Licensed to Kill

Chapter 30

"Yeah."

I started walking in the direction of the bathrooms, hoping that Matt and Dallas would hurry their asses up and come out. On second thought, I was starting to worry that something might have happened to them.

"Why aren't you all together?" She sounded really worried now. "Where did Dallas and Matt go?"

"To the bathroom. Like twelve years ago." My answer was grumpy and I was sure Alana could tell by that that I'd been waiting on them for quite a while.

She huffed and typed some more. "Well, it looks like their phones are together, wherever they are. I'd have to pull up a diagram of the airport to pinpoint their exact room location."

I kept the girly grin on my face, but lowered my voice to a level I was sure Mr. Creepy Security Guard couldn't hear. "I'm starting to get worried, Alana. This guard keeps watching me like a hawk and they've been in the restroom for like twenty minutes."

"Okay. Keep your cool. I'm going to get you out of this," she said confidently. "I just sent a text to Matt and Dallas. I told them to come out and act like you're all old friends running into each other. Just play it by ear, okay?"

"I don't know what I'd do without you," I smiled genuinely and hung up.

Just as I reached the drinking fountain right outside the restrooms, Dallas and Matt emerged, their body language totally relaxed and their focuses not on me at all, though I knew they'd both spotted me.

I went ahead and used the drinking fountain, pretending I didn't notice them. I could feel the security guard's eyes burning holes into my back. All the sudden, as I turned around, Dallas hollered out my fake Italian name that Rick had put on my I.D.

"Aurora!" he smiled ear-to-ear, stretching his arms out wide.

"Antonio!" I called out his fake name, running into his arms like we were old friends who hadn't seen each other in years.

"Stefano!" Matt exclaimed his own fake name and we all shared a pretty genuine laugh over that, pulling him into the hug, too.

"Why are we doing this?" Matt whispered where only we could hear.

"Security guard at four o'clock. Don't want to look suspicious," I mumbled.

We hugged for just a few seconds, just long enough to reach a quick understanding of the situation, and then separated.

Dallas proceeded to ask me in exceptionally accurate Italian if I'd like to go with them to catch up over drinks, and I happily accepted the offer, playing along perfectly as the guard appeared to listen intently.

We started walking towards the exit, keeping a careful watch on our spectator, who now looked less suspicious of me; and to my surprise, the man didn't attempt to stop us on our way out.

Barcelona was a complete one-eighty from Munich. We'd gone from dark, gloomy weather in Germany, to bright, sunny skies and temperatures comfortably hovering in the low seventies in Spain.

When we stepped out of the airport onto the sidewalk, a gust of warm spring air washed over me, and I was reminded of a vacation I'd once taken to the Florida Keys. I inhaled deeply, enjoying the sweet smell of a salty mist carried inland from the Balearic Sea.

Alana had been right when she'd told me Barcelona was a gem. I could tell already that I was going to love this city.

"Where do we begin?" asked Matt, still using his Italian accent.

Dallas pointed to the parking lot across the street and I knew what he was thinking. We were going to steal another vehicle.

Once the traffic cleared for a moment, the three of us trekked across the road and hunkered down behind a little black sedan where no one could see us.