“Good to see you’re feeling better, Miss,” says the doorman as he holds the glass door open for me.

I don’t know how long I was out but it’s already dark outside, I realize with surprise.

This is a seriously swanky hotel. Probably the best in this small town. Marble floor. Designer furniture. A doorman wearing a pressed, wrinkle-free uniform and a pair of white gloves.

I’ve never seen the man in my life, but he seems to recognize me for some reason.

“Thank you,” I say.

Looking around, I can’t see Logan anywhere. But he must still be around here somewhere. I didn’t take that long to get dressed.

“Is anything wrong, miss? Do you want me to call someone for you?” the doorman asks. He’s young—probably in his early twenties—and skinny. His uniform looks at least two sizes too big for him.

He eyes my wet jeans, probably concluding that something has happened to me—or, more accurately, that Logan has done something to me.

“Did you see me when I entered the building?” I ask.

“Yes. You were with the gentleman who has just left.”

“You saw him?”

What kind of a question is that? He’s the doorman. He sees everyone who comes and goes.

“Yes, miss.” He repeats, “Do you want me to call someone for you?”

“No, I’m fine.” I shake my head. Today has been the strangest day of my life, but there’s no need to call the authorities on Logan. All he did was help me. “Did you see where he has gone?”

“Yes. He’s probably in the underground car park right now. If you wait here, maybe I can get him before he exits and tell him you need a ride.” The doorman looks like he’s ready to spring into action.

“There’s no need for that. Could you just help me get a taxi?”

“Of course, miss.”

The doorman keeps glancing back at me as he hits the street to find a cab. It’s not like in the city here, where taxis line up in front of big hotels.

I rummage around in my bag, looking for my wallet. I need to be quick, or else Logan might see me.

As I take out a two-dollar bill, I look up to see a yellow taxi rolling up the driveway.

The doorman runs along the car to open the door for me.

“Thank you,” I tell him as I stand by the taxi and hand him the note. “Do you remember what car he was driving, the man I was with?”

“It was a black sedan. Kind of flashy. A BMW,” he says. He looks straight into my eyes and asks, one more time, “Are you sure you don’t want me to call anyone for you, miss?”

“Yes. Thank you.” I step into the taxi and sit bolt upright on the backseat, glancing behind me to check for Logan’s car.

“Where are we going today, miss?” the taxi driver asks.

“Could we wait here for a moment?” I ask, not taking my eyes off the car park exit. “I want to follow a car that should be coming out of the underground car park any time now. It’s a black BMW.”

“Ooh, exciting,” he says. “I’ll tell you, when I first became a taxi driver, I thought something like this would happen all the time. The movies, you see, they gave me the wrong impression. I’ve been working for five years, and this is my first time tailing another car.”

I let the man talk but don’t respond. I don’t want to miss Logan and lose him forever. There’s no other way for me to find him again, after all.

“So, are we chasing a criminal today?” the driver asks again.

“It’s, uh, my boyfriend. I think he might be cheating on me,” I say, hoping he’ll buy the story I’m coming up with on the spot.

“Oh.” He pauses awkwardly. “I hope he’s not.”

“Thanks.”

For a peaceful minute, the car is silent. The driver doesn’t seem to know what to say to a jilted lover.

My heart races when I spot a black sedan. BMW. And, Logan is behind the wheel.

“That’s the car,” I tell the driver as I point at it. “Follow that car.”

“Yes,” he says simply as he steps on the gas.

As I turn to look forward, I notice all the driver’s hair has turned gray. He’s probably in his sixties. He may have only worked this job for five years, but it seems like he has had plenty of experience driving.

I hope he knows what he’s doing. Still, I remember his comment about never having done this before and I add, “Please leave some distance between us and him.”

“Of course,” he says.

As Logan drives onto the main road, we glide behind him, my heart thumping in my chest as I train my eyes on the back of his car.

I take out my phone and snap a quick picture of Logan’s car. It’s blurry because we’re moving, and small because of the distance, but at least I can make out his license plate.

If we lose him, this picture will be all the clue I have to find him again.

* * *

As the roads get smaller and smaller, I make a mental note in my head to give the taxi driver a big tip.

One good thing that has come out of my lack of social life is, I’ve been able to focus on my career. I’ve had more promotions than many of my older coworkers.

And because I never go out, I’ve saved up more money than I know what to do with. My downtown apartment, which I chose because it’s close to my office, is my only big expense. I live a pretty Spartan lifestyle.

The distance between my taxi and Logan’s car grows as our surroundings grow more deserted. I guess my driver has learned a useful thing or two from TV, after all.

“I think we’re here,” he says.

“Where?” I lean forward in my seat.

There’s nothing around us but dark woods on both sides of the road. Logan’s turning onto a narrow road just big enough for one car, but there are no buildings nearby.

“See that mailbox over there?” the driver asks, pointing one pale, wrinkled hand at a black metal box supported by a wooden pole.

“Yeah.”

“This must be a residence,” he says.

I glance at the meter and hand the man twice the amount of money. That should cover his return trip. He probably won’t pick up any passengers in these back roads.

“Wow. Thank you so much,” he says. “Do you want me to wait here for you in case you want to go back into town right away?”

That’s . . . actually a great idea.

“Yeah,” I say. “Can I get your phone number? I’ll call you in a few minutes to let you know if I’m going back.”

After the driver jots down his number, I take the piece of paper, thank him, and step out of the car.

I inhale the fresh mountain air. As nice as it feels, it doesn’t help slow down my heartbeat.

I walk just a few feet off the path, hiding among the trees, my boots stepping over grasses and leaves crisped by winter.

After about fifty yards, a white building comes into view. Considering how long the driveway is, it’s relatively small. Only two stories, and probably two or three thousand square feet.

In the silence of nature, it’s easy to hear the hum of Logan’s sedan. I stand behind a large tree trunk and watch as the car enters the indoor garage.

This must be Logan’s home.

What do I do now?

* * *

If it weren’t this cold, it would probably take me much longer to decide on a course of action. But with my wet jeans and the cooler air up here in the mountains, I can’t stop shivering or grinding my teeth.

Besides, I feel bad about the taxi driver waiting for me.

So, I emerge from behind the tree and walk up to Logan’s front door. With my heart jumping in my chest, I press the doorbell.

I listen intently as footsteps get nearer. The peephole darkens, which means someone from inside is looking right at me.

Is it Logan? Or, does he live with someone else? A wife, a girlfriend, or a roommate?

The door swings open, fast as lightning. Warm air floods out, making me feel a little better.

“What the fuck are you doing here?” Logan asks.

He’s still wearing the same clothes as before, except without the leather jacket. Underneath, he’s wearing a black sweater that shows off his broad, hard chest. He’s got the sleeves rolled up to his elbows, revealing greenish-black ink all over his forearms.

“You think you can just leave me at the hotel and be done with me? I still have questions I need you to—”

“Oh, for fuck’s sake.” Logan grabs my arm, pulls me inside the house, and shuts the door with a loud bang.

I stumble inside, thankful for the heating but annoyed about the way he’s manhandling me. “What are you—”

“Two things,” Logan says, his sharp eyes boring into mine as he holds his index and middle fingers up. “You’re not leaving, and you’ll do everything I say.”