TWENTY-EIGHT
As soon as they got back to the hotel, Roxie raced up the stairs to hunt for her credit card. If she’d known international calls were on the agenda, she wouldn’t have hammered it so hard at the boutiques.
Tugging her big purse from a shelf in the closet, she dumped it on the floor and began pulling things out.
“Babe, Tibbs’s on his way.”
“My phone won’t be charged,” she said, yanking out her makeup and sunglasses. “It’s never charged.”
Which never bothered her until she really needed it for something. Like right then.
“Use the hotel line.”
“I will,” she mumbled. “I need my credit card.”
“Babe.”
Her wallet was lost in the abyss. It had to be in there. Hadn’t she just used it? Damnit. Weeks had gone by since she’d carried her big purse. Now a bottomless pit where she to
