Page 5 of Billionaire’s Cruelty

He shrugged. “I just know. Their uniforms look wrong.”

He went on and explained—something about the color being off, the stitching, the badges in the wrong places. I nodded along, but my mind drifted. If that woman at airport wasn’t actually airport security… then who the hell was she? And was she after me or Dave?

“You okay?” His voice softened, and for the first time, he actually sounded concerned.

“I’m fine, thanks. Where are we, anyway?”

We’d been on the road for two hours, but nothing outside looked familiar.

“Took a detour. We’ll stop in ten. I know a place.” His tone was casual. A little too casual. The unfamiliar roads outside the windows sent bad thoughts through my mind and a chill down my spine. Maybe I’d listened to too many true-crime podcasts, but something about this felt… off.

Ten minutes later, we pulled into a diner in the middle of nowhere. Wendy’s Home Cooking. I made a mental note. Easy enough to remember—since I had a friend called Wendy.

“I’m hungry. Are you hungry? Do you need something to eat?” he asked as he killed the engine.

“I don’t have any money on me.” I admitted, “but I swear—you’ll get paid when we get to Myrtle Beach. My brother will cover it, I promise.”

“Relax. I know the owner of this place. Order whatever you want—I’ll be there in a sec.”

He got out of the car, and I followed. He popped open the trunk and pulled out a screwdriver.

“What are you doing?”

“Changing the plates. We’re on the run, right? Can’t have anyone tracking us halfway to Myrtle Beach.”

I stood there, watching him swap the plates like it was the most normal thing in the world.

“Do you do this all the time?” I asked. “How many other plates do you have back there? Who are you really?”

He chuckled under his breath. “Calm down, princess.”

Princess.

My stomach dropped. Was it just a fluke? Or did he know who I really was?

I bent down, snatching a crowbar from the trunk, and swung it behind my head.

“Who the fuck are you?”

He raised his hands, palms out. “Easy. Let’s go inside—I’ll explain, okay?”

“No. You’re going to explain right now, and don’t think I’m afraid of a little blood.”

That was a lie. I hated blood—hated the sight, the smell, everything about it. But I wasn’t about to let him know that. And I’d discovered it too late to back out of medical school.

His face softened. “I’m a friend. Okay? That really rich friend of yours—she hired me to follow you.”

“Kai? You know where he is?”

“Huh? No, it’s a woman—Rocks, I think.”

Roxie. That was Chloe’s stripper name. She’d gone back to being Chloe, but I guess she still used the old name when it suited her.

“Prove it.” It didn’t hurt to be a little careful at this point. “Prove to me that you know her.”

“We need to go in the diner. Come on. Her real name is Chloe. She’s married to Lincoln. ”

“I’m not convinced.” I raised the crowbar higher.