Fake Boyfriend - Miley Maine Page 0,13

being wealthy when it’s convenient, even though I complain about it. That it’s a game to me.”

I had packed a few things in my giant purse, like an extra change of clothes and a toothbrush, because I’d had a friend warn me never to leave without a backup plan, in case my flight got delayed and I was stuck in an airport hotel. But that was it. The rest of my luggage was at the wedding venue, waiting for me.

He clenched his jaw. “Listen. Stop beating yourself up. You haven’t hurt anyone by being rich, which is a lot more than some people can say.”

He didn’t understand. I wasn’t even sure if I understood it that well. I was exhausted, and I was flipping out, and I knew it. I needed to get a handle on myself, and I couldn’t do that in a public place. I needed to get the hell out of this airport. I took a deep, shuddering breath. “Thank you. For letting me take your picture. And for keeping me company. And for helping me in the Atlanta airport.” I held out my hand. “It was nice to meet you. Enjoy your grandfather’s cabin.”

He took my hand in his, but he didn’t shake it. He wrapped my hand in his large ones. “It was a pleasure to meet you Loren. I mean that.”

My throat started to burn. I lowered my bag to the floor and threw my arms around him. “Sorry. I’m a hugger.” I squeezed my eyes shut to keep from crying. “It was nice to meet you too.”

His strong arms came up around me. Being wrapped in his strong embrace felt incredible. I never wanted to let it go. But I had to. I was going to pull myself together, and get on with my trip.

I pulled myself away. “Bye Jackson.”

Thirty minutes into my attempt at renting a car, I was beginning to understand why my father hired a driver in every city we visited. The process was far less streamlined than I’d imagined. But finally, after several mishaps, the employee handed me a set of keys and pointed to the garage parking lot where my car was waiting.

I walked through the cars, until I found the row I was looking for. There was a black Nissan style car in the slot. I clicked the key fob, and it beeped. Perfect. I popped the trunk and hefted my massive photography bag inside. As I was closing the trunk, a man came out of nowhere and grabbed my arm.

“Don’t scream.” He pressed something hard into my ribcage.

I gasped, but I didn’t scream. Frozen, I stood completely still.

“Give me your purse,” he said. “And don’t try to lie and say you don’t have money. I see that Hermes label. I know what it costs.”

Shit. I didn’t give a crap about Hermes. The purse had been a gift from my aunt, the one whose daughter was getting married. She loved spending money and telling everyone about it. I kept the purse because it was big and I could stuff all my belongings into it.

My passport and driver’s license were inside, along with my phone. But there was no way I wanted to die for that stuff. “Okay,” I whispered.

“And when you’re done, pop the trunk and we’ll get that bag out too.”

Oh fuck. Not my camera. It could be replaced, but I’d spent the last year getting the exact equipment I liked. But again, I wasn’t going to die over it.

I inched my purse straps down my arm, planning to let him take it when a sudden movement caught my eye. I didn’t hear a sound. Within seconds, I saw movement, and Jackson was behind the guy with one arm around the guy’s throat. Jackson’s other hand was pulling the gun away from the guy.

I dropped my purse to the ground. My knees went weak, and I leaned back against the car. Now Jackson had turned the guy around, making it look like they were hugging. “Hey man, it’s so good to see you,” he said in a really loud voice.

Ah. Security cameras.

“We’re going to sit in the back seat of this car, and we’re going to have a nice talk,” Jackson said. “Do you understand?”

The guy nodded frantically.

“Don’t think about running. You won’t make it far.” Jackson opened the car door and gave the guy a little shove.

Jackson kept his hand on the guy’s arm, but he looked over at me. “Are you okay to hang