Fugitive [ON HOLD]

Chapter 4: Hotel Incident

Dedicated to Jacquelin who suggested a cast member for this story <3

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Chapter 4: Hotel Incident

Click! Click! Click!

What was that noise? It's so annoying, ugh. Can't they just let me sleep for five more minutes?

The sound of a maniac laughing followed by "Wake up little lovebirds!" in a sing-song woke me out of my sleep. I opened my eyes to be greeted by the sight of Henry holding his phone, snapping photos of me.

I turned to my side and spotted Jake in the chair next to me, his hair ruffled and mouth slightly parted, looking extremely dazed. It took me a millionth of a second to realize what Henry was doing, and I immediately shot up to grab the phone out of his hands.

However, Henry was a trained agent as well, and he easily raised the phone above his head before my hand even came anywhere near his. He cackled evilly, continuing to keep the device out of my reach. I cursed him for his height advantage but decided to let the matter go. At five foot seven, I easily dwarfed other girls and even some other guys, but Henry was about four inches taller than me. Added with his abnormally long arms, trying to reach something at that height would most probably end in vain.

"Haha! I win!" Henry grinned victoriously as he kept his arm in the air, holding onto his phone like it was a life or death situation.

"What's with the both of you?" I rolled my eyes. "You both have the intelligence of five-year-olds."

"Whatever." Henry snorted. "Just get off my plane you lovebirds, I need to clean my plane, stock up on my snack supply and leave in half an hour's time."

Grumbling incoherently under my breath, I grabbed both Jake's and my bag and began descending onto the runway. The wind here was a little more chilly here than back at Shanghai, but the exterior of the terminal looked terribly similar to Shanghai's. Guess the architect ran out of ideas.

"Hey! Why did you take my bag?" I heard Jake's steps behind me.

"Maybe because someone can't even carry his own bag, which by the way, weighs a ton because of a bunch of books."

"Shut up! I'm not that weak!" Jake snatched his bag away from my grasp and fell in step next to me.

"Where are we going now?" Jake inquired from beside me.

"We're going to look for a hotel to stay in." I lied. Actually, it had all been planned out. Whenever we needed lodging, we were to stay at one of the smaller hotels owned by Mr. Parkson. This way, it is less likely for our clients to realize the link between our agency and the Parkson Hotel but still be able to guarantee a room with higher security than normal hotel rooms.

"Right... Your passport is with me." I fumbled through my bag to look for it.

"How can it be with you?" Jake asked wide-eyed. "The officers took it away while I was enclosed in that boring white-colored hellhole."

"Heard of something called forgery?" I handed over the passport. "You're under the name Bob Miller." I chuckled at the choice of name.

"Seriously? Bob? That was the best you could come up with?" He whined.

"It's better than your face." I muttered.

"What was that?"

"Nothing!" I said in a sing-song voice, fully aware that I was in denial. I mean, how could that face be worse than a bob haircut?

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"Why did we have to pick this hotel?" Jake complained, looking around at the room we had gotten. The average-sized twin beds, the average-sized television and the average-sized bathroom was probably something he had never before seen in his entire life. Spoilt rich kid.