Wrong Place, Right Time(122)

“You work with her. Don’t pretend like you don’t know her. And she’s never here. I’ve waited before. I’ve only seen her one time, and she pulled inside that place. It’s locked up like a goddamned fortress. I figure with you here, she’ll have to come out and deal with me. Face up to what she has coming.”

“Listen, I know of her. But I do I know her? No. She’s not a very open person, in case you didn’t already know that. She keeps to herself. She doesn’t share personal details.” My voice rises with my frustration. “I have no idea where she lives, I have no idea what days she comes to work, and I have no idea what her hours are!”

“You expect me to believe you work with her and you don’t know anything about her schedule?”

I shrug. “Believe it or not, I don’t care. It’s the truth.” I gesture out the front window. “Do you see anybody here? You see me opening the big door? No, you don’t. Because I don’t have the combination to their front door. I am not an employee of this place.”

I don’t know where I’m getting this stuff. I’m just letting it flow. I’m praying the universe is in charge and my guardian angel has the wheel, because if it’s only me driving this bus, I’m in trouble. Big trouble. This man is losing his patience with me.

He punches my dashboard to emphasize his point. “What are you doing here if you’re not an employee? I’ve seen your car here before, you know. You’re lying, that’s what you’re doing.”

I take an extra-deep breath to try to cool myself down. I can’t afford to piss this guy off any more than I already have. “I’m not lying. I was just doing a little freelancing for them, that’s it. But you know what? After this bullshit, I’m not doing it anymore. It’s not worth it. I’m so tired of being falsely imprisoned . . .”

“You ain’t falsely imprisoned here.”

I look at him, wanting so badly to slap him. “Oh really? What do you call this?” I gesture around us. “Do I want to be here? No! Do I have a sign on my forehead that says Kidnap me? I don’t think so. Why does this keep happening? What does all this say about me?”

He shrugs, confused. “I don’t know. That you’re in the wrong place at the right time?”

I slap the steering wheel, glaring at him and the evil force that seems to delight in allowing me to feel joy for approximately twenty-four hours before ripping it away from me. “Exactly. Wrong place, right time.” I pause, thinking about that for a moment. “Or maybe it’s the wrong place at the wrong time.”

He jabs the gun in my direction. “As far as I’m concerned, it’s the right time. Call Toni. Tell her to come outside or to get her ass over here. Tell her you have something important you have to show her right away. Don’t tell her it’s me, though, or you’ll be sorry.” He pokes me in the shoulder with the gun.

“Call her? With what?” Thank goodness I shoved my phone in my back pocket when I left the house. I look around the car and act stupid.

“On your cell phone.” His eyes scan the interior of the vehicle, and he notices my purse on the backseat. He reaches around to grab it, dumping its contents into his lap. “It’s got to be in here somewhere.”

My eyes land on the can of pepper spray sitting on his leg. If I could just distract him with something . . .

He picks up the can of pepper spray and turns it over, reading the label. He snorts. “Guess you won’t be needing this.” He pushes the window button down and tosses the can outside into the parking lot. He looks up at me. “You really don’t have a phone?”

“I think I said that already.” I look out the window so he won’t be able to see my eyes as I craft the story I hope will get me out of this mess. “I have problems with my text messages. The autocorrect kills me. Turns all my sentences into cuss words. So it’s in the shop. They’re fixing it.” Yeah. The autocorrect anti-cussword task force tech support team is on it. Hopefully he’s dumb enough to believe my story. If I get locked in my trunk or kept prisoner somewhere, like always happens in the movies, I’ll be able to call for help. Dev would be so proud.

He laughs. “Good. That’ll make this easier.” He turns around. “Drive.”

My heart stops beating in my chest for several painful seconds. I gulp in some air, trying to force my system to reboot. How does my not having a phone make his plan easier? I’m supposed to drive? Am I going to die? Is he going to force me to chauffeur myself to a remote body-dumping location? This seems incredibly unfair, especially considering the fact that I just discovered the best sex of my life. I can’t let my sex life end here!