“And you kissed me back.” He shrugs before he turns and walks off.

“I did not kiss you,” I hiss at his back, then panic when he walks to my car and squats down so he can reach under the bumper. “What are you doing?’

“Hold on.” He moves his hand around then holds it out to me a couple of seconds later, and I see that he has a small, round, metal device in his palm that’s about the size of a quarter.

“What is that?”

“Tracker.” He drops it on the ground between us then crushes it with his scuffed up black boot.

“A tracker?” I shake my head. “Why is there a tracker on my car?”

“Pretty girl, young, nice body.” His eyes wander over me slowly. “They could get a few grand for you a night or sell you off at auction to the highest bidder.”

“What?” I breathe, sure that I heard him wrong.

“There’s fucked up people in this world, babe, and a lot of them would do just about anything to make a buck. Good news is I’ve been watching them and caught them watching you.”

“Auction me to the highest bidder?”

“Like I said, there’s some fucked up people in the world.” He moves his gaze to my car. “I’ll follow you back to your place and make sure you’re locked in for the night.”

Absolutely not. “I don’t think so.” I take a step back from him then swing my purse around and drop my eyes to it and dig out my cell from the bottom along with my car keys.

“When they realize they don’t have a signal to the tracker they’re gonna come back, and could just follow you.”

“Or this could be some weird set up and you’re in on it.” I narrow my eyes on his. “You playing the savior, trying to make me comfortable, only to turn around and do what you said they were going to.”

His expression darkens and he takes a step toward me. “Do not put me in the same box as those motherfuckers.”

“I don’t know you.” I hold my ground, refusing to cower, even though it’s difficult when faced with all his scariness up close. After a long stare-down, I drop my eyes to my cell, find my dad’s number and press call. It rings once and my body relaxes when he picks up.

“Hey kid what’s up?”

“Are you in Nashville?”

“Yep, are you okay?”

“I’m not sure,” I mumble, then explain to him what happened with the guys and the tracker.

“I’ll be there in five. Go wait in the store until you see me pull up.”

“Okay.”

“Love you.”

“Love you, too. See you soon.” I hang up and spin on my heel and head across the lot.

“When is your man gonna be here?” Mr. Scary-guy asks, stepping in sync with me.

“My dad will be here in five minutes.” I peek over at him, and he grunts something under his breath. “You don’t need to wait with me.”