A fast slant her way showed that Jacqueline had lifted her chin.
“It’s why I got away from him and why I’m with you now,” she continued as a determined edge entered her husky voice.
He hated to shatter her illusions but… “Yeah, sweetness, for all you know, I could be a serial killer. One who has lured you into my ride. I could have fixed the locks so you can’t get out, and now that you’re trapped, I’ll take you away to my home in the woods where you will never, ever be seen again.”
Silence. The kind of stark, uncomfortable silence that told Remy he’d probably just scared his runaway bride nearly to death.
“I think I’d like to be let out,” she stated, her voice incredibly polite. She also reached for the door. Grabbed the handle and yanked—
He laughed again. Shit. He probably shouldn’t have laughed but… “I wouldn’t tell you my plans in advance. That would make me a shitty killer.”
“Oh, God.Are you a killer?”
Remy didn’t plan to touch that one. “Not tonight, I’m not. Tonight, I’m playing the role of the hero. Uh, want to do me a favor and shut the door?” He could see the headlight from the motorcycle up ahead. It barreled straight toward them.
“Tell me you aren’t going to kill me.”
“I am not going to kill you.” An easy enough statement to give. But he couldn’t resist adding, “I only kill pretty would-be brides on Tuesdays, and, as you clearly know, today is—”
“Don’t.”
Okay. He should stop playing with her. “My name is Remy,” he told her, tone deepening because there had been real fear shaking in her words. “I have no intention of hurting you. I actually have a younger sister, and if she showed up in the middle of the night, desperate and afraid, in a rundown bar, I would want someone to help her.” Absolute truth. “You are safe with me.” He had no intention of hurting the woman beside him.
Jacqueline shut the door.
“And, sweetness, if you don’t mind, how about you put the screwdriver that you are clutching in your left hand—how about you put itbackin the glove compartment? Don’t want to be worrying that you’re going to stab me with it while I’m driving.”
Her hand moved, sliding from beneath the loose fabric of her dress. “How did you know I had it?”
A simple enough deduction. “Because you don’t trust me. Smart not to since we just met. And it made sense that you’d want a weapon in case you needed to defend yourself. I knew the screwdriver was in the glove box, you had access to it…” He let his words trail off. “It would have been my move, too.”
She hadn’t put up the screwdriver.
He considered the matter as the motorcycle’s headlight kept barreling closer. “You know what? If it makes you feel better, keep it.”
“It does make me feel better.”
The motorcycle light seemed brighter.
“Just promise not to stab me with it,” Remy added as his eyes narrowed against the approaching glare.
“I promise.” Soft.
“Good.” But even if she tried to come at him, Remy had no doubt that he could disarm her. Not that he’d share that bit of info with her. If the screwdriver made her feel better, he’d let her have that moment of peace. “I’m thinking you should slide into the floorboard, at least until we pass our friend.”
She unhooked the seatbelt and slid down with a whisper of her dress.
The motorcycle roared toward him and—
The sonofabitch driving it suddenly turned his bike into the middle of the road. DroveintoRemy’s path and braked with a squeal of his tires.
Remy had three choices.
He could drive around the dumbass, but that would just make the guy follow him.
He could hit the dumbass, but then there would be blood. And death. And he was trying to avoid that lifestyle. The whole murder scene really wasn’t his gig.
Or three, he could stop.