He was ignored.
“If you could come with me, Mr. Goodman,” said the second uniformed person, a man who was a good eight inches taller than Lyndon, and wide, too. “My colleague will finish unloading your vehicle.”
The man next to Lyndon gripped the cart tightly.
“I can unload my own van, thanks,” said Lyndon, words coming out pissy again. He hadn’t gotten any less tired and didn’t like the way he was being ignored.
One of the fluorescent bulbs flickered over the security staff’s shoulders. Lyndon had the sudden need to not be here. He couldn’t tell if these people were armed, too, from his angle, but he saw the woman following his gaze as he tried to check, so he tore his eyes away. He didn’t want her thinking he was going to try to take her gun if she had one. That’d probably get him sh
