The Hunted (The Chronicles of the Hunter book 1)
“Only stupid, insipid individuals would actually sleep at a time like this. She was vulnerable. With a complete stranger. And, even if it did appear as if he’d saved her, she was still at his mercy. Wearing little more than a nightgown. Sans her phone. Identification. Cash. Credit cards. She couldn’t even prove who she was. The last thing she needed was to be unaware of her surroundings and how she got there. She’d read this plot too many times. She needed to keep her wits about her. Gain an accurate account of time. Distance. Check when the vehicle changed speeds. Make certain of turns. How many. Which direction.
The rising sun was mostly on the driver side now, so they were definitely heading south. She could just make out the dash clock. His arm blocked it for a moment, as he turned on his stereo again. Classical music surrounded her. She didn’t know composers or tunes, but it was strangely soothing. Oddly comforting.
All bad.
And counterintuitive.
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