Free Baggage Claim (Tru Exceptions - Christian Romantic Suspense Book 1) by Amanda Tru Page A

about her bare abdomen. She wasn't used to exposing her belly button for all to see. She was about as far out of her comfort zone as she could get. Despite her insecurities, Rachel had to admit that, to the casual observer, she probably made a great-looking hooker. Almost too good. Dang that Dawson Tate!
    Turning back to gather her stinky clothes, Rachel saw the gun lying on the floor. What was she supposed to do with that? Dawson had insisted she keep it, but it wasn't as if she could hide it under her shirt anymore. Her current disguise allowed no spare inch to hide anything on her person, much less a gun. Turning around the little room, she spotted a black purse on the floor. Dawson must have included it with the other things. She just hadn't noticed it before now. It was small, but the 9mm fit inside perfectly. If she didn't know better, she might accuse Dawson of being very thorough and almost thoughtful. But she definitely knew better. The jerk!
    Rachel shoved aside the curtain and stepped out of the changing room.
    Dawson was waiting. His eyes flew wide as he very conspicuously looked her over from top to bottom.
    "Wow!" he said. "You look…"
    "I didn't realize this was your type, Dawson," Rachel interrupted.
    "It normally isn't. But, Montana, you are hot!
    "I'd take that as a compliment if I wasn't currently dressed as a prostitute!" Rachel pinned him with an accusing glare.
    Dawson grinned. "I wasn't even sure you'd put the clothes on."
    "I didn't think I had a choice," Rachel replied. "Don't worry, though. I fully intend to get back at you for making me wear this."
    "Hey, you're not alone here, I'm not exactly dressed as a missionary either."
    "No, you aren't. I think my cornea has been damaged from just trying to look at you in that suit."
    Saying the suit was brightly colored was an understatement. Its brilliant lime green color was so intense, it seemed to exude its own glow. As if the suit wasn't bad enough, his head was topped with a matching lime green hat. Rachel had no idea why such an atrocious suit would even be manufactured let alone why someone would buy it, even as a disguise. She understood that she was dressed as a hooker, but what exactly was Dawson supposed to be? Then it suddenly hit her.
    "Are you… Are you my pimp?"
    Dawson's teeth flashed white in a grin. "Rachel, it's only pretend."
    "You are!" Rachel's whisper was still a shriek. "Dawson this is ridiculous!
    Dawson shrugged, ignoring her ire. "Come on, let's get going. You'll have to leave your old clothes here. We can't carry them. I've already paid for everything else."
    Knowing she needed to put aside her fury at least for now, Rachel dutifully stuck her clothes in the black garbage sack Dawson handed her. She couldn't say she was heartbroken about forever abandoning her smoke damaged clothes.
    Sticking the sack behind the counter, Dawson started for the door, pulling the ever-present suitcase behind him.
    "Wait, Dawson!" Rachel said, putting her hand on his elbow to stop him. The clerk was across the shop not even looking their direction, but she lowered her voice to a whisper anyway. "That suitcase is a dead giveaway. Even with the best disguises, they'll know it's us as soon as they see that suitcase."
    "Lots of people carry suitcases like this around," he objected.
    Rachel raised her eyebrows.
    "Fine," Dawson said, grabbing a can off a nearby shelf.
    Before Rachel could say a word, he was spraying haphazard lines of neon blue paint all over the suitcase.
     "There," Dawson said, finishing and placing the can back on the shelf. "Now maybe it won't be quite as recognizable."
    "That's my suitcase! Rachel protested in shock.
    "No, it's not," Dawson retorted, his intense whisper not reaching beyond Rachel's ears. "This suitcase and its contents are now the property of the U.S. government."
    Rachel opened her mouth to argue, but let it snap shut instead. She had nothing to say. Realistically, after everything that had happened, she wouldn't