A knife twisted in her chest. She lurched to a stop and turned, expecting him to follow. Instead, Ash’s friends clustered around him, dragging him back toward the plane.
She ran for the sheltering warmth of the terminal. The automatic doors slid open and closed behind her with a hiss of finality. With a swipe to the corners of her eyes, she brushed away the stream of tears.
The employee who tended the hospitality desk looked up as she stumbled to a stop. “Ma’am?” He wiped down his counter. “Can I help you?”
She squared her shoulders. The thick lump in her throat disappeared after three strong swallows. “How do I get to the commercial passenger terminal?”
He picked up a phone and dialed. “Our concierge service will be here shortly. Is there anything else I can help you with?” His eyes darted to the door, to the jet she was not climbing aboard.
“Can you book a ticket?”
A blue glow lit his face as he woke up a sleeping computer screen hidden beneath the counter. “Yes, ma’am. Where would you like to go?”
“Washington National, please.”
She splayed her fingers over the warm wood of the counter while the tapping of his fingers over the keys filled the uncomfortable silence.
“There’s a flight leaving in two hours.”
“Perfect.”
More finger tapping. “Do you have a seat preference?”
“Window.” She unslung her backpack and pulled out her wallet. “How much?”
“Angel Fire’s account will cover the cost.” A printer spit out paper, and he handed her the itinerary.
The door behind opened, bringing with it a gust of chilly air.
Her heart soared.Could it be?
With a smile tugging at the corners of her lips, she pivoted. Then, her heart came crashing back to earth. It was Sam, the bodyguard.
With a grimace, she turned back to the counter and glanced at the itinerary, noticing the first-class seat assignment.
Sam cleared his throat. “Miss, Mr. Dean asks that you join him on the plane.”
“He sent you? Where is he?”
“On the plane, waiting.”
A black sedan pulled up outside.
“You can tell Blaze that I’m not getting on that plane.”
Slinging her backpack over her shoulder, she marched out, heading away from Ash and toward the sedan.
A few hours ago, Ash would have come for her himself. A few minutes surrounded by his band, and he’d become Blaze, the rock star who sent lackeys to do his work for him. She missed the man who shopped in secondhand stores.
Deep in her broken heart, she knew she’d made the right choice.
She slipped into the waiting car and shut the door.
The driver looked into the rearview mirror. “Which airline?”
“It doesn’t matter.” She wasn’t getting on a plane—at least not one at this airport. She didn’t want Ash to track her down because she sensed he might.
She thumbed on her phone and composed a simple text.
