Read Online Hunt Me (Love Thieves #3) by Heather Long - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Heather Long
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think not?”
“He took down Louis duMonde with a thumb lock in under ten seconds. I didn’t even see him move. He also managed to smuggle himself aboard my private jet.”
Silence, then, “Is he threatening you?”
“No. The opposite, actually. But I don’t know him, and I don’t think he’s being honest.”
More silence.
“I will find out what you need to know. Stay away until I have confirmation, querida .”
“Already done. Don’t call back. I’m going to kill the phone and dump it. I’ll call you tomorrow from a burner.” She had six of them in a locker, and they were easily purchased.
“ Adios, cuidate.”
“ Adios .” They rang off, and she merged into traffic on the boulevard. It took her fifteen minutes of cruising to find the right woman with the right height. She slowed and rolled down the passenger window.
The redhead leaned down to glance inside and gave her a dubious look. “Sorry, Prada. I like men.”
“Perfect. I have a thousand dollars in cash and it’s all yours if you don’t mind swapping clothes, driving my car until 6:00 p.m. tonight, and giving someone a message for me.”
“I’m sorry, what?” The woman blinked.
Thirty minutes later, Kit waved to Georgia, the woman whose clothes she’d purchased, as she drove off in the sedan. Kit had nothing on her save for one key and a paperback book. She didn’t know if he’d done something to keep track of her, but his actions coupled with Louis’ sudden appearance, and she didn’t want to take any chances.
She walked down to the bus station and straight to a locker. Opening it, she pulled out a duffel bag and checked to make sure the lock on the bag remained in place. Slinging it over her shoulder, she walked down the concourse to the ticket window where a sleepy man flipped through a magazine.
“Do you have any coaches leaving for Half Moon Bay today?” She chewed gum, which distracted from her accent, and kept the black hat low over her eyes. She had tucked all of her red hair underneath it. The tank top and skinny jeans were thankfully nondescript, and she could buy some comfortable shoes. She’d miss the Jimmy Choos she gave to Georgia.
The man sat forward and tapped some info into his computer. “Coach leaves at seven. Sixty-eight seventy-five, round-trip.”
“Perfect.” She counted out the cash, mostly in tens, fives, and singles. Never be without cash, Enrique told her. She could leave cash stores in various places, so if she needed to slip away unnoticed, she wouldn’t leave a trace with her credit cards or private security. Secondly, keep the cash in low denominations. It made most people impatient to wait for someone to count it out, and then they paid attention to other things. Nothing zeroed a retail or transportation clerk in more than crisp fifty and one hundred-dollar bills.
She made sure to wash and dry any new money she took out of the bank to give it a rumpled, ill-used appearance. She handed him sixty-nine dollars and got a quarter and her ticket back.
“Have a nice trip.” But the clerk had already returned to his magazine.
She checked the bus number and her watch, after four-thirty. She left the terminal and walked around the corner to a coffee shop. Sliding into a seat in the back, she wedged the duffel bag between her and the wall. Propping her feet on the opposite bench, she pulled out the book.
“What can I get ya?” a woman on the sad side of her forties with tired eyes and an even worse dye job asked.
“Coffee, please.” She resisted the urge to spit out her gum. Soon enough for that when she didn’t have to talk and could drink her coffee instead. “And bacon and eggs—eggs over hard, bacon crisp, and, if you have them, hash browns extra crispy.”
“Toast?” The waitress wrote it down.
“Hmm—whole wheat with some jam as well.”
“You got it.”
Kit didn’t have to worry about the waitress paying attention to her; the woman’s gaze skipped twice to her
“He took down Louis duMonde with a thumb lock in under ten seconds. I didn’t even see him move. He also managed to smuggle himself aboard my private jet.”
Silence, then, “Is he threatening you?”
“No. The opposite, actually. But I don’t know him, and I don’t think he’s being honest.”
More silence.
“I will find out what you need to know. Stay away until I have confirmation, querida .”
“Already done. Don’t call back. I’m going to kill the phone and dump it. I’ll call you tomorrow from a burner.” She had six of them in a locker, and they were easily purchased.
“ Adios, cuidate.”
“ Adios .” They rang off, and she merged into traffic on the boulevard. It took her fifteen minutes of cruising to find the right woman with the right height. She slowed and rolled down the passenger window.
The redhead leaned down to glance inside and gave her a dubious look. “Sorry, Prada. I like men.”
“Perfect. I have a thousand dollars in cash and it’s all yours if you don’t mind swapping clothes, driving my car until 6:00 p.m. tonight, and giving someone a message for me.”
“I’m sorry, what?” The woman blinked.
Thirty minutes later, Kit waved to Georgia, the woman whose clothes she’d purchased, as she drove off in the sedan. Kit had nothing on her save for one key and a paperback book. She didn’t know if he’d done something to keep track of her, but his actions coupled with Louis’ sudden appearance, and she didn’t want to take any chances.
She walked down to the bus station and straight to a locker. Opening it, she pulled out a duffel bag and checked to make sure the lock on the bag remained in place. Slinging it over her shoulder, she walked down the concourse to the ticket window where a sleepy man flipped through a magazine.
“Do you have any coaches leaving for Half Moon Bay today?” She chewed gum, which distracted from her accent, and kept the black hat low over her eyes. She had tucked all of her red hair underneath it. The tank top and skinny jeans were thankfully nondescript, and she could buy some comfortable shoes. She’d miss the Jimmy Choos she gave to Georgia.
The man sat forward and tapped some info into his computer. “Coach leaves at seven. Sixty-eight seventy-five, round-trip.”
“Perfect.” She counted out the cash, mostly in tens, fives, and singles. Never be without cash, Enrique told her. She could leave cash stores in various places, so if she needed to slip away unnoticed, she wouldn’t leave a trace with her credit cards or private security. Secondly, keep the cash in low denominations. It made most people impatient to wait for someone to count it out, and then they paid attention to other things. Nothing zeroed a retail or transportation clerk in more than crisp fifty and one hundred-dollar bills.
She made sure to wash and dry any new money she took out of the bank to give it a rumpled, ill-used appearance. She handed him sixty-nine dollars and got a quarter and her ticket back.
“Have a nice trip.” But the clerk had already returned to his magazine.
She checked the bus number and her watch, after four-thirty. She left the terminal and walked around the corner to a coffee shop. Sliding into a seat in the back, she wedged the duffel bag between her and the wall. Propping her feet on the opposite bench, she pulled out the book.
“What can I get ya?” a woman on the sad side of her forties with tired eyes and an even worse dye job asked.
“Coffee, please.” She resisted the urge to spit out her gum. Soon enough for that when she didn’t have to talk and could drink her coffee instead. “And bacon and eggs—eggs over hard, bacon crisp, and, if you have them, hash browns extra crispy.”
“Toast?” The waitress wrote it down.
“Hmm—whole wheat with some jam as well.”
“You got it.”
Kit didn’t have to worry about the waitress paying attention to her; the woman’s gaze skipped twice to her
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