Total pages in book: 22
Estimated words: 22937 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 115(@200wpm)___ 92(@250wpm)___ 76(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 22937 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 115(@200wpm)___ 92(@250wpm)___ 76(@300wpm)
“Do I look like a goddamn cab driver to you?”
“No, but you’re obviously my Uber driver, so…” She looks to her right. “Can we go?”
“Beautiful as hell or not,” I say, “no. Get the hell out of my car.”
“But I already paid for this ride!” She holds up her phone as if that proves anything. “Please, just drive!”
“You have the wrong car.” I shift the gear into park. “Don’t make me ask you to get out again.”
“Are you sure about that?” Her eyes meet mine in the rearview mirror, confirming that they’re the sexiest hue I’ve ever seen. “You’ve got a few seconds to think on it before I give you a one-star review.”
I start to repeat my demand, but she suddenly arches her back against my seat, giving me an even better view of her beautiful face.
And her body…
The “fangs” slide from her mouth and into a case, and then she snatches an orange glittering “Halloween Drama Fest” lanyard from around her neck.
Before I can get out and open the back door for her, a black blur on my right catches my attention.
It’s two men, and they’re rushing toward my car.
I slip back inside and lock the doors.
“No, no, no…” The woman gasps as she unbuckles her seatbelt, slumping down to the floorboard.
“Hey! Hey!” One of the men taps on my window. “Open up!”
I crack it slightly.
“Yes?” I ask. “May I help you?”
“I hope so,” he says. “Did you happen to see a woman in a pretty blue dress run out here just now?”
“No.”
“Are you sure?” His friend pipes in. “She would’ve been very hard to miss, and there are only a few cars out here.”
“My answer was no. It’s still no.”
“Okay, then.” The first guy narrows his eyes and holds out a business card. “If you happen to see her pop up on the streets ahead, give me a call.”
I let his card linger through the cracked window, not making a move to take it.
It slips from his fingers and falls onto my seat.
He and his friend rush to the car that’s stalled right ahead of me.
The gray Corolla with the yellow “I Love Uber” bumper sticker.
I crank my engine and pull into the other lane, driving five blocks before picking up the card.
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“Oh my God, thank you!” The woman moves back onto the seat. “Your thirty-dollar tip is back on the table again.”
“I don’t need any money from you.”
“It’s my pleasure, and you deserve it. You helped me out back there.”
“I’d rather give you a tip instead.”
“Really?”
“Yes.”
“How much?”
“A negative fucking hundred, which is the same level as your survival skills.” I look at her through the rearview mirror. “You’re locked in a car with a stranger who literally told you he wasn’t your Uber driver.”
“Okay, that’s it.” She groans. “I’m not sure what title you want me to call you, but…”
She taps her phone’s screen a few times, and her face pales as the next light ahead turns red.
“Oh my God...” she mutters. “I am... I’m really in the wrong car.”
“No shit.” I take a long look at her exposed thighs. “Where was he supposed to take you?”
“Nowhere.” She looks toward the window. “Can you let me out at the corner up there?”
“Don’t try to save your life now.” I hold back a laugh. “Where are you headed?”
She tugs on my door handle, but it doesn’t give. Then she pulls a glittering stiletto from her bag and holds it up high—like she’s about to break my window with it.
I immediately slam the brakes.
“I wish you fucking would…”
“Okay, I believe you, sir.” Her eyes are wide as she clings to the seat. “I can now see that this is a Porsche GT3 and not a Toyota Corolla.”
“Those two cars have never looked similar.”
“Yes, well.” She swallows, and I instantly save that image to my memory bank.
“I’m not ready to die,” she says, “so just let me out and I won’t tell the cops on you for kidnapping me.”
“Your legal skills are even worse than your survival ones.” I press the gas again and realize she’s actually terrified.
“I’m not interested in making you feel any pain,” I say. “That’s not my style—outside the bedroom anyway.”
“Wait, what?”
“I said, you can trust me.”
“That’s not what you—” Her voice trails off for a second, as if she might’ve misheard my words. “Why should I believe anything you say?”
“Because at this very moment, you really don’t have a choice…”
She tugs on the door again, as if something has changed.
“What’s your address?” I ask. “I’m feeling quite generous tonight.”
“I wasn’t going home just yet,” she says. “I was running from...I mean, I’m going home eventually, but I listed two other stops first.”
I’m confused as to why she’s telling me this.
“They’re all in lower Manhattan—pretty close to where I live. So, are you feeling generous enough to drive me to those too, or should I rebook with a real Uber?”