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She smirked, deciding that she didn’t want him to hear his first name uttered from her lips until he was hers, and Genevieve was becoming increasingly confident that she wanted him. She loved the way he made her feel—alive, cherished, centered, invincible—she could go on and on with the emotions running through her with him by her side. He was unbelievable. Did he have any clue what a catch he was? Why on earth had no other woman gobbled him up? No way that was happening now. She’d take her competition down. But first, she had to free herself of Jed Marshall.
“Not going to call me Brendan? Is there a reason?”
Genevieve ignored his question along with his prodding about whether they could be a couple. She wanted a relationship with him but now wasn’t the time. And just like all her other desires in life, she didn’t want to get too attached to dreams that might not come true—that included potential life partners. She turned her head, staring out the passenger window at the grassy fields as they flew by.
“We’re almost there,” he said, relenting. So sweet. “About ten more miles, and we’ll check into a couple of motel rooms, then convene in one of them to talk. We need to develop a comprehensive plan and iron out the details before we can even consider buying a gas-powered car to drive toward Reno. You can’t give yourself up to Jed Marshall. If he gets control over you, then?—”
“My mother, Mr. King. He has my mother. If I don’t show up in The Outlaw tomorrow by six, then there’s no telling what he’ll do to her. He promised me that he’ll keep her safe, but still…” She shuddered. “I don’t know what he’ll do if he gets desperate for control.”
Mr. King pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose and tightened his grip on the wheel—both actions of which she could now safely say were habitual ticks for her man. Her man. Careful, Gen, don’t get too attached.
“And what?” Mr. King sputtered. “You’re just going to walk in there and let him have you? Then he’s got control over both of you.”
“Let’s talk about this at the motel, please.” Genevieve pressed her fingers into her aching temple. Now that the adrenaline rush was over, she wanted to curl up into her mom’s heap of fluffy throw pillows, but a lumpy motel pillow would have to do for now. “I’m exhausted. Maybe we can even get in a power nap. I barely slept last night.”
“Okay, as long as we talk and think things through before we act.”
She nodded while grinning at his adorableness. He was so thorough in relaying his thoughts about everything, which was probably a good thing. In combination with her boldness, it left little room for misunderstandings.
Quill had returned a call to Mr. King several miles ago and recommended a motel not far from Provo, Utah with a hidden back parking lot. It lined up adjacent to a used car dealership where they could conceal the Tesla next to a countless number of cars and walk across the lot to purchase a new one, killing two birds with one stone. Mr. King and Quill got into a giddy talk about some gas-powered car called a Dodge Challenger Hellcat that was fast but not flashy. They both thought a used car would draw less attention, and she’d listened without intervening because she agreed with them, though she found it curious that never once did the price come up. Why would it, Gen? They’re both millionaires!
Mr. King maneuvered his Tesla off the highway, located the motel, and parked in the back as planned. The rooms entered from the outside, and here in the back, the highway was not visible. Her taut muscles relaxed. Perfect surroundings—easy in, easy out. No fancy valets or people were moving about to care who they were or what they did. A small strip mall with a laundry mat and coffee shop was on one side of the motel, while the huge used car dealership wrapped around the other two non-street sides.
Mr. King scanned the scene, his eyes fixated on the cars in the lot.
Genevieve studied him in captivated amusement. “What’s it like to walk into a dealership and buy whatever car you want without a second thought?”
A blush crept up his cheeks. “Nice, I guess. I like cars.”
Grinning, she rolled her eyes. “Yeah, no kidding. If I didn’t get that from your nutty driving today, the fact that you told me directly made it pretty clear.”
“I realize that.” Looking sheepish, he sighed. “I just don’t know how else to answer your question without sounding vain.”
She giggled, shaking her head.
He glanced at her and hesitated. “Do you feel that you can’t buy what you want on the salary I’ve established?”
“Oh, I didn’t mean that. I haven’t spent half of what I’ve made at BC King Enterprises. I’ve been saving up in case…you know…”—she shrugged—“my mom and I needed to run.” A sick sense of dread filled her stomach. “And then with Jed, it was like anything I bought was his, not mine.”
“That jackass,” she thought she heard Mr. King whisper followed by, “I’m going to kill him.” Only he couldn’t have said that, right? Nice boys didn’t talk like that.
Mr. King slammed his car door and came around to her side, opening it like a true gentleman. “Come on.” He reached out his hand. “Let’s get you a room so you can rest.”
Genevieve slipped her fingers into his palm, and her nerve endings stirred. This man! Why hadn’t she already claimed him? Other than that, he was her boss, and she had a criminal ex-boyfriend chasing after her anyway. She held in a chuckle at the absurdity of it all.
“Oh, wait.” He released her hand. “You need shoes. Is there an extra set in your bag?”
She nodded.
“I can get them.”
“Yeah, probably a good idea. I see some shards of glass on the pavement. If you could just bring me my duffel?”
“Sure.” Mr. King dashed to the trunk, grabbed her black duffel, and darted back to her. “Want help?” he asked, setting the bag on her lap.
Genevieve pulled a slow smile. “No, I’m fine.” After unzipping her bag, she dug around for the sandals she remembered purchasing at a thrift store when she and her mom were short on funds. Her mom! She wanted to reach through a portal, hug her, and assure her everything would be okay. Those creepy thugs better be treating her like the woman of the house, no matter how many feather dusters she whacked them with. Genevieve would annihilate anyone who laid a finger on her.
Mr. King thumbed his jaw. “You don’t think there could be a tracker in there, do you?”
