Back left, though, was occupied by a familiar shape in a hat brimming over the face.
"Miss Holt," the shadow said from behind the lowered window. The voice, now that I could place it, was the same as the one from the park bench. Calm, smooth, not a waver. "I've come to get your answer. Please get in."
The bags in my arms suddenly weighed double. I looked behind me.The people going in and out of the store didn't pay us any attention. For a second there, I thought about running, but the only cover was my own car, and the sedan would eat me alive before I ever got to my Honda.
I swallowed past the knot in my throat and took a step forward.
The passenger door on the right side was pushed lightly from the inside. I moved the bags from my right hand to my left and grabbed onto the handle.
Awkwardly, I climbed into the back seat, setting both bags on the floor by my feet.
The man in the hat didn't move. He sat perfectly still, like a magician about to reveal his greatest trick.
The inside of the car was night itself. The windows were so dark it felt subterranean.
"Close the door, Miss Holt," the man said.
I did.
We rolled forward.
The man turned his head toward me a little. Up close, I could make out portions of the profile. A long, flat nose, lips pressed into a tired line, a couple of wrinkles. The eyes were hidden, hooded by the hat. If I were to meet him in the street in the daytime and in different clothes, I wouldn't have recognized him. He was good at camouflaging.
He didn't waste a second. "Would you like to move forward, Miss Holt?"
I looked for the handle on the door, just to be sure it wasn't locked. "Is this how you guys always do business?"
"Discretion is our priority. I'm sure you understand the reasons. Neither one of us wants to be caught."
I wanted to laugh, or cry, or both. Instead, I stared at the outlines of the city sliding by outside, blurred by the glass. "What happens next if I say yes?"
"First, you confirm. Then, we begin. If you decline, you'll never see me again."
The car turned sharply, and I braced myself against the seat. "How do you know my last name?"
The man made a sound, a lot like laughter. "That's part of the job."
I squeezed my knees together and tried to remember the reasons for being here. Ronan's grin. Jerico's cold hands. Caius's breath against my ear. All of them, untouched and unpunished, living their beautiful lives while I survived on pharmaceuticals and therapy. The meds dependance didn't bother me as much as my inability to do what I'd been doing before I metthem. I wanted my career at Evernight Events back. I'd given that company my soul and now I couldn't get a job even at the worst event planning firm in town.
"Miss Holt?" the man called.
I took a deep breath and said, "Okay, yes. Let's do this."
"Very well." Pause. "You understand the risks, Miss Holt?"
"I do."
"Good. We like to be transparent." He pulled out something from the folds of his coat. "Take this," he instructed.
My hand shook when he placed the object into my palm. I looked at it and realized it was a phone. The old kind. In the crime thrillers they called them burners.
"We'll contact you on this," the man explained. "It has two numbers. One is my secretary and another marked asCustomer Serviceis for the operative assigned to your case. You do not call either one unless our operation puts you in danger. And if it does, you call secretary first. Unless he's not available or can't help you, you don't touch the second number. We can't have anything tie you to the operative."
My eyes were focused on the phone. My pulse was too fast. "And the money?"
"Secretary will be in touch regarding payment details."
The car continued rolling, tracing some invisible path through the city's arteries, then it came to a stop.
