Yeah… But Megan….
I groan aloud, blindly feeling for my bag in the trunk as I try to make it a little less obvious that I have a hard-on that could put men on Mars if I pushed it forward enough and let it go.
My driver takes off as soon as I’ve slapped his trunk closed.
Standing in the middle of the bus station parking lot, a passerby might notice a six-foot-five guy built like a linebacker.
He’d have a hard-on like an ox’s horn.
And he’d be holding a pink suitcase in front of himself, trying to cover it up.
It takes maybe a full ten seconds before it clicks.
But I don’t mind at all when it does.
There is noothergirl…
Meganisthe girl from the tape. And I’m guessing I was getting a fireman’s pole instead of alarm bells when I met her because I don’t need any flash of intuition to know she’s the one.
Sheisthe one. I’ve got the evidence right in my pants.
Exhibit ‘D’, your honor….
And when I’m with her, I’ve got no need to find her, no need to save her because she’s already there.
Right where she should be.
At least, she was.
I turn and stand, surveying the crowd and lines of buses.
The relief of knowing I found her at least stops me from looking like more of a lunatic and trying to actually kick myself in the ass which is what I deserve for letting her go.
But one minute she was there, the next she wasn’t.
So it’s time for Harry Holmes to do what he does best and fast.
Making my way straight for the service counter, and making sure I’m covered up, I plan on finding out just where she went.
A man my size carrying a fun-sized pink suitcase should raise eyebrows, but I keep forgetting. These days you could cut yourself in half on the sidewalk and most people wouldn’t bat an eyelid.
Try and tell themtheycan’t be six-five and carry a pink suitcase…That’sa different story.
“Harry… Harry!” Someone from behind me calls out.
That smile I discovered when I first saw her finds its way back onto my face.
Before I even turn, I know it’s her. I turn slowly. Megan’s features rippling like water as she tries to decide just how to feel, or what to say.
But she doesn’t have to say a word.
She hasn’t gone anywhere. I mean… How could she? She must’ve felt what just happened as much as I did.
But all that aside, I gotta get her outta here and someplace safe.
Get to the bottom of just what’s so special about a bit of tinfoil that’s bumping off anyone who comes near it.
In three long strides, I’ve made my way past the milling bus crowd.