Chapter 3

Hannah 

We exit the bar and I take the lead, saying,

“It’s just on the road, down this way.”

I’m self-conscious in my short black dress, and my wild, tangled hair that’s been blowing in the wind for hours, and the car only completes the look. When we get there, Luke whistles.

“Is this a 911 Carrera?” he asks, and I want to shrug. How the fuck should I know what it is? But it’s a good sign he knows about cars, I figure, and I just nod.

Sure, mister. It’s whatever you want it to be.

He walks around it, inspecting it closely, and I start to get nervous. Even though I know there’s no reason Dane would know I’m here, I feel too vulnerable on the side of the road. My eyes keep flicking up, checking the horizon to see if any cars are coming.

Luke opens the hood and scans the equipment.

“Smells like burning in here,” he observes.

“Not a good sign.”

While he’s looking at it, the dark-haired bartender with the tattooed throat comes down the side of the road to join us.

“What’s the problem?” he asks Luke, who shrugs.

“Looks like the engine burnt out.”

“Oh, shit.”

They both look under the hood, talking amongst themselves and poking things here and there, while I continue to nervously scan the horizon.

“Did you get a warning that the engine was overheating?” Luke asks me.

“Nope. It just… happened.”

He sighs heavily, like it’s pretty serious, and says,

“Well, we can call you a tow truck, but it’s gonna cost a lot to get the car towed to Riverdown, it’s a good way away.”

“Fuck,” I curse under my breath.

I’m wondering if there’s any chance I can afford to tow it and repair it, when it occurs to me that I can’t take it to a mechanic. Dane will report the car as stolen, no doubt. Which, technically, I guess it is. But I’m sure they’ll run the VIN or something at the shop.

I don’t know why I didn’t think of this before, but now I feel more fucked than ever. I should’ve left on foot. This car is just a beacon, waiting to draw Dane to me.

“If you want,” Luke continues, and nods to his dark-haired friend, “Micah has a tow hitch on his truck. We can tow it for you and drop you off there at the same time.”

“Uh, that’s really nice,” I say, my mind racing.

“To be honest, though, uh… I think I need to, uh… make other arrangements. I just realized, I can’t take it to a mechanic’s.”

“Why not?” asks Luke, looking genuinely confused, but beside him, Micah gets a very shrewd look in his eye.

“It’s nothing,” I tried.

“I think… I just want to get rid of the car anyway.”

“You want to get rid of a brand new Porsche 911 Carrera Cabriolet?” Micah slaps Luke’s arm with the back of one tattooed hand.

“She fucking stole it, brother,” he says. He’s smirking.

“No, I didn’t!” Denial is the first reaction I have.

“It’s… it was… my boyfriend’s. My ex- boyfriend’s. It’s not theft. I needed it.”

Micah grins like this is funny, and my heart beats rapidly in my chest. I don’t know how to get out of this situation except to maybe come clean and ask for their help. Finally Luke speaks.

“You stole this car from your boyfriend?”

“I borrowed it,” I lied.“I… needed it.”

“Where are you headed to in this stolen car, love?” asks Micah, looking amused. He’s astute, and it’s making me uncomfortable, like he already knows too much.

“I don’t know,” I answered truthfully, my shoulders slumping.

“Anywhere. Anywhere else.”

They both nod then, looking thoughtful, and Micah’s smile fades. They’re not judging me, I realize. They’re taking what I say seriously.

Luke and Micah exchange a look, and then Luke says, "We can tow the car to our place, if you want. Our dad’s pretty good with cars. If nothing else, you can hide it there for now.” 

‘Our’ dad? They look nothing alike.

“Really?” I realize I’m agreeing to go home with these two strange men, but I have zero options at the moment. I can’t leave the car sitting on the side of the road, and I can’t get it anywhere on my own, either.

Besides, I tell myself, if I could get away from Dane I’m pretty sure I can get away from anybody else if I needed to.

“That would be great.” My mother is rolling over in her grave right now, watching me throw everything she taught me out the window.

They nod and Micah walks back to get his truck.

“You got someone you need to call?” asks Luke.

Not for the first time since I left Dane’s house, I think of my aunt, but then I shake my head.

“Okay,” is all he says.

A minute later, the big pickup truck from the parking lot backs down the driveway and Micah maneuvers it up to the front of the Porsche. He pulls a hydraulic lift out of the truck bed, and the two men set about hooking the Porsche up to his truck.

“You’re awfully prepared for this,” I say, eyeing the hitch lift suspiciously. I realize I’m in the country, but who's prepared for spontaneous car towing?

“Not our first car theft,” replies Micah with a wink, and I startle with surprise.

It occurs to me that they might be stealing the car right in front of me, which would actually solve all of my problems, except that my suitcase containing all my worldly belongings, including my money and my I.D., is in the trunk of the Porsche.

“Can I just grab my bag out of the back?” I ask, trying to sound casual.

“Relax,” says Mr. Observant Micah.

“We're not stealing it. You can get your bag when we arrive.”

He climbs up into the driver’s seat, and Luke extends a large, tanned hand to help me up onto the high step on the passenger side. I have a brief moment of hesitation before I climb in. This is all obviously crazy… but I don’t see what choice I have to do anything differently.

Luke gets in beside me and Micah peels off the gravel. I look back through the small rear window to see the little red Porsche rolling effortlessly behind us.

Although the truck is wide, there’s a console dividing the bench and I’m basically sharing a seat with Luke, my bare thigh pressed up against his jean-clad one, and his left arm slung along the back of the seat behind me to help him keep his balance. 

I can smell the soap on his skin as well as a faint smell of motor oil from his hands, and my God, do I ever want to lean back and rest my head on the broad, thick muscles of his chest I can see so clearly under his shirt. Almost as if he can read my thoughts, he looks down at me and winks, and I feel my cheeks flush hotly.

“So, you guys own that bar or something?” I ask, to make conversation.

“Uh-huh,” Micah answers with a nod, keeping his eyes on the road.

“Shouldn’t one of you stay there? What if you get a customer?” I can’t help but notice the straight, perfect lines of his profile as I look at him.

“We’re closed, darlin’. The night staff doesn’t arrive till five.”

“Oh.” I feel embarrassed for a moment, suddenly conscious of my manners.

“The door was open when I…” I leave the sentence hanging.

“Luke’s not good at locking the door behind him. But I’m glad we were there to help you.”

Casting a glance back through the rear window to the little car spinning its wheels behind us, I think, luck is right. I was probably an hour away from pushing the car into a field and covering it with branches. Now we’re both on the move, the car and I—hopefully to somewhere safe.

“How far away do you guys live?” I ask. 

I don’t really care, the farther the better, but the warm, masculine smell of the blond hardbody I’m leaning against is making me feel dopey, and I need to make conversation to stay alert.

“Oh, it’s a while yet,” Luke answers, his dark eyes dropping to my mouth for a moment as he looks at me, making my heart race in response.

“We're pretty remote.”

“Perfect,” I mutter.

The truck bounces down the road, still not another car in sight, field after field whipping by out the windows.