“Someone besides me.” I nod up toward heaven.
“Well, I’m watching you.” She does the warning where she points to her eyes, then points to me.
I can’t help smirking. It’s been a while since I noticed a woman thisway. She got my attention when she shook her hair out like a supermodel and put on her sunglasses like a movie star.
As soon as she’s within hearing range, I motion toward her giant pink suitcase. It would be much easier for me to pull two carry-ons than for her to try to wrestle hers alongside that thing. “Want some help getting to your crash pad?”
“Why?” she asks with suspicion.
Did she miss the whole thing about God watching out for her?
I should probably be offended, but it wasn’t long ago that I was in her shoes. Well, not her high-heeled Mary Janes, but starting a new job in a big city. So I’m aware that her distrust comes from rational apprehension during transition. And I’ll settle for knowing her people-pleasing behavior doesn’t override stranger danger. “Because I’m a nice guy.”
She narrows her eyes. “So are many serial killers.”
Her response startles a guffaw from me. “You know a lot of serial killers?”
“I watchedForensics Filesevery night during training.” She says this in the same way Will Turner informed Jack Sparrow that he practiced with swords for the sole purpose of killing pirates. “It’s taught me to be suspicious.”
Serious is the new hilarious, though I smother my laughter for her sake. “How are you getting all these bags home, Sherlock?”
She pulls out her phone and studies it. “My condo isn’t far. The crash pad owner said it’s a short walk.”
“Hmm ...” I probably know the place. Lots of pilots and flight attendants stay there. “The Tudor-style complex with red doors?”
She draws back. “How’d you know?”
I’m tempted to tell her that’s where I find all my murder victims, but then I wouldn’t be living up to the nice-guy claims. “I rented out beds in my own crash pad there.”
She lifts her chin to look down her pert nose. “And none of your roommates ever went missing?”
I once again consider messing with her, but she’s about to discover that what the crash pad advertisement dressed up to look like a charmingvillage more closely resembles a postapocalyptic version of Bavaria. “Not a single one. Come on.”
I lead the way without offering to take either of her bags the way I normally would. She obviously needs to feel in control even though she’ll be putting her life in a pilot’s hands every single day on the job.
“Where are you going?” she calls.
I glance over my shoulder to find her studying the signs that got her into trouble in the first place.
“My email says to follow arrows to the train, then cross a sky bridge to the street that I can take uphill.”
Yeah. In the rain. “I’ve got a drier route.” I step onto an escalator leading to a sky bridge.
“Just because you’re a nice guy doesn’t mean I’m going to follow you,” she insists, even as she follows. “I know how to make a weapon out of a can of soda in a sock.”
I step off the escalator and pause to visualize such a weapon. “How does that work exactly?”
She joins me, then swings an imaginary sock. “You put the can inside and use it as a nunchuck.”
Now I’m nun-chuckling. Because even if a skilled martial artist had a soda in a sock, it’s still a soda in a sock. And I doubt she’s skilled in martial arts. “Did you learn this from watchingNinja Turtles?”
The sky bridge leads to a parking garage where passengers can stay dry while waiting for pickup. We don’t have to worry about precipitation, but we do need to worry about missing our shuttle and having to wait another fifteen minutes for the next one. So I grab one of Claire’s bags to hurry her toward our destination.
She jogs after me, apparently more concerned about convincing me of her fighting skills than about the threat of having to fight me. “They taught us in flight attendant training.”
Okay, it’s too sad to be funny. “Is that how you’re supposed to defend the cockpit from hijacking?”
We reach another escalator, this one taking us back down to ground level. She steps on and twists her lips in thought. “If I have to.”
