THREE
She didn’t know what time it was. Or what day. She didn’t even know what city they were in as they jogged on the sidewalk along a congested street. Ryan had her hand clamped in his, and Emma struggled to keep up, but she kept glancing over her shoulder to see if anyone was after them.
They reached a strip mall, and he tugged her through a parking lot.
“Ouch!” She stopped and looked down at her foot.
“Shit, where are your shoes?”
She looked at him. Really looked at him for the first time.
He wore jeans and heavy work boots that somehow didn’t slow him down at all. His black T-shirt was plastered to his chest with sweat, but that was his only sign of stress. He wasn’t even breathing heavily.
He took his phone from his pocket and checked the screen, then tucked it away.
“Come on.” He caught her hand and pulled her toward a convenience store. She followed his lead, too shocked and shaken to protest whatever plan this was.
The store was cold inside and smelled like hot dogs, and Emma became acutely aware of her own unique fragrance, a combination of sweat and fear and rotting garbage.
Ryan stopped in the candy aisle and nodded at the restrooms. “Go clean up. I’ll meet you in front, okay?”
She limped down the aisle, looking anxiously around the store as she made her way to the bathrooms. She stood in front of the sink for a ridiculously long time, scrubbing her hands and arms and feet with soap until her skin felt raw. Then she spent a few minutes finger-combing her hair.
Her reflection scared her. Her hair was a wild mane again, like it had been the day Ryan found her in the rain forest. Her white silk blouse was soiled and torn, and she had a smear of red down the side of her Donna Karan skirt. Not blood. Or ketchup. Maybe barbecue sauce? She tried to rub it away but only managed to make the stain worse.
She looked at herself and sighed. At least she was clean. Relatively speaking. Now she needed to go back out there and make Ryan tell her what the hell was going on.
As she walked back through the store, she noticed the stack of newspapers beside the cash register. So they were in Los Angeles. And it was still Monday. Just those two small tidbits of information had a calming effect.
Ryan was waiting on the sidewalk out front beside the ice machine. He looked her over, then held out a plastic bag.
Emma glanced inside. Flip-flops, thank God. The instant she slipped them onto her feet, Ryan pulled her around the side of the building and backed her against the wall.
“What—”
His mouth crushed down on hers, cutting off all words, all thought. There was only him, and his lips and his taste and the perfect feel of his body pinning her. He braced her there, keeping her on her feet even when her legs felt like limp noodles and her head felt so dizzy she didn’t know her own name.
He pulled back, and the intensity in his green eyes sent a shiver through her.
“You scared the shit out of me, you know that?” He cupped his hand around the side of her face. “From now on, we do this my way. I will keep you safe if I have to take a bullet doing it, but no more arguing.”
He kissed her again, and her mind reeled from his words and the emotion flooding through her system. She couldn’t get enough of him. She wanted to let go, to step away, but instead, she kept kissing him and kissing him until all she could feel was his rock-hard body. He tasted so good. He was solid and strong and insistent, and his body formed a protective wall around her, keeping the outside world away as he pulled her into the private depths of his kiss.
A buzzing noise permeated her thoughts. His phone.
“We need to move.” He stepped back and took her hand from where it was curled around his neck.
“Wait.”
“We don’t have much time.”
“Just . . . wait.” She tugged her hand free and gaped at him, still out of breath from his kiss. So many questions tumbled through her head, and she didn’t know where to start. She brushed her hair from her eyes. “Who keeps calling you?”
“Jake. He’s here in LA, and he’s been in touch with the feds.”
“The federal government?”
“The FBI,” he said. “Mays never set up that meeting with you this morning.”
She stared at him, trying to process his words. They didn’t make sense. “Alexa Mays,” she stated.
“That’s right.”
“But . . . she called me. Just last night. She identified herself, and the caller ID said US GOV. I saw it with my own eyes.”
Ryan shook his head. “She denies ever talking to you at all.”
“Then who the hell called me?”
“I don’t know. Maybe it was a hoax, maybe someone trying to lure you someplace so they could grab you or trying to pinpoint your location using your cell and then distract you by calling you.”
“But—”
“Or another possibility? Someone might have been waiting to ambush you at the hotel. Maybe in your room. When you didn’t go inside, they resorted to plan B.”
“How would someone get into my locked hotel room?”
“It’s not that hard. Anyway, a lot of government agencies pop up as US GOV on caller ID, so it wasn’t necessarily the FBI.”
Emma stared at him. Her heart was still pounding from all the exertion, but now her blood turned icy.
Someone from a government agency had called her. Just moments before another someone had tried to run her down in a pickup truck. Or maybe they hadn’t been trying to run her down. Maybe they’d been trying to grab her off the street.
She’d thought she’d spoken to Special Agent Alexa Mays, but that had been an illusion, like everything else.
Ryan stepped toward her. “Emma—”
“Don’t.”
“You’re skittish, I know.”
“Skittish? You don’t know the half of it.”
He looked down at her, his brow furrowed with concern. “Jake can pick us up.”
“Jake’s working with the feds.”
He nodded.
“I don’t trust them. I can’t, Ryan. Until I know what’s going on, I don’t trust anyone.” Her nerves were too raw, and her mind was still reeling. “I need some time to think this through,” she said.
“You want to go off the grid.”
She nodded. He watched her intently, as though he was debating something with himself. Then he took her hand and looked around.
“This way.”
“Where are we going?”
But he didn’t answer as he led her across the parking lot to another strip mall. Daylight was fading, and several of the storefronts glowed with neon signs. She spotted a liquor store, a Korean restaurant, a dry cleaner. A thrift shop was closed up for the day, but all of the other businesses looked open.
Ryan squeezed through a row of cars, tugging on door handles as he went. He glanced at her over his shoulder as he pulled open the door to a battered pickup. The hubcaps were missing, and spots of rust decorated the truck bed.
“Ryan?”
He ignored her as he crouched down and fiddled with the steering column. Emma’s heart raced faster as she watched him. Then he slid behind the wheel as the engine sputtered.
“You’re going to hot-wire a truck?”
“I just did. Get in.”
She stared at him. “We can’t steal a car.”
“Actually, we can.”
“That’s called grand larceny!”
“It’s called basic E and E. Escape and evasion.” He gave her a hard look. “Get in, Emma.”
She glanced up and down the rows of cars and SUVs, then scurried around the back of the pickup. She pulled open the passenger door, and it made a loud squeak that sent a flurry of nerves through her. What the hell was she doing? She’d never stolen so much as a pack of gum. Her heart was pounding even harder than when she’d been kidnapped, even harder than when she’d jumped off that rooftop. “This is bad. We can’t do this. I can’t believe we’re doing this.”
Ryan threw the truck into gear and shot backward out of the space. “You feel guilty?”
“Yes! This is someone’s truck!”
“Yeah? Well, when this is over, you can buy him a new one. Fact, he’ll probably thank you. This thing’s older than I am.”
He swung onto a road and floored the pedal, and Emma got her first good look around the area. Los Angeles. They were in Los Angeles. She scanned the sidewalks but saw no sign of her kidnappers. She looked up and down streets, expecting to see a black SUV speeding after them.
Ryan pulled up to a stoplight and hung a right. She looked at him behind the wheel, all clear-eyed and confident, as though leaping off buildings and hot-wiring trucks were routine activities.
“Where are we going?”
He cut a glance at her. “As far away from here as possible.”