Wasted Love with You (Wasted Love 1)

“Hello?” I answer.

“Hello, Autumn.” Ryder’s deep voice comes over the line.

I swallow.

“Are you ignoring me again?” he asks. “I could’ve sworn that not too long ago we discussed how I feel about that.”

“I must’ve forgotten… Just like you must’ve forgotten to tell me what I’m carrying.”

“No, I never forget anything.” There’s a smile in his voice. “Where are you right now?”

“I’m back at home.”

“I highly doubt that.”

“Then go there and see for yourself,” I say. “Feel free to tell my neighbor that I need him to check my mail for a few days when you get there. I think I’ll be locked inside for a while.”

“Oh, I’m sure.” He sounds amused. “You have five seconds to tell me where you really are, or we’re going to have a problem.”

“Is that a threat?”

“Make me wait for longer than five seconds and see.”

“I only need one,” I say. “I’m back in my right mind. Goodbye, Ryder.”

I end the call and tap my fingers against the kiosk once more. I need the quickest flight out of here, not one bound for nostalgia.

“Ma’am?” a soft voice says on my left. “Ma’am?”

A young girl with frizzy red curls is pointing at my briefcase and smiling.

“I’ve seen one of those before.” She yanks on her mother’s sleeve. “Are you a spy?”

“No.” I shake my head. “No, I’m not a spy.”

“Yes, you are.” She smiles and yanks her mother’s sleeve even harder. “Look, Mommy! A spy! She has secrets in there!”

“Harriet…” Her mother turns around from her kiosk and looks at me. “We don’t talk to strangers.”

She picks her up and walks over to a different kiosk. The girl winks at me, keeping her eyes on the briefcase once she’s on solid ground again.

Shit.

I abandon the machine and head to the closest bathroom.

The idea of attempting to get through airport security without knowing what’s inside this briefcase is so beyond ludicrous that I can’t believe I didn’t check it first.

Making sure that all the stalls are empty, I take refuge in the last one and set the briefcase on the changing table.

Under the fluorescent lighting, its details are far clearer.

The golden latch requires two keys to unlock it, along with a code, and there are four words engraved on its metal.

Words I’ve seen before.

for A.R.

from E.R.

Stretching my fingers, I place my hands on its sides and try to pry it open.

It doesn’t budge at all.

I shake it to see if I can guess the contents, but nothing moves.

Is it empty?

I slam it against the brick wall again and again, but nothing gives.

As a last resort, I slide my finger under the latch and push it up. To my surprise, it gives way, and the top falls open, revealing… nothing.

Confused, I stare at the beige interior for several seconds.

What’s the point in making me carry this around?

I press my hands into the folder pockets, tapping my fingers against each corner.

Every space feels hollow until I reach the top left. The fabric there is slightly frayed—as if this was the last part sewn—so I gently tug at the strings.

Peeling them back, I see hints of hemp-colored paper.

I continue to pull and my heart pounds louder with every bit that comes into focus.

This suitcase isn’t empty at all.

It’s stashed full of hundred-dollar bills.

As if they’re freshly printed from the treasury, they’re stacked in flat sheets.

What the hell?

I start to tear away more fabric but the sound of someone opening the door stops me.

Quickly smoothing things back into place, I slam the case shut and walk to the sink.

“Is there a problem, Miss?” A security guard steps next to me. “You’ve been in here for quite a while.”

“No problem at all.” I shake my head. “I’m just using the bathroom.”

“Your forehead is sweating bullets.” She narrows her eyes, and then she looks down at the sink. “The basin isn’t even wet.”

“It’s a personal condition…” I catch sight of my reflection in the mirror and hold back a gasp. My hair is tousled all over my head and my face is paler than ever.

And she’s not lying about the sweat.

“I was just using the bathroom,” I say, turning on the water. “I’m almost done.”

“Okay, look.” She picks up a few paper towels and hands them to me. “The window for your jackass boss and his Vegas-obsessed friends is supposed to close long before midnight. Let him know that there will be no more exceptions.”

Huh? I stare at her blankly.

“This is a courtesy since you’re flying commercial tonight, but if he keeps pushing it, we’ll start making this far more difficult for him.” She walks over to the door and holds it open, motioning for me to follow. “You’ve got thirty minutes before our shift change, so I suggest you stop wasting time with whatever you’re doing and make your way through.”

I glance at the checkpoint and notice five other brunettes with black briefcases chained to their wrists.