Page 71 of Last First Kiss
“Holy fucking Christ.” She stopped, forcing him to grab onto her waist in order to avoid pushing her forward. “Would you shut up? I know where I’m going.”
Okay, yes. Of course she did. She was military trained. She was a fighter. She was fucking stunning. And he wanted her so fucking much he ached. But it was time to listen to his bodyguard, not his cock.
When they were at a small clearing, nothing but miles and miles of sea grass when he looked left and right, she pulled out her cell phone. “Damn. Still no reception,” she whispered, and he checked his too and shook his head. “Come on, a few more yards.”
“To where?” he asked, exasperated.
“There’s a little hole-in-the-wall bar about a mile that way. Hurry before it gets dark.”
“I’m hurrying.”
They continued to track through mangroves and swamp, the sound of the nearby road muted by the loud noise of crickets and swamp things all around them.
Every time water moved anywhere he jumped. He tried not to. He tried to be the cool badass alpha male a woman like Annabelle deserved, but fuck that—alligators were not something he wanted to come face to face with. Every few feet she’d check her reception. There was nothing anywhere and Rocco was convinced they were lost. “Would you stop checking your phone, damn it. You’re not going to get reception!” he growled when he saw her grab the phone two seconds later.
She yanked the phone back. “I’m not checking reception, you idiot. It’s a compass app.” She shook her head, exasperated. “Of the two of us, who spends most of their day fuckin’ around on social media? You think in the middle of the fucking Everglades, I’m Snapchatting?”
She grunted and turned back to where she was going.
A compass.
Good idea.
It wouldn’t have occurred to him. He’d have died in the middle of the Everglades, a perfect snack for the wildlife.
“There!” She pointed ahead. He couldn’t see anything. The sun was beginning to set and he just squinted as they walked. Eventually, the small rickety shack came into focus. “And look, now we have reception.”
She stopped about a yard away from the building but still ankle deep in the murky water. Why couldn’t she have this conversation away from the reptiles?
“Joe, I’m at Plan C. Send a pick up,” she said and hung up. He wasn’t sure what Joey’s reaction was or if Joey needed more information. And what the hell was Plan C?
“Plan C?”
“We had different exit strategies planned. I picked this one, Plan C.”
As they approached, he saw an old sign dangling from an even older pole. “No Name Bar, est. 1917.”
“Of course,” he murmured under his breath. He really was in a horror movie.
The bar was relatively empty except for the bartender and two bikers sitting at the bar. Annabelle crossed straight back and toward a booth, gesturing to him to go first. His brow furrowed but the way she stared at him, there was a reason. Everything she did was for a reason, so he shut up and slid in. She slid next. Not across, but right next to him. “Your face is mostly covered and no one can see you with the shadow from the door,” she explained.
“Gotcha.”
A man, who could’ve been the owner since 1917 from the looks of it, came toward them. She ordered without hesitation. “Two Buds.”
The old man nodded and walked away. “Try to blend in. Joey’ll be here soon.”
“Blend in?” he guffawed. “How exactly should I blend in? I’m not one hundred years old or a bearded biker. What were Plan A and B?”
“Plan A was the road and Plan B was two miles east. There’s an airboat rental.”
“You’re pretty incredible, you know that?”
“Just doing my job,” she said as the old man brought the beers. She pulled up her phone and called Ben. He answered and she spoke.
“You two make it out okay?”
“If by ‘okay’ you mean that I had to pull my weapon out in front of a news van in order to get three cars to move out of the road, yeah. We also had bottles thrown and a shattered window. But we’re okay now. There are probably twenty cars headed to the set. I hope you got out before that.”
