Total pages in book: 61
Estimated words: 57878 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 289(@200wpm)___ 232(@250wpm)___ 193(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 57878 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 289(@200wpm)___ 232(@250wpm)___ 193(@300wpm)
And there she was, my beautiful Elaine, sitting in her own little bench seat on the other side of the lounge, staring right on over at me as I stepped inside.
We’d done it.
We’d made it through the airport.
Now we just needed to make it onto the damn plane and off the other side.
13
Elaine
I stared at the plane ticket. Seat 29C. Flight 181. NYC to London Heathrow.
I was still in shock that I’d made it through security and check-in with nobody saying a word, but I had. Praise God, it seemed Lucian had, too. My whole body flooded with relief when he stepped on into the lounge and took a seat at the other end of the room from me. We were both there. Together, though it seemed apart.
I’d never been so happy in my life.
Other travelers came and filled up the lounge around us, busy with their own business and without giving us too much interest. There was chatter, and excitement, and people busy on their cell phones, while I just stared at the plane ticket in my hands, truly trying to believe this was happening.
Seat 29C of Flight 181. NYC to London Heathrow.
I was now Penelope Anne Jackson and I was going to London. We were going to London.
The voices of a couple sitting next to me were enough to pull me out of my trance. My stomach dropped right down to the pits when I heard their words.
Can you believe it? Lionel Constantine is really dead! Shot on a golf course. It’s just crazy. CRAZY.
First Elaine Constantine gets kidnapped and then her uncle gets murdered!
Yeah, and you know what they’re saying, right? They’re saying it’s Lucian Morelli who kidnapped Elaine! They think that journalist guy was really him!
Madness. It’s fucking madness.
Holy shit, it hit me hard, but I just kept on staring and praying, barely risking a breath since I was sitting right next to them.
I kept my attention on my plane ticket. My thoughts trying to be a mantra.
Seat 29C of Flight 181. NYC to London Heathrow
Penelope Anne Jackson.
The mantra didn’t last long as the couple carried on talking.
You don’t really think Lucian Morelli kidnapped and murdered Elaine Constantine, do you?
I dunno. I’ve heard people saying that he was fucking her. That they were dating or something.
Fuck knows, then. Whole thing seems crazy.
What seemed even crazier was that the both of us were sitting in the same damn room and nobody had noticed.
I chanced one quick little glance at Lucian and he was sitting mute, staring ahead of him. His glasses looked weird on his nose, distracting just a little from the true sculpture of his face. Yeah. They were doing their job. They were helping to make him look a little bit more like Jason Ryan Reynolds and a little less like the man who was wanted for murder.
I heard someone on the news saying that Lucian Morelli was chasing Elaine down so hard at a club that he kneed some security guy in the stomach and threatened to kill him if he didn’t let him through.
Maybe he really is the one who kidnapped her. They think she’s dead.
I was so relieved when the attendants called us for our flight that I leapt up out of my seat and dashed straight over to the doorway. I was right at the front of the line with a big, fake smile on my face as the attendant started letting us through.
“Enjoy your flight,” she told me, and I thanked her with another big, fake smile.
I was straight onto the plane and up the aisle. Seat 29C. 29C. 29C.
It was on the right-hand side of the aisle, next to the window. I sat myself down and stared out, heart racing so fast I could feel the thump in my ears.
I could sense Lucian walk up the aisle between other passengers. I twisted in my seat just enough to see him walk right on up to row 37.
Yes.
He’d made it.
I couldn’t believe it when the same damn couple from the lounge came along to sit in the seats next to me. They got themselves ready for the flight, loading up their baggage into the overhead compartments. This time the woman actually looked at me and smiled as she sat herself down.
“Hey,” she said, and I smiled back.
“Hey.”
Then I did it. I tried it out for the first time.
“I’m Penelope.”
“Carrie-Ann,” she said back. “You off to London on vacation?”
I nodded. “Yeah, I’m off on vacation. Got family over there.”
“Cool,” she said. “We’re off on vacation, too. Been wanting to go since I was a kid.”
She got herself comfortable and then she started up conversation with her boyfriend. I let out a long slow breath of relief when her attention was gone from me.
We could do this. We really could.
In the face of two people literally talking about my abduction, I could introduce myself as Penelope Jackson and get away with it. That was one hell of a blessing I was grateful to receive.