DELILAH
Jacob opened the passenger side door to his car as we approached, and I slid into the smooth leather seat of his sports car. Seconds later, he was behind the wheel and turning over the powerful engine.
I reached into my purse and pulled out a stack of hundreds that I’d picked up from the bank in the event he had wanted to work with me.
“Here.”
Jacob glanced at me; his brow knitted in confusion above the ink-dark squares of his sunglasses.
“What is that?” he asked.
“The money?” I answered, holding the stack out. “You know, the money
I agreed to pay you to do this?”
The confusion vanished and he nodded.
“Right. Open the glovebox and stick it in there. No need for you to be walking around with that kind of money on your person.”
I did as he asked, opening the glovebox in fr
