The girl he’s going to use and throw away so that he can have his retribution for his lost love. Rebecca.
Christ.
The name sits bitter on my tongue. I know I’m stupid. I ran away like a petulant child, all my plans have been half baked and thoughtless enough to land me in more trouble than when I started.
Not that I’m completely without justification. And some of my reasons for running away are sensible.
But the “not planning my escape” out is just plain ridiculous. Didn’t I just make this mistake when I got on that private jet?
Win would never commit such a gross error in judgment. And I hate that he’s my shining example of how to do things right.
Fuck him.
But I pull my thumb in and turn back to face down the road. I’ll walk. And when I hear cars coming, I’ll hide…after this one.
Because hiding from this vehicle is already too late. Too bad I didn’t think this plan through before I stuck my thumb out.
As if to mock me and my bad judgment, the car starts slowing down. I hear the downshift of the engine. Closing my eyes, I draw in a deep breath.
Is it Win? Did he already figure out I’m gone?
“Hey, gorgeous,” a young male voice calls as the window slides down.
I frown, putting on my best glare as I look over at the window to tell him to keep driving. This is the kind of run-of-the-mill trouble I’ve got no patience for.
But it isn’t one guy in the car, it’s four.
And they have the kind of smiles that tell a girl they’re in the mood for trouble.
“Need a ride?” the passenger asks, reaching out the window to touch me.
I slide away. “Nope. I’m good.”
One from the back leans forward, sticking his face out the window. “There’s plenty of room. Hop in.”
“I’m all set, thanks,” I say, starting to walk down the road again. I snake a quick glance over my shoulder, the lights of Win’s manor no longer visible in the distance.
But my attention is quickly pulled back as the car starts rolling down the road next to me as the passenger tries to grab me a second time.
I slap his hand away.
“Oh, she’s a fighter,” the fourth guy in the back seat crows. They all laugh.
I really do know how to take a bad situation and make it worse. “Nope. Not a fighter,” I lie as I keep walking, moving a little closer to the shoulder of the road. “Just minding my own business. You should do the same. Have a nice night now.”
“But we could have a lot of fun together,” the driver says as he slides the car in neutral and revs the engine. “Get in and we’ll take you where you need to go, baby.”
“All the way,” another crows.
“I’ll be a great ride.” A third joins in.
My teeth snap together. With this backpack on, I’m not outrunning them, and I can’t ditch the bag.
I’m screwed. “Look,” I start but that’s when the passenger takes a third swipe and locks a hand around my bicep.
I tug, but he’s got me tight, and he pulls me toward the car. The stench of his beer breath hits me full in the face as my foot nearly slips out from under me.
I swing my other hand, catching his cheek in a smack that rings through the night, the guys in the car howling with an excitement that makes my blood run cold.
