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Thomas nodded, his eyes flickering with a mixture of curiosity and concern. "Okay, but you have to promise me that this isn't going to come back and bite me, or the Bureau, in the ass. And I'm going to need some assurances that what you're doing is legal."
"I promise," Morgan said, feeling a glimmer of hope. "And I'll make sure everything is legal. I just need a way in."
Thomas leaned back in the booth, his eyes never leaving hers. "Okay, I'll do what I can." He smiled. "But you're going to owe me after this. Another date. A real one this time."
Morgan smiled, only a little. She lifted her glass. "I can agree to those terms."
CHAPTER TWENTY THREE
Carissa's knuckles whitened as she gripped the steering wheel, her heart pounding in her chest. The man beside her, the unwanted passenger who had appeared in her car as if he were a ghost materializing from the darkness, stared straight ahead, his jaw tight.
"Drive," he had commanded, and Carissa had obeyed, too terrified to do anything else. The night outside was pitch black, broken only by the headlights of her car illuminating the empty road before them. She glanced at him from the corner of her eye, trying to make out his features, but all she could see was the faint outline of his face, hardened like stone.
"Turn left up here," he ordered, his voice cold and emotionless. Carissa could barely breathe, each inhalation feeling like shards of ice piercing her lungs.
"Who are you?" she dared to whisper, her voice trembling.
"Someone who knows what you and your boss are planning," he replied, his eyes never leaving the road. "You think you can just run away with my wife's money and disappear? I won't let that happen."
A shiver ran down Carissa's spine as she realized the gravity of her situation. This man knew about their plan, about the stolen cash and the plan to leave town for good. How could he have found out? Who could have told him?
"Listen," she stammered, struggling to find the right words, "I don't know what you're talking about."
"Save it," he cut her off, staring intently into the shadows of the night. "I know everything. I've been watching you, and I've seen how you and your boss work together, laughing and flirting behind the bar. You thought no one noticed, didn't you?"
Carissa's cheeks burned with shame, her insides twisting with fear. He had been watching her, and she hadn't had the slightest clue. She felt exposed, vulnerable, as if she were a helpless prey cornered by a ruthless predator.
"Please," she begged, "I don't want any trouble. I'll give you the money back, just let me go."
He turned to face her for the first time, his eyes locking onto hers with an intensity that made her flinch. "You think it's that simple?" he hissed. "You've already crossed a line, and there's no going back."
Carissa's hands trembled on the wheel, her thoughts racing as fast as her heart. Her breathing grew shallow, each inhale a desperate gasp for air. She needed to come up with a plan, a way to escape this nightmare.
"Think, Carissa, think," she chided herself, forcing her eyes to focus on the road.
"Nice night, isn't it?" he said suddenly, his voice calm, almost jovial. It caught her off guard.
"Y-yeah, I guess so," she stuttered, unsure how to respond. Was he trying to put her at ease, or was this just another twisted game of his?
"Look, I don't want any trouble either," he continued, his tone softening. "But you have to understand my position."
"Your position?" she scoffed, anger momentarily overpowering her fear. "You're the one who kidnapped me! This is all your fault!"
"Is it?" he countered, raising an eyebrow. "Or is it yours for getting involved in something that doesn't concern you?"
The words stung, and Carissa found herself blinking back tears. She couldn't let him see her cry; she had to stay strong. But as the silence stretched between them, she felt the heat rising in her cheeks, sweat breaking out across her forehead.
"Are you okay?" he asked, genuine concern coloring his voice. "You don't look so good."
"Of course I'm not okay!" she snapped, her pulse pounding in her ears. "I've been kidnapped by a lunatic, and I have no idea if I'll ever make it home again!"
"Alright, alright," he relented, holding up his hands in surrender. "Pull over. Let me out."
"Really?" she asked skeptically, her heart leaping at the prospect of freedom. But as she steered the car onto the shoulder, doubt crept in. Was he going to let her go, or was this just another trap? She couldn't be sure, and that uncertainty gnawed at her gut like a hungry beast.
"Go on, pull over," he urged, his voice gentle, almost soothing. "I promise, I'm not going to hurt you."
She hesitated for a moment longer before acquiescing, pressing down on the brake and bringing the car to a stop. As she shifted into park, her chest tightened with anxiety, nausea roiling in her stomach. Whether he meant to hurt her or not, Carissa couldn't shake the feeling that her ordeal was far from over.
