Page 21 of Freshmeet
“Not at all.”
“Thanks.” He drove past the fast-food places that lined the main street through Kirksville. “There are some napkins in the glove box if you want to dry your face.”
Touching my cheek, I laughed. “I must look like a drowned rat.”
“Nah.” He flashed me a smile. “You’re gorgeous.”
Yeah, okay, buddy.
I tried the latch on the glove compartment, but it didn’t budge. “I think it’s stuck.”
“Sometimes, you have to—” He slammed his fist into the plastic, and it fell open. “Use a little force.”
The light in the well-organized glove box made it easy to find a stack of brown paper napkins, as well as a very sharp, very scary hunting knife.
My hands shook as I took the napkins out.
Play it cool. It’s probably nothing. Lots of people have knives.
Dad was a hunter, so I’d been around guns and knives my whole life, but this was different. I mean, it felt like he wanted me to see the knife. Considering how wet I was, that stack of cheap napkins wasn’t going to help. No, it was some kind of threat.
I’ll get out at the gas station and use their phone. Just got to hold on for another couple of minutes.
“Thanks,” I mumbled, dabbing my forehead as I watched for the familiar yellow sign. As soon as the gas station came into view, my stomach twisted.
So close.
“Rain’s letting up,” he said, and I nearly jumped out of my skin. We stopped at a red light, and he flipped the wipers off. “Just a little pop-up storm. Hopefully, it helps break this heat.”
I hummed, counting the seconds until the light turned green. Wrapping my fingers around the handle, I was ready to get out there. Better to be the weird girl who overreacted than dead. Just as I pulled the handle, he hit the gas.
It only took a matter of seconds for every ounce of hope in me to evaporate.
“Aren’t you getting gas?” I asked as he flew past two gas stations.
“Eventually.” His easy smile twisted into something more sinister. The dashboard lights cast an eerie glow on his face as we got further from town.
Swallowing, I blinked back tears. “Where are we going?”
“The new hotel. I want to see how far along they are.”
I nodded, looking out the window.
Will I survive if I jump out here?
“I wouldn’t do that,” he said calmly.
“Huh?”
“I wouldn’t try to run.”
I shook my head, pressing my back to the door. “I wasn’t?—”
“Stop.” He slowed, turning into a pitch-black parking lot lined with trailers marked “McCormick Construction.” Parking behind the heavy equipment, he sighed. “I want you to get out and put your hands on top of the car.”
I eyed him, in no hurry to give him my back.
He let out a humorless laugh and reached for the glove compartment.
