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Chapter seventeen
Anniston wasn’t the first person to try to run from me. The fight-or-flight instinct was part of human nature. People scattered like mice when fear set in.
But they always forgot about the lion waiting in the shadows.
Thanks to a fucked-up past and an unpredictable present, my life revolved around structure. I liked control. Needed it. Thrived on it. Which was how, despite running on fumes after spending a sleepless night on my office sofa, I knew exactly what Anniston had planned from the second I got home from the club.
Every morning, I took the elevator down and every afternoon it was waiting for me on the lobby floor when I got home. I never had to wait for it to come back from the top because there was never any reason for it to go back up.
Yesterday morning was the exception. I’d sent the car back up to prove to her there was no way out. I’d made a fortune on predictions. It was my niche. Most people were predictable, and I figured the princess was no different.Except she was. I knew Anniston was too curious not to try to figure out the code. What I didn’t know was that when she realized it was impossible, she would break into my bedroom—an unexpected stunt that she paid for with her mouth.
I also didn’t expect her to try twice in two days, but here she was, surprising the fuck out of me once again.
There was no point in trying to stop her or chase after her, especially not when I knew how much I’d enjoy watching her fail.
New York was a big city that she knew nothing about. I knew every street, alley, and tunnel in this bitch. The city kept no secrets from me. But Anniston was a helpless pet trapped in a cage—mycage.
Some asshole helped her hail a cab. I broke his fucking nose the moment she was out of view.
“Didn’t your parents teach you not to talk to strangers?” I asked him as I wrung out my fist because… fuck.
He pulled his shirt up to his nose and yelled a few unintelligible curse words at me.
I spit on his shoes, then went to the parking garage and got my car. There was only one place she would go, so I chose the closest airport and headed that way.
By the time I pulled up to the curb, the driver was dragging a cop to his cab—probably because he thought she was stiffing him. I guessed that because I had her wallet right here in my glove compartment. I wished I could have seen her face when she realized it was missing.
Anniston sat in the back seat, staring up at the ceiling with her eyes closed.
You can pray for help all you want, baby. Even angels can’t help you outrun the devil.
“What’s the problem?” I asked as I approached them.
The driver pointed to his cab. “Bitch is trying to stiff me. Talking some bullshit about being royalty.”
I pulled out my wallet. “How much does she owe?”
He studied me for a second before answering. “Forty-seven dollars.”
I handed him a hundred-dollar bill. “That should cover it.” I tucked my wallet back into my pocket and looked over at the officer. “We good?”
He nodded his head and shrugged. “We’re good.” And then he walked back toward the terminal.
Anniston opened her door and hopped out of the car. “Wait,” she yelled after the cop.
He ignored her. To him, she was nothing more than a woman who tried stiffing a cab driver. And I was Chandler Motherfucking Carmichael.
She ran toward the entrance. “It’s not what you think. I’ve been kidnapped.”
It was too late. He was already talking into the mic on his shoulder and walking through the revolving doors.
I walked up next to her, grabbed her hand, and placed it at the small of my back. Her body stiffened when she felt my gun there. I wasn’t going to use it, not on her, but she didn’t need to know that. A few bystanders stopped to stare, but I didn’t care. There wasn’t a hair out of place or a mark on Anniston’s body. No one was going to believe she’d been kidnapped.
She looked back at the driver, then to me, her expression hard and her eyes wide. “Seriously?”
I waved at the cab driver. “I’ll take it from here.”
He held both hands up in the air. “Not my business,” he said, then climbed into his cab and drove away.
