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What the fuck?
I raced over to my bag and started stuffing everything into it.
“What’s wrong?” Manon walked out of the bathroom with a full face of makeup.
“We’ve got to go. Like now.”
Her face scrunched. “Why?”
“Just pack, we’re leaving.”
We paid the bill. Or I should say, Manon paid the bill, which made me feel uncomfortable about having maxed out my card. But it was hardly the time to discuss money.
Once we were in the car, she asked, “Will you tell me what’s happening?”
As we made our way onto the highway, I explained how I’d just spotted the same detective I’d seen hanging out at Salon Soir.
“Oh, you’ve met Jim?”
“You know him?” I turned sharply.
She nodded. “I met him when I was working at the Cherry bar.”
“I suppose he’s another sleazebag into young girls.”
“Don’t know. He was there for the free drinks and to have a perv, I think,” she said. “So, you think Crisp has sent him here to get us?”
“Pretty sure of it. What else would he be doing here?”
Manon kept looking over her shoulder as we drove onto the motorway.
“How the fuck did he find us?” I asked.
Manon’s silence stirred suspicion.
“Do you know something? Because if you do, you better fucking tell me.” With that car virtually up my arse, I was back to adrenaline mode.
She remained tight-lipped.
“Have you been in touch with Crisp?”
She turned away.
“You have, haven’t you? Tell me.”
“I contacted him to tell him to stop chasing us. I even promised…”
I turned to look at her. “You promised what?”
“Watch out!” she yelled.
I nearly ran into a truck. Taking a deep breath, I focused on the job of driving and not losing my mind over what was becoming a fucking shitshow.
“I promised to marry him if he called off his men.”
“That won’t do anything. He’ll still try to wipe me out. I’ve got that footage, remember?”
“That was dumb, and you know it. And stop blaming me for everything.”
