The past couple of days had been one nervous breakdown after another. I had to wait, on pins and needles, to see if the rideshare person would accept my response while trying to stay low and find somewhere to stay for the night.

And that had taken a full day. Johnny had been responsible for communicating with the person and had given me the directions to a remote—but still working—phone booth where he would get in touch with me.

That had been last night, finally.

Now, it was Sunday and time to meet my companion and savior to start the journey across the States. Unfortunately, they had listed this public parking lot as the place to meet.

I was nervous and on edge. I was supposed to stay out of public areas, but there was no other choice.

Every person that walked by me set my nerves tingling. I kept lowering my nondescript black baseball cap on my head and tried to avoid direct eye contact. The dark sunglasses further helped to hide my identity.

But it didn’t feel like enough. In fact, I felt like a sitting duck while I stood in the parking lot and waited impatiently to see who would find me first: my ride or the killer.

My heart sped up every time a car went in my direction, but I hadn’t seen the small, white, four-door car the person said they’d be driving.

I glanced down at my watch. Five minutes late. Had I somehow missed them?

No, I had gotten here early to be sure I wouldn’t. Hopefully, they hadn’t changed their mind. That would be just my luck, though.

Another car passed by, and another disappointment. I was so distracted, convinced now that the person had chickened out or had gotten a better offer, that I didn’t notice the car that stopped next to me.

The honk got my attention, and I nearly jumped out of my shoes. I ducked, expecting a bullet to slam into my body.

After several breaths later and no missile had torn into my flesh, I looked at the small, white, four-door car sitting with its engine running in front of me.

A gorgeous blonde was staring back at me from the driver’s side. Her body was turned to the side, one arm slung over the steering wheel as she regarded me with a mixture of concern and humor.

Shit. Well, the first impression went well.

“K?” she asked, referring to the name I’d given for contact information.

I nodded.

“Kyle, actually,” I said, then I could have kicked myself. Why had I given her my real name? Did I want to be caught?

I was really no good at this cloak-and-dagger stuff.

“I’m Tabitha,” the woman said. “But most just call me Tabby.”

“Uh, nice to meet you,” I responded lamely.

She looked at my shoulder and the backpack slung there. “Do you have any other luggage you’d like to put in the trunk?”

I felt like an idiot standing there, crouched over to look through the window at her. I reached out a hand and opened the car door.

Well, I tried to open it. It was locked.

“Oh, sorry,” she said, and a second later, I heard a click as she unlocked the door.

“Thanks,” I said, and this time when I pulled on the lever, the door opened.

“And, no,” I continued. “I don’t have any other luggage.”

When I caught her frowning at me as I settled into the passenger seat and set the backpack on the floorboard between my legs, I shrugged. “I travel light.”

She laughed. “I guess so.”

Now that I was in the car, I only wanted to get on the road. Put miles and miles between me and whoever was trying to kill me.

But Tabby still sat in her seat, watching me.

“I’ve never done this before,” she said, then waved a dismissive hand in the air. “Rideshare, I mean. But my friend, Rebecca, suggested this and said it was safe.”

Her eyes narrowed on me, and I tried to put on the most innocent expression I could think of.

“Before we get started, I need to know—are you an ax murderer or anything?”

I stared at her deadpan. “What makes you think I’d tell you if I were?”

She laughed again, and I relaxed a bit at the tinkling sound. Her red lips spread wide, showing straight, white teeth. Her eyes, which I had first thought were brown, were a dark blue and sparkled as she chuckled at me.

“You got me there,” she said. “But, seriously, you’re not wanted by the law or something, right? I don’t want to be harboring any criminals or wake up dead one morning, my body dumped on some deserted road along the way.”

It was my turn to laugh. “Waking up dead? Are you planning on becoming a zombie?”

She blinked owlishly at me. Once. Twice. Then she grinned. “Yeah, I guess that was a bit out there. I’m sorry, I’ve never done this before and I'm a little nervous.”

“No problem. This is my first time in a rideshare, too,” I admitted. “Maybe if we get going, we’ll both start to relax.”

“Oh, good idea.”

I didn't like to lie, and I was well aware that I avoided her question about being wanted by the police. Honestly, I had no idea if they were looking for me yet. I hadn’t heard anything, and Johnny hadn’t said anything.

I released my breath in relief as she finally put the car in gear and pulled out of the parking lot.

Slowly.

I hoped she wasn't one of those drivers who always goes five to ten miles under the speed limit. I was tempted to lean over and push her foot down harder on the gas pedal, but I didn't think that would win me any points.

And it would likely get me kicked out of the car.

“I’m an excellent driver, you know.”

“Huh?” I ineloquently said, then cleared my throat and tried again. “That is, I’m sure you are.”

She looked pointedly at my lap for a second and then returned her eyes to the road.

Did she just check out my package? Or was my zipper undone?

I jerked my head down, afraid of what I might find, such as my boxers poking out. Everything looked as it should, though, so it took me another couple of seconds to realize what she’d meant.

My leg bounced up and down a hundred miles per hour. I forced my leg to be still, but it immediately wanted to start up again, so I pressed my hand on my thigh.

“Sorry. I’m just anxious to get on the road,” I said lamely.

“Well, lucky for you, we are already on the road.”

I smiled despite my embarrassment. She had a quick sense of humor. Maybe this road trip wouldn’t be so bad after all.

As long as the murderers didn’t find us.

“So, Kyle, you’re in the passenger seat. And you know what that means.”

I stared at her blankly. “Uh, no?”

She paused to turn on the blinker at the stop sign and waited until we’d made the right turn before explaining.

“It means you’re the navigator,” she said, shooting me another quick glance. “Might as well get your phone out now to set a GPS course.”

“I, uh, lost it and haven’t had a chance to replace it yet,” I told her. It wasn’t a lie. My cell phone was lost to me now.

She frowned, and I understood her skepticism. Who could get along for an hour—much less days—without a phone these days?

But she didn’t question me about it. Instead, she leaned across the car, over my legs, and flipped open the glove box.

“Okay, I hope you know how to read maps,” Tabby said. “I’ve got a few in there. You just have to search through them.”

I wondered why she didn’t offer to use her phone but didn’t ask.

The glove compartment was packed with various odds and ends, everything from lipstick and pens to sewing needles, tissues, and fingernail polish.

The maps were shoved down at the very bottom of the compartment. There were a couple for the LA area and one for California.

I carefully removed the state map and spread it out on my lap.

“We’ve got a couple of choices,” I said, studying the map closely. “We can take the Washington D.C., Denver, or Route 66 way.” I paused. “Looks like the Denver route is the quickest.”

“How much out of the way is Route 66?” Tabby asked. “I’ve always wanted to drive that.”

“Not much. Maybe an hour.”

“Good then. It’s settled,” she said, shooting me a grin. “Route 66 it is!”

It didn’t really matter to me which route we took. As long as we were on the move and getting away from LA, I was good.

“So, why are you going to New York?”

Her question took me off guard, and I drew a blank.

So far, I’d been able not to lie to her, but I couldn’t think of a single reason to go to the Big Apple and hadn’t given it any thought when I’d applied for the rideshare.

“I’m going to my family’s,” she said when I didn’t speak up soon enough. “It’s my mom’s 50th birthday, and she wants all her children there.”

“Sounds like fun.”

She actually snorted. I glanced over at her in shock. The frown she wore pulled down her perfectly plucked and shaped eyebrows.

“Or not,” I said.

“It’s just an excuse for my mom to hound me for not being married and giving her grandchildren,” Tabby responded sourly. “She won’t be happy until all her children have given her a dozen grandbabies to fawn over and brag about.”

I didn’t know what to say, so I said nothing. I turned to look out the window, but she spoke again, drawing my attention back to her.

“It’s just. . . . I mean, why do I have to get married to have a purpose in my life? I’m only 25. There’s still plenty of time. I’ve got things I want to do. And I don’t want to get married just to get married. You know?” she asked, glancing at me.

I nodded, and that was apparently all she needed because she started rambling again. “I’m not the settling type. He’s got to be special—my future husband, I mean.”

She kept talking, but I tuned her out. Not very polite, but I was exhausted. The past few days on the run had taken their toll on me.

I woke up when my head nearly slammed into the dashboard.

“Oh, good, you’re awake.”

I looked over at Tabby incredulously. She smiled at me, all sweet and innocent, as if we both didn’t know she’d purposely slammed on the brakes to wake me up.

But, as I looked at my watch, I realized we’d been on the road for about three hours. And I’d been asleep for half of it.

“Sorry,” I said. “I didn’t get much sleep last night.”

She nodded, then opened her car door and stepped out. It was then I realized we were at a gas station, and I hurriedly got out on my side.

“I’ve got this round,” I said to her, waving my hand toward the gas pumps. She grinned and sauntered off toward the mini-mart.

As I put the nozzle into the gas tank, I watched her walk away. Damn, but she was hot. Taller than I’d expected, probably around 5’7”, but then it wasn't easy to judge someone’s height when they were sitting.

She had a nice ass, round and perky, and connected to long, slender legs. Her hair was long, nearly to her small waist, and thick and wavy. Blonde with highlights, it swished from side to side as she yanked the market door open and went inside.

It was then I realized I’d been standing there with the nozzle in the gas tank, but no gas was going in.

You have to pay first, idiot, I chided myself.

Putting the nozzle back on the tank, I went into the store, quickly used the restroom, grabbed some water and snacks, and paid for the gas.

By the time I had finished filling up the car, Tabby was done with her errands. She walked across the lot to me, and a gust of wind whipped her hair around her.

My breath caught in my throat. She had to be the sexiest woman I’d ever seen.

“It’s done.”

I blinked at her in confusion.

“The gas,” she said, pointing at the pump. “It’s done.”

“Oh, so it is,” I said lamely.

I hurriedly returned the nozzle, closed the gas cap, and then offered to drive the next round.

“Don’t you need more sleep?” she asked with concern.

“No, I’m good. That nap was just what I needed.”

“Great! I wouldn’t mind a break. Thank you!”

We got into the car, and Tabby busied herself, opening the snacks she had bought. A bag of chips and a bottle of water.

“Can I open anything for you?” she asked, pointing at the bag of snacks I had put inside the car before filling it up with gas.

“Thanks, but not yet. I’ll wait until we get further down the road.”

She nodded and popped a chip in her mouth.

We had been on the road for less than thirty minutes when I noticed it. “Shit,” I said, not realizing I’d spoken out loud.

“What’s wrong?” She glanced at me with concern.

“The police are behind us.” And their lights were on. And they were gaining on us.

She looked over her shoulder and then glanced at the speedometer. “We aren’t speeding,” she said absently. “They’re probably after someone else.”

But I didn’t think so. I kept hearing Johnny’s warning and knew I couldn’t trust the police. Out of sheer panic, I slammed my foot on the gas pedal.

The little car had power; I’d give it that. It shot off so quickly, Tabby’s head flew back and hit the back of the car seat.

An instant later, she looked at me in horror.