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I could call him and explain that I've changed my mind.

Except I already know how that conversation will go.

He'll insist I wait for an escort. I'll point out that I'm an adult. He'll call me sweetheart in that infuriating voice of his, and I'll spend another twenty minutes arguing.

No, thank you.

I'll take a cab somewhere public, clear my head, and call him when I've had a chance to breathe.

I check the window again.

Both prospects are occupied.

I slip out when they aren't paying attention.

Fifteen minutes later, I'm standing beside the road, seriously reconsidering my choice of footwear.

Whose idea was it to buy shoes that look perfectly comfortable until you actually walk somewhere?

Oh, right.

Mine.

I check my phone.

The cab is three minutes away.

Good.

I tuck my hair behind my ear and glance back toward the safe house.

I can't see it from here.

Which means the prospects probably can't see me, either.

That should make me feel accomplished.

Instead, I feel a little guilty.

Torch wasn't trying to punish me when he asked me to stay inside.

He was worried.

And after what happened at his cabin, he has every reason to be.

I sigh.

Fine.

I'll send him a message.

Once I'm somewhere safe.

Preferably holding coffee.

A car comes around the bend.

My cab.