8 Bodies is Enough(10)

“Laptops, shoes and jackets in a bin,” a TSA guard announced to the crowd. “Belts, too, and empty your pockets.”

Wes gingerly removed the jacket, wondering if everyone—including Coop, who was right in front of him removing belt, hat, and shoes—could hear the crackle of paper. He folded the heavy, inflexible jacket and put it in the gray bin, then untied and slipped off his tennis shoes and set them on top. After he emptied his pockets of coins and keys, he waited, feeling vulnerable and guilty standing in his sock feet.

Now he couldn’t even run if he needed to.

The line moved quickly and as Coop walked into the body scanner, it was Wes’s turn to put his bin and backpack on the conveyor belt.

Even without the jacket, Wes was sweating profusely. He watched his bin go into the luggage scanner, then he stepped into the body scanner and assumed the jumping jack position. He was waved through the scanner. He stepped to the other side and exhaled when he saw his bin come out of the luggage scanner.

Then the conveyor belt stopped and went in reverse, sucking the bin holding his jacket and shoes back inside.

Wes swallowed hard. He calmed himself by reasoning the TSA couldn’t confiscate the money—he had a right to have it in his possession. But at this point, trying to explain it to Coop and Jack would be the pisser.

Ahead of him, the two men were putting their belts and shoes back on. Coop looked up and nodded at Wes. Wes nodded back.

His heart was thumping like a bass speaker. He glanced at the agent standing nearby and tried to act casual—and innocent. “Hey,” he offered with a little smile.

But the agent remained stony faced.

At the luggage scanner, the agent had waved over two helpers to look at something on the screen. They looked up and one of the agents walked toward him. “Sir, are these your items?”

Shit. “Yeah.”

“Do you mind if we take a closer look?”

He debated saying no—he could do that, couldn’t he? But probably not without causing a national incident.

“No problem,” he said, but his voice came out sounding like he was going through puberty.

The agent grabbed his backpack in one hand and his bin in the other and walked to a table. Coop and Jack had noticed the commotion and were watching—and waiting. Coop narrowed his eyes at Wes. Wes returned a watery smile.

The agent unzipped his backpack and rummaged through it. Wes got a new panic attack wondering if in addition to the cash he was smuggling through, was it possible he’d left something illegal in his backpack? Considering the collections visits he’d made with Mouse, he might’ve overlooked a shank or a knife blade or a lock pick kit or an ice pick or brass knuckles or…

His stomach bottomed out. What if Chance had put pills or weed in his bag?

He clawed at his itchy, sweaty neck. Coop and Jack knew something was amiss, and were making their way back to him.

Just as the agent found something.

Shit, shit, shit.

The man pulled his hand out of the backpack and held up his contraband.

A can of deodorant body spray.

“Sir, you’re not supposed to have aerosol cans in your carry-on. If you want to keep this, you’ll have to check your bag.”

Wes had to catch himself to keep from falling on the floor in relief. “Nah, you can keep it.”

The agent tossed the can into a receptacle full of odd and sundry items, then handed the backpack and the bin to Wes. “Have a good flight, sir.”

“Thanks.” He carried his stuff to a nearby bench to re-dress, breathing deeply to help the adrenaline subside.

“Everything okay?” Coop asked.

“You seemed worried back there,” Jack added suspiciously.

“Yeah, I was worried,” Wes said. “Now I’m going to stink.”

“What else is new?” Coop said.

“Nice hat,” Wes jabbed back.

Coop touched the brim, unfazed. “Thanks.”

“Let’s go,” Jack said. “The plane boards in ten minutes.”

Wes laced up his shoes and shrugged into the money-jacket, then grabbed his backpack and jogged after the men. They took the indoor shuttle to their concourse and made it to the gate at the end of boarding. Wes didn’t see Chance and hoped his buddy was already seated on the plane. But when he boarded and slowly made his way to his assigned seat, the one next to his was empty.

Wes sagged. With twenty-five grand to bet, Vegas would be fun, but it would be more fun with Chance along. But Chance was so head over heels for Hannah, he probably couldn’t stand the thought of leaving her for few days.

He couldn’t be angry. If Meg would give him the time of day, he might not have come either.

He pulled out his phone and texted Chance. Dude where RU Plane is leaving