Page 22 of The Bombshell and the Bodyguard
“You think the guy’s been using my phone to track me or something? Is that why you removed the battery?”
“It’s possible he could have hacked it. I don’t want to take any chances of us being tracked, though we’re not at our final destination yet. We’ve got a few hours still to go.”
He stood and started gathering our luggage while the jet taxied toward a small, white stucco terminal building. Unzipping one of the bags, he withdrew a blonde wig, a pair of sunglasses with enormous round lenses, and a scarf.
“Here—put these on. And tug that scarf over your chin and mouth when we get off the plane—people will assume it’s because of the air pollution.”
Wilder donned a nondescript ballcap and sunglasses himself.
“I feel like we’re about to walk through the airport in LA or something,” I joked, but I put on the disguise.
We were definitelynotin Los Angeles. Mangrove trees lined the runway, and the airport was surrounded by neighborhoods with narrow streets and smallish buildings with roofs of tin or Spanish tile.
When my appearance had been thoroughly altered, the jet’s exit door opened, and we debarked. Wilder must have told the pilot to stay in the cockpit until we were gone because I never saw him.
Walking across the tarmac with Wilder, I asked, “Did the pilot know who was back there with you?”
“I told him I’d be accompanied by an unidentified female passenger.” He grinned at me.
I grinned back. “That happen often?”
“Never.”
A rush of pleasure filled me, though I wasn’t sure if it was from his answer or that dazzling smile.
“So what now?” I asked.
“Now... we grab a cab to a car lot, buy a used Jeep or something, and take a drive.”
“We’rebuyinga car? No rental places here?” I guessed.
“There are, but I don’t want to leave a trail. That’s why I chose this private airport instead of the larger international one in the city. I’ll be paying for the car—and anything else we need—in cash.”
“Ah.” I nodded. “By the way, I’m going to reimburse you for that and for the fuel for the plane and whatever else comes up.”
“That’s not necessary. These are business expenses.”
“Well, you shouldn’t have to pay them. And honestly, I have more money than I could ever spend,” I said.
“Seems like you’re finding a few ways to spend it. I didn’t realize you had four houses.”
A blush heated my neck and face, crawling toward my forehead as we walked in the sticky heat toward the cab line. “I like the ocean. And the mountains. And the city.”
Wilder opened the back door of a cab and waited for me to slide in before getting in himself. He spoke in a language I didn’t recognize, giving instructions to the driver, then settled back into the seat.
“I was just teasing,” he said. “Believe me, when it comes to conspicuous consumption, I’ve seen it all. You’re positively frugal compared to some of the clients I’ve had.”
I laughed. “Do tell.”
“I can’t. Confidentiality agreement.” He pulled his fingers across his closed lips, miming a zipper.
“Right. Wow, I guess the Wild-man really has become sedate and reliable.”
A warm breeze blew through the open window as the cab drove through city streets lined with shops and restaurants, high rise hotels and palm trees.
The traffic was horrendous, the roads clogged with compact cars, motorcycles, and buses, so the going was slow. The people I saw were of such diverse skin tones and dress it was impossible for me to even guess which continent we were on.
“I was neverthatwild,” Wilder argued, looking likehewas blushing now.
