Tailored for Trouble (Happy Pants #1) - Mimi Jean Pamfiloff Page 0,6
when another policeman showed up—a tall, thin blond man with a buzz cut.
Great, now there are two. How embarrassing.
“This her?” asked officer number two.
The first man nodded and reached down for her roller bag. The second man grabbed her purse from the floor and said, “Hurry up,” before walking away.
“Wait!” Taylor stood up from her seat, still holding her sandwich. “Where are you going with my stuff?”
The two officers ignored her and continued down the long corridor at a swift pace. Obviously, she couldn’t not follow. They had her stuff—wallet, boarding pass, and cellphone included.
She tossed the sandwich into a trashcan and ran after them, fuming. “Excuse me, but could you please stop?”
“There’s no time. Mr. Wade’s plane is about to take off,” said the African American officer.
“Mr. Wade?” Her mouth dropped open.
The officers stopped at a locked door at the end of the corridor and the blond proceeded to punch a code onto the keypad next to it.
“After you,” said blondie as the door popped open.
Taylor was about to blow a massive fuse, but realized yelling at two police officers wasn’t the wisest choice. “You’re not giving me back my things, are you?”
The two men stared back with stone cold expressions.
“I’ll take that as a no.” Taylor sighed. “Fine. I’ll take this up with Mr. Wade.”
She followed the two men down a stairwell and outside to a waiting police car. She seriously didn’t know what sort of game Bennett Wade was playing, but he had just crossed the line.
When the squad car pulled up to a sleek, gleaming white plane with a roll-away staircase at its side, Taylor headed straight for it, ignoring the pouring rain. By the time she got to the top of the steps, her hair was once again dripping wet.
“Ah, Ms. Reed. There you are.” A redheaded flight attendant, who wore a navy blue skirt suit and had her hair in a neat bun, handed Taylor a towel and then quickly took Taylor’s bags from blondie, who’d followed right behind.
Taylor swabbed the rain from her damp face and then glanced around the elegant cabin. There were five rows of double black leather seats and a set of doors in the back that looked like they might lead to a bathroom and storage space, but no sign of Bennett Wade.
“Where’s Mr. Wade?” Taylor asked the flight attendant who was now shutting the plane’s door. “Wait!” Taylor held out her hand. “Don’t close that!”
The attendant looked at her, puckering her red lips. “Sorry, Sugar?” she asked with a slight twang.
“I’m not flying on this thing. Where the hell is Mr. Wade?”
An awkward expression crossed the woman’s face. “You’re not flying?”
“Not even close. I came to tell Mr. Wade—” The plane jarred forward, and Taylor nearly fell over.
“I’m afraid it’s too late,” said the attendant, sounding slightly worried. “Once the plane starts moving, I can’t open the doors again without clearance from the captain. Well, that and the plane has to stop moving, of course.”
I can’t believe this. I’m not flying on this thing!
“Let me speak to the captain.” Taylor reached for the cockpit door, but it was locked.
At the same time, the attendant picked up the phone situated to the side of the door and pushed a little button. “Captain, the young woman would like to speak with you. She says she doesn’t want to be on this flight.” The attendant listened for a moment. “Yes. All right. I’ll tell her.” She hung up the phone. “I’m sorry, ma’am, the captain says we’re on a schedule so it’s time to take your seat.”
What a complete assho…Taylor gasped. “Wait. Mr. Wade is flying the damned plane, isn’t he?”
The attendant smiled. “Of course. But don’t you worry, Sugar, he’s a very good pilot. The best. I go everywhere with him.” She winked.
What was the wink supposed to mean? Was she his girlfriend? Lover? Or was it just one of those friendly southern hospitality winks meant to create an atmosphere of levity?
Who cares!
“You can’t do this,” Taylor protested. “You can’t kidnap me to…to…where is this thing going?”
The woman continued smiling politely. Did she ever stop? “San Francisco.”
“Fine. You can’t make me go to San Francisco.” Ironically, that was her hometown, but not where she lived. In any case, this was kidnapping!
“Oh. Don’t worry. I’ve already booked a connecting flight to Phoenix for you. Mr. Wade says we would’ve taken you all the way home, but he has an important early dinner appointment in San Francisco. You are going on to