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One problem down.
Again, a quiet sound came from the backseat. On the other side of the light, he pulled into the parking lot of an abandoned diner and threw the Mercedes into park.
He turned to look over the seat.
Panic rose, making his ears ring as he struggled to calm his racing heart.
Not a kid.
Instead, a young woman with a cascade of long blond hair peered up at him with one half-opened eye, then pushed herself into an upright position.
“Who?” she asked. Her breath clued him into where the smell of alcohol had been coming from. Apparently, it was dealing-with-drunk-people night no matter where he went.
“I’m the valet,” he said, wondering where he’d pulled that story out of.
“Oh.” She looked around the parking lot in confusion, both eyes opening, but blearily. She was in even worse shape than Carlos and Jimmy had been. He thought of getting out and locking the doors behind him, letting her sleep it off and think she drove herself here, but it was a bad part of town.
Shit.
They’d been making fun of Fox for kidnapping Addison the first night they’d met, and now here he was in the same fucking predicament. He couldn’t bring her home, but what on earth was he supposed to do with her? Maybe he could convince her some of her friends hired him to drive her home?
The girl narrowed her eyes in suspicion. “Wait. You’re not a valet.” She shoved back a hank of hair that had been dangling in front of her face, the gesture clumsy and awkward. “I might look stupid, but I’m not.” She shook her head in disapproval. “It’s actions, not looks . . . actions define people.” Her voice lowered to a whisper. “I was going to say ‘a man,’ there, but I’m not a man. I don’t even have muscles. I mean, I have some or I wouldn’t be sitting up or anything, but they’re not like those.” She poked him in the arm. “Now those are big.” She stopped for a breath. “So, who paid you?”
“Paid me?”
Her eyes widened, and in the low light of the dashboard she looked very young and vulnerable. “To kidnap me. Not that I’m a kid. I’m almost twenty-two. Well, in October. The twenty-second. I guess that’s a while away, but it’s kind of close.” She laughed self-consciously then looked down at her fingers. “Sorry. I talk a lot when I’m nervous. And drunk. Do you want my wallet or something?”
He winced. “I’ll just drive you home. What’s the address?”
She stared at him for a moment. “You mean you don’t want my money?”
He raised his brows and shook his head.
“Oh. Of course you don’t. Well, maybe you do, but no one would have hired you. Who the hell would care enough to have me kidnapped?” Her eyes drifted from side to side, like she was thinking hard. “Well, maybe my mom, but I think she only gets the money if I die.” She fell silent.
Oh jeez. What kind of family did this girl have?
“No, princess. I’m just supposed to drive you home.”
She brushed a hand over both cheeks, and he realized she was crying. Shit. He’d meant to do a quick grab to shut Carlos up and somehow he’d ended up doing therapy with a depressed drunk girl who had a dysfunctional family.
“Don’t be scared. I’m just going to bring you somewhere safe, and then I’ll leave.”
Her thin shoulders lifted to shrug.
“Where should I take you?”
“Does it matter?” she said quietly, fiddling with the hem of her tank top. “If you dump my body on the side of the highway no one will care.”
That was the worst thing he’d ever heard someone say. It had to be the booze talking. “Come on, now. Friends? Family? There are people who care about you.”
“How do you know that? You don’t even know who I am.”
“People would care,” he said stubbornly, feeling like he’d suddenly turned into a suicide hotline counselor. “I’d care even if we’d never met.”
“You’re nice for a kidnapper.” She smiled, but her eyes were empty. Thrusting her purse at him, she added, “There’s cash in there, but can you leave my driver’s license? I’d rather not have to go to the DMV.”
She reached for the door handle as she slipped on her shoes, but he made a staying gesture.
