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

want it back even if she was given the chance.
    Leaning past Dawson, Rachel reached for the can of paint. She aimed at the suitcase and sprayed a few more of the neon streaks into the material, completing their modern art masterpiece.
    "There, that's better," she said, tossing the empty can into a nearby trash bin.
    "Alright then," Dawson said. Turning back to the clerk, he waved and called across the shop, "Sorry about the smell!"
    "Hey, no problem," the clerk replied cheerfully.
    Rachel didn't know how much Dawson had paid. The tags on her new clothes and accessories had never been scanned or even glanced at by the clerk. But, judging by the happy smile from the satisfied clerk, the payment had been enough to cover their disguises, the can of paint, and the unpleasant aroma of said spray paint used indoors.
    Once outdoors, Dawson put one arm around Rachel and pulled her close. "Okay, Rachel, now you have to play the part. Stick close. We've got to take this a little slow. We don't want to attract any attention by trying to set a speed record."
    They set off sauntering westward down the street with Rachel obediently staying nestled under his arm.
    "How are we supposed to be inconspicuous when we're dressed like this? Rachel grumbled.
    "Sometimes the best way to hide is to be the most visible," Dawson responded. "They certainly aren't going to be looking for two people dressed as we are. They'll be watching for a couple trying to keep to the shadows and blend into the crowd. We are way too flashy and obvious. They won't even take the time to consider us. Besides, in this part of town and at this time of night, we'll fit right in."
    Rachel was still doubtful, her anger still seething under the surface. It must have shown.
    "Come on, Rachel. It's not like I did this on purpose. I didn't have a choice either. I had to work with what we had on hand. We're almost done with this. You can have the rest of your New York vacation and then head back to home-sweet-home. You can manage to be uncomfortable and dressed like a knock-out hooker for a few blocks until we get rid of this thing. This will work. I know it will. Trust me."
    Rachel blew out all the air in her lungs with one big whoosh. "Okay," she relented.
    "Good girl. Now we need just one more Oscar-worthy performance, Montana. Pull on your best hooker persona and act like you like me--a lot."
    Rachel obediently wrapped her arms around him as they walked.
    Every once in a while she'd stand on her tiptoes, press herself close to his side, and whispered sultrily in his ear things like, "You're still a jerk," and, "I'm going to get you back for this."
    His eyes were constantly moving, watching for signs of danger, but, for the most part, Dawson played his part cool and in control. She was his possession.
    At one point, though, after one of her whispered endearments, he grabbed her close and whispered back. "Careful, Montana, or I just might decide to take the risk and kiss that orneriness right out of you."
    She was just choosing what whispered sweet-nothings to challenge him with, when she felt a hand grab her right arm and pull her roughly out of Dawson's hold.
    She was suddenly face to face with a large man with bad body odor and equally stinky breath. The light from the streetlights showed him to be fortyish with the face of a thug, but he was surprisingly well-dressed in a polo shirt. Unfortunately, he smelled as if he had already ingested at least one bar's entire stock of whiskey.
    "How much for this pretty woman?" he asked, running his rough finger down Rachel's cheek.
    Before he even finished his sentence, Rachel was jerked roughly out of the thug's hold and back into Dawson's arms.
    "Sorry, dude," Dawson said calmly. "This one isn't available. Tonight she's mine."
    "Come on, man," the thug replied. "Have a little love. I won't take her long. There's a place I know right around the corner. Then you can have her back. Just tell me how much."
    Two other men behind the thug,