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He laughs, the sound sharp and without humor. "Laws? You think Ivan Volkov cares about laws? The men who attacked you weren't coming to give you a parking ticket."
"So what, you're rescuing me?" I glare at him. "Then take me to the police, not... wherever we're going."
"The police can't protect you from Ivan. I can."
I fall silent, my mind racing with too many thoughts to form coherent words. The headache pulses behind my eyes as I try to make sense of everything. This man—Noah Rivera—seems to know about Ivan, about the danger I'm in. But that doesn't explain why he's taken me.
I study his profile as he drives. Strong jaw, intense eyes focused on the road, hands gripping the wheel with casual confidence. Even in this terrifying situation, I can't help noticing how attractive he is—all sharp angles and controlled power. The same intensity I noticed when he watched me perform.
My gaze traces the lines of a tattoo peeking from beneath his sleeve, dark swirling ink against olive skin. His knuckles are bruised—from fighting off those men who attacked me.
He turns suddenly, catching me staring. Our eyes lock for a brief moment before he returns his attention to the road.
Heat rises to my cheeks—partly embarrassment at being caught, partly anger at myself. What is wrong with me? I'm being kidnapped and I'm noticing his good looks?
"Where are you taking me?" I ask, my voice steadier than I feel. "What do you want from me?"
"Somewhere safe," he answers, maddeningly vague. "That's all you need to know right now."
"That's all I need to know?" I repeat, indignation flaring. "You break into my building, knock me unconscious?—"
"I didn't knock you out. That was Ivan's men."
"—steal my car with me in it, drive me to God knows where, and 'that's all I need to know'?" My voice rises with each worduntil I'm practically shouting. "I have a life! I have a sister who will worry! I have concerts scheduled! You can't just—just—take me!"
Noah remains frustratingly calm in the face of my outburst. "You don't need to care about any of that right now."
"Don't need to care?" I slam my palm against the seat back. "It's MY LIFE! You don't get to decide what I care about!"
He doesn't flinch at my shouting, doesn't even seem bothered. His calm only infuriates me more.
"Tell me where we're going right now or I swear I'll?—"
"You'll what?" He glances at me, one eyebrow raised. "Jump out of a moving car? Scream for help on an empty highway? Attack me while I'm driving and risk killing us both?"
His logic makes me want to scream even more but I press my lips together, refusing to give him the satisfaction.
The car slows suddenly and I look up to see headlights up ahead—another vehicle parked on what appears to be a deserted service road. A man leans against it, arms crossed, waiting.
Noah pulls alongside and cuts the engine. In the sudden silence my heartbeat sounds deafening in my ears.
"What's happening?" I ask, though I already suspect the answer.
"We're switching cars." Noah unbuckles his seatbelt.
"Switching cars," I repeat flatly. The absurdity of this situation suddenly strikes me and a bubble of hysterical laughter escapes my lips.
Noah turns to me, his expression hardening. "What's funny?"
I can't stop the laughter now. It pours out of me, high and unnatural, bordering on hysteria. "You're insane. You're actually insane if you think I'm getting out of my car and into that one."
"Evelyn—"
"No." I shake my head, laughter fading as quickly as it came. "I'm not doing this. I'm not going anywhere with you."
Noah moves so fast I barely register it. Suddenly he's between the front seats and in my space, hands gripping the headrests. His face hovers inches from mine, so close I can feel his breath on my skin.
"Listen to me," he says, voice dropping to a dangerous whisper. "This isn't a fucking shopping therapy session or a goddamn social call. You think this is a game? Those men back there weren't trying to rob you. They were going to take you to Ivan, and you'd be fucking lucky if you ended up dead after what he'd do to you."