Gone Duck #5 (Romantic Suspense) Read Free

much as a sock, she’d be happy. But there was nothing small
besides a pair of lace panties, and she wasn’t about to pull them out to share
with The Boys, even if she had snot running down to her chin. Then she
remembered the little pocket behind the flap. She’d put a small wrapper of
tissues in it after a gas station stop. It was also the last place she’d put
the duck before the old trucker-woman had chucked it out her window.
    She zipped the pocket open and reached inside. No
tissues.
    Only a rubber-freaking-duck.

CHAPTER
THIRTY-TWO
     
    “Gaaah! That's disgusting!” Gammon said from
behind her, after watching her blow her nose into the crotch of the lavender
lace panties and shove them back into the backpack.
    “They were clean,” she said, defensively. “And
maybe that will teach you to mind your own business.”
    Shawn's brows knit together with a combination of
concern and horror, his back against the door.
    She rolled her eyes and gave him a wink.
    He actually winced.
    She gave him a fierce frown and urged him closer
with a crook of her finger.
    He wasn't happy to comply, but he did. When he was
close enough, she pulled his head down to whisper in his ear.
    “ You didn't…check… all the little
pockets,” she said, then sat straight and waited for him to figure out what
she'd meant by it. A full minute passed with no response, so she opened the
flap of the backpack, while keeping her eyes on the road, and pointed to the
little zipper. She finally had to nudge him and look down. His hand moved over
and opened the pocket, then ventured inside and froze.
    She looked into his eyes. He stared back in shock.
She shook her head ever so slightly. He nodded once and covered the action by
rolling his head around his shoulders and doing a little neck pop.
    She zipped the pocket closed and wondered if he
was remembering what he'd said about the backpack, how she should cling to it
like it still contained the duck.
    The thought popped into her head on its own. Had
he known?
    She looked at him sharply. He frowned sharply like
he had read her mind then shook his head once. She relaxed, gratified they'd
been able to carry on the entire conversation in silence. They were in
agreement. They wouldn’t share the information with Dave. Their little duck was
an ace in the hole and they were going to keep it between themselves.
    Suddenly, she had enough energy to jog around
another parking lot.
    “This is it,” Dave announced and pulled off the
freeway, taking the airport exit.
    She looked at the high fences and worried.
“Lacrosse isn't watching the airport?”
    “Don't worry, babe. We've got this covered.” Dave
took another exit with signs for small aircraft. “We're taking a small plane to
Calgary. From there, a private jet to Belgium. You're going to love it.”
    Shawn was frowning again. “Hey, buddy . What
have you done with Dorothy Jean?”
    Dave flipped him off over his shoulder and pulled
into an open hangar. There was a small plane inside and beside it, sitting in a
camping chair, wearing a men's blue jumpsuit and sipping on a sprite, was a
laughing Dorothy Jean. Unless it was the bald old man she’d been dressed up
like. But Macey doubted an old man would have covered his head with a peach
floral scarf. The back of it flapped in unison with a small U.S. flag on a pole
at the corner of the little hangar. The woman was definitely enjoying her
release from Davenport Prison even though one of The Boys stood beside her,
most likely armed.
    Macey was hit with another heavy wave of relief.
Dave was right. He'd done everything he'd promised. She felt horrible for doubting
him, and yet, her gut told her to trust Shawn's instincts. He'd done everything
he'd promised, too.
    Besides the pilot, the small plane could only hold
five of them and the luggage Shawn and Kofford had been able to bring from the
hotel. When they climbed aboard, she prayed silently that Gammon wouldn't be
the fifth man. But it was Kofford who