Page 15 of Chasing Paradise

“Enough of that,” I grumbled to myself, shaking off those thoughts.

Clearly, I was getting a little delusional from lack of coffee. And I wasn’t even going to think about my grumbling stomach.

No matter how hot the trail might be for Wick, I had to make it a priority to stop in the next town and get something in my damn stomach.

In the early morning hours, the bus finally rumbled up the road, filling me with the promise of a few hours of sleep.

Only to discover just how loud and bumpy the ride would be, leaving me bracing myself and wincing as we chugged along the road.

By the time the bus dropped us off in Guayaquil, I was bone-deep tired, feeling kind of travel grubby, starving, and fending off an awful caffeine-withdrawal headache.

What I really needed was a hotel room for the night, a shower, some food, sleep, and coffee. Not necessarily in that order.

But, well, I was still me.

Always on.

Always working.

So I scanned the crowds, looking for a tall guy in a white straw hat. And I opened up my phone. Wincing at my low battery, I flashed Wick’s image around at everyone and anyone who would look.

Yes, rest and food were important. But maybe not as important as making sure a trail didn’t go cold.

All I got were head shakes until, suddenly, a man lit up, excited to tell me that he had seen Wick.

When he’d dropped him off at the airport.

“Dammit.”

Not another plane.

The same guy was all too happy to drive me to the damn airport as well. For an inflated fee. But, hey, the guy did me a solid, so I wasn’t complaining.

He’d even told me where he thought Wick was heading.

The Galapagos Islands.

Why? I had no idea.

Maybe he thought he’d lost me and could go sightseeing or something.

It didn’t really matter.

Hell, it might even be for the best. I mean, what better place to kidnap a guy and stick him on a boat or private plane, right? If I had enough service to contact my father about the whole situation, that is.

Besides, an airport meant more than just a flight, right? It meant food and water and, I prayed, coffee. Maybe a nap if we didn’t hit much turbulence.

Luckily, my bag was still packed from my last flight, so it was relatively easy to get through security after I got my ticket at the counter for the next flight out.

I actually felt my eyes get a little watery as I made my way into the departure lounge and smelled the blessedly welcome scents of fresh, strong coffee and food.

My stomach let out another grumble as my gaze scanned the options.

But as I did so, I saw a familiar white straw hat. And a man towering over everyone else in the seating area.

I exhaled hard out of my nose, not sure I wanted to risk him seeing me standing at one of the lines. Then turning and running.

Thoughts of coffee abandoned, I moved up behind him and dropped down in the empty seat at his side.

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