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“Is your name Paige?”
She shoots me a dirty look. “Does it matter?”
“Yeah, it matters,” I mutter. “You just put me in the middle of something I want no part of. You’re not leaving without giving me some semblance of an explanation.”
“I don’t owe you anything. Let go of my door or you are going to lose a foot or arm.”
“You’re Paige.”
She glares at me again. “Why don’t you mind your business? This does not concern you. They’re gone and I’m leaving.”
“They wanted to hurt you,” I remind her.”
“No, they aren’t,” she sighs. “They just want to take me back to LA.”
“Why?”
"They'll be back," she warns, her tone grave with foreboding. “You’re keeping me from leaving.”
Somehow, I know she's right. “I’m coming with you.”
“No!”
“Look, I just got a target on my back for helping you out. I don’t know who you’re running from, but you just put me in the middle of that as well. You’ve made me an accomplice. I deserve an answer.”
“I haven’t done anything illegal,” she says. “You’re not an accomplice.”
“I’m coming with you.”
I step away to go get my bag from the sidewalk. I notice a few of the businessmen standing on the sidewalk watching. I stalk towards my bag and pick it up.
“Want us to call the cops?” one of the men asks.
“I’d guess it’s a little late for that,” I reply with a hint of sarcasm.
“Is she okay?”
“Seems to be,” I nod.
I hear a car engine and glance over to see my damsel in distress in the car. She’s backing up, ready to take off and leave me. I should let her go. I don’t need her drama. But dammit, something draws me to her.
I walk towards the car just as she throws it in reverse. “Hey!” I call out.
I walk towards the car. She rolls down the window. “I have to go. They’re going to come back.”
I reach for the door handle on the passenger side. It’s locked. “Open the door, Paige. I can help you.”
She hesitates. I can see her debating what to do. Whatever trouble she’s in has clearly made her untrusting. I can’t say I blame her. Normal people don’t fly out in the middle of the night under assumed names and almost get kidnapped. That stupid innate need to be a hero demands I help her.
“Paige, you’re safe with me. I only want to understand. Maybe I can help. It’s clear you’re in trouble.”
She squeezes her eyes shut before pushing the button to unlock the door. I toss my bag in the backseat and slide into the passenger seat. I’ve barely got the door closed before she hits the gas, throwing my head against the headrest. I reach for the seatbelt, having a feeling I was going to need it.
The tires screech as we peel out of the parking lot, leaving behind the curious onlookers. Paige's face is stoic as she stares resolutely ahead. The white-knuckle grip on the steering wheel tells me she’s terrified.
"Where are we going?" I finally ask, breaking the tense silence.
Paige's grip on the steering wheel tightens. "Anywhere but here," she replies cryptically, her voice barely above a whisper.
