The Setup
Emma's cheap heels slid on the wet gravel as she ran into the alley. Behind her, she could hear boots hitting the pavement in a steady, deliberate rhythm.
"Get back here!" Miller's voice bounced off the brick.
She let herself stumble and then caught the edge of a dumpster to keep from actually going down.
*Not yet. Wait for the car.*
"Miller, ease up on the volume," she hissed under her breath.
"You wanted a scene," he muttered back, closing the distance. "I'm giving you a scene."
Rain soaked through her blouse in seconds. She twisted out of her jacket and let it drop, feeling for the slick asphalt with her palms before she went down for real this time, hard enough to sting.
Headlights swept the mouth of the alley. A black sedan, engine idling low.
*There he is.* She thought to herself.
Miller grabbed her arm and hauled her up. "You think you can run from me? You belong to me."
"Let go of me!" The scream tore out of her, half performance, half real annoyance at how much he was hurting her.
The rear door of the sedan opened. A man stepped out into the rain as if rain falling on him was a normal part of his usual routine.
"Let her go." His voice wasn't loud but it was full of quiet authority.
Miller sneered, playing his part to the last line. "This is family business. Stay out of it."
"I don't like repeating myself."
Two incredible-hulk looking men emerged from the front seats, hands hovering near their jackets. Miller looked between them, spat on the ground, and released Emma's arm.
"She isn't worth the trouble anyway." He slowly backed away, then bolted into the dark.
Emma fell against the wet pavement, chest heaving. The man bent down in front of her, so close that she could smell rain and sandalwood in him and yet far enough that he wasn't offering his hand.
"Who are you?"
"Emma." Her voice cracked on cue, though the shaking underneath it was real. "Please. Don't let him find me again."
He studied her face like he was looking for something that should be there. "Who's the man that just ran off?"
"My ex. Marcus." The lie came easy, rehearsed a hundred times in a mirror. "He doesn't take rejection well."
"Doesn't take it well enough to hunt you down in the rain?"
"You don't know him."
"No," he agreed. "I don't know him and I don't know you either." He tilted his head slightly. "So tell me exactly why I should put you in my car instead of calling you a cab."
Emma let her breath hitch. "Because a cab won't stop him. And the way I see you," she looked pointedly at the two bodyguards. “He's scared of you already. He won't attempt to cross you.”
Something flickered across his face, very quickly and gone. "You're sharp, for someone who was screaming for help thirty seconds ago."
"I'm cold and my hands are bleeding. I'm not sure that sharp would be the right word to describe me."
He almost smiled at that.He stood and offered a hand this time. When she took it, his grip was warm enough to make her flinch.
"Lewis," he said.
"I know who you are." The words slipped out before she could stop them, and she watched his eyes narrow.
"Do you?"
"Everyone on the east side recognises the car. And the two men who get out of it like they're expecting trouble." She nodded toward his security, still flanking the door. "I wasn't exactly hoping for a shipping magnate though. I was just hoping for anyone bigger than Marcus."
"And instead you got both."
"Aren't I lucky?"
He looked at her for a moment longer, rain running down the collar of his coat, and gestured toward the open door. "Get in before you catch pneumonia and ruin my evening with an ambulance."
"That's not really an invitation, is it?"
"It's the only one you're getting tonight."
She hesitated, just long enough to sell the reluctance, then climbed in. The interior smelled like leather and money. Lewis slid in across from her, knocked twice on the partition, and the car pulled away from the curb.
"So," he said, once the city started sliding past the windows. "Emma what?"
"Does it matter?"
"It does if I'm going to explain to my driver why there's a stranger bleeding on his upholstery."
"Stone. Emma Stone." She watched for a reaction and got none. Good. "And you don't owe your driver an explanation for anything, from what I hear."
"You hear a lot for someone who claims not to know me."
"I said I know who you are not that I know you."
He reached into a compartment beside him and pulled out a small first aid kit, tossed it into her lap without ceremony. "Is there a difference?"
"There's always a difference." She popped the kit open, cleaned the gravel out of her palm, aware of him watching every movement. " If you want to ask me something, ask it."
"Why didn't you call the police instead of running into a dead-end alley?"
The question landed harder than she expected. She kept her eyes on her hands. "Because the police already know Marcus. They've known him for years yet they've not been able to do anything about him."
"That sounds like a story."
"It's not one I'm willing to tell a stranger in the back of his car."
"Fair enough." He leaned back, studying her with that same cold, analytical patience. "You said you were hoping for someone bigger than him. Not someone safer."
"Safer wasn't on the menu tonight."
"And now?"
She met his eyes deliberately, letting just enough fear show through to look convincing, and buried the rest. "Now I'm in a car with a man half the city is afraid of, and I still don't know if that's better or worse."
Lewis almost laughed, a low sound with no real humor in it. "Smart woman."
"I try."
The car slowed at a light. He watched her for a second longer, then said, "Everything with me comes with a price, Emma Stone. You should know that before we get where we're going."
"I didn't ask you to take me anywhere."
"No you didn't." His voice dropped, quiet and certain. "But you will still go with me."
The light turned green. The car moved forward into the
rain, and Emma said nothing, because for the first time all night, she wasn't sure which one of them was running the con.
