Page 11 of Runaway Hearts: Seduced by Danger

I’m in trouble...

His features are captivating, and I wonder if the rest of him is as stunning as those eyes. I shake my head and let out a small giggle.

I need to focus on driving and not indulge in inappropriate thoughts about his manhood. He stares at me with an unreadable expression, his lips moving as if saying something.

Shit, I missed the start of his sentence.

“What are you giggling about?” he repeats.

Oops.

“I just thought of something funny,” I try.

I’ve never had someone being attentive to me before, and I’m unsure if I like it.

“I’d give a lot to know what you were...” he starts, but a patrol car diverts his attention to the side of the road. “Pay attention to the police.”

I have no reason to be nervous about the police because I drive like an old lady. However, my passenger’s behavior becomes peculiar as he slumps in his seat, staring at his feet.

Is he trying to hide from the cops? Is he a criminal on the run?

Oh, my god.

I’m an accomplice in helping a wanted criminal escape the law!

Cool! No, Marianne. Not cool.

Despite myself, I find this fact extremely interesting.

As if we’re going to fall in love and have a glamorous life on the run, drinking tequila in Barbados. News flash: nothing exciting ever happens to ordinary girls. The police will find us, and instead of an epic boat escape, sharks will devour us as we fall into the open sea. The end. Cue the dramatic music.

Bah, no one likes cops anyway.

Time runs as the landscape rushes past the window, and I gradually start to sing again. The vibrations of the bass resonate through my body. A musical massage is anchoring me in lethargic tranquility. The presence of the hitchhiker is more soothing than intimidating. Like I found a hidden oasis in the desert of my chaotic thoughts. I no longer need to overthink.

“Do you plan to stop at some point, or are you doing the trip nonstop?” the hitchhiker asks.

He’s making jokes now. Hilarious. Taking my silence as a refusal, he explains.

“I have to use the restroom.”

“Oh no, I just realized I forgot to bring a second pee bottle. You’ll have to tie a knot in the hose to make it work. Do you need any help with that?”

What the fuck?! Lord, did I say that out loud?

The man freezes and grins. “It’s been a long time since someone spoke to me this way. You’re fun.”

I can’t help the silly smile spreading across my face. He likes me.

Chapter 3

Pitstop Pain

After three hours on the road, we finally made a pit stop in an old gas station.

“At last!” he blurts, getting out of the car.

Then, I noticed something I shouldn’t have. My hitchhiker stands with a slight groan, hand pressed against his right side. I get a fast glimpse at a red spot on his T-shirt, and as he stands, he reveals the inside of his jacket. There it is—a shiny gun sitting in his pocket. My paranoid thoughts aren’t so paranoid after all.

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