Zach licked the remaining frosting off his fingers. That should tide him over until he could get something substantial in his stomach. The shuttle stopped in front of the departure terminal, and he moved into the aisle so Reagan could go in front of him. Clutching the bakery box to her chest, she stepped down onto the curb. He grabbed his bags and followed her.
“I’ve got to check my luggage, so I guess I’ll see you at the gate. Don’t let them leave without me.” He hefted his pack onto his shoulder.
“I guess that’s one benefit to them losing my bag. See you on the other side of security.” She turned around to join the line at the security checkpoint.
Zach moved to the ticket counter to check his bag. By the time he got to the checkpoint Reagan had reached the front of the line. She stood at the podium facing down a TSA officer who stared at her over his glasses. Reagan dug around in her purse, a frantic desperation taking over her usual public demeanor. He couldn’t make out the conversation but the officer directed Reagan to the side where she dumped the entire contents of her purse onto a table and began to shuffle through.
“Excuse me,” Zach said, jostling a few passengers as he ducked under the cord and approached Reagan. “What’s going on?”
She turned her panicked gaze on him. “My wallet. Have you seen it? I can’t find my ID.”
He thought through the events of the past twenty-four hours. “When did you last use it? At the bar?”
“No. You treated me.” She smacked her palm to her forehead. “On the plane! I tucked it into the seat back in front of me while I waited for that stewardess to bring back my credit card.”
“Flight attendant.”
“What?”
Zach grimaced. “They prefer the title flight attendant nowadays.”
“How can you joke around at a time like this? I have no ID. Our flight is boarding. I can’t miss this plane. Teddy will absolutely kill me.” She scooped everything back into her purse and tossed the strap over her shoulder. “I’ll explain what happened. The airline has to have a record, right?”
He shrugged. Who knew what TSA would do in a situation like this? Damn, what should he do? If he lost sight of Reagan now there’d be no way he’d be able to figure out where the wedding was. Until he figured out what to do about Scazzoli’s threat to expose him, his best bet was to stick with Reagan.
And what would she do? Sit around the Louisville airport until Daddy Dearest sent someone to vouch for her? Maybe the airline found her wallet and could fax over a copy of her ID.
“Reagan, wait!”
The TSA officer glared at her as she stood there arguing, begging, pleading to be let through the security line. “My ID is in my wallet. It’s in the back pocket of seat 12A. Call the airline. They’ll find it. You have to let me through. A wedding is at stake. If I don’t get there the whole thing is going to be a big bomb.”
Zach shook his head and floated a hand to his temple. Did she just let the “B” word rip?
The officer stood up from his perch on the stool. “What’s this about a bomb?”
Too immersed in her puddle of self-pity, Reagan didn’t notice the hole she’d dug for herself was growing deeper and deeper. “Everything’s going to be ruined. It will blow up in my face.” With her hands held in front of her, she flung her fingers out. “Boom!”
The officer nodded toward a nearby co-worker who spoke into his radio.
Shit. Zach watched the scene unfold. If he said something, he’d most likely implicate himself and end up cuffed. But if he didn’t say something, she would be hauled away.
A passenger waiting in line held up his cell phone and trained it on Reagan. Hell, Zach couldn’t stand by and do nothing. If word got out Senator Campbell’s daughter shut down the Louisville airport by making a bomb threat other photographers would pick up the trail of Senator Campbell’s location and the wedding and Zach would be shit out of luck.
And maybe more importantly, Reagan didn’t need that kind of bad publicity.
He stepped toward her and caught her up in his arms, basically shielding her body from the view of the passengers waiting to go through security.
She pushed against him. “Let go of me.”
Leaning down, he mumbled in her ear. “You do realize you just made a bomb threat, right?”
Her body froze. “A bomb threat?” she whispered.
He cleared his throat. “Gentlemen, I can assure you this is a misunderstanding. My friend is desperate to get to Miami. Our flight last night was diverted, then canceled, and the delays are causing quite a bit of stress.”
A small group of security officers encircled them. Reagan buried her head against his chest.
“I’m Officer Reynolds. We’re going to need the two of you to come with us.” The officer who appeared to be in charge stepped forward and put a hand on Reagan’s elbow.
“But the flight…” Reagan said.
“Ma’am, there’s no way you’re getting through security without identification. I don’t care if you’re the Queen of England. Now, we can do this the easy way or the hard way. It’s up to you.”
“Let’s go with the easy way, right, cupcake?” Zach clamped her against his side with one arm and shielded her face with the other. “Keep your head down, Reagan.”
She complied, burying herself against his side as they followed the group of officers through an unmarked doorway.
7
Reagan hung her head and slouched against the hard bench. Squirming, she tried to adjust the position of her tush. Who knew a strip search behind the scenes could be so uncomfortable? Not only did the female officer do a complete and thorough inspection of every potential hiding place for an explosive device, she’d also fingerprinted and photographed her, guaranteeing her mortification would be forever immortalized.
Banned from ever entering the Louisville International Airport again, and too chicken to call her dad and ask for help, she sat outside, waiting for Zach to finalize arrangements on their rental car.
How did her life come to this? Twenty-four hours ago, she was a well-respected, professional, corporate executive, traveling to Miami to take care of last-minute details on a wedding she’d spent the past six months orchestrating. She had lists of lists, spreadsheets detailing seating arrangements, who would get which oceanfront hut, how many rose petals should be sprinkled on each tablecloth.
What had thrown her off her game so far that she now sat banished, her insides probed and prodded, in the same rumpled pants she’d had on since yesterday?
Zach.
Zach was what had happened to her.
Everything had been fine until she set eyes on him. And now she was stuck with him. At least for the next 912 miles—the distance her phone showed between Louisville and Miami. Shoot, she’d probably need to get even farther down the coast now since she missed the chartered yacht she’d been so excited to arrange.
Why was Zach being so nice to her? Couldn’t be just the cupcakes, although he did seem enamored with her baked goods and was more than willing to take a bite of the two the security officers picked out. They insisted on sending them through the X-ray machine, as if she’d hide an explosive device inside one of Sweet Sal’s cupcakes. How wasteful!