“Great. Get in.”

I know my plan isn’t foolproof, but it’s the best I’ve got. I can still plainly see that shooter’s face in my mind, and it gets more menacing by the second.

First I take my Taser out and slide it surreptitiously into my waistband. Then I put my purse and Felix inside the truck’s cab, and with the help of the door itself and a handle inside, I climb up too. Once I’m settled, I buckle myself up and quickly tap out a response to my sister’s message. I thought I’d calmed down, but my pulse is still pounding away. I can literally feel it hammering away in my neck.

Me: You have got to be drunk. Where are the kids?

I hear a beep beside me, a two-second pause as the beard-beast man checks his phone, and then he roars and punches his steering wheel.

I cringe, squeezing myself into the corner of the cab, as I realize that the business card he gave me means nothing. I’ve jumped out of the frying pan and landed right in the fire. Is he nuts? He has to be. Who punches their car when they get a text? And who is he so mad at? Must be a girlfriend or something, although I can’t imagine what kind of woman would date a guy like this. Maybe one of those weight-lifter chicks with a really thick neck and beard hair from all the steroids she puts into her protein shakes. I slowly pull my Taser from my pants and hold it down at the side of my leg. If he makes a single move to hurt me, I’m going to light him up like a Christmas tree.

He throws his phone on the dashboard and hisses out a long breath, shifting into drive at the same time.

“Where do you live?” he asks. “I’ll take you home.”

I laugh as I tremble. I think maybe it’s the pent-up stress or something, but whatever it is, it’s powerful stuff. I can’t stop. I’m about to pee my pants. Apparently, when faced with impending death, I completely lose my shit.

He stops at a red light. “I don’t see what’s so funny about asking for your address.” His beard wiggles with every word, which only makes things worse. Or better. I can finally stop shaking, anyway.

I pause to try and breathe normally. “What’s funny is you thinking I’m actually going to give you that information.” A snort escapes my nose. “Yeah. Right. Here, Mister Crazy Mountain Man Grizzly Bear Person, why don’t you come on over to my house and murder me in my living room? That sounds like fun.” I cross my eyes with the ridiculousness of it as I stare out the front windshield. “You must think I’m the dumbest woman alive to fall for that crap.” Forget the part where I actually got in his truck on the basis of a business card that probably isn’t even his. Hell, for all I know, it could belong to the last guy he killed! I need to have my head examined. Being lost and confused about my life has made me completely stupid. Thank God, I have my Taser.

The light turns green and he steps on the gas. The engine roars, but we remain at the speed limit. I guess he’s some kind of Boy Scout. Or maybe he’s a murderer who doesn’t want to get pulled over by the cops. That’s probably the more likely scenario.

“Would I have bothered to rescue you from the bar if I planned to kill you?”

“How am I supposed to know? I’m not a crazy person.”

“Neither am I.”

“Could’ve fooled me,” I mumble under my breath. I point to an all-night diner down the street. “Just drop me off over there. I’ll get a ride back to the bar and get my car from there.”

“Whatever you say.” He changes lanes to be able to turn into the parking lot. The sense of relief that fills me is intoxicating. It’s like being at the end of a really wild, really awful roller coaster ride as you pull into the station to get off. It’s a little dizzying, actually.

My phone beeps as we pull into a space.

Sis: Hey cutie. Feel like having a glass of wine? Got the buttheads to bed finally.

I stare at the screen for a really long time. The rumble of the truck’s engine kind of puts me in a trance as I try to figure out what the hell is wrong with my sister. Does she have a split personality now? Has the stress of being a single mother finally cracked her brain? Should I call her Sybil? Why is her phone showing the name “Sis” now? Did the number transfer over finally?

“What’s the matter?” he asks. “Get some bad news?”

“Why would you say that?” I tear my gaze away from the phone to look at him.

“Because your face looks like it’s melting, you’re frowning so hard.”

I go back to staring at the screen. “It’s nothing. Just my sister losing her damn mind.” Or me losing mine. None of this makes sense. I think all the stress of being shot at has made my brain go offline. I can’t think straight. What the hell is happening here?

Felix climbs out of my bag enough to reach up and lick my chin.

“Thanks, buddy.” I sigh. “Come on. Let’s go.” I place my hand on the door and feel around for the handle. I guess I’m not fast enough, because the mountain man reaches over both of us and opens the door for me.

I jump in surprise, thinking for a split second that he’s going to whack me. Then, as soon as I realize he was just being polite, I expect to be repulsed by his closeness, but instead I find myself inhaling deeply, bringing the scent of his cologne deep into my brain. Wow. That was yummy.

This makes no sense at all, of course. He looks like a Duck Dynasty nut ball prepper off the range for a good long while now, but he smells like a metrosexual about to go clubbing. What?

Something is seriously going on with this guy, but I’m not interested enough to find out what it is. I just want to get over to my sister’s house and collapse on her couch. Once I figure out what the hell happened, I’ll decide whether I’m going to yell at her for a solid ten minutes for almost getting me killed.

“Thanks,” I say, sliding down off the seat to the parking lot below, dragging Felix and my purse with me.

“Don’t mention it.”

I slam the door shut behind me and hitch Felix up higher on my shoulder. The passenger window rolls down with an electric whine. When I look inside the truck, all I can see is darkness.

“Take a cab home. Don’t go back for your car until tomorrow.”

“Why?”

“Because I said so, that’s why.”

I snort again. Tonight I am part human, part pig, apparently. “Whatever. Have a nice life.” I walk away, headed for the brightly lit diner that I can see has pies on display just inside the front door.

My rescuer says nothing. His truck peels out in a cloud of dust and gravel, and I’m left alone in the lot with Felix once again barking his tiny head off.

“Come on, Fee. Let’s go get some pie and then we’ll get the car.” My feet crunch over the graveled asphalt. I should probably call the police and report everything that just happened, but I know they’re already there at the bar. I heard the sirens. Besides, I can tell them everything in the morning, right? After all I’ve been through, sitting in a police station all night is the very last thing I want to do. I know how the system works. After I was mugged, I was ignored, tied up for hours in interviews and reports, and in the end they never found the guy. It was a complete waste of time.

No. No cops. Not now anyway. I need to go see my sister. I need to talk to her and figure everything out in my head before I even try to explain it to a detective.

My conscience nags me about my plan, the grizzly man’s words echoing around in my brain telling me not to go to my car. “That guy’s not the boss of me,” I say in a whisper as we approach the doors. I can get my car whenever I want; I don’t have to wait until tomorrow. That’s way too inconvenient.