Chapter Three

At the airport the next morning, Izzy got all the way to the boarding gate before she balked. “Guys, I appreciate the thought, but I can’t do this.”

Izzy pivoted on one foot and headed as fast as she could in the other direction. Unfortunately, she couldn’t out run the werewolf.

“Oh yes, you can,” Ryan stated as he lifted her by the waist and carted her back to where Luke waited. “Think about it—sun, surf, and sand.”

“Not to mention, free room service, cabana boys, and umbrella drinks,” Luke added.

“I don’t have a passport. What if the plane has to make an emergency landing in another country? I’ll be stuck,” Izzy protested while tugging on Ryan’s arm, trying to get him to release her.

“I completed the application for you. It came back last week and is in your purse,” Luke responded.

“But…I’ll be by myself,” she whined. “Vacations are meant to be shared.” Truthfully, Izzy was a little frightened by the idea of traveling so far on her own. This would be a new experience for her. She needed time to adjust to the idea and plan for every contingency. Time she didn’t have.

“Already taken care of,” Ryan told her.

Izzy’s mouth fell open. “What’s that supposed to mean?” Had the crazy werewolf arranged with the resort for her to have a gigolo? Were they still called that or was male escort the correct terminology?

“Now boarding rows A – E.”

Luke checked her ticket. “That’s you, babe.”

Digging her nails into Ryan’s forearm, she bucked in his hold. “I’m not going. You can’t make me.”

“Yes…you…are. You’re getting on this plane if I have to carry you myself,” Ryan said.

“Well, you better get to carting ‘cause as soon as I get loose, I’m going home,” she argued.

“Luke?” Ryan asked.

“You heard the lady,” Luke said.

Ryan set her down on her feet.

Izzy tugged her shirt down from where it had bunched under her breasts. “That’s better. I knew you’d see things my…umph! What the hell are you doing?” she shrieked from her new position on Ryan’s shoulder.

“Carrying you to your seat. Give me her ticket,” he told Luke.

Izzy pounded on his back. “I’m not going. Put me down, this instant.”

“Sir, this is highly irregular,” she heard the flight attendant say.

“Nervous flyer. She’ll be fine once the plane is in the air,” he assured the woman.

Luke bent over into her field of vision. “Bye, sweetie. You have fun now, you hear? We’ll see you when you get back. I stuck a box of condoms in your suitcase, and a copy of your travel itinerary is in your purse. Don’t lose it.”

Izzy could feel people gawking at her, talking about her and generally giving them a wide berth. A few folks laughed aloud. She was so embarrassed. Ryan was stopped twice more. Each time he assured them that she was fine, only nervous of flying. Damned alpha werewolf. People gave him his way even though it went against TSA policy. Izzy groaned and let her head and arms dangle. She would never live this down. Ryan and Luke would ensure it.

He walked down the crowded row, stopping and starting as he waited for people to load their bags into overhead bins. Finally, he lowered her into her seat.

“You are so dead,” she told him in a low voice.

Ryan handed Izzy her purse and carryon and kissed her on the forehead. “Be a good girl and stay put. Luke and I will be waiting right outside the gate until the plane takes off,” he warned.

She growled at him and he grinned. “Hey, for a minute there you sounded exactly like me. Remember, have fun. Get laid. Come back in a better mood.”

He rubbed the top of her head, despite her attempts to duck and knock his hand away. Great, now her hair was mussed. Izzy crossed her arms over her chest and glared at his retreating form.

Once everyone was seated and the plane was in the air, the flight attendant stopped by her row. “Ma’am, is everything all right?”

A little late to be asking now, Izzy thought irritably. “You got anything alcoholic on this bird?”

“We sell the little miniatures.”

Izzy reached into her wallet and pulled out two twenty dollar bills. “What will this buy me?”

The attendant rattled off the list and prices.

“Bring me a can of coke and bottle of gin, and keep ‘em coming until this runs out.” With any luck, by the time she reached her destination, she’d be too plastered to care that she traveled alone.



Seven hours later, Izzy reached the island of St. Croix in the US Virgin Islands. She’d been directed to look for a man holding a sign. No one mentioned there’d be a multitude of men holding signs, their raised, lyrical voices blending into a single raucous sound. Her head immediately began to pound.

Izzy set her suitcase and carryon down and dug through her cavernous purse for the folded slip of paper detailing her travel instructions. She wished she had a pair of sunglasses in the bag as well. The bright, tropical sunshine hurt her eyes.

While she was wishing, she added headache medicine and a bottle of water to the list. She had the beginnings of a massive hanger-over. She’d napped on the plane but could still feel the effects of the liquor in her system.

The airport was full of travelers. The foot traffic flowed around her like water around a rock. Izzy paid no attention, intent on what she was doing until a nearby voice said, “Come, come. You are late. Dis is de last boat.”

She glanced up and found a man standing in front of her. He wore a green, button down, short-sleeved shirt with his name and a resort emblem embroidered on it and a pair of khaki pants. Standard uniform attire. Izzy glanced around to see to whom he had spoken. Seeing no one nearby, she pointed at herself. “Who, me?”

“Yes, you.” He had the nerve to sound annoyed.

Izzy frowned. Her instructions hadn’t said anything about a boat, had it? “I think you have the wrong—”

“Come! No time for discussion.” He swiftly grabbed her carryon and suitcase. Reaching out, he snagged her elbow in an unbreakable grip and tugged her behind him at a fast clip. The instructions she’d finally managed to put her hands on slipped from her grasp.

“Wait! You’ve made a mistake.”