The Misfit
Chapter Six
Dean
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THANK GOODNESS, RAFAEL had already gotten the ticket arranged for me by the time I reached the desk – I had taken a chance on coming down to find the next flight to Chicago, and it seemed as though I had gotten lucky.
“Can I see your ID, sir?” the woman behind the desk asked me brightly, and I nodded, reaching into my pocket where I had decanted all of my stuff. I had held on to an ID that revealed my true identity, keeping it tucked in a secret pocket inside my wallet where nobody could find it unless they knew where to look, and flashed it at her. She smiled, tapped something into the computer she was sitting in front of, and then nodded.
“If you’d like to take a seat, the flight will be ready for boarding in a few minutes,” she told me smoothly, and I nodded, letting out a sigh as I headed to sit down. Damn. I had come close to being in some serious trouble, but if I could get back to Chicago, I could take a breath and gather myself and work out what to do next.
I closed my eyes and swallowed hard. I could still smell the blood on me, from Ian’s wound. He was likely dead by now, and I felt sick at the thought of it. That was the deal you made with the devil when you went undercover; you could get close, but you would never be able to mourn or really care for the people you found yourself attached to.
Without warning, someone tapped my shoulder, and I about launched out of my skin in shock. I didn’t turn around.
“What is it?” I asked, through gritted teeth.
“It’s me,” a woman’s voice hissed back. I glanced around, and sure enough – it was her. The woman who had brought me to the airport. She was dressed differently now, but I recognized the pair of sunglasses I had helped pick out for her.
“What are you doing here?” I demanded.
“I came to tell you something,” she explained, and she lowered her shades long enough to lock eyes with me.
“What? What is it?” I asked her. I didn’t know why she couldn’t seem to let go of me, but I had to consider her an ally, at least for now, even if it was hard to believe anyone was on my side in that moment.
“The men who were looking for you, they’re in the airport,” she told me. “I don’t know how they found you, but I doubt they’re going to be long before they figure out where you are. Wherever you’re going, you need to get there now.”
I furrowed my brow. I had figured they would find me, but not so quickly. I could feel my pulse picking up in my chest again, and did my best to soothe it.
“And what about you?” I asked.
“What about me?”
“Why are you here, telling me this?”
“Because I’m coming with you,” she replied.
“What the hell are you—”
Before I could say anything else, she rose to her feet, and strode over confidently to the desk where I had just picked up my ticket. I watched her, panicked, with no idea what she intended to do, but sure she would attract attention doing it. The last thing I needed was to pull more focus to myself, and she seemed determined to do just that.
“Hello,” she greeted the woman behind the desk. She looked up and smiled at her, the same customer-service smile she’d given me.
“Hello, can I help you?”
“Yes, you’ve given me the wrong ticket,” she told her, putting on a pretty decent facsimile of a Chicago accent. The woman furrowed her brow.
“Sorry, I’m not sure what you mean—”
“You had me on some flight to go to France,” Arianna continued, shaking her head. “You really think I sound like I should be in France?”
She pulled out her phone and pushed it across the counter, presumably to show how very wrong the ticket she had been given actually was.
“This isn’t with our airline,” the woman replied, trying to sound calm, but I could tell she was flustered. Arianna rolled her eyes, and shot a look around at me, shaking her head.
“Can you believe this?” She asked. “You’re meant to be meeting my family for the first time, and something like this happens...”
“Uh, I’ll, I’ll see what I can do,” the woman blurted out, and Arianna raised her hands heavenward as though thanking some great overseeing spirit.