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Chapter Three
Marina
“Yeah, Uncle Bradley, I made it to Atlanta just fine, and I checked in at the hotel.” I flop back onto the gold satin bedspread of the too-posh room Bradley arranged, and heave an enormous sigh. “I’ll be scouting the address tonight.”
“Careful, sweetheart, don’t go in too tired. Davies already told me what rough weather you had on the flight from Denver.” His voice is warm and kind, but with a warning in it.
“I’ll get a meal and a nap in first.” And a shower.
The three-hour flight from Denver didn’t bother me much, even with all its turbulence. Atlanta traffic in a suddenly balmy sixty-five degrees, while still half dressed for Colorado winter, was forty-five minutes of stifling stop-and-go hell. My body, used to shivering its way through every walk outside, is
