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Hunter
Three hours into our drive, and I still have no idea what I'm doing. The rational part of my brain screams at me to turn back, to salvage what's left of my career before it's too late. But there's something about Paige—the way she holds herself, the determination in her eyes—that makes me hesitate.
She’s been quiet for the last hour. I can only imagine what she’s thinking. What has to happen to someone to get them to run away from home? I’m not sure I’m buying the husband angle. She’s an adult living in America. No one gets forced to marry anyone. I have never been married, but I’m pretty sure there’s a line in there that asks the bride if she wants to marry the dude. The whole ‘I do’ thing was a pretty clear way out of a marriage. If there was a man holding a gun to her head, the pastor or whatever wasn’t going to pronounce her married.
I feel like I’m missing something. Do I really want to get caught up in this craziness? I don’t think I do. But I can’t seem to demand she let me out so I can call for a ride back to the airport.
She flips on the blinker, and we exit the freeway. "What’s the plan?” I ask with a yawn.
“We need gas.”
“Not what I was asking,” I reply.
We pull into a truck stop outside Kansas City. The parking lot was filled with semitrucks and plenty of cars.
She shuts off the engine and grabs her purse from the backseat. "Where are we going?" I ask, my frustration bubbling to the surface.
But she gives me nothing, her expression guarded. "I can't tell you," she replies, her tone final.
I shake my head in disbelief. "You can't tell me? After I just blew up my life to save you?" I retort, the incredulity evident in my voice.
She sighs, running a hand through her hair in frustration. "Look, I don't know you," she insists, her eyes pleading for understanding. “I don’t want to tell anyone where I’m going.”
“I’ll pump the gas,” I sigh.
“I can do it,” she says defiantly. “I’m not incapable.”
“I never said you were. I’m just trying to be a gentleman.”
“I don’t need you to be a gentleman. I’ve got it.”
“Whatever,” I roll my eyes. “I’m going to the bathroom. And I need some coffee. Can I get you something?”
“Coffee would be great.”
We both pretend like this is all perfectly normal. I go inside, visit the bathroom and then browse for some road snacks. The sub shop in the truck stop looks very appealing and a little healthier than the junk food. I get in line and order us a couple of ham and turkey foot-longs. I have no idea how long we’re going to be on the road for, but I need food.
With my arms loaded with bottles of soda, Gatorade and water along with the cursory bags of chips and candy bars, I make my way to the counter. I glance out the windows facing the gas pumps. Paige is rustling around in the trunk. I watch as she pulls out what appears to be a makeup bag. I can’t help but smile as I watch her primp a little. She’s a very attractive woman. I can kind of understand why her jilted fiancé is chasing after her. I’m not sure I would have gone to such extremes, but I would have fought for her. Hell, I didn’t even know her and I was putting my life on the line for her. When it was my turn to pay, I put my bounty on the counter and had just finished tapping my card when I looked out the window once again. Paige was just putting her stuff in the trunk.
As I’m collecting my bags of goodies, something catches my eye. I look out the window once again. My blood runs cold.
There, parked just a few spaces away, is the same black SUV from the airport. Panic surges through me as I realize we're not out of danger yet. Without a second thought, I leave the bag with the sandwich and rush outside, knocking a woman as I ran.
I don’t have time to apologize.
“Get in the car!” I shout even as I’m running. It feels like I’m on the twenty-yard-line trying to make a touchdown.
“Paige!” shout again.
The SUV is on the move. I don’t know if they even realized we were all at the same place, but they do now.
Paige looks up with confusion. “Get in the car!” I shout.
She quickly registers the urgency in my voice and darts towards the car, her eyes widening in fear as she spots the black SUV accelerating towards her.
With lightning speed, she hops into the driver's seat, starting the engine and pulling away from the gas pumps before I can even reach the car. She whips around, driving straight towards me. I have exactly half a second to reach for the car door. It just so happens to be the backseat. I dive in headfirst, the bag with the soda hitting the opposite door. I barely move my foot out of the way when she accelerates, the force of the propulsion forward slams the door shut. I can hear horns honking and people shouting.
“Go!” I shout at her.
