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“Twelve years. Three months. A week or two.”
“Are you counting down to something?”
“I don’t know.”
She blinks, like she’s caught off guard by the flat remark. Not wanting to get into the rest of it, I pick up the dessert menu from the rack by the window and hand it to her.
“You want a brownie or a piece of pie?” I ask.
She hesitates, then shakes her head and reaches for her backpack. “No, thanks. I’m just going to use the restroom. I’ll be right back.”
She scoots out of the booth and walks to the corridor beside the kitchen, where a sign points to the restrooms.
I watch her go, my gaze on the sway of her hips and ass. I wouldn’t give any other skip a chance. Hell, I’d have them cuffed already.
But Hannah Clark? I want her to win.
It’s the worst fucking shame that I can’t let her.
ChapterSix
Hannah
This isn’t exactlymilitary strategy, but escaping from the diner bathroom is my only hope. For all I know, the bounty hunter plans to drive all the way back to the city without stopping again.
I quickly pee and wash my hands, then look at the single window about six feet up. I grab the trash can and turn it on its side. Praying the plastic will hold, I climb on top of it and fumble to work the window latch.
Unlike the window in the trailer, the latch moves with only a little extra force. My heart hammers with a combination of anxiety and excitement.
I shove the window up and push away the screen. Though I have no idea where to escape to next, I can’t let Dane Armstrong take me back to San Francisco.
I watched the odometer on his SUV. He drove about ten miles from the trailer, which means we’re still a good three miles from Hanover. If I follow the road—keeping out of sight—I should reach the town within a couple of hours. I can do this.
Gripping the sill, I clamber onto the trash can and crawl out the window.So close.I swing my other leg over the sill and drop to the ground.
Yes!
I straighten and get my bearings, then hurry around to the back of the diner. The second I turn the corner, I collide full-force into a big, brawny wall of man.
Shit.
Dane locks his arms around me faster than I can blink. My backpack drops to the ground. I struggle to escape. This time, he’s not just “holding me.” He’s imprisoning me. His grip is so strong that I can barely wiggle, much less break away.
“Nice try, sweetheart.” He hauls me even closer. My whole body crushes up against his. “And funny that you thought you could get away with it.”
Anger—toward both him and myself—floods my veins. I never stood a chance against a bounty hunter who’s built like a medieval fortress and has probably dragged hundreds of hardened criminals in by their hair.
It’s pitch-dark out but an exterior light falls across his face and flares in his eyes, illuminating flecks of silver. His expression is set, though he doesn’t need to exert any energy to keep me in place.
“Look, Mr. Armstrong.” I inject a sharp note into my voice. “I admit I jumped bail, but that doesn’t mean I’m just going to let youtake me.”
“I know. You’re a fighter.” A faint gleam of something that might be admiration flickers across his expression. “But as much as I appreciate your efforts, I guarantee I’ll win. I willtake you.”
I jerk my head up to stare at him, our gazes clashing so swift and fast the impact jars me to the bone. My mind flashes with images of himtaking mein a way that has nothing to do with bounty hunting or jail.
I’m sharply aware of his body heat sinking into every inch of my skin. My breasts are pressed against his rock-hard chest, and I suddenly have to resist the urge to rub up against him. I shift a little, pushing back against his arms.
A deep groan rumbles through him, and I feel the vibration all the way to my core. My nipples harden.
