Chapter 17
SEVENTEEN
BECCA
I’m getting really disappointed in Alaskan Security.
Twice now I’ve managed to ditch them without getting caught. Twice I’ve snuck out a window. Twice I’ve used their assumptions about me against them.
And this time I even swiped Owen’s phone on the way out so I could call an Uber.
I almost feel bad for tricking him into accidentally showing me his password. I did genuinely want to see pictures of his cat.
I just wanted to watch him unlock his phone more.
I move quickly away from the dead-end street, knowing it’s only a matter of time before they figure out I’m gone. And it won’t be long after that when Owen discovers his phone is also missing.
I’ve got a lot to accomplish before that.
I’m sure the IT team at Alaskan Security will be able to tell I’ve downloaded the Uber app to Owen’s phone, and they’ll probably even be able to figure out where I have the driver take me.
So I need to be strategic on where I choose.
It’s got to be somewhere I can hide out and lay low until Butch can come get me.
I punch in the best option I can think of and grin when there’s a car only a couple blocks away.
In under five minutes, I’m climbing into the back seat of Brittni-with-an-I’s Camry, smiling wide as she drives us toward The Peabody.
Traffic is kind of bad and it takes us nearly twenty minutes to get there.
By the time I’m striding into the lobby, my stomach is twisting up in knots.
I know my time is running out.
Going straight for the bar, trying to appear calm and confident, I scan the men scattered around the space, looking for the one I think will be most likely to find me interesting.
Interesting enough to be distracted while I slide Owen’s phone into his pocket.
And steal his.
My selection is made for me when a medium height guy wearing a sweater and loafers saunters my way, a tumbler of amber liquid clutched in one hand.
I think he might be conventionally attractive? Maybe? It doesn’t really matter. As long as he finds me conventionally attractive, everything will be fine.
And as long as I don’t accidentally kill him.
“Hey.” He gives me a weird smile that makes my skin feel crawly. “Can I buy you a drink?”
I don’t actually drink, but I know it’s a social expectation in situations like this, and is frequently used as a way for a man to express interest in a woman. I’m going to take that as a good sign, so I try to match his strange expression as I nod. “Yes.”
I follow him to the bar, nerves eating through my guts, as I attempt to look calm and collected and flirtatious. We each take a stool and he turns to me. I quickly plaster that weird smile on my face and blink my eyes, doing my best to seem interested.
“What would you like?”
Honestly, his cell phone, but I'm pretty sure I can’t lead with that.
Unfortunately, I don’t actually know much about what gets ordered at a bar.
Even when I went out with my friends when I was younger, I simply got whatever they got and drank as much of it as I could stomach.
So, I guess that’s what I’ll do now. “I’ll have whatever you’re having. ”
His brows lift, eyes lighting up. “Smart woman.” He turns to the bartender. “Another double scotch.”
My mouth is starting to ache from holding the fake smile, and when he turns back to me, I realize there’s a pretty big flaw in my plan. I have no clue what to say to this man. No idea how to begin a conversation that will distract him so much he doesn’t notice my sleight of hand.
I also don’t know if I actually have a sleight hand. I could be the clumsiest pickpocket ever.
The bartender slides a drink in front of me, and I pick it up, making the mistake of smelling it before taking a drink. It burns my nose and eyes, and I can almost feel my gag reflex gearing up. But I need to make this happen, and I need to make it happen fast.
So—thoughts of getting back to Butch and saving my sister in my mind—I tip the tumbler back, swallowing everything down in one go.
Holy.
Fucking.
Shit.
My insides are on fire. I can’t breathe. Can’t think. Can’t do anything but try not to expire as every muscle in my body locks up from shock. What in the hell is wrong with people? Who would voluntarily pour acid down their esophagus and pretend to like it?
My lungs are burning, and I’m starting to panic just as my throat finally relaxes enough I can pull in air.
It feels so good to breathe, and I slump forward, nearly tipping out of my stool.
I flail, reaching for something to keep me from falling on my face, and my hand lands directly on the man’s thigh.
Nope. Not his thigh after all.
Again, I’m frozen in place. Filled with horror as my brain registers the wiggly little worm under my palm.
“Aren’t you a frisky little kitten?” He turns to the bartender. “I’m ready to settle up.”
No. He can’t settle up. I need his freaking cell phone. If I drank whatever piss water that was and then suffered the trauma of accidentally touching his penis, I’m sure as heck not walking away until I get what I came for.
I yank my hand off his lap, holding it out to one side, because I don’t want to touch myself after touching him. I understand there were layers of clothes between us, but cross-contamination still feels very real to me.
My eyes are bouncing wildly around the bar as I frantically try to come up with a plan B, when he reaches into the pocket of his slacks and pulls out his cell phone. He thumbs across the screen then holds it up so the bartender can scan it, using his digital wallet to pay his bill.
My eyes are locked in on the device, and I’m no longer quite as worried about my penis palm.
I need to find a way to get him to set the phone down so I can switch it with Owen’s.
They seem to be close enough in size, shape, and case, that I don’t think he’ll notice right away.
Especially if I distract him appropriately.
And I have to do it before it goes to sleep. Because I’ve discovered yet another flaw in my plan—I don’t know how to unlock his freaking phone.
I really wish I’d had more time to think of all the variables, but it’s probably good for me to practice doing things like this on the fly.
Because I clearly didn’t consider all the variables, and that really pisses me off.
“You know what I was thinking?” I hope so, because I obviously don’t. What in the heck is this guy gonna find distracting enough he won’t see me do the switcheroo?
The man leans close, invading my space, and it takes everything I have not to try to escape. “What are you thinking?”
That this would be so much easier if I could hit him with a hammer. Or a stepstool. Or honestly any of the various items around me would probably work.
Again, my eyes are moving around, and they finally land on something that strikes inspiration. “You should eat chocolate off me.”
That’s a thing people do when they have sex, right? Personally, I think it’s a terrible idea. Probably leads to infections of all varieties. But the guy in front of me seems to be all about it. Not surprising considering the girth of his midsection.
“Yeah?” He runs his tongue over his teeth. “I’m sure I could do that.”
I watch in my periphery as he sets his phone on the counter, the screen still unlocked thanks to the way he’s been holding it since the bartender scanned it. He brings his now free hand to rest high on my thigh. “What are you gonna eat off me?”
My gag reflex is back, and really working hard to announce itself. But I have to power through. I can do this. I turn, pointing at the woman eating a fancy looking sundae a few tables away. “What about that?”
The second his eyes shift, I make my move, quickly sliding Owen’s phone onto the bar before picking up the man’s and tucking it into the pocket of my hoodie.
I don’t let it go, because I have to keep it awake or I won’t be able to unlock it.
Keeping my thumb against the screen and gently moving it from side to side, I make the suggestion I’m praying will get me out of this.
“Why don’t you go get one while I order us a bottle of champagne to be sent up to your room? ”
“Perfect.” He reaches into his pocket, pulling out a room key. “Meet me in my room as soon as you’re done, gorgeous.”
“You got it…” What the fuck do I call this guy? “Big boy.”
That feels so freaking weird coming out of my mouth. But big boy seems to love it, because he’s off his stool and practically sprinting toward The Peabody’s pastry shop in a split second, distractedly shoving Owen’s phone into his pocket.
I pretend like I’m going to the front desk to order room service, but the second he’s out of sight, I make a hard turn, running as fast as I can for the walkway leading to the parking garage.
Going out the front doors would be stupid.
I know Alaskan Security will probably be here shortly, and don’t doubt they’ll head straight for the lobby.
At least if they’re tracking Owen’s phone, it will take them to the pastry shop or big boy’s room instead of where I’m currently running down the walkway with the hard-won phone pressed against my hair.
Butch answers on the fourth ring. “Who the fuck is this?”
“It’s me. I need you to come get me right now.” I hit the bar on the exit door hard, knocking it open.
“Where the fuck are you?” Butch is making a lot of noise on his end, like he’s moving fast.
Same.
“I’m in The Peabody’s parking garage, but I need to get the heck away from here because Alaskan Security is probably tracking Owen’s phone there right now.”
“Are you on Owen’s phone now?”
“No.” I’m a little offended. My plan might not have been airtight, but I figured out how to make it work. “That would be stupid.” And I might be terrible at flirting. I might be a terrible drinker. I might even be awful at not killing people.
But I’m not stupid.
“I got this off of some guy at the bar.” I move away from The Peabody as fast as I can, heading north. “I’m going to the welcome center by the river. Come get me there.”
Butch doesn’t acknowledge my directions, just circles back to what I said before. “What guy at the bar?”
“I don’t know. I didn’t ask him his name.” I’m breathing hard and it makes it kind of difficult to talk. “I flirted with him so he was distracted and then I switched Owen’s phone with his so I would have a way to call you since I left my phone in the SUV.”
I didn’t expect to need it. By the time I realized maybe I should grab it, Butch was already gone, taking it with him when he went to help dispose of the guys I accidentally killed. Then Alaskan Security showed up and I had to start making some tough choices.
Like phone stealing and scotch drinking.
“Are you shitting me right now?” I hear him fumbling around. “Fuck, Becca. Why did I even give you that thing if you aren’t going to keep it with you so I can find you?”
“You aren’t supposed to have to find me.
We were supposed to stick together. It was your choice not to let me help you hide dead bodies,” I wheeze.
“I’m a little offended over that, by the way.
” Would I be able to carry much weight? No.
But I know for a fact I would’ve come up with brilliant ideas to clean up the mess I made if he would’ve just given me the chance.
“I will let you help me hide bodies from now on. I promise.” Butch takes a slow breath, blowing it back out against the speaker of his phone. “Where’s the guy from the bar now?”
“I don’t know. Probably sitting naked in his room with an ice cream sundae and an erection, waiting for me to show up with champagne.
” I start swinging my free arm, trying to add momentum so I can move faster.
I’ve got a stitch forming on one side and my legs are burning, but I can’t stop. I have to power through.
“Why the fuck would he be sitting in his room naked with an ice cream sundae thinking you were going to show up with champagne?” Butch’s tone is cold as ice.
“Probably because that’s what I told him was going to happen.” Does Butch not understand how to flirt either? “After I accidentally touched his penis, he seemed to think—”
“You touched his dick?” Butch roars so loud that I jump.
“Accidentally. I accidentally touched his penis.” I wrinkle my nose at the memory. “And I didn’t like it at all. That reminds me, I need to wash my hands.”
“Becca…” Butch says my name low and eerily calm considering he just practically screamed in my ear. “I’m about to ask you a question, and I want you to tell me the truth.”
I see the lights of the welcome center up ahead. “Are you almost here? Because I would really not like for Alaskan Security to find me before you do.”
“Did you touch that fucker’s bare dick?”
I breathe out a sigh of relief as I close in on my destination. “I need to turn this phone off in case he notices I took it. I don’t want him to use find my phone.” I head for a shadowy area where I can hopefully wait unnoticed.
“Becca.” Butch’s tone is sharp. “Did you touch that fucker’s bare—”
“I gotta go. I’ll see you in a few minutes.” I quickly end the call, turning the phone off before chucking it in the closest trashcan for good measure.
I hear it hit the bottom of the metal container just as I start to wonder if I should have answered Butch before I hung up.
Nah. I’m sure it’s not a big deal.