hotel. Whether it was true or not, Peter had leveraged his friend’s chagrin, and enlisted his help.
He’d needed to slip out of Bangkok and across the border into Cambodia as discreetly as possible, just in case Big Eddie had been able to trace the call and narrow down Peter’s location. So far, so good. He was feeling slick, on top of things. Like he might just be able to pull this off.
Using a fake credit card, he’d bought a ticket to New Zealand, but he wouldn’t be on that flight. The ticket had just been used to get him through security. Instead, he was waiting by the gate for the arrival of Trans Global flight 177 from Heathrow.
He was waiting for Tess.
Her flight had been delayed by twenty minutes, and when it did arrive, they let off all the passengers first. Tired families with fussy children. Irascible businessmen. Dreadlocked backpackers. Peter watched the last of them wander through the gate with the now familiar squinty, bloodshot eyes and jet-lagged shuffle they all shared.
Must’ve been a rough flight , he mused. Finally, once all the passengers had deplaned, the flight crew followed, each with their own matching roller bag. Tess was last.
She was blond and petite with dark eyes and expressive hands. Her hair was slicked back and tied into a simple knot, and she wore the same dated and unflattering uniform as her fellow flight attendants—a scratchy navy-blue polyester suit and garish orange scarf printed with the Trans Global logo.
But to Peter, she looked beautiful.
She didn’t see him. Instead, she turned toward her left, a warm, sultry smile blooming on her lips as she walked across the waiting area to meet a dark-haired Caucasian man in a flashy suit.
His back was turned toward Peter, so at first he didn’t recognize the man. But when he turned to greet and embrace Tess, Peter saw his face.
Sonofabitch… Michael Kelly. His old partner in crime. Apparently Kelly had taken over more than the business after Peter had ducked out.
He watched as Kelly whispered in her ear, reaching down to grip a tight handful of her ass. Then he slipped something about the size of a playing card into her pocket and walked away.
She just stood there for a moment, watching him go with a closed, unreadable expression on her face. Then she put her hand into her pocket, feeling whatever he’d put in there, but didn’t remove it.
As she turned to walk away, Peter double-timed his steps to catch up with her.
“Tess,” he said.
She jumped without stopping, then turned to him, and her face went hard, eyes cold and narrow. She looked away and kept walking without answering.
“Please, Tess,” he said. “Just five minutes of your time.”
She stopped and looked at her watch.
“You have three,” she said. “What do you want, Peter?”
“You…” Peter paused, tried a smile. “You look fantastic.”
“I look exactly the same as I did when you tossed me away like an empty beer can. I’ve moved on. You should do the same.” She looked at her watch again. “Now you have two and a half minutes.”
“So, it’s you and Michael now, huh?” Peter said before he could stop himself.
“That’s none of your damn business,” she said, turning again and walking away.
“That guy’s a real piece of work,” he replied, following her.
“He was there,” she said. “Where were you?”
“Come on, Tess,” he said. “I’ve seen how he treats women. You can do so much better than a loser like that.”
She stopped dead in her tracks.
“Look,” she said without turning. “You don’t get to walk out of my life, with no explanation, and then suddenly turn up out of nowhere and start lecturing me.”
To be fair, she wasn’t wrong.
And he’d allowed himself to lose sight of his immediate goal—to get her to help him. Not to give her grief about her romantic choices.
So much for charm…
But it wasn’t that simple. Part of the reason he’d run away from their relationship in the first
He’d needed to slip out of Bangkok and across the border into Cambodia as discreetly as possible, just in case Big Eddie had been able to trace the call and narrow down Peter’s location. So far, so good. He was feeling slick, on top of things. Like he might just be able to pull this off.
Using a fake credit card, he’d bought a ticket to New Zealand, but he wouldn’t be on that flight. The ticket had just been used to get him through security. Instead, he was waiting by the gate for the arrival of Trans Global flight 177 from Heathrow.
He was waiting for Tess.
Her flight had been delayed by twenty minutes, and when it did arrive, they let off all the passengers first. Tired families with fussy children. Irascible businessmen. Dreadlocked backpackers. Peter watched the last of them wander through the gate with the now familiar squinty, bloodshot eyes and jet-lagged shuffle they all shared.
Must’ve been a rough flight , he mused. Finally, once all the passengers had deplaned, the flight crew followed, each with their own matching roller bag. Tess was last.
She was blond and petite with dark eyes and expressive hands. Her hair was slicked back and tied into a simple knot, and she wore the same dated and unflattering uniform as her fellow flight attendants—a scratchy navy-blue polyester suit and garish orange scarf printed with the Trans Global logo.
But to Peter, she looked beautiful.
She didn’t see him. Instead, she turned toward her left, a warm, sultry smile blooming on her lips as she walked across the waiting area to meet a dark-haired Caucasian man in a flashy suit.
His back was turned toward Peter, so at first he didn’t recognize the man. But when he turned to greet and embrace Tess, Peter saw his face.
Sonofabitch… Michael Kelly. His old partner in crime. Apparently Kelly had taken over more than the business after Peter had ducked out.
He watched as Kelly whispered in her ear, reaching down to grip a tight handful of her ass. Then he slipped something about the size of a playing card into her pocket and walked away.
She just stood there for a moment, watching him go with a closed, unreadable expression on her face. Then she put her hand into her pocket, feeling whatever he’d put in there, but didn’t remove it.
As she turned to walk away, Peter double-timed his steps to catch up with her.
“Tess,” he said.
She jumped without stopping, then turned to him, and her face went hard, eyes cold and narrow. She looked away and kept walking without answering.
“Please, Tess,” he said. “Just five minutes of your time.”
She stopped and looked at her watch.
“You have three,” she said. “What do you want, Peter?”
“You…” Peter paused, tried a smile. “You look fantastic.”
“I look exactly the same as I did when you tossed me away like an empty beer can. I’ve moved on. You should do the same.” She looked at her watch again. “Now you have two and a half minutes.”
“So, it’s you and Michael now, huh?” Peter said before he could stop himself.
“That’s none of your damn business,” she said, turning again and walking away.
“That guy’s a real piece of work,” he replied, following her.
“He was there,” she said. “Where were you?”
“Come on, Tess,” he said. “I’ve seen how he treats women. You can do so much better than a loser like that.”
She stopped dead in her tracks.
“Look,” she said without turning. “You don’t get to walk out of my life, with no explanation, and then suddenly turn up out of nowhere and start lecturing me.”
To be fair, she wasn’t wrong.
And he’d allowed himself to lose sight of his immediate goal—to get her to help him. Not to give her grief about her romantic choices.
So much for charm…
But it wasn’t that simple. Part of the reason he’d run away from their relationship in the first
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