His bullshit meter pinged again. For a split second, he was tempted to pull to the side of the road, take her face in his hands, look closely at her eyes to see if the telltale clear rims of contacts were visible. He didn’t. Just as it was inappropriate to have lascivious thoughts toward his employee, it was equally against his moral code of ethics to manhandle one. He nodded his acknowledgment, as if he believed her, and kept driving. Turned right onto the 101 East ramp, merged onto the 101 South, stayed left to pick up the 135 East, and still neither of them uttered a word. Unspoken thoughts were thick in the air. Who the hell is she and what is she hiding? Doesn’t have a bank account. Needs to be paid in cash. Something’s fishy about her car, and I’m pretty sure she’s lying about the contacts. The question is why? Is she in trouble? Does she need help? Help. He snorted. Right. Like you’re so good at that. He had to make a conscious effort to loosen his grip on the steering wheel. Her private life is none of your business. You’re getting obsessed, man. You’ve got to let it go. It wasn’t until he had taken the Pass Avenue exit and pulled up next to a cop car that he glanced over and noticed she had unbuckled and slid her body down so it wasn’t visible from the outside that the ping became loud alarm bells clanging in his head.

23

Instead of turning left into the Warner’s lot, Mick swung his vehicle onto a side street. Snagged a parking spot halfway up the block. Rachel had returned to her seat and was playing it cool, as if she hadn’t just been plastered against the floor of his car. Didn’t matter. Enough was enough. Mick parked, switched off his engine, then turned to face her.

Rachel avoided his eyes. She made a show of glancing out the window at the small dusty houses on the residential street, then twisted to peer at the shabby strip mall they had just passed. “Oh,” she said brightly, reaching for the door handle. “We’re here. Funny, it doesn’t look at all like what I pictured . . .” He hit the lock button. Her voice petered out.

“I need answers.”

She stilled. Her head tipped downward as if the weight of it had suddenly become too heavy for her neck to bear. Her eyes closed almost as if she were praying. He could hear her breathing go shallow and shaky.

“I’m not an idiot, Rach. You gonna tell me what’s going on?”

No answer.

“All right. Let’s start with something simple. What’s your real name, and who are you running from?”