The Stopover (The Miles High Club #1) - T L Swan Page 0,128

up to see if I can see her. I walk farther, and I can’t see her. She’s disappeared into thin air.

Damn it.

I turn and look back down the street we just came from. Where did she go?

I walk back a little way, and then I catch sight of her in a shop.

Thank God.

I duck in and then notice it’s a pawnshop. I pretend to look at something in the back as she talks to the man on the desk.

“Well, it’s not worth much,” he says.

“I would like five hundred dollars for it. It’s in perfect working order,” she replies.

“You’re dreaming. No way.”

I peer through a gap in a bookcase and see a MacBook. Shit . . . she’s selling her computer.

Why would she be selling a computer?

My mind begins to race as the two of them haggle over the price. The shop attendant wins in the end, and he hands over two hundred dollars. I watch her disappear out the door, and I wait for a moment and go to the desk.

“Hello.” I smile casually.

“Hey,” the overweight pawnshop man mutters as he counts his till up.

This may just be the craziest thing I’ve ever done, and I’ve done some pretty crazy things in my life. “I would like to buy that computer, please.”

He frowns as he glances up. “What one?”

I point to the one she just sold him.

“Nah, I haven’t cleaned it up yet. Go to the cabinet on the left, and find another one.”

“No, it has to be that one.”

“Not for sale yet. Come back in two days.”

If I come back in two days, it will be wiped. “Name your price,” I assert, feeling brave.

He stills, and his eyes come to mine. “A thousand dollars.” He raises an eyebrow in a silent dare.

“You just paid two hundred for it—are you crazy?” I stammer.

He shrugs and goes back to what he’s doing.

I stare at the computer on the desk, and I don’t know why, but my gut is telling me to buy it. “Damn it, okay, fine. As it is, right now, for a thousand dollars.”

He smiles a slimy grin. “Okay, honey.”

I hand him over my mother’s credit card, the one I have for emergencies . . . sorry, Mom.

I pay the thousand dollars and take the computer and walk out the front door.

My phone rings. Tristan’s name lights up the screen. Perfect timing.

“Hello,” I answer.

“Sorry I took so long to get back to you. That girl’s name is Lara Aspin, and get this—she used to work in accounts,” he blurts out.

“What does that mean?” I frown.

“She had access to the bank account details.”

“Oh my God, Tristan,” I whisper as I look around guiltily. “I just followed her on the train, and she sold her computer to a pawnshop, and I know this is crazy, but I just bought it for a thousand dollars.”

“What? You have it? You actually have her computer?”

I smile proudly. “Uh-huh.”

“Where are you? I’m coming to get you now.”

I walk through the airport with my heart in my throat. I’m pulling my small carry-on suitcase so that I look the part of a tired traveler . . . or perhaps I’m just trying to pretend to myself that this isn’t a bad idea.

Because I know it is; deep in my gut I know that I shouldn’t be playing this dangerous game with him. I should be sitting down and having a civilized grown-up conversation.

But desperation has brought out my weakness, and I’m hoping that tonight Jameson and I can talk . . . and he can apologize and beg for me to come back, and then I can punish him, and we can begin to get back on track.

I haven’t seen Claudia again, so I have no idea what is going on with her, but the fact that Jameson wanted to see me tonight tells me that it’s nothing.

I hope it’s nothing . . . God, I hope it’s nothing . . . stop it.

I duck into the bathroom to give myself one last pep talk. I reapply my red lipstick, Jameson’s personal favorite, and I stare at my reflection in the mirror. My long dark hair is out and wavy. I wanted to wear a dress but didn’t want to seem too eager, so I finally decided to wear black fitted capri pants and a black silk shirt with the top button strategically undone. My black lace bra is just peeking through if I move the right way. I’m wearing his favorite fragrance and think