5
“Excuse me, who are you?”
Andi had become a little immune to the question. A security guard had come by like clockwork, every fifteen minutes, to ask the question with some varying form of politeness and impatience.
Showing her ID and stating that she was waiting for a flight had always proved sufficient.
Too bad it was a total lie. Her itinerary had dead-ended here. After an hour, she still had no idea what to do next, and was well past caring. Standing out in the Nevada sunshine and watching the planes flitting in and out of the Las Vegas airport rated about as constructive as anything else she’d done since being thrown out of the Army.
She eyed the tall, sandy-haired man. His inquiry had landed on the polite side of the spectrum, but it was certainly the kind that fully expected
