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I chuckle. “Thank you. I will be. I’m meeting some family there. They’ll take care of me.”
He nods, relieved. I settle back into the uncomfortable leather seat. By the time we make it to the airport, I’m at ease.
As at ease as I can be, given I’m rushing to another country to stop my fake boyfriend/ex-boss from hurting or killing my best friend and grandmother.
The driver hops out of the cab and opens the back door for me when we arrive at the airport. “I’d help you with your bags, but you don’t have any.”
“Is that how you earn your tips?” I tease.
“For you, I’d do it for free.” Emboldened by my joking, he winks.
Definitely not a soldier for Timofey.
“Safe travels!” He waves from the driver’s side of his cab, and I wave back as I step through the sliding doors into the airport.
I head towards the ticket counter, oddly optimistic after an encounter with a random, kind human. Maybe that’s why, when a security agent approaches me seconds after the clerk hands me my ticket, I don’t clock it.
“Ma’am, we are doing heightened security checks for this flight,” the man in the black TSA uniform says. “I need you to come with me.”
8
PIPER
The redhead behind the ticket counter is already helping the next customer, but the fact that she doesn’t seem bothered by a TSA agent this far from security makes me feel better.
“I don’t have any luggage.”
“That’s fine.” He herds me towards a frosted glass door. I can see the silhouettes of more people waiting in the small room. “This will only take a second.”
I try to make out the human shapes behind the glass, but there are no discernible features. They are only dark shadows. “I thought security happened…well, at Security.” I laugh nervously. “I haven’t been on a plane in a long time, though.”
“Some passengers get chosen for an additional screening. It’s randomized.”
“This is what I get for buying a last-minute ticket,” I joke. Though the good humor I had in the cab is fading quickly.
Do I need to tell this man I’m pregnant? I know I shouldn’t get X-rayed, but the machines at security are metal detectors. Is that the same thing?
I’m debating asking when the glass door opens. Another man in a black uniform is standing just inside. He greets me with a straight face and a nod.
“Hello.” My voice sounds small. It feels even smaller when I turn and see two more TSA agents standing like sentries on either side of a table. They are so large that it makes the already tiny room feel even smaller.
“Take a seat,” my escort says.
I squeeze between the two muscled agents and drop down into a rolling chair. The wheels squeak and I smile in apology.
No one returns the gesture.
The agent who brought me here sits down across from me and folds his hands in front of him. “Where are you headed, Miss Quinn?”
I hold up my ticket. “Mexico.”
“Mexico is a big place. Where, specifically, are you headed?”
I glance at the three other men in the room. Having four sets of eyes on me feels like overkill, but I try to be kind.
They’re just doing their jobs.
“I’m flying into Mérida.”
