Final Masquerade by Cindy Davis Read Free Book Online

see. Every teen in the metro area wandered the wide center hallways, rarely stepping foot into the stores, with the possible exception of Spencer's Gifts. Girls with Paige and Nina's looks had little trouble attracting boys on the prowl.
    The Heartland parking area reminded Paige of the LAX parking lots, except here the automobiles were replaced by tractor-trailers of every size and description. There were box trailers, flat beds both empty and loaded, even tractors bobtailing their way to points unknown.
    Inside the enormous building, Paige was assaulted by aromas of home cooked food, conjoined conversations, and a true conglomeration of cultures. She knew why Habib had sent her here; it was a place she could get lost, a place where the man from the train, if he were still on her trail and if he thought of a truck stop as an option, would have a devil of a time locating her.
    Several options came to mind. One, she could pretend to be a tired trucker in search of a room and hot shower, spend the night and seek out a ride in the morning. Two, she could avail herself of the facilities, making another modification to her appearance. Three, she could seek out the most harmless looking trucker and ask for a ride. Which raised another problem: since her carefully preordained plans to purchase a plane ticket to Philadelphia and points outside the country had been shot to hell, Paige needed another plan of attack. A trip to the ladies room, and time to change clothes and think, became the first line of business.
    Eyes scanning for her white-haired, white-skinned pursuer, or anyone who may have been sent to replace him, she located the bathroom, whose doorway displayed a picture of a cowgirl with a mustache painted on in black magic marker. Here also, the hum of conversation abounded, eclipsed by the sounds of flushing toilets and roaring hand-drying machines. She waited for a stall to come open, stepped inside, and leaned against the closed door.
* * * *
    Paige reentered the main building wearing the new honey blonde wig, no makeup, newish Wrangler jeans, and a short-sleeved blue and white striped sweater. She carried the black suitcase and multi-pocketed handbag.
    At the bar she ordered a Diet Coke with extra ice and spun the stool around so she could scrutinize the patrons. Most of the tables were full. There was no sign of the albino, and no one else looked the least bit attentive. Many tables had couples seated at them. That would be the safest way to travel, she knew, but there wouldn't be enough room for a third person in the truck. Three tables and two stools held single men. She scanned them, looking for the most respectable, knowing that wasn't a surefire way to tell, but it was the only logical option she could think of.
    Surely the guy in that second booth hunched over what looked like a hunting magazine, was a trucker. His dark hair was clean and neat. When he squinted at the menu above the cooking area she noted he was clean-shaven except for the neatly trimmed handlebar mustache.
    Paige got up and walked slowly past him.
    He looked a little like her first high school boyfriend, Jonathan Sutherland. They both had the same wavy hair and wide shoulders. Jon had the most awesome blue eyes. And, this man's eyes were on her. She felt him watch her pass. Something inside her flickered. For a fleeting second she couldn't place either the sensation or the location. Until she turned and started back. That's when the flicker erupted into a full-blown firecracker—in her groin. That little voice in her head, which she'd ignored all too often lately, said run. Spin on a heel and get the hell out of there.
    He laid down the magazine on the table and nodded hello.
    She nodded back.
    "You look disappointed to see me."
    Paige clenched her thighs tight, trying to stem the swell of hormones pushing into her limbs. Suddenly she couldn't contain a sheepish grin. “I thought you were someone else."
    "Sit down if you want.” He took a long