Page 3 of His Hawaiian Heart
“What man?” I snapped and instantly regretted doing so. I shook the memory of the drunken trio out of my mind and tried again. “Sorry, Maria, I’ve just never heard of anyone toting around a spare piece of luggage, have you? In fact, with all those announcements about not accepting luggage from another traveler, this has me rather suspicious.”
Maria nodded. “Can’t blame you, but he wasn’t toting it about. It’s brand new from a boutique inside the terminal, so I can assure you it’s quite safe,” she said. “In any case, he did say it was a gift from Harriett, but between you and me, that man sure didn’t look like any Harriett I’ve ever known.”
I smiled. “He was probably Harriett’s grandson. She is such a sweetheart.”
“That makes sense,” Maria said with a nod. “He was with an older lady.”
I shifted to look around her, hoping to spot my benefactors , but Maria shook her head.
“I’m sorry, they’ve already left.”
“Oh, well, thank you.” I was disappointed that I’d not be able to thank my new friend personally.
“No problem. Hope your stay on our island goes better than your arrival.”
“Thank you.” I appreciated the welcome despite the irony of having to pack my belongings rather than unpacking them in some tropically decorated hotel room. It didn’t really matter as I hadn’t been lying. I wasn’t in the islands on vacation and hadn’t been booked into any lavish hotel suite. Without the need to pick through my stuff, I transferred everything but my books, magnifying glass, and the microscope glasses to the new suitcase and stood.
I was finally ready to give my faithful old friend the funeral it so deserved. Dragging the bag to the closest trash can, I ran my fingers over the decals that chronicled my career and muttered, “Rest in peace,” then snort-laughed as I amended, “I suppose I should say ‘rest in pieces’.”
If I had to blink a bit rapidly, I blamed it on fatigue and not on emotion over a suitcase but knew that was a lie. I’d loved that case! Taking a deep breath, I finally left the baggage claim area, only to run into the same group of men from earlier once I’d reached the sidewalk outside the terminal.
“Come on, Murphy! Go test your stupid law on somebody else!” Evidently Mr. Murphy was about a good a listener as Ms. Smartass as this day just kept getting better and better.
“Well, well, well. Look who we have here, boys. Our rude little traveler,” Obnoxious Hawaiian Shirt said.
“I knew she’d come crawling back to us.”
The burp Jolly Green added had him grinning like a loon instead of excusing himself, but then, I had my doubts he was any more couth when he wasn’t inebriated.
“You owe me an apology, missy,” Hip Thruster said.
“I don’t owe you a thing.” I didn’t even pause, just kept walking, my new suitcase rolling effortlessly alongside me.
“That’s not how I see it, darlin’. If you’re not going to apologize, we’ll just let Bubba wash that filthy mouth out for you and I’m not talking about him using soap if you catch my drift,” the giant green wannabe said, no longer even pretending to be jolly.
Bubba?
That was too unbelievable to remark on so instead, I turned and retorted, “I’m not interested in how you see anything, and I’m definitelynotyour darlin’.” My momentary relief at being back on schedule was now marred by their persistence.
“Now, you listen here. There’s no reason to get all bitchy,” Thruster growled, all hip flexing stopping as he reached out and grabbed my arm.
“Get your hand off me!” I snarled, wondering where in the hell airport security was. My foot was already drawing back for a well-placed kick when my question was answered.
“Sam?”
“Whoa,” the asshat said, snatching his hand away as if he’d touched a hot stove instead of my crawling flesh. “Sam? What the fuck! She’s a he?”
“No way, not with those tits,” Jolly said, holding his hands up to his chest and jiggling them as if weighing a pair of massive imaginary breasts.
What was it with these jerks and their need for visual aids? Though what I really wanted to do was drop kick Hip Thruster right in his balls, I turned to address the security guard who’d spoken far more politely.
“Yes, I’m Sam.”
“Right this way,” the man said, also ignoring the looks of disgust now covering the drunken men’s faces.
Anxious to just get away, I didn’t protest when the man reached for my suitcase. I relinquished it to him and began walking in the direction he’d gestured. It wasn’t until our destination became apparent that I groaned. Unless the team had come into some huge grant I’d not known about, this had to be some sort of mistake. I turned and shook my head.
Fatigue was obviously causing my thought processes to dull because I just now truly looked at the man I’d thought was with security. This guy wasn’t in any sort of security uniform I’d ever seen. There was no badge or radio in sight, no name tag marred the line of his shirt. Unless Hawaii’s officials dressed as if they’d stepped off the cover ofGQ,I’d been wrong. The guy I’d followed like I was a lemming heading for a cliff was wearing a well-tailored black suit, white shirt, and shoes polished highly enough to serve as a mirror.
