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Chapter Four

The “I’m a kidnapper” van pulls over about half an hour later and the door is slid open by the driver. I’m dragged through with Dylan right behind me, which is the only plus side to this negative experience. We’re immediately marched toward what looks like the back side of an old brick building. My guess is that it used to be a store or something, but it’s hard to tell in the dark back area. We’re led straight in and over to two chairs they pull out for us.

“Ow,” I cry as my mouth stings from the tape that’d just been ripped off. “Should I be worried that they let us see where we’re going?”

“Possibly,” Dylan says as we’re forced to sit in the chairs.

The guys back up as a man I don’t recognize comes in through the door. “Why are there two of them?” he asks.

“Two showed up. He saw us take the loud one,” Gangsta Weasel says.

The man looks thoroughly peeved about this while also looking like Colonel Sanders. It’s an impressive look. Like oddly menacing. I take one glance at the man and feel confident that he has bodies beneath his rosebushes.

He looks between the two of us before settling on me. He kneels down to get more on my level, and I feel like it’s a power move if I’ve ever seen one. This man isn’t a colonel… he’s a general. General Sanders. “Hello, Reed.”

“I don’t taste good,” I whisper.

“What?” he asks, giving me a confused look. “No… wait… what?”

I continue staring at him as he contemplates this. All the while I can’t help but think that I have literally gotten my date murdered. It’s not so romantic to die together when you’re not Romeo and Juliet.

He seems to recover from the distraction tactic. “Anyway, have you talked to Hailey?”

“Who?”

“Hailey. Don’t play dumb. I know she hired you to get the papers. Now what did she say?”

“Haven’t seen her. I told her to contact me, and she never did.”

“Where are the papers now?”

“I don’t know. I didn’t manage to get them. When I broke into the house, I didn’t know they had this dog and it chased me so I had to flee.”

“It’s like ten pounds,” he says. “And I know you have the papers, I had a guy trailing you. That’s okay. We’ll find them. Your office isn’t too big now, is it? Sweet little restaurant, right?”

Fuck, fuck, fuck.

“I’ll get them to you.”

“That’s nice of you. But I also need you to do something else for me. I have heard how skilled you are at getting things. There’s something I need.”

“I’m not sure I’m your man,” I say.

“I’m pretty sure you are. So let’s see what we can have you do. I’ll get you the information, but first, your buddy will remain here until you retrieve Hailey’s papers for me. If you fuck up or run off, I’ll simply send him down the river.”

“Like on a raft?”

He stares at me and when General Sanders stares at you, you stare back. “Don’t be smart.”

“Got it,” I say.

He exits the room with his bad guy crew, leaving us alone for the first time. I twist my wrist, sliding hard as the plastic tears at my skin, and slip my hand through. With the binds off my wrists, I’m able to finagle the chair enough to get free of the ones on my ankles.

“I’m really sorry about all of this,” I say to Dylan.

“Were you trying to help her?” he asks.

“I thought I was,” I say as I look around for something to break his binds. “She said she couldn’t get away without them. I assumed her father was holding her identification over her head so she couldn’t change her name without the documents or needed them to flee the country. He sounded like a dick, and all I was doing was taking what was rightfully hers.” That’s when I kick something I hadn’t seen on the floor.

It’s a lighter that I grab before hurrying over to him. “Tell me if it gets too hot,” I say as I grab his binds and pull them back enough that I can hopefully weaken the plastic enough to break it.

“Definitely beats my last date, at least,” he says.

“Dear god, what happened on that one?”

“He wanted to go to Walmart… just to walk around.”

“Like to talk?” I ask.

“He just walked… and touched things. Didn’t buy anything. Just touched.”

“God, he was totally going to murder you if he thought he could lift you to hide the body.”

Dylan looks back at me. “Huh. I actually didn’t think of that,” he says as he twists his arms.

“Am I hurting you?”

“No, I think if a couple of them snapped, I could break the rest.”

“I bet you could snap a man in half,” I whisper.

“I’d prefer not to.”

“Understandable. Murder would definitely put a damper on this date,” I say as I hear the plastic break. Then he kicks his legs, snapping the binds around his legs as he stands up.

I grin up at him. “Now, I don’t mean to brag, but I am phenomenal about escaping places. This one time I escaped from under the bed of my best friend’s dad. Don’t look at me like that, it wasn’t dirty. I was just stealing his dad’s gun because I thought I would look extremely suave strutting down the street packing heat.”

“Wow, that’s so much better than what I originally thought you might be doing,” he says while nodding.

And though I can clearly hear the sarcasm, I nod too. “Right?”

“Please tell me you didn’t get away with it.”

“No, I totally did. Nearly shot myself in the foot and never picked the gun up again. But boy did I look suave for that one total minute before I nearly shot myself. How was I supposed to know he left the safety off?”

“I’m honestly amazed you’re still alive,” he says, looking more concerned than amused like he should be.

“Aren’t we all?” I reach the only door out and look over at him. “I don’t suppose you know how to like John Wick your way out of here?”

“I quit being in law enforcement because I had a really hard time arresting people or being tough with them, and because of my size, everyone wanted me to be the one to go handle disputes and shit I just couldn’t deal with.”

God, why is that adorable? Is it because he looks like he could snap a grown man like a toothpick? Has to be.

“No John Wicking needed,” I say as I listen for a moment before pulling the door open. Way at the far end of the hallway, I can see someone standing in a doorway, but their back is to me. They seem preoccupied and honestly, the longer we wait, the less chance we’ll have to get through this, so I slip out in the hallway and start tiptoeing my way down it.

Dylan is not very good at tiptoeing, but he keeps up and lets me take the lead, which I enjoy. I’m not used to working together, but it’s kind of nice sneaking through a bad guy’s lair with a buddy at my back.

The next room appears dark and empty, so I slip inside and quietly close the door after us. I reach the window and slide it open a moment before Dylan takes my wrist.

“I’m not going to fit through a window.”

Realization hits me hard as I turn to look at the man who would probably be better off going through the wall than the window with his impressive stature and six-foot-five height.

“What if I shove you?” I ask.

“I appreciate the effort but I’m not going to fit. They will bust in here and I’ll be stuck halfway through it with my ass on display while they force you to do whatever they want you to do.”

“Shit. Okay. New plan?—”

There’s a commotion in the hallway. Likely an “Our two sexy and wonderful prisoners have escaped” style commotion.

I glance longingly out the window where there’s a pretty red sports car just aching to be stolen. My fingers twitch at the thought but alas…

Quickly, I point to the supply closet. “Get in there.”

“Don’t you think they’ll look in there?”

“I’m going to make it so they don’t,” I say as I pop out the window screen and drop it in the rocks along the side of the building.

When I turn to a desk near the window, I find him watching me, and I realize he thinks I might run without him. “I’m not leaving you. Wait, before you hide, I actually need your help.” Snatching up a stapler, I place it in his hand. “I need you… god, this hurts my soul, but I need you to put the stapler through that beauty’s window to set off the car’s alarm so they think we’re outside.”

“Okay,” he says as he winds his arm back and chucks the stapler with enough force that he could have taken down every single one of the bad guys if they were lined up for him. It’s almost impressive enough that I don’t cringe when it hits Beaut’s window. The poor thing cries in pain while Dylan looks unaffected by it. I leave the window open as the car alarm blares and shove him into the supply closet at the far end of the room that’s already taken up by boxes and filing cabinets. It’s such a tight fit that my face is smashed against his shoulder and my limbs are kind of hovering around him as I try to think of the least awkward place for them to go.

I mean, I’m definitely not going to complain about our close proximity, and when he sees that I don’t really have any place for my body parts, he wraps an arm around me and pulls me in close to him.

God, he smells good.

I feel like I kind of melt into him a little, which isn’t hard when there’s really nowhere else to go. His hand tightens on my back as we stand quietly for a moment.

Dylan cocks his head as his strong arm holds me close. “I hear voices, but they’re definitely outside. That was a good idea,” he says, and I feel far too pleased by his compliment of petty crime doing.

“Thanks. I couldn’t have done it without you.” Not only is my ability to throw absolute shit, wounding such a beauty was too painful. I can still hear its cries.

His body tenses, and the moment I hear footsteps I understand why.

“Fuckers appear to have taken off on foot unless they hopped a ride somewhere else,” Weasel says.

“That’s alright. We just need the papers; we’ll go grab them and call it a day. I don’t think we really even need him. Hell, maybe you can use your zombie apocalypse skills to do it,” Bob says, sounding pleased with her jab.

“Fuck you,” Weasel yells as I hear his voice grow more distant, telling me they didn’t even bother looking the room over. I’d been prepared to whip out my bargaining skills if they had.

The moment it grows quiet again, I push the door open and usher Dylan out. This time, we have no issue reaching the front door because everyone is too busy looking for us elsewhere. They’d have been smart to have left at least one person to look out for us, but I’m starting to think this organization doesn’t run on smarts.

Once out in the dark night, I take a quick right-hand turn.

“What are you doing?” Dylan asks.

“We need to get back quickly so they don’t steal those papers,” I say, like it isn’t obvious. At least I think it is. Maybe someone who was raised with a normal mother and father wouldn’t immediately decide that hijacking a car was the way to go. But I’m determined that at this point, I’ll at least make the date a night he’ll remember.

“ Orrrrr … hear me out, we could call the police,” he says as I find an unlocked car that I slip into. And while he fully knows he could turn around and head off in the opposite direction while I’m simply “borrowing a vehicle,” he doesn’t and climbs right in.

“Okay, while that sounds like a wonderful idea,” I start as I find a pocketknife on the floor, open it and use it to remove the panel, “My job revolves around helping people who really need it. People who the police haven’t been able to help or refuse to help. Just yesterday, I had a woman who is married to a very prominent man in this area need help to get out of the relationship. Her shit is in my office. If they found it, I’m afraid it’d get back to her husband. I have to protect them too, you know? The ones who maybe don’t have the cleanest record but are still good people.”

“Alright,” he says as I twist the two cut wires together and press the bare ignition wire against them. The car starts up with ease and we’re off.

“I feel like I shouldn’t be impressed by how fast you are at that,” Dylan comments.

I beam at him, pleased at the compliment. “I don’t go around stealing cars anymore . That was an old me thing.” And now I feel like he’s going to question why he’s on a date with a car thief. “My stepdad taught me how to do it. He had a mechanic shop and would have me get the cars. He wasn’t a very good man and between the fear of getting caught and the fear of him, I always chose the cars.”

Dylan reaches out, sets a hand on my leg and squeezes it gently. “I’m really sorry you went through that. Why didn’t you tell me when I caught you? I could have helped you.”

Startled by how genuine his words are, I glance away from the road to look at him. I feel almost at a loss for words, nearly flustered by his reaction. I haven’t had too many people in my life show concern for me or what was happening when I was younger. Yet he does, even though he barely knows me?

I glance down at the hand on my leg again and almost reach down to take it, but I feel like that’d be showing him my insecurities or something ridiculous. And what happened isn’t a big deal. “Nah, I was too busy asking if you were a stripper cop instead,” I say. I know I’m throwing the joke out because I don’t know how to handle the kindness he’s showing me. It’s something Ann has told me time and time again that I need to get a handle on before I scare off a man who likes me. She actually said it more like “If you ever find a guy that’s honestly interested in you, you better not laugh off everything serious they say or you’ll be a decrepit virgin.” I had to assure her that I was indeed not a virgin, but she said with my lack of relationship skills, I might as well be one. I told her she was going to make me cry and she told me that she feasts on tears, so overall I felt like it was a solid heart-to-heart.

“You did, didn’t you?” he asks with a grin. “I forgot about that. You’re lucky the owner didn’t press charges against you.”

“Yeah, he said he wouldn’t if I told him the name of the person who hired me. I tossed that guy under the bus so hard after I found out how much the item was worth. He was going to pay me a hundred dollars. One hundred .”

“Yes, and as you were walking out after everything finally got settled, you set your sights right on me, hurried over and asked for my number,” he says. “The guys teased me about it for days.”

That makes me laugh harder. “God, I was charismatic as a teen.”

“Were you? You walked away empty-handed,” he reminds me as we zoom down the street.

“That’s true. I still thought I was amazing,” I say as I head toward Ann’s restaurant, glad it’ll be closed at this time of night, and she’ll be safely at home. Even so, I keep up a pretty good speed—but not enough to catch the eye of the police—to try and get there before too much damage is done. I can already envision the look I’ll get when I tell her what happened.

“I saw you again when you were what? Twenty?”

“I think I was nineteen. That time it wasn’t my fault. I was with some guys who ended up in this turf war and it was just bad timing. The police took me in, but they had nothing on me and let me go. I am rather skilled at the art of bullshitting. It’s actually why, on paper, it seems like I’m really smart.”

“Yeah? I think you’re smart off paper too,” Dylan says. “But I also think that maybe you’re not as sly as you think you are because every time I see you up to something, you seem to have a grin on your face.”

“No, no, you see, that’s not a grin, that’s a friendly look of confidence. Trust me. It puts others at ease.”

“Uh-huh.” He seems oddly suspicious about this.

“Hey, did you not just willingly hop in the vehicle with me? I could totally be playing you.”

Dylan watches me for a moment and I glance away from the stoplight to see, but he doesn’t look too concerned. “Are you playing me?”

“I want to play with you, but I’m not playing you unless you’re into that kind of thing.”

“I think you’re right, I have absolutely no idea why I’m still in this vehicle right now. Huh. You are good,” he jokes.

I beam at him. “Thank you. You should see what I can do on a normal date.”

“Yeah, I’m not sure if I’m excited or scared.”

“Just like you should be,” I tease.

“We’re almost there, and I feel like we haven’t discussed the plan at all .”

“‘P-Plan’? Can I have it in a sentence? How do you spell that?” I ask.

“So this business you have… you do it all without plans?” Dylan asks, sounding genuinely curious. Like he’s asking what kind of meals I enjoy and not realizing I’m leading him off on a dangerous unplanned adventure.

“Umm. Well, I do some planning. I research when they’re going to be away from home. And then I just wing it. I am both the luckiest and unluckiest man at the same time. It’s pure art.”

He nods slowly and actually looks impressed, which I’ll take. I’ll take anything at this point since I’m just thrilled he’s not running away. Is it too early to ask about a second date? It’s far too early and any sane man would say no.

I glance over at him, and instead of giving me a look that says something like “What the fuck am I doing in the car with you?” he gives me a reassuring smile.

God, he’s handsome and so damn sweet. I never would have guessed how sweet he was from looking at him, which honestly is why I never in my wildest dreams would have thought the sweet guy I’d been messaging was Dylan.

“Can I possibly take you on a real date after this? Or if you never want anything to do with me again, I could just send you apology chocolates or something,” I say.

“That’d be nice.”

“Which one?”

“Oh…” He laughs and I realize how much I like the sound of it. It makes me want to make him laugh more and more. “Well, right now the first one, but the evening’s not over with yet and I do like chocolate.”

“That’s true. There’s still plenty of chances for someone to lock us in a freezer together or something where you’ll just be forced to go on another date with me.”

“Date with death. Sounds lovely,” Dylan says, making me grin.

“Okay. I didn’t mean that.”