The Survivor - Cristin Harber Page 0,18
Black Hawk to keep an eye on where she went. She and Dylan pretended they didn’t notice gawking passersby as they crossed toward New York Avenue. “I wish I was someone else.”
The light changed to yellow, and a crosswalk warning chirped. “Nah.”
“I’m serious.”
“Fine.” Dylan held out his arm to block her from someone waiting for their turn at an ATM. “Who do you wish you were?”
“Someone who could just leave her house without the circus act.”
He guided her around a happy hour that had gone late and spilled onto the walkway. “That’s not a different person. That’s different circumstances.” He stopped at the corner. “I heard you can’t miss your exam.”
Her fingers curled into fists. “If Dad is supposed to negotiate peace treaties, he should be able to find a way—” Tears burned her throat. Her chin dropped. “I mean…” She gestured to a small group who watched as though she were a soap opera. “If I have to put up with all of this, then I should at least get to do the fun stuff.”
Dylan nodded. “It sucks.”
“And I want to go to my friend’s house.”
“I feel ya.” He nodded again, then ushered her across the street. “Are you done complaining yet?”
“Hey!” She whirled on him. “You’re supposed to take up for me.”
“No, I’m supposed to keep you safe. Running off like this puts your life, my life”—he tossed his thumb over his shoulder to McNally and whoever else had followed them—“and their lives in danger. You know that.”
Her ears burned, and she shuffled her feet. “I walked.”
Dylan rolled his eyes. “I like it better when you pierce something or dye your hair. Makes the job more interesting.”
Mandy bit her lip as embarrassment made way for an exhausting wave of guilt. “Let’s get tattoos.”
“That’s the spirit.” Dylan laughed and turned them back toward home. “Or, let’s skip the tattoo and raid the kitchen for ice cream. You can figure out who you’d rather be another day.”
CHAPTER ELEVEN
PRESENT DAY
ABU DHABI, UAE
Neon lights decorated the entrance of an otherwise boring stucco building, turning an everyday shopping experience into something that only the United Emirates could have dreamed up. Well, the UAE or Las Vegas, though, Hagan could appreciate the difference between LuLu’s Hypermarket and the Vegas strip.
He crossed the parking lot with his teammates, and they strolled into the megamart like a pack of prowling animals, each with their own agendas. Liam would always purchase diapers and fresh fruit for his wife’s smoothies. Chance would search out specific cuts of meat to cook for his wife. Without fail, Sawyer and Camden would complain that they couldn’t purchase a six-pack of beer and then fill their arms with energy drinks, jerky, and junk food. Hagan’s grocery shopping habits leaned closer toward bachelor purchases, either way, their group was nothing, if not predictable shoppers.
They followed their usual routines. Liam and Chance secured shopping carts and left for the produce section. Camden hooked a bag of salted potato grills off of a sale display and then followed Sawyer toward the soft drink aisle. Hagan didn’t need anything in particular except to see a different four walls. If he’d stayed home, he wouldn’t have been able to ignore his questions about the gorgeous woman and Jared’s warning.
Hagan nabbed a basket trailing Liam and Chance in the produce section. There had been a familiarity about that woman Hagan couldn’t shake, but he still couldn’t place her. Mindlessly, he grabbed a papaya and a sack of mandarin oranges. Even if Hagan could recall the woman, that didn’t account for Jared’s reaction.
“Hey, man,” Chance called.
Hagan realized both men had been watching him blankly stare into the fruit. “What’s up?”
A worry line pinched across Liam’s forehead. “You’re looking pretty serious over that citrus.”
He tried to relax. “Big decisions, I guess.” When they didn’t loosen up, he added, “Long day. That’s all.”
“Right.” Chance maneuvered his cart to the side and let another shopper pass.
A long day was the truth. Maybe not in the way their team might normally pull in a long day, but he was mentally exhausted. Not to mention, his groin was still sore.
Chance and Liam picked up a conversation, debating a trade in a fantasy sports league. Hagan realized he didn’t need anything else from the produce section—or any other grocery aisles. He wandered away and let the lure of big-screen TVs pull him deeper into the store.
LuLu’s Hypermarket reminded him of a Walmart Supercenter. It had food, plus everything else. The overhead speaker alternated announcements in