Eric sped toward Shreveport furiously thinking.
She did not want me . . . us . . . to follow her. Without the bond I cannot find her. What if she gets hurt? She attracts trouble like a magnet. How am I supposed to protect her?
Eric slammed the heel of his palm against his steering wheel. The woman was making him crazy again. No one else in his thousand years of existence made him as crazy as Sookie Stackhouse. She was infuriating. Then again, this is what she did when things got complicated. She ran. He should not have been surprised.
Think Northman. Where would she go?
Sookie loved the sun. She would go somewhere warm. Hawaii? Too far. Eric did not think she would leave the continental U.S. Warm. Warm. Where has it been warm? The answer hit him just before Monkhouse Drive, and he crossed two lanes to take the exit that would take him to the airport.
The next flight on Anubis Air was in three hours. Eric was booked in a first class coffin and drinking a True Blood at the bar when Bill walked in. Bill sat next to him, ordered a drink, and put his tickets down on the bar.
Eric did not need to look at them to know they read Shreveport to Los Angeles. He had known Bill would figure it out. He just hoped Bill would be a bit slower.