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First, she had to get married—at least on paper. Second, she needed to warn Bart about the investigation and wiretap. Third, he needed to know about the baby. She might even have those tasks in the right order, she thought, studying her reflection.
She looked weary, but she didn’t have time to lament her pale complexion and the dark circles under her eyes. Retrieving her purse from her desk, she stopped to chat with the office receptionist, asking for the daily dose of cat pictures and palming the other woman’s cell phone in the process.
The protective detail followed her from the office to her apartment building. She knew the agents and understood they were just doing their job. Eventually they might forgive her for doing hers, but they weren’t going to be happy when she ditched them.
The clock was ticking. She paused in the stairwell and used the cell phone she’d lifted from the receptionist to call for a cab to meet her down the block. Once in her apartment, she left her cellphone on and plugged into the wall charger. Then she changed into some workout gear and swiftly tossed essentials into an overnight bag.
She peered out of her front window, pleased to see both agents in the front seat of the dark sedan parked on the street. It was protocol and she used it to her advantage, exiting her building before they did their first perimeter check.
Grabbing an Orioles ball cap, she piled her hair on top of her head and strolled with purpose toward the fitness center. Seeing the cab waiting, she took her first deep breath. She could do this. She just needed a good head start.
“To BWI please,” she said sliding into the back seat.
As the cab pulled away from the curb, she keyed in her friend’s business number. Bracing herself, she hoped the friendship trumped the inevitable shock of what she was about to ask.
“Cypress Security,” Eva Battaglia answered on the second ring.
Just the sound of her voice gave Hannah a small flutter of hope. Eva could work miracles with computers, documents, and a variety of other things that weren’t always precisely legal. “Hi, Eva.”
“Hannah! Hey, this isn’t your phone. Do I need to update my file?”
“No. It’s temporary. I need a favor.”
“Anything.”
Hannah shifted in the seat and lowered her voice. “I need to be married. Effective six weeks ago.” Hannah gave the exact date.
“Congratulations? Do I know the groom?”
“Yes,” she replied. Eva was one of a handful of people who’d known Hannah and Bart had taken a weekend in Las Vegas. “And you know where. You have about ninety minutes before the offices open.”
“Gee thanks.”
“I believe in you.”
“Uh-huh. What if I hadn’t answered the phone?”
“I would’ve thought of something.” The lies were tumbling right and left today. She didn’t want to think about the myriad problems that might have cropped up if Eva hadn’t been there. “One more thing. Please send him a text so he can play his part. Someone may come asking about me before I arrive.”
“No problem. Did you pick out the rings yet? When Carson and I went shopping—”
“This is serious, Eva.”
“Oh, yeah. I got that part loud and clear. Take care of you and I’ll take care of this.”
“Thanks.” She ended the call and powered off the phone. Then she dropped it to the floor of the cab. Once she was safe at Bart’s she could email the receptionist about where to reclaim her phone.
Reflex had her glancing behind the cab, but her protective detail wasn’t in sight. Unfortunately, picking out who might be tied to the Gonzales and his cartel wouldn't be as easy. As the airport came into view, she asked the cab driver to drop her near baggage claim so she could rent a car.
She paid him, found the first restroom and changed clothes once more, back into the pale blue suit with a charcoal ruffled blouse and polished black leather ankle boots. Brushing out her hair, she let the waves fall loose and added gloss to her lips. Clipping the badge to her belt, she left her weapon in the duffel.
Less than ten minutes later, she’d finished the rental agreement and followed the signs toward I-95 South. She’d done everything she could do until she was face to face with Bart.
She might not be able to tell Bart he was a husband before the rest of the world knew, but he deserved to hear the news about his child—their child—from her. It was one of those life-altering topics that could swing toward happiness or despair and she didn’t have the first clue how to bring it up.
“Hi. I want to talk about Vegas.” If she paused for breath, his mind would take off in the wrong direction. He’d be convinced she wanted a do-over when that was the last thing on her mind. She shifted in the seat. A do-over wouldn’t be bad. It wasn’t like they could get any more pregnant.
She cleared her throat and tried again. “Remember when we said what happens in Vegas should stay there?” That was worse than the first attempt for all of the same reasons.
