Page 12 of Mayhem and Minnie

But as my mind races to figure out how to get myself out of this mess, the girl finally finds her voice.

3

“Uhm, where are we going?” she asks in a small, soft voice.

I stare at her.

Her accent is odd. Not local. A little affectated.

“Where do you think we’re going?”

She swallows.

“I don’t know. Are you going to do something to me?” Instinctively, she shrinks against her seat, putting distance between us.

“No,” I grind out. “I will not do anything to you.”

Her eyes widen. She looks at me as if she couldn’t believe such a thing.

“Where’s your home? I’ll take you there.”

She blinks. Biting her lower lip, she seems deep in thought. Meanwhile, the minutes go by and I’m wasting more time.

Goddamn it! Why did I do this to myself?

Instead of minding my own business, driving home and getting there in a timely fashion to watch my show, I’m now left babysitting this girl.

I scowl at the thought. Then I scowl at myself.

I’ve never had an altruistic bone in my body. So what the hell was I thinking tonight? My own behavior puzzles me, which in turn fuels my annoyance until I’m tapping my foot so aggressively against the car floor that I might break a hole through it.

“Sir?”

I snap my gaze to her.

Did she say anything? Doesn’t matter.

“Your home. Where is it?” I repeat.

She wets her lips. Her big eyes are watching me warily.

“Are you sure you don’t want to do anything to me?”

“Damn sure.” I roll my eyes. “Sorry, kiddo, but underage girls don’t do it for me.”

“I’m not underage,” she mumbles under her breath.

I raise a brow.

“I’m twenty-five.”

Surprise flickers across my features, and I let my gaze roam over her.

She doesn’t look it.

She’s so small and frail, especially with my coat swallowing her up. Her face is devoid of makeup, her lashes long and incredibly dark. She has an innocent look about her. I suppose the more I look at her, I can see that she’s not that young.

It’s her eyes.

---