Once we're out of the suite, the conversation about what to do next starts in earnest. "What did Angelica say exactly?" I ask Connor.
"That Marcus had packed up his bags and left without a backward glance."
"We need to get to the airport."
"You think that's where he's headed?"
"Well, what other option does he have? He doesn't know England. He's not a native here. He won't know where to go to hide, and he'll be worried about the police here arresting him. If he gets back to the U.S., things will get a lot more complicated for the police to deal with. The incidents took place in multiple jurisdictions. It'll be a mess."
"Okay, you guys head to the airport. Me and Jax are going to the hotel where they were staying to see if we can find anything."
We separate into two groups, taking two separate taxis. The main international airport is Heathrow, so that's where we head to. Mo calls Angelica on the way, asking for Marcus's home address. We scan the departing flight lists for possible flights he might be taking and instruct the driver to take us to the appropriate terminal.
"This is such a long shot," Hudson says.
"Maybe," I say, "But we don't really have any other choice than to pursue the most likely angle.
"You know the airport is huge," Mo says. "It will be like finding a needle in a haystack."
"And he could have gone through security already," I remind them. "If he's passed through to the departure lounges, we're not going to have a chance of apprehending him."
"So, let's pray that he hasn't."
"Well, the next flight he can take isn't for four hours. He won't be able to check in for a while. We might have time to catch him before he does," Hudson says.
We're halfway to the airport when Connor calls. "I've spoken to the concierge," he says. "Marcus ordered a cab an hour and a half ago to take him to Heathrow. They don't know which flight he's taking, but you're heading in the right direction."
I confirm the terminal with Connor, and he agrees to leave with Jax immediately in case we need backup.
"What are we doing when we get there? Making a citizen's arrest?"
"Hell, yeah," I say.
"This guy is going to make a scene," Mo says. "He's going to use every trick in the book."
"Well, it just so happens that I have a trick of my own up my sleeve."
"Oh yeah? And what is that?" Mo and Hudson stare at me with interest.
"This." I pull out my security ID, which is tucked into a black leather sleeve with a white emblem on the inside.
"Nice wallet," Hudson says. "You enjoy playing police dress-up?"
"I enjoy being able to flash my ID and for people to assume that I'm official," I say. "If we need to, just shout FBI, and I'll flash this. Literally, no one is going to intervene."
"It might just work," Mo says, "And I guess, as it's our only option, we better hope that it does!"
Hudson huffs, his hands clenching into fists in his lap. "This is all a fucking joke. We're running around like headless chickens to find a pathetic asshole who has a crush on a superstar and not enough balls to ask her out like a normal human being and to add insult to injury, we’re talking about role-play. I mean, for fuck’s sake. I don't feel like this should be my life."
"Don't forget that you're in a relationship with one girl and six dudes," I say.
The cab driver clears his throat, and Mo starts to chuckle. "Maybe you need to choose your words more carefully," he whispers. "We don't want this man veering off the road out of shock."
The rest of the journey continues in the same vein, and by the time we pull into the drop-off area of the airport, we're all wound up and ready for action. "We should split up," Mo says. "Keep your phones on and call if you make a sighting."
"Don't tackle this guy alone. We get one shot at this. We don't want to fuck it up."
"He's built like a twig. My mom could take him," I tell Hudson, but I know where he's coming from. We have one chance to make sure that this guy is locked up and Luna is safe. None of us want to be the one who risks it.
With my phone clutched in my hand, I jog down to the far end of the terminal. Mo takes the center doors and Hudson heads to the other end. As soon as I'm in the building, I'm scanning each and every person, looking for Marcus's hunched shoulders and straight, mid-length hair. I pay particular attention to the banks of seats, as he will most likely be waiting to check in. There are shops along the perimeter, and I take a moment outside each to crane my head and look at all the browsing customers. Where the fuck is this guy?