Good girl Victoria places her trust with a tall, dark stranger in the hope of finding her stolen car. Little does she know that bad boy Levi is a wanted man with a warrant out for his arrest.
The only date Levi is looking for is with revenge, but finds an unexpected detour in the high maintenance beauty and her designer clothes.
While Levi focuses on his plan for personal justice, Victoria realizes the thrill and freedom of danger. Life on the run can’t be too bad, especially when a pair of handcuffs lead to a night of ultimate seduction.
“Damn.”
Victoria switched off the radio and resorted to humming to herself. All of the decent radio stations were crackling with static, and she hated the quiet.
With a brief glance up at the rearview mirror, she noted that no one was behind her. Since dinner at the rustic little café, she’d been the only one on the road, a fact that was strangely comforting and disturbing at the same time. Her only concern at the moment was finding a rest area. Three cups of coffee with her hot chicken and Swiss sandwich had proven too much for her bladder, and she was having a difficult time clenching her thighs together while driving. As a green sign loomed in the distance, she crossed her fingers. Please, oh please.
REST AREA 1 Mile
Victoria let out a sigh of relief and sat up straighter in the seat. She’d never been partial to going to the bathroom outside behind a bush. Especially alone. Remote or not, anyone could be out there, waiting for the opportune moment. She put on the blinker and slowed, taking it easy pulling into the rest area. The parking lot was empty. Not even the typical row of truckers snatching up a catnap en route was present. It unsettled her to be the only person in the vacant lot. Parking under a dim street lamp, as close to the women’s restrooms as the wide sidewalk allowed, she turned off the engine and drummed her fingertips on the steering wheel.
“Get a hold of yourself girl. You’ve watched one too many episodes of Unsolved Mysteries.”
Only a sliver of a moon peeked through the dusky sky. The drab cement building loomed in front of her. Taunting her. She’d traveled miles to find this one, so waiting for the next rest stop might be unwise. Pee her pants or use the desolate looking toilet. She took a deep breath and decided she had no choice but to go in.
She threw open the car door and made like when she was a little girl needing to go to the bathroom in the middle of the night, knowing full well there were monsters under her bed. She didn’t care if she looked like a scared little girl. She dashed for the restroom, fearful those same monsters loomed in the shadows and beneath the car.
Her uncomfortable heels pinched her toes as she sprinted into the foul smelling restroom. The first three stalls were backed up and looked unpleasant. Only the handicapped stall was usable. She crossed her fingers that some elderly woman in a wheelchair wasn’t going to come in right then. Up went her skirt. Down went her black nylons and black silkies. Relief spread throughout her body.
In her haste to go, she’d forgotten to check one very important thing. No toilet paper. She sighed and reached for her purse, but remembered it was still in the car, safely tucked away from prying eyes beneath her jacket.
The sound of a car engine bothered her, but there were more pressing matters than another vehicle pulling into the rest stop. Like toilet paper. She rummaged inside the pocket of her skirt and came up with a crumpled tissue. It would have to do.
Victoria reached for her nylons and managed to make a sizable run in them. She pulled them off in frustration and shoved them in the metal box on the wall. The cruel edge of her shoes raked against the back of her ankles as she slipped them back on. Blisters were unavoidable. She got situated in her clothes, flushed the toilet and walked to the sink to wash her hands.
The reflection in the mirror displayed a tired, worn out looking woman in her late twenties, who was seriously deprived of any fun in her life. There was no reason to try and fix her smudged make-up, in another four hours she would be in a luxurious hotel running a warm bath.
Sick from the putrid odor of the unkempt facility, she hurried outside. Then her knees nearly buckled. A stranger on a motorcycle was parked where her car should be.
This can’t be happening, she thought. Her car was gone!
She wasn’t sure whether to approach the biker or not. In a black leather jacket, faded jeans with holes in the knees, and a look on his face that had trouble written all over it, he didn’t exactly radiate a warm welcome. Men who rode bikes were bad news. At least that’s what she’d always been told.
Anger took the place of her immediate concern and she marched up to him, propped her hands on her hips and pinned him with a glare. “Okay, asshole. Where the hell is my car?”
He pulled a cigarette from behind his ear and flipped open a silver lighter. The bright orange flame lit up the night, along with a pair of refined green eyes that studied her. Impatiently she watched him take a drag from the cigarette, then blow out the smoke from the corner of his stubble-framed lips.
“I hope you aren’t referring to me. Most women give me at least five minutes of their time before labeling me an asshole.”
