I nearly choke on my next breath. “Yeah, that’s it. I woke up this morning and thought… you know what sounds fun? Committing a felony for a pretty face.”
She gasps in mock offense. “So you are saying I’m pretty.”
“No. I did not say that.”
“Okay, so is this like a side gig? The hospital doesn’t pay you enough so you kidnap girls on the side?”
Shit.She must have spotted the badge before I hid it. Did she see my name or the hospital name? “I don’t know what you mean.”
“Right. What’s your angle? Just tell me and maybe we can come to a mutual agreement.”
A part of me is tempted.
This all can be over if I just tell her the plan Eli has and why I’m kidnapping her. I mean, logically, that’s the right decision. Tell her to keep the secret, have her pretend like she doesn’t know, and we can end this charade. But logic won’t make for a good story to tell.
11
Charlie
I’m so close to cracking him, I can feel it.
The traffic has opened up completely, and we’re crashing down Main Street at a good pace. I could pull a James Bond move, unlock the car, and roll out. I am contemplating my next move when my bladder is staging a full-blown protest, those two cups of coffee hitting me at full force. Each bump in the road has it screaming at me like an angry toddler denied a toy at Target. If we don’t stop soon, I might end up peeing my pants. How humiliating would that be? Tied up in the back seat of my captor’s car. Wet. And not the fun kind.
“Uh, so,” I shift in the seat, crossing and uncrossing my legs. “Quick question. How… How far are we going?” I can feel the building tingly sensation running up my spine. I’m about to explode.
His eyes flick from the road to me, lifting one brow. “Why?”
“Because I really, really need to use the little girl’s room,” I admit, cheeks heated from my admission. “Like, code red level, we need to pull overright now.” Panic laces my voice.
He must sense my distress, or he’s a really nice captor. Or maybe he just doesn’t want me to get his car dirty. Probably that option. What captor would care about the random girl in his back seat? He starts to signal to turn right at the upcoming street.
A familiar street sign comes into view: Maple Lane. As I expected, we’ve barely made it anywhere. We only made it to the end of Main Street. Maple Lane is the quietest and coziest street in Everly Falls. In contrast to the hustle and bustle of Main Street, Maple Lane is lined with low storefronts and sleepy sidewalks. A few mom-and-pop businesses line the street. Maple Diner is among them, a staple of our little town, and the perfect location to stop.
It istheplace to be after the high school football game wraps up. Dee Dee and Pop, the owners, are basically honorary parents to every one of us. If I can convince him to stop, I know Dee Dee will help me. She’ll take one look at this out-of-towner, give me a wink, andsend me out the back door with her famous peach cobbler while Pop sequesters him and calls the sheriff.
“We need to stop at the first location you see.” Knowing the first business down this street is Maple Diner, there’s no way he can avoid it.
His eyes narrow. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”
“Nope.” I shake my head excessively, hoping he will take pity on me.
“This ship is sinking. The Titanic has hit the iceberg, Captain.”
Groaning under his breath, he mutters something that sounds suspiciously likewhy me?
“Look, there’s a little diner up ahead,” I say, nodding toward the billboard along the side of the road. The weathered sign with chipped paint and a faded red maple leaf barely cling to the wood.Maple Diner. Best peach cobbler in Everly Falls.
The sign’s so worn it’s almost a landmark. All the tourists stop there because they’re told to, every local has a favorite booth with the cracked vinyl, and no one leaves without a serving of Dee Dee’s famous peach cobbler. That cobbler has won more blue ribbons at the annual Farmer’s Market than I can count.
I can sense his glare even if he isn’t looking at me. At this point, I would promise not to ask anyone for help if he agreed to stop right away. I’m hanging on by a thread.Taking advantage of the stoplight, I lean forward and touch his biceps—the touch is light yet electrifying.
“Look,” I start, executing the best puppy dog eyes I have ever performed—like showman worthy, I could win a blue ribbon for these eyes. “I promise to be on my best behavior and not try to escape or ask anyone for help, if we can just stop at the diner for the little girl’s room.”
“Alright, but you need to be quick,” he relents.
“Thank you,” I say, genuinely thankful for him agreeing.
The parking lot is scarce with cars, likely because everyone is gathering on Main Street.Damn it.I know I promised not to run away, but that did not mean I wasn’t going to try to slip the service staff a note. It might be harder to do with fewer patrons to distract him.
