“I don’t know.”
The sound of a vehicle caught our attention. A small car moved toward the plane and almost as soon as the driver pulled it to a stop, a passenger climbed out. I’d been on enough flights on the family jets to know the two different pilots who worked for the family always wore uniforms exactly like the one the man was wearing.
“Is that Jack?” I asked, although a sense of dread pooling in my stomach provided the answer.
“That’s not Jack.” He turned to face me, gripping my arm. “Jack is dead.”
“You don’t know that.”
“Yes, I do. Now, come on. We need to find a safe place.”
“I don’t want to leave him.”
His expression softened. “I know, but there’s nothing we can do.”
* * *
“Welcome to the Bamboo Hotel. I do so hope you enjoy your stay and are honored that you’re here for your honeymoon.”
I’d been in the restroom when Donatello had begun the check-in process. I turned my head very slowly, shocked he’d make such a choice.
He lowered his head, arching his eyebrows.
“Here are your keys,” the hotel clerk continued, speaking English, which also somewhat surprised me, but being Americanwas much easier than trying to pretend we were from another country.
Donatello’s eyes were imploring, as if reminding me to keep up an act I hadn’t known I needed to perform. Why not? I slipped my arm under his, pulling him close. “We’re so thrilled to be here.”
Hearing my slight Southern accent, Donatello could barely contain a grin. Why not wear an invisible mask? If we were role playing again, we might as well enjoy the time.
Or at least that’s what I continued to tell myself.
“Would you like a list of various romantic getaways?” The clerk was being very accommodating.
Maybe too much so.
“Ah, thank you and bless your heart, but I’ve waited long enough to be able to spend some quality time with my husband.” When I over-accentuated the one word, Donatello finally chuckled.
“Of course. I think you’ll find the accommodations enticing.”
We were handed the keys, and of course my new husband pocketed them.
“Right through the breezeway and up the stairs. Please let me know if you need anything during your stay.” The clerk smiled.
“Thank you,” Donatello said with a flat voice. To which I pinched him.
“Honey bunchkins. I know the flight was long, but I do have a sexy little nightie with your name written all over it.” I backed away, shimmying my hips. I had a feeling I’d be chastised for getting into the groove of our fake marriage. “Of course ifyou’ve very, very good. You will grab the luggage, won’t you? Snookums?” Seeing the expression on his face allowed me to laugh.
Even if a knot remained in my stomach.
I left him behind, sashaying like a good southern girl would do, enjoying the moment more than I should.
By the time we arrived at our destination, it was almost one in the afternoon. Donatello had taken the scenic route, ensuring that we hadn’t been followed. The three-hour drive had taken several more with stops for gas and beverages. We’d also gotten a few supplies, including some additional clothing to try to blend in, hats for both of us.
Neither one of us had been hungry and nothing had been left to chance.
Armação dos Búzios was known as the location residents of Rio de Janeiro went when longing to spend time by the ocean. While the area was much smaller, the atmosphere was similar, upscale hotels dotting the coastline.
I’d found a quaint, much smaller hotel, the location better suited for remaining in hiding until the cavalry arrived.
