I backed the car out of the stall and pointed it toward the dealership’s exit. “Buckle up,” I warned over my right shoulder.

“I always do.” She snapped her belt into place and looked up. “There. I’m good to go.”

Her voice was soft, yet exuded confidence. I glanced in her direction. The seat belt’s shoulder strap was nestled between her perfectly sculpted breasts. Her auburn hair was shorter than the last time I’d seen her, but still long enough to drape onto her shoulders.

Her thin – but curvaceous – frame was shoehorned into a black pencil skirt. The accompanying wine-colored top she wore was revealing, yet concealed enough to tickle the mind’s eye.

She always looked as if she’d just completed a workout. The tawny light-brown tone of her skin seemed to have a tinge of pink beneath it. Not typical of Southern California’s beach dwelling youth, but it gave perfect contrast to her full red lips.

I tore my eyes from her, eased out of the parking lot, and came to a stop at the traffic signal where the on-ramp led to the highway. I stole a quick look and noticed she was relaxed in her seat, casually gazing at a lanky teen who skateboarded along the sidewalk across the street. Without warning, I shifted my eyes to the road ahead, and stomped the gas pedal to the floor.

The 600-horsepower twin-turbo engine whistled a shrill shriek and the car launched from the stop as if it had been shot from a cannon.

The car blasted up the highway like a rocket. When the tachometer reached 6,000 rpm, I flipped the gear shift paddle with my index finger. Through a series of relays and hydraulic servos, the simple touch of the steering wheel mounted lever caused the computer to depress the clutch, shift into the next gear, and release the clutch. The process – at least in the BMW M5 – took all of seven thousandths of a second.

When the transmission shifted, the car’s rear tires screeched, and the engine’s torque made controlling the vehicle a heart-pounding white-knuckled experience. As the distance between us and the car ahead vanished, Jess’ eyes shot wide.

She pawed for the dash. “You might want to slow down a little.”

I flipped the paddle shifter again. Despite the seventy mile an hour speed, the rear tires broke loose. The car’s rear end slid to the right six inches.

She sucked a quick breath. “Jesus.”

I flipped the paddle shifter again, this time at one hundred and eight miles an hour. The mere ten seconds it took me to get to that speed was exactly what drew me to the inconspicuous sedan with supercar power.

“Mister Devoe,” Jess pleaded, her tone expressing equal parts fear and excitement.

“Mr. Devoe’s an old prick. I prefer Vince.” I veered to the left, flew past a Toyota, and then swerved right just in time to narrowly miss a truck. After shifting gears once more, our speed was just shy of one hundred and fifty. Pleased that the car would suit my needs, I lifted my foot from the accelerator pedal.

As the car decelerated, Jess let out a breath and then glanced at me. “Well, Vince. That was…interesting.”

“These cars aren’t made to get groceries,” I said. “They’re a driver’s car.”

“I’ve been on my share of test drives, and I’ve never experienced anything quite like that,” she said with a light laugh. “I felt like we were in the Indy 500.”

“I need a car that performs. Regardless of what the manufacturer’s claims are, I need to find out for myself.” I changed lanes, hoping to make the next exit. “It’s exactly what I need. Fast, smooth, and luxurious. I’ll take it.”

She let out a breath and then brushed the wrinkles from her blouse. “The M5’s performance is second to none,” she said in a confident tone. “I was sure you’d buy it if you drove it.”

Time sensitive departures were often needed throughout the course of my work day. It was equally important that I couldn’t be identified through a license plate check. Although stealing a car was often done in movies, in real life key fobs were electronically linked to the car’s computers. In short, hotwiring German and Italian supercars was a thing of the past. Fitting my personal car with a stolen license plate allowed me to perform my duties without exposing my true identity.

I managed to make the exit without causing an accident. As I came to a stop at the first light beyond the off-ramp, I looked at the SUV parked in front of me in awe.

A flat black Range Rover with tinted windows and blacked out emblems wasn’t an oddity in Southern California. One with New Jersey plates, however, was an uncommon sight. My eyes shifted from the traffic light to the SUV and back while I drummed my fingers against the steering wheel in anticipation.

“You can make a U-turn at the light and get back on the freeway,” she said.

“I’m going up a block or two before I turn around,” I said through clenched teeth.

“Okay.”

When the light changed, I edged my way into the left lane. I didn’t have to go any further to see that it was Marty. The dent that I’d kicked in his driver’s door was still right where my foot had left it.

There’s no way.

I clenched the steering wheel until my knuckles went white.

I was thirty miles from home, in a city that I didn’t normally frequent. Marty was more than a hundred miles from where he last lived. In the twenty-four months that I’d spent trying to find him, I was advised he’d not only left the state, but the entire country.

I gawked at the SUV in sheer disbelief. Obviously, my information regarding his whereabouts was inaccurate. I changed to the far-left lane and began to follow him.

I gestured toward the back seat. “Would you mind handing me my bag?”

“You uhhm. Do you need it now? While you’re driving?”

The reality of our chance encounter started to gnaw at me. I glared at the SUV. “Yes,” I said under my breath.

As the four lanes of vehicles slowed to a stop at the next signal, she unbuckled her seatbelt and grabbed the leather bag. After placing it on the console between us, she reached for her seat belt.

The thought of trusting someone made me feel uncomfortable, but my choices were few. I either had to take my chances with Jess or potentially lose Marty forever.

“Leave it unbuckled,” I said flatly. “You’re going to be driving in a minute.”

“What?” She shot me a look. “Why?”

“There’s a guy in front of us that I’ve been trying to find for a long time. I’m not going to go into detail about it, but if I don’t seize this opportunity, I may never have this chance again. I’ve got to talk to him before he gets away, so I need you to drive this car.” I gestured toward the SUV. “I’ll be in that black Range Rover ahead of us. Just follow me.”

Her face contorted. “You’re going to get in with him?”

“Something like that.”

“What’s going on?” she asked with an unsteady voice. “Can’t you just honk at him and get him to pull over?”

I shot her a quick glare. “I’m getting in the Range Rover.”

“I guess I’ll uhhm...” She let out a sigh. “I’ll follow you.”

I slid the satchel into my lap, opened it, and counted sixteen bundles of one-hundred-dollar bills. With six of them pinched between my thumb and forefinger, I extended my hand.

“Take this.”

She looked at the money and then at me. “Oh my God,” she gasped. “What are you--”

I dropped the money into her lap and then handed her the remaining ten bundles, five at a time.

She returned a petrified look. “Wait…what am I going to do with…”

“That’s one hundred and sixty thousand bucks. One forty-one for the car, and nineteen for following me…” I met her wide-eyed gaze. “And for keeping your mouth shut.”

There was no doubt in my mind that this would be my only chance to resolve what I should have done two years prior. Despite being in the presence of a woman I wasn’t certain I could trust, I lifted bag’s strap over my shoulder and reached for the door handle.

“Are you ready?” I asked.

“I guess so.” Without argument, she pushed the money off her lap and onto the floorboard. As she lifted her left leg over the console, she met my gaze with curious eyes. “Everything’s okay, though? Right?”

“It will be in a few minutes.” I gave her one last look. “Can I trust you?”

With one of her silky-smooth legs resting on her seat and the other draped over the console, she looked me in the eyes and gave a sharp nod. “You can.”

With those two spoken words, I opened the door and stepped into the street.