Chapter 1
Angie
“Whosebagisthis?”
A short, angry-looking woman in a TSA uniform shouted over the noise. Moisture pooled at the back of my neck as my eyes caught the bubblegum-pink duffel bag she was waving around.
On a scale of one to federal jail time, how screwed would I be if I left security without my bag and ran to my terminal?
I tapped the screen on my phone, watching as a notification lit up.
Final boarding call for flight 1796 to Fairbanks, AK.
This month—this shitty month—was already circling the toilet. And now, my final twelve hundred dollars was circling with it.
It was thirty-six degrees outside. Freezing rain was pelting the windows beyond the ticketing booth at the front of the airport. And I was sweating.
“That’s mine!” I said as cheerfully as I could with my heart beating in my throat.
The TSA agent looked me over with one unimpressed eyebrow lifted. My smile faltered. She snapped on a pair of blue gloves like they personally offended her.
Then she took her sweet time, sliding the zipper on my bag open and lifting each item out of my duffel with precise movements. There werea lotof items inside.
My breathing ceased completely when she pulled out a small plastic container and pointed it accusingly at me. “What’s this?”
“Electrolytes.”
She raised both eyebrows this time.
“It’s a powder. To keep you hydrated.” My lips were now fighting between a grin and a grimace as I slapped on the word, “Ma’am.”
As if politeness was going to do anything for her attitude.
“I have to check it for explosives.”
Cool. I was going to miss my flight because of a berry burst sports drink.
Two minutes later she shoved a tray with my duffel and clothes into my hands, saying, “Have a nice day,” in the same tone that someone else might say, “Screw you.”
I was only seventy percent certain I got everything back in the bag before I ran full speed ahead. My gate was a good quarter mile away, and I had less than one minute to board the plane.
My heart sank from my throat to the bottom of my stomach when I screeched to a stop in front of the gate just in time to see one of the gate agents closing the door.
“Wait!” I huffed, yanking a wrinkled boarding pass from my back pocket and waving it at her. “I’m here!”
“I’m sorry, ma’am. You missed final boarding.”
“But I’m only one minute late. Look, the plane is still there.”
This woman was clearly related to the TSA agent. “There’s a reason we suggest you arrive two hours early, ma’am. You can talk to them about rebooking.” She gestured to a pair of women behind the counter.
One was all business. The other looked ready to pee her pants. I followed the second woman’s gaze to the man on the otherside of the counter from them. He was mega tall with a lean and muscular build, but the expression on his face was far from threatening.
Why did that woman look like she was face to face with an infamous serial killer?
My eyes traveled back to the man, following the lines of his creased brow to the thin layer of dark whiskers covering his cheeks. The cadence of his voice felt familiar, and I could tell he was putting enormous effort into sounding calm and polite, even as a muscle tightened in his jaw.
“I’m sorry, sir. Shifter compliance regulations don’t allow me to override unless you meet specific criteria.”
