“You sure about this?” he asks.
I focus on the way his full lips hide a hint of a smirk. I swallow hard and nod. I’m not sure about anything. This isn’t like me.
He sits down, saturating the passenger seat. I feel immediate regret. It’s a new car, and I didn’t think this through. “Sorry,” he whispers when he realizes I’m staring at the now-soaked seat.
“It’s fine,” I say, as calmly as I can.
He smells like a storm—a wet, polluted smell that fills the small space. He flashes his blue eyes up at me as he buckles his seatbelt and waits for my move. My jaw clenches with tension over what I’ve done. It just feels wrong, and his good looks only make it worse. Why would someone who looks like him be walking along the highway in the middle of a storm? Where the hell did he come from?
“Are we going?” he asks, ripping me out of my panic.
I look around and struggle with the simple motions of putting the car in drive. I can’t even take my foot off the brake. “I really can’t see,” I say. “Can we wait?”
His eyes dart as he looks behind us. “I can drive,” he says, and unbuckles his seatbelt.
I shake my head. Handing control of the car to a stranger is the definition of a bad idea. I’ve already compromised my safety by letting him inside the car, so I’m not about to hand over the damn keys.
He blows a breath and wipes a hand through the wet hair clinging to his forehead. “God, I didnotwant to have to do this.”
My heart races as soon as the words leave his lips. The hairs stand up on my neck. My peripheral vision fades to a white blur as my body panics before my brain knows what the hell is happening. He brushes a hand through his hair, exposing a tattoo of a skull with a bullet hole right beneath his hairline.
Alarm bells explode inside my head.
The man leans over and yanks something from the back of his pants. “Either you drive, or I’ll drive,” he says calmly. Even though I’ve never really seen one this close, there’s no mistaking the ominous weapon in his hand, but he doesn’t aim it at me until I go for the door handle. “Don’t do something stupid, pretty girl.” His voice is soft, almost sensual. He isn’t panicking, but his calm demeanor is making me panic.
I remove my hand from the handle and put it on my lap.
“Now drive.”
ChapterTwo
Lex
The fear on her face makes me feel a moment of guilt about what I’ve done and what I’ll have to do. I hoped to carjack some piece of shit and leave them on the side of the road—probably dead—but no, I ended up in the car with a sweet-faced young girl. It isn’t ideal, but it is what it is. I won’t let her gender affect what I plan to do. It’s all in motion, and there’s no turning back now.
I grip the pistol I stole from a simple B&E on the way here. I had hoped to find some money, but this would do. It’ll get me money, one way or another. An armed robbery would just be another item on my lengthening list of felonies. At this rate, I’ll have a scroll of them come next week, and I have no intention of actively avoiding them. It’s just who I am at this point.
A felon.
Her hands tremble on the steering wheel. There’s a diamond on her left ring finger. I tighten my lips. Married? Fan-fucking-tastic. Part of me hopes I won’t have to make this girl’s husband a widower, but the other part of me doesn’t really care if I do. Everyone is a stepping stone on my path to freedom. I don’t care who it is. I don’t care who this girl or her goddamn husband are, for that matter.
“Where are we going?” she asks. Her voice is so small I almost don’t hear it over the rain.
“Just keep driving south.”
“I can’t.” Her eyes widen and breaths rush from her mouth. The fear on her face doesn’t come from me, which makes no fucking sense. It’s different.
I look at the purple rabbit’s foot hanging from the rearview mirror and chuckle too low for her to hear over the rain. It sure isn’t her lucky day. “You don’t have a choice. What are you so afraid of, rabbit?”
Her eyes leap to mine, and I nod toward her good-luck charm.
“You don’t understand...” She shakes her head as if she doesn’t want to explain herself to the man with a gun on his lap, which is fair.
“Then make me understand!” My raised voice makes her tremble harder, and the car swerves on the road. When she shakes her head again, I lean over and put a hand to her throat. She squeaks as my warm skin wraps around her, but I don’t squeeze. “I’m asking you once more, rabbit. What are you afraid of? Besides me.” She feels so small and vulnerable in my grasp.
Her dark eyes widen, and she lets out a wavering exhale. “He’ll kill me,” she whispers. The words pinch past her lips, as if it hurts her to say them.
My jaw ticks. Who has this girl so damn scared? Who does she fear more than the escaped felon beside her?