The song stretched on. Her fear had begun to subside, slightly, just enough that she could wrap her mind around what she needed to do next.

There wasn’t much Eve still needed in the Toyota. Two bags - one for her tools, the other, her clothes. A third with some of the more valuable spell materials. Everything else could be replaced. She dragged them out, plastic rustling, leaving the remainder sitting in the trunk. Then she eyed the talismans. There were so many.

Why had she put so many of the blasted things on the car? She should have just thrown the lump of junk in the scrapyard at the first sign of engine failure.

Eve began with the most useful ones. First the four talismans that kept the wheels inflated. Then the one that kept the carburetor running. Then the one that kept the shell together. A clamoring sigh rose up above the music as the car sank down on its haunches, utterly useless.

“You,” came a hostile voice, and anger sprang up inside of her again. One of the more heavy-set men - his burly, tear-stained face looming over her - slammed her back against the Yaris doors. The breath fled from her lungs. A punch landed on her stomach. Eve cried out anxiously, knowing that her control of the spell had faltered further at the pain when the other three attackers began to stir.

Then the immense weight of the man was yanked sideways by the collar. Samir pulled back with casual, confident strength, and slugged the man across the face.

“Get back in the car,” Eve managed to say, voice high and panicked, stooping to grab the bags. Samir ignored her. Practiced, elegant movements, too smooth for how tall the man was. Two more hits across the face. One in the stomach - with more force than before. A sweep along the back of the knee, and the other man was on the floor. The blows continued without reprieve. “Samir,” she said, flinching at a sound that was unmistakably something breaking. “Let’s go.”

Samir paused long enough to spit on the crumpled body, looking all at once just as calm and collected as before. Eve supposed it was somewhat cathartic to beat the shit out of someone that had wanted to kill you. His hands weren’t even bruised as he took from Eve the bags she was holding and slunk back to the other car.

He was oddly quiet as she climbed in next to him. The final notes of the classical piece faded behind her as Eve shut the door.

“Box much?” Eve asked, craning her neck, peeling back out onto the road, much faster than before.

“Some,” Samir nodded.

Behind them, the Toyota’s headlight winked out for the final time and concealed the scene they’d left behind in total darkness.

-

She turned into some scrappy looking town once the storm caught up to them and it had begun to rain in earnest. Water sloshed over the roof of the car in thick rivulets that threatened to overwhelm the windshield wipers, and Eve took a moment to feel grateful they weren’t in her old, beaten hunk of a vehicle. A gas station loomed ahead of them, red and orange amidst the dark.

“Pull over.”

“What?” The sudden words had startled her, and she shot Samir a quick glance. He hadn’t so much as turned to look in her direction for hours now.

“Pull over,” Samir growled, and Eve made a soft affronted nose but did as he asked.

“I think a thank you is in order.”

Samir shifted, turning to her with his palm out and his lips parted as though to retort, but after a moment, he only pressed his mouth together and sighed. “Phone.”

“What?”

“You have a phone, I assume? I need to make a few calls.” Eve gawked at him. Shameless. Still, she could only sigh, slapping the device - a plastic, sliding model - into his waiting hand, where it looked comically small.

“What century do you live in?” Samir muttered, staring at it with some disdain.

“It’s a burner,” Eve replied dryly. He only shot her a strange look, and climbed out of the car, phone already pressed against one ear. The door slammed shut behind him and the rain drowned out the rest.

Careful bastard.

She took this pause to study him.

He’d turned away from her, as though he’d somehow known she’d be able to read his lips, and the lines of his posture revealed nothing. Both feet planted firmly on the ground, Eve could only barely see the sharp line of his jaw shifting in conversation. The make of his suit, now that she could see it in proper lighting, was expensive. A pair of black leather gloves hung from one pant pocket. His loafers: Ferragamo. A proper rich boy.

As though he’d sensed her eyes on him - something that shouldn’t be remotely possible, the windows were tinted - Samir turned back. His head tipped, long strands of hair sliding elegantly along his forehead, and a smooth, easy sort of smirk flashed over his lips.

It was gone so fast, Eve wondered if she’d imagined it.

He hung up.

Then he began to dial again.

Eve grew bored, allowing her eyes to flutter shut slowly.

She woke with a startle, but the hands on her were gentle, cushioning her head where she’d nearly collided with the side of the car.

“Sorry,” Samir said, and he was more muted somehow than he had been earlier, the harsh edges of frustration faded beneath a veil of fine control. “Didn’t mean to wake you. Just wanted to move you over.”

“Move me?” Eve straightened, blinking the haze of sleep from her eyes with little success. “No need. Get in.” She wiped surreptitiously at her chin. 

“I’m driving,” Samir snapped, and it was gruff and low. He met her eyes with stubborness, gray tinting yellow beneath the rising sun.

“Do you even know where we’re going?”

“No,” Samir glanced at her. “But I assumed that neither did you.” Their stare-off continued for one breath, another, and then he sighed, fingers curling and voice laced with light impatience. “Come on. You’re exhausted Eve, and so am I. But at this rate both of us will fall asleep at the wheel. And while you’ve been awfully polite about the way I’m sure I currently smell, I, for one, would love to take a hot shower.”

A shower. That did sound nice.

Eve smiled. “If you insist,” she chirped, feeling bolstered suddenly, and received a suspicious glance for her efforts once she had settled comfortably on the passenger’s side. “They got any food stashed in here?”

“Granola bars. But consume them at your own risk. Pretty sure they’re expired.” Samir arched, reaching to the back seat and tossing a box in her direction. Eve watched the strong lines of his arms flex at the motion, and tore a bar that was more chocolate than protein from its wrapper.

Samir started the car again. The tank was full; he must have refilled it while she slept. The man seemed more at ease behind the wheel, some of the tensed muscles unwinding, the tick in his jaw disappearing. Eve took a bite of the bar, which tasted a tad dusty but otherwise fine, and allowed her eyes to linger on his practiced, oiled motions as he pulled the Lincoln into a u-turn and smoothly got them back out on the road.

A strong fighter. Expensive clothes. Suspicious assailants. An escape.

What exactly did this man do?

Samir must have noticed her suspicion, because his eyes slide sideways momentarily, emotionless.

“You’re burning a hole in me. Just ask.”

“Be honest. Are you with the mob?” Eve blurted out. Samir laughed. It was a gorgeous sound, full of joy and low notes - the kind of laugh that had the entire room joining it. She found herself smiling, though she could not explain the reason why.

“No,” Samir replied, still chortling a little bit. “God, no. Despite the occasional offer, I could never sink that low. The things they do to other humans - you can’t even fathom it.”

“Then what are you?” Eve pointedly ignored the tiny feeling of relief at his denial. It wouldn’t do either of them any good.

“Private security.”

“Private security pay good nowadays?” she asked, arching a brow at his attire.

“It does when you’re the CEO.”

For a moment it was silent.

“What kind of CEO does the dirty work?” Eve asked, after a long pause had slid by.

“I came into a bit of money later in my life."

“What are you, Gatsby?” Eve muttered.

“Might as well be,” Samir said, and his knuckles tightened on the steering wheel. “But to explain, I invested part of it into a security service agency. We mostly work low danger, high-stake jobs. Jewelry. Art. It was only recently that...” Eve waited for him to say something more, but his eyes only grew distant and he fell entirely silent. Wind stuttered heartily against their windows.

“You’re not going to ask me anything?” Eve asked, when the tension had grown unbearable.

“Isn’t it a secret?”

“Kind of.”

“Then no.” The rain sloshed overhead with no signs of lightening up.

“Well then, mr. CEO, you’re paying for our hotel room.”

Samir looked at her. It was almost apologetic.

“Can’t. Assholes took my wallet.”

-

The motel was one of those spaces that felt as though it had been transplanted from another place in time. It was situated between a tomato field and liquor store, complete with glowing neon sign. Eve stretched, her back cracking as she arched. Samir, having seemingly gathered the vestiges of his energy, got out of the car.

By the time Eve managed to also drag herself to her feet, the man was already crouched at the back of the Lincoln, using the car keys to twist off the screws holding the license plate in place. She reached above him, popping open the trunk to grab the plastic bag with a change of clothes.

“You’re gonna get us a ticket,” Eve said, a yawn punctuating her words. Samir peeled the Nevada plate off with a short grunt, and lifted a brow up at her.

“You gonna pay it?”

Eve snorted. “No.” She shut the trunk.

“Didn’t think so,” he muttered, moving around to do the same to the front of the car. “We should be in the clear anyways. Got rid of the tracking back at the gas station.”

Admittedly, Eve hadn’t even thought about that. Grudgingly, she nodded, lips pressed together.

“I’ll go get our room.”

“Singular?”

“Yeah,” Eve threw a glance over her shoulder, lip turned up in disdain. “Call me cheap if you want.” Samir only raised his hands, the car keys swinging from where the keychain was looped around one finger.

“You’re paying, you’re the boss.”

“And you’re sleeping on the couch,” Eve retorted, but withheld her huff on account of the man’s consideration the past few hours. As much as she hated to admit it, she was tired. And the magic earlier had taken more out of her than she had expected. The weariness was bone deep, the very blood of her body weighing her down as she turned on her heel and strode into the reception area.

She used a fake name - obviously - and had the key in hand within three minutes. Samir pushed off the hood of the car, where he was leaning when she came out, and followed her up a set of rickety, creaking steps to the second floor of the building.

It was nothing to write home about.

Two twin beds, a table and two chairs. A TV from a forgotten decade. Garish, floral coverlets.

“No couch,” Samir commented as he shut the door behind them, shifting his weight when the room abruptly grew too quiet. Eve’s plastic bag of clothes crinkled in her grasp. But the fluttering of her eyelids was more urgent than the sudden, strained tension.

“I’m gonna shower,” she pushed past him and towards the door on the side wall.

“Go ahead.” Samir had busied himself with squinting suspiciously in all the corners of the room, dragging a chair over to a vent to check inside. Eve pulled her shirt up and over her head before she’d even reached the bathroom, and Samir did not so much as shift a glance in her direction.

The hot water was heavenly. The soap felt faintly as though it had been watered down, but even that was forgivable, since it got the mud (and more importantly) the smell off her skin. Her hair - a fierce, and unrelenting red - colored a dark brown beneath the spray. She didn’t have the energy to use conditioner on top of shampoo, nor did the motel offer any.

Still, by the time she emerged, Eve felt almost entirely human.

She’d never worn anything particularly fancy to bed, a ratty old t-shirt and a soft pair of cotton shorts, silkened by dozens of runs through the wash. Samir had removed the outer layer of his suit by the time she emerged, jacket hung neatly across the back of one of the chairs, and Eve forced herself to glance away from the chiseled lines of his body, pressed against the ruined dress shirt.

“All yours,” she muttered as she collapsed on the nearest bed.

“I’ll be a while,” he warned - that transparent gaze lingering as he stepped inside. There was something lightly strained to his words.

“Night,” Eve muttered, arms reaching for a pillow to yank it down to her head. “I won’t be awake.”

A soft mutter intersected with the start of the shower water, and it sounded almost angry. Right. She’d promised him answers. But Samir had waited this long, and he could certainly wait until tomorrow.