How could they print this crap? Didn’t they have to verify their facts first? She was not a suspect. She was not, nor had she ever been, a criminal.
She gulped down a huge ball of denial.
The entire smuggling operation was a deadly charade that cost people their lives and made it appear she might be working with the guilty party. But her husband, Steven Prichard, was the madman. He planned the horrifying details, gave the orders. She had no choice but to obey. He promised her she would never be free. He intended to keep her at his side for eternity no matter the cost—even if it meant having her ashes on the mantel of his floor to ceiling stone fireplace.
Loud seconds ticked by from her Rolex watch. A token of his undying love.
Yeah, right.
More like a fancy dog collar with all the bells and whistles available. A show piece for the masses.
Just like her.
Was she doing the right thing? Could she possibly hope to get away? She kept reminding herself of the end result. Everything would be better. She couldn’t afford to make a mistake. Not even a little one. Her life depended on her ability to keep running from the lies and keep the truth hidden. Forever.
Mumbling a silent prayer for the plane to be on time, she again went over the details.
Think straight
, she ordered herself.
Get a grip
. You don’t even look like that pitiful woman in the photo anymore. She’d dyed her hair lighter, cut it short, thrown away her contact lenses and started wearing her old glasses in order to blend into the crowd. No one would give her a second glance.
There was no other option.
You’ve thought of everything.
But that was a lie. She didn’t come close to having the money she needed to get far enough away. And he was already looking for her. A picture of what he would do if he found her was permanently engraved in her brain. This truth vividly played tag with her emotions.
Shaking her head to rid the horrible thoughts, she tried to keep the paranoia from gaining ground. She had a good head start. That one thought made her smile. Outsmarting him was the best feeling in the world.
Steven watched her day and night like a high priced piece of merchandise. When he was tied up in one of his infamous business meetings, he made certain her bodyguards were never more than a few feet behind. She was a prisoner. One that had been tortured, manipulated, and mentally torn apart in the confines of her own home.
But not anymore. Not ever again. She’d had enough.
What Steven didn’t know was that she’d been planning her escape for two long years. Years where at times she’d wished she’d just die from one of his brutal beatings in order to find her freedom. Years of studying and praying over the Bible she’d kept hidden under one of the wooden planks in the back of her closet.
She’d prepared mentally as well as physically. It was amazing how using nothing but your body weight could build stamina and muscle strength. Now she was putting all those tedious hours of sweat, tears and planning to the test. The simple fact she’d gotten this far boosted her confidence and filled her with hope.
That along with the sound of her precious five-year-old son beside her, playing leap frog from one hard plastic seat to the next.
Michael jumped again before she could stop him and fell spread eagle on the hard polished floor face down. The thud of his tiny body shocked her back to reality.
“Oh, Michael, are you all right?” Helping him up and brushing him off, she checked for broken bones or injuries that might hinder their escape. Then she gave him a big hug to hush his cries as she scanned the terminal over his small shoulders.
A few ladies sitting in the next row of seats gave her a concerned look, but she smiled back at them and said, “Don’t worry. He’s fine.” She felt the guilt climb up her chest as paranoia took precedence over Michael’s condition. What kind of mother was she? But she couldn’t help it. They couldn’t afford to call attention to themselves.
Thankfully, Michael recovered from the shock of the fall quickly and pulled away, his mouth twisted in a pout. She bit her bottom lip.
Don’t start fussing now. Not now. Please
.
“That hurt right here, Mommy.” Michael rubbed his chest.
“I bet it did, little man. But you’re tough. You didn’t even cry once.” She touched his cheek. “You’re my rock.”
Michael smiled and Makayla glanced back at the three ladies still watching them.
With a nod, they appeared satisfied and returned their reading.
“Didn’t Mommy tell you to sit still?” Out of habit, Makayla readjusted his shirt and swiped the stray hairs off his brow. Steven wanted his son perfect at all times. “If you break something again we can’t leave on our vacation. We’ll have to spend our day in the emergency room instead of outside building sandcastles on the beach.” She attempted a reassuring smile to ease the frightened expression from his freckled cheeks, even though her insides were ready to explode. Michael knew the inside of the emergency room all too well. Even knew the nurses by name.
His shoulders started that jerky motion and he sniffed several times, wiping his nose with the back of his dimpled hand. “Come now, honey, don’t cry. You’re fine. Just listen to Mommy and you’ll stay that way. Okay?” She bent down and hugged him again, placing a quick kiss on the top of his head for extra measure.
“Okay,” he said, with one last sniffle. “I’ll try really hard this time, Mommy. Promise.” He glanced up at her after she released him, and her heart liquefied as it always did when she stared into his big brown eyes. He had the longest lashes she’d ever seen on any child. The sincerity of his expression proved his heart was pure, undamaged by his father’s wickedness.
Michael was the reason she had to succeed. She had to get him away before it was too late.
An eerie jingle rang out from the pocket of her jacket, echoing around the airport waiting area and sending ripples of fear through every inch of her body. It was Steven. She knew without even looking. It was always Steven.
Michael studied her, his lips twisted into a frown. “Mommy, what’s going on?”
Her heart stopped at the alarm in his voice. She’d failed to keep her fears from showing. An explanation would be needed to keep her son’s anxiety level down.
He’d just turned five last month, but his intelligence was way beyond that of a normal boy his age. It wasn’t fair. He’d been forced to grow up way too fast and that fact meant she wasn’t going to have the luxury of a simple answer.
“I’m fine, pumpkin. I’m just worried we’re going to miss our flight. The weather’s getting pretty bad out there.”
“Oh.” He glanced out the window considering her answer. His brow wrinkled as his lips puckered. “But why aren’t you answering the phone?”
Panic pushed closer.
“It’s a wrong number. They’ve been calling all day, and Mommy just wants them to leave us alone.” There, she’d pulled it off without a lie.
“I hate it when that happens.” His little lips pursed together into a fine line just as hers always did when she was perturbed about something, and a smile creased the tight muscles around her mouth.
“Me too, little one. Me too.”
She gathered up their meager belongings and headed for the ticket counter. Something was wrong. Their plane should have arrived over an hour ago and there seemed to be some kind of glitch with the airport’s billboard. The digital sign blinked off and on, showing every flight coming in as delayed.
“It’s been delayed again, ma’am.” The petite girl behind the counter didn’t even look up. It was clear she’d had to repeat this sentence too many times to count and her patience had run out.
“Well, what time do you expect it?”
“Not sure, but it could be a while. There is a nasty snowstorm in Denver. Nothing’s landing and nothing’s taking off.”
Makayla brought her shaky hand to her chest and tried to steady her racing heartbeat. Steven would find them soon.
“I have to leave today. Now.” Every muscle in her body tightened. “Please.”
“Ma’am, I don’t have control over the weather. Maybe you could rent a car to get where you’re going.”
Great. Just what she wanted to spend her measly stash of cash on— a car.
“Well, can I at least get a refund for my tickets?” She spread the two boarding passes out on the counter, pushing them toward the clerk as she worked hard to steady her hand. That’s when she remembered she’d put them on her mother’s credit card to keep Steven from finding out. “In cash,” she added.
The girl eyed the documents for several seconds. “I’ll need your driver’s license and the credit card, please.”
Makayla swallowed hard. “I don’t have the card on me.”
The girl sighed and looked up, meeting her gaze for a split second before turning to grab a pen off the counter behind her. “Sorry. I can refund the amount to the card, but without the card and proper identification, I can’t give you cash.”
The girl turned back around and found herself talking to thin air. She watched as the young lady scurried off to the car rental counter with the little boy in tow.
“Mighty big hurry,” she said before returning to her work.
“Who is?” It was a man’s gruff voice, and she jumped at his quick approach and tone.
“I’m sorry, sir. Did you need some help?” She tried to regain her composure and smoothed back the stray hairs from her face. Working double shifts really sucked and did little for her social life. This man was easy on the eyes, quite a bit older than her twenty-four years, but with looks like his she would be happy to make an exception.
“Who is in a big hurry?” His tone didn’t waver as his gaze swept over the terminal. He was clearly engaged in some mental battle and her hopes of catching his attention were slim to none. But that never stopped her before.
“Oh. The woman with the young boy.” She leaned over the counter supporting her ample chest with her firm tanned arms. His crystal blue eyes met hers at that moment and she swallowed hard at the chills racing down her spine. They were amazing. He was amazing. And the scars peeking out from beneath his collared shirt screamed bad boy.
She cleared her throat, trying to contain the nervous tension swirling inside her stomach. Maybe she should let him know she got off at 7:00 and would be happy to help him pass the time. With the storm barreling in, he’d be stranded just like the rest of the passengers hoping their flights would leave today.
“She needed to leave in a big hurry. Actually thought I could control the weather or something. I don’t understand why people…”
He raised his large hand to stop her babble. “Which way did she go?”
Puzzled by his abrupt rudeness and blatant disinterest in her, she took a step away from the counter. “Not sure I should tell you.”
“Why not?” He leaned over the counter, pinning her with a gaze that made her knees quake. Then he winked.
“Um, I really don’t feel right about it. Why do you want to know?” Gosh, he was sexy. Her moral core was struggling. Bad boy, yes. But he didn’t look like an ax murderer. Yet, how did you tell nowa-days? She wouldn’t have been so concerned for the woman’s well-being if she hadn’t had that precious little boy with her.
“Look. I have no intentions to harm her or the boy. She dropped her wallet back at the coffee shop and I just want to return it.” He’d reached into his pocket and pulled out what appeared to be a ladies’ leather change purse.
“Oh, well, okay. I didn’t peg you as a bad guy anyway.” She laughed huskily, flipping her long blonde hair back over her shoulder in one more attempt to get his attention, and, if she was lucky, a phone number.
Still nothing. She huffed down a breath and decided he was either gay or dead.
“I sent her over to the car rental desk. Like I said, she was in a real hurry to leave. I tell you, nothing could make me tackle this weather behind the wheel of a car, especially with a little one in tow.” She paused to see if he was listening.
He was looking in her direction, but staring right through her, his eyes scanning the flight information billboard. She forced back a knot of disappointment and pointed across the rows of seats to the rental area. His attention followed her slim manicured finger, and then he turned his back and stalked off without a thank you or another glance.
“Jerk,” she said, shaking her head and readjusting her shirt.
***
Makayla could feel the sweat forming on her brow even though the temperature had dipped down into the thirties and the airport appeared to be trying to save money on their heating bill. Thank goodness she’d packed an extra coat for Michael.
As she helped him slip it on, her eyes drifted to the windows and the dark clouds beyond. Would she be able to maneuver an unfamiliar vehicle in such horrible weather? There had to be another way—a way that wouldn’t endanger Michael so much.
After a few moments of hesitation, she decided she had no other choice. Picking up the signed contract papers off the seat next to Michael, she turned around and stepped toward the counter. The papers crinkled within her tight grip.
A big man, twice her size in a long trench coat and sporting a bad attitude, pushed passed her to the counter demanding service.