drug smuggling was as normal as exporting coffee.
She took her things out one by one, examined them carefully and piled them on a drop-down baby-changing table. Then she checked the case, running her fingers around every zipped compartment and over the lining. When she discovered a section of the lining appeared to have been tampered with, her heart thumped hard enough to give her an instant headache. She tugged at the material and pulled it open to reveal a long, narrow package strapped to the length of a strengthening bar. Her insides went icy cold.
Fuck, fuck, fuck.
A further search revealed another thin package attached to the other bar. Summer didn’t want to touch them. It had to be cocaine and she didn’t want it on her fingers. But she couldn’t leave it in her case. Fuck. She peeled off the tape holding one of the packages and tried to rip the thing open over the toilet. It was wrapped so securely she couldn’t tear it.
Panic welled in her chest. What if there was more that she hadn’t found? She couldn’t risk going through security carrying drugs. But how could she get rid of the suitcase? What about her clothes?
She opened her backpack and went through that too. Nothing had been taken and nothing added unless it had been sewn into some panel and she couldn’t detect it. If she made a mistake, even if she got through the checks here, she’d come under scrutiny again in Mexico, then America, then England. Dogs would sniff drugs out in an instant. Oh fuck it.
Dogs. Her gaze was continually drawn to the unexpected present from a guy who didn’t do cuddly. Retrieving a pair of nail scissors from her toilet bag, Summer snipped away at a seam on the toy until she could tease out the stuffing. A groan escaped when she found the first package. Her fingers made contact with another and she threw the dog down into the empty case. Fucking Javier.
She leaned against the wall of the stall and tried to figure out what to do. With a bit of effort using the nail scissors, she could dispose of the drugs down the toilet though she’d have to find somewhere to dump the packaging. Going to the airport police was not an option. Aside from the fact that she didn’t want to cause trouble for Piero’s family, it would cause even more trouble for her. The police were likely to conclude she was a mule who’d lost her nerve. Had Javier tried to warn her as she’d left? Maybe he’d been put under pressure to use her.
Except…
How had the drugs gotten into her case? It had to have happened this morning and when she’d come down to breakfast, Javier had already been there and he’d stayed until she’d gone back to her room. It was Piero who hadn’t appeared until she’d almost finished eating. A swell of despair and disappointment rolled over her. She was too trusting.
The best thing to do was dump the case on the basis that she might not have found everything, only that wasn’t so easy. All those warnings about unattended luggage meant she couldn’t just walk away from it. And what was she supposed to do with her things? Plus if she had no luggage to check for an international flight it would look suspicious. Shit. Summer dragged her fingers through her short pink hair. Think. And be quick because you’re running out of time.
Cameras would have captured her arrival. With the case. And she had to be the only person in the airport with pink hair. Damn. No way was she walking out of the restroom with her luggage. She changed from her jeans and t-shirt into the only dress she had and fastened a silver belt around her waist. She kept her sweater out, pulled a Peruvian hat on her head and selectively chose what she could push inside her backpack. There was still a pile of her things remaining but if she walked out with them in her arms, it would look suspicious.
And wearing a wooly hat in an airport wasn’t?
With a silent groan of frustration, she dumped the remaining items into the case and zipped it up. Then unzipped it and took out a pair of trainers and her jeans. She set the shoes up on the floor in front of the toilet and arranged the jeans so that at a quick glance it might look as though someone was in there. The case would stop anyone checking under the door from getting a better look.
She stood and closed her eyes for a moment. Had she removed everything personal? The little zipped compartments were all empty. She’d taken off the luggage tag and old security stickers. There was nothing in it that could link back to her apart from her DNA and fingerprints—hell—but hopefully, she’d be on a plane before anyone came looking.
Once she was sure the restroom was empty, Summer squeezed under the door, dragged out her backpack and tried to look casual as she walked to the check-in desk.
All she needed now was for her plane to take off before the restrooms were inspected. In the States or the UK, an unattended suitcase would shut the whole airport down. They’d have bomb squads in and detector dogs running all over the place and who the hell knew what else. Maybe here, whoever cleaned the toilet would just unzip the case and look inside. Maybe the washroom attendant would think it was his or her lucky day. Maybe the police would be waiting in Mexico, America or London.
Anxiety made her heart swell in her chest and brought her to the point of throwing up. She imagined every person she passed was checking her out, noting her nervousness. The moment she made it through security with no alarm raised, she should have felt relieved but she didn’t. Anger burned alongside her anxiety. She’d been so fucking careful the entire time she’d been here. Seen drugs, never touched them, let others do what they wanted but she’d declined. Before she made any trip she’d checked her baggage, but she hadn’t thought she’d been in danger in Piero’s parents’ house.
* * * * *
Once the plane had taken off, she thought then she’d feel safe. But something else occurred to her. Whoever owned the drugs she was supposed to carry out of the country wouldn’t be happy they didn’t reach their destination. Would someone be waiting for her? Where? Oh god, they’d kill her because she’d fucked-up their plans. Her stomach churned. She could go to the police when she reached England, but that still opened up the issue of making trouble for Javier and Piero’s parents.
If the brothers had used her, she had no reason to feel guilty about landing them in trouble, but what if they hadn’t? What if those looks they’d given her weren’t what she’d thought? What if they’d been forced into it? Put the drugs in her luggage or we’ll kill your mother.
Oh shit. Summer had done nothing wrong but the way she felt, she might just as well have had the words “Arrest me” tattooed on her forehead.
* * * * *
There was no issue in Mexico apart from the late takeoff of the plane from Cancun to Philadelphia. Not because the police were about to board and arrest her but due to bad weather in the States. By the time the plane was in the air, she was so emotionally exhausted she passed out and didn’t stir until landing.
The bump onto the runway jarred her awake and for one horrible moment, she remained caught in a dream that they’d flown her back to Bogota and she’d be thrown in jail. She looked out the window and, to her relief, all she could see was snow.
When she turned her watch to the correct time, she groaned. Her flight to London should already have taken off, though with the weather so bad, there was a chance it had been delayed. Those with connecting flights were allowed off first and Summer grabbed her backpack, sweater and hat, and ran, only to have to wait in line at immigration.
Confronted with another line at security, she felt her agitation quickly reaching new levels. She tried
to kick off her shoes at the same time as she dragged her belt through the loops of her dress and almost sent herself whirling across the polished concourse like a spinning top. As she tossed her thin silver belt into the tray, a stylish black leather belt landed on top and coiled over hers like a snake. She glanced up in annoyance.
“I’m in a hurry,” snapped the English owner of the offending article, who had untidy black hair, black eyes and seemed to be a black mood.
Summer picked up her shoes and tossed them on top of the belts. “So am I.”
He gave her a glare that would have made a lesser woman cringe, but Summer had put up with far too many macho types in South America to be deterred by a mere scowl, even if it was on the face of Mr. Gorgeous.
She was surprised when he retrieved his belt and dropped it with his shoes into another plastic tray. Unfortunately the bubble burst when he put his tray in front of hers on the conveyor while she struggled to get her laptop out of her backpack amid a tangled mess of wires and underwear. What the hell had all the cables been doing in there, having sex and multiplying?
The metal detector flashed and pinged and she looked up to see the guy retreating from the scanner. He frantically patted himself down, removing coins, keys and a phone from his pockets.
Summer quite fancied doing the patting. At around six-three, he was six inches taller than her with exactly the bad-boy looks she liked, but the pain in the neck was going to make her miss her flight. She couldn’t go through until he’d found whatever it was that had upset the machine and he wasn’t having much luck. Another pass and the machine flashed again.
“Metal plate in your head?” she asked as he came back toward her.
“No, in my back. Three broken vertebrae.”
Oh no. “I’m so sorry,” she mumbled. Me and my big mouth.
Finally the machine relented, he ran off toward his gate and it was her turn. Nothing flashed or pinged but the security agent pointed to her hat. “No hats.”
Summer reversed through the detector, yanked it off and threw it in the tray with her backpack. When she went through the second time, she was directed to one side toward a grim-faced woman. Not now, please. I’m wearing a thin dress. You can see I’m not hiding anything.
Oh god, the drugs. Did I miss something?
“I’m in a hurry,” she said. “My plane…”
She might as well have been speaking to a brick wall. In fact, the woman was wider than she was tall and looked like a brick wall. Summer stood with her legs apart and arms spread wide while the agent waved a wand up and down her body. Her heart pounded hard enough to leap out of her mouth. The wand paused over her breasts and Summer swallowed hard.
The moment she’d stuffed all her things back into her bag, which was no mean feat, she slipped on her shoes, grabbed her belt, pulled her hat on her head and ran. Of course the gate couldn’t have been farther away and the chance of getting there to find the plane waiting was zero unless takeoff had been substantially delayed. That’s what she was counting on.
The lack of people as she sprinted down the concourse was bad news. Glances to either side through the windows showed the weather had deteriorated since she’d landed. When she came within sight of the gate, she’d hoped to see bustling passengers.
There was one, the guy who’d delayed her at security. He stood talking to a woman at the desk. Summer joined them and he raised his eyebrows when he spotted her.
“We’re too late,” he said.
“The Heathrow flight left on time,” said the woman. “You guys could try to make the one to Manchester. Gate H19.”
In the opposite direction.
They ran.
They didn’t make it.
“You could catch the Paris flight and get a connection to Heathrow.”
They didn’t make that either.
“Birmingham?”
It turned out to be the one in Alabama. Summer laughed when they arrived panting at the gate. The flight had been cancelled anyway.
“What’s so funny?” He struggled to get his breath.
“Haven’t you noticed? We’re practically the only ones in here.” She slipped her belt through the loops of her dress and once she’d fastened it, slumped on a chair, hugging her backpack. “We’ve run from one end of the airport to the other and I doubt anything could take off in this. Look.” She pointed to a window.
She’d rarely seen snow falling so thickly. “Looks like the start of a new ice age.”
“Damn, what it if is another ice age? What if it never stops snowing and the whole city is buried and the sea freezes?”
She liked the way he thought and nodded. “Dr. Abdussmatov of the St. Petersburg Observatory reckons an ice age will start next year.”
He gaped at her. “That’s a cheery piece of news.”
“Better make the most of summer.” Yes, make the most of me, please. She bit back her smile at the line.
He put his bag down and sat next to her. “I always do.”
Her heart jumped. “I apologize for making that quip about a metal plate in your head. My brain usually runs better quality control on my mouth. Er… Actually, no, it doesn’t, but I really am sorry. It was rude. My only excuse is I was feeling harassed. There was this very annoying passenger who pushed in front of me.”
He laughed. “I lied. My back’s fine, only I thought I was going to have to strip before they’d let me through.”
“At least you didn’t get the wand treatment from the very un-fairylike security guard. She looked as though she wanted to spank me with it. A perk of the job.”
Summer grinned but was dismayed when he failed to give her an answering smile. Now what have I said?
Chapter Three
Summer raised her hat slightly and dragged her fingers through her hair. “I like snow usually.”
He didn’t even glance at her. “I don’t.”
“Really? Never been sledging? Thrown snowballs? Built a snowman?”
“Not since I was ten.”
God, what a grouch.
“You don’t know what you’re missing.
“It’s cold and wet, what’s to miss?”
“But getting warm again is fun.”
He shot her a little smile then.
“My name’s Summer.”
He laughed. “Make the most of Summer? How many times have you used that line?”
Whoa, he’s good-looking. And he’s sussed me out, the shit.
“Never, actually.” Liar, liar, pants on fire. “Well, once now obviously and it wasn’t a line. I hoped you’d forgotten I’d said it.”
“Really?”
“Oh god. No. I confess and you hadn’t even got out the thumbscrews. I use it sometimes to see if people catch it. You get top marks. So what’s your name?”
He gave a curious look that she didn’t understand and then said, “Jai Winter.”
She couldn’t stop the burst of laughter. “That was clever. What is it really?”
“Winter. Want to see my passport?”
“I believe you. Wow, that’s amazing. If we get married, promise we won’t call our kids Spring and Autumn.”
“I don’t think there’ll be any danger of that.”
Which effectively burst her bubble. Miserable git.
“How do you spell Jai?”
“J-A-I.”
“That’s unusual.”
There was something about the way he looked at her that made her think she was maybe supposed to know who he was, but she didn’t recognize the name and she was sure she’d never seen the guy before in her life. I’d remember you.
“Aside from the wooly hat, I’m guessing you’ve flown in from somewhere warm,” he said.
“The weather in—oh damn. My sweater. I forgot it. I was distracted at security. There was this really annoying guy, obviously nothing like you at all, who threw his belt on top of mine then put his tray in front of mine and pissed me off.”
“Hey, my belt was heading there firs
t but yours was a sneaky little glittery thing that pushed in.”
Summer rolled her eyes but he was growing on her.
His lips twitched in a smile. “Come on. I’ll walk back with you and see if it’s still there. But brace yourself for disappointment because something so attractive as a chunky knit sweater covered in llamas has probably been spirited away to someone’s private collection.”
He noticed my sweater?
How could he not?
She pushed to her feet and they headed back down the long concourse. There seemed little point in covering her hair. If instructions had been sent to arrest her, the sweater would have given her away. Maybe it was a good thing that she’d lost it. God, I am so overthinking this. She pulled the hat off.
He glanced at her and raised his eyebrows. “Pink?”
“To remind me I’m a girl.”
He nodded. “The dress would have been enough.”
She smiled. “I just like to be sure.”
“Assuming that guy’s prediction of another ice age fails to materialize, I doubt we’ll be stranded here forever,” he said. “But I guess we’re definitely stuck until tomorrow night. Want to join forces and find a hotel?”
Was it wrong to wish there was only one bed left in the entire city and they had to share? Heat flooded her face.
“Good idea,” she said.
There was no sign of her sweater at the security area. It had been closed down and the single guard on duty wasn’t prepared to go and check.
“Told you,” Jai said. “I bet someone’s gurgling with glee over it right this minute.”
“Never mind. It was only an old one.”
“But you liked it,” he said quietly.
“I’ve carried it ’round for all of the eighteen months I’ve been in South America. It was the first thing I bought. It’s been up mountains, kept me warm on cold beaches, been my pillow on occasion, my constant companion who never talked back.”
Summer Girl, Winter Boy Page 3