Chapter Three
I WAKE UP TO A TAPPINGat my back window.
My eyes fly open.
Fuck. It’s daytime.
Like, midday daytime.
Fear ricochets through my cramped limbs, jolting me to full alertness, but subsides when I see the figure at my window isn’t wearing deputy shades or LEO khaki.
It is a male person, though. Young, maybe a few years older than I am, with a bearded face full of hard angles and dark penetrating eyes. His hair’s long and swept into a knot, and there’s a scar through his left eyebrow, a streak of white through the otherwise dark hair. I swallow, my tongue suddenly sandpaper. When was the last time I even had water? Doesn’t matter. I’m a young woman alone in the woods in a car with no gas. And a guy who looks like a supermodel face on a prizefighter’s body is tapping at my window.
“Don’t come any closer,” I blurt out. “I have a weapon.”
That’s not entirely true. I maybe have a seatbelt cutter in the glove compartment, but that’s not going to do any damage unless, you know, you’re a seatbelt.
The guy smirks. “Sure you do,” he says.
“I’m serious,” I say. “Don’t hurt me or I’ll fuck you up.” I don’t know where the sudden bravado is coming from, but maybe that’s what happens when you’re literally cornered.
“Don’t waste your energy,” he says. He straightens back up and motions for me to get out of the car. It’s chilly, even now, in what must be mid-morning, but he’s wearing a close-fitting black tank top.
I shake my head. “No thanks.”
I’ll stay in here and, I don’t know, wait for you to go away. Great plan, Maren.
He folds his arms. “Look, I don’t care where you sleep, but you can’t sleep here.”
“Why not?” I ask defiantly. Maybe I can win him over with charm.
“Well, for one thing, because it looks terribly uncomfortable,” a second voice says from the other side of the car. I whip around to my other window and see...oh God.
“It’s you.” Mr. Yankee. The Porsche driver from yesterday at the garage. I blink, as if I can clear this improbable vision away like a bad dream. “What the fuck?”
Mr. Yankee smiles a mouth full of perfect white teeth. “There’s the spark in that greasemonkey I like to see.” He tips his head to the side. “Come on, get out of there.”
“No!” I say, even more defiance creeping into my voice. The familiar prickle of loathing crawls up the back of my neck, yet for some reason, the fact that it’s this guy, someone I’ve seen before, makes me feel weirdly less worried that I’m about to be assaulted or killed—or, worst of all, have the Mustang stolen out from under me. “What is with her?” says the massive guy. Mr. Yankee shrugs.
“Got a fighting spirit. I’ll give her that.” He looks down at me. “Look, greasemonkey,” he begins. “If you’ve been out here all night, you probably need a tall drink of water, a bathroom, and”—he wrinkles his nose mildly—“a toothbrush at the very least.”
“Who’s to say I don’t have all of that here?” I say, realizing only once the words leave my mouth how absurd that sounds. The big guy snorts.
“Do you?”
I flush. “No,” I admit, “I didn’t exactly have time to pack. In case you can’t tell, this wasn’t my first choice of overnight accommodations.”
The bigger guy smiles a crooked smile. “Not too bad a set of wheels, though.” He nods over the roof of the car to Mr. Yankee. “Rob would kill for this in his collection.”
Mr. Yankee rolls his eyes. “Don’t remind me. The last thing we need is a body count for a car.” He shifts his hands to his hips. “Greasemonkey—”
“Maren,” I correct him. “My name is Maren. We met yesterday. Can we at least be civil?”
Mr. Yankee sets his jaw. “Fine, Maren,” he says. The sound of my name on his lips is oddly seductive. “You really mean to tell us that you’re perfectly content to stay out here in this car in the middle of the forest? Because I sincerely doubt that you crashed landed here on purpose, let alone brought anything to eat or drink.”
As if on cue, my stomach rumbles. I wonder if they can hear it through the car windows.
“At least get out of the damn car,” the bigger guy says gruffly. “It’s fucking annoying talking to you through a window.”
I huff. But for some reason, I don’t sense any immediate danger. Not like I did with the guys in the garage last night or the car chase with the Range Rover. These two might be irritating, but something—call it women’s intuition, I don’t know—tells me they’re not going to hurt me.
At least not unless I ask them to.
Where the hell did that thought come from? I shake my head, rake my fingers through my hair, and blow out a final breath.
“Okay, one second.” I fumble around for my dumb phone and flip it open—dead, of course. So there goes that. With no way to call for help, I awkwardly make my way out of the car and onto the forest floor. I hug my arms around me and start to glance from one guy to the next.
“Well,” I say. “Am I bothering you by being here? Is there some reason you need me to get out? And who the hell are you anyway?”
The guys exchange a look, and seem to agree on something between the two of them.
“Will,” says Mr. Yankee, and extends a hand for me to shake. “Will Scarlet. Pleased to meet you.”
I don’t take it. Instead, I just fold my arms and stare him down.
“All right. Will.” I nod, and throw a glance at the other guy. “And you are?”
“Call me LJ,” he says. “No need for a handshake. Unlike city boy here.”
I snort a laugh in spite of myself, and hear Mr. Yankee—sorry, Will—make a slight harrumphing noise.
My mind is whirling, making a thousand calculations a minute. They’re not wrong. I won’t survive out here long without food or water. My microwave Easy Mac was a long time ago. And I do have to pee.
“Scarlet.” LJ grunts for Will’s attention. “Rob’s going to wonder what’s taking so long.”
Will widens his clear blue eyes in exasperation. “Well, blame her,” he says, looking at me.
A plan. A plan. What was my plan? Get up before dawn, but that’s already shot. I shiver as the forest rustles around us, sunlight streaming through the green panes of leaves. Then...I guess walk out of the woods in what I think is the opposite direction of town, hoping I’ll eventually come upon a gas station where nobody pays me any mind, and then...
And then what? Beg off a jerry can of gas and hoof it all the way back here? Maybe snag a cup of coffee while I’m at it?
I rub my temples. This was all so fucking stupid.
“Maren.” Will’s voice is firm. “You can’t stay here, and you know it. The only question is whether you’ll come with us willingly or—”
“Or whether we’ll have to drag you by the hair, kicking and screaming,” LJ finishes. His crooked half-smile flickers back on his face, the only reason I can tell he’s joking.
I think.
I dig my teeth into my lower lip, thinking and trying to stall.
“What about my car?” I nod at the Mustang.
“She’s yours?” LJ asks, a tinge of approval in his voice.
“Of course she’s mine,” I snap. “And you’ll keep your grubby hands off of her if you know what’s good for you.”
LJ raises his eyebrows, then spreads his hands wide. “Take it easy, Princess. I mean her no harm.”
I narrow my eyes at him, feeling slightly ridiculous. “Good.”
“What about your car?” Will asks.
“I can’t just leave her here,” I say, an accidental crack of desperation sneaking into my voice.
“We’ll take care of it.” This, from LJ. Will glares at him.
“We will?”
“Be a goddamn shame to let it rust out here,” LJ says. “So yeah.”
“Fine.” Will sighs. “Can you just come with us now? Please,” he adds. “I’m not exactly fond of doing this white knight thing.”
“So why are you?” I fire back. A tingle of suspicion spreads across my scalp like a warning. “How did you even find me here?”
Will looks at LJ. LJ just shakes his head.
“It’s...a long story.” Will pinches the bridge of his nose. “Call it a professional obligation.”
“What the fuck is that supposed to mean?” I say, looking at LJ for help.
“Not for me to explain,” he says grimly.
There’s a beat of silence. Nothing but the rustling of the woods around us and the distant call of a mourning dove.
Then, to my surprise, Will softens.
“Listen, we’ll explain stuff later. Promise.” He holds up a hand. “Honor among thieves. But for now—”
“Look, Princess, can you just come with us?” LJ says. “I’m fucking starving.”
Shit, so am I.All at once, I’m too tired to resist. Getting out of here, even with these guys, feels like a better option that curling up and dying in my Mustang.
I spin on my heel and look at LJ. “It’s Maren,” I remind him. Then I pause. “You’ll really help me get my car out of here?”
“Already on it.” He whips out a phone and starts texting. I turn to Will.
“And you said something about food?”
Will straightens his arm, shaking what must be an expensive watch down to his wrist. “Breakfast—well, brunch—should be served any minute now.”
Served?Okay, whatever. I can’t tell if he’s being sarcastic, but I decide it doesn’t matter. I’d scarf down a three-day-old gas station taquito right about now.
“Fine,” I say. “Take me with you.”
“Finally.” Will sighs. “Come on, then. The Porsche is parked up on the main road.”
He sets off, with LJ trailing and still texting, and I reluctantly, cautiously, what-the-fuck-am-I-doing-ly, follow.
Twigs and dead leaves crunch and crinkle under my work boots as I walk. The forest seems less deadly and ominous in the daytime, more alive and welcoming. The air is fresh and clear in my lungs—a welcome change from my usual oil and exhaust fumes—and it’s quiet. Not silent, not fully, but not screeching with machinery and the grinding of car parts.
I don’t mind it.
We come to the lip of the road fairly quickly, which I recognize as the place where I skidded off last night. It’s much steeper than I would’ve thought from behind the wheel—honestly, I’m shocked I made it down so smoothly.
I’m about to grumble about climbing up what’s basically a miniature cliff of rocks and mud, but Will and LJ are steps ahead of me. Will crouches and scrambles up to the left, nimbly scaling the rise of ground like it’s an automatic escalator, while LJ grapples with one hand and pulls himself up and over the edge with just the strength of his arms.
I stand, stunned. LJ’s built, so maybe no wonder he had the power to climb up like that, but Will’s easy, fluid climbing takes me by surprise.
“You coming?” LJ calls from up on the road. “Here.”
He extends down a hand, which I take. Will appears to the left and takes my other hand. Their skin on mine is warm, almost hot, and together, they pull me up like I weigh nothing. By the time my boots hit the dirt of the road, my breathing is coming hard.
“All good?” LJ asks. I nod, swallowing. Sure enough, the Porsche is there, waiting for us.
Will jingles his keys. “Let’s go,” he says, sounding just a tad irritated.
“Wait.”
I say it reflexively, not even sure why the word escapes my lips until it does. But both guys stop mid-stride and turn to me.
“Before we go,” I say, “before you take me anywhere, you should probably just know...I’m kind of on the run. From the law,” I add, even though it sounds stupid.
But it is true, technically. If that conservatorship is filed, then I’m legally way out of bounds. And I don’t doubt John already has the sheriff’s guys out looking for me.
Will looks at LJ. LJ smirks at Will.
And both of them laugh.
“What?” I say, folding my arms around my waist defensively. “It’s true.”
“Nothing,” LJ says.
“Just...well, let’s just say we have that in common, greasemonkey.” Will flashes a smile. “Now, would you get in the damn car?”