Runaway Hearts: Seduced by Danger

2. Stranger Danger

Chapter 2

Stranger Danger

W hen I wake up the following morning, the weather is abysmal, with the sky painted in dreary shades of gray and the clouds looking restless. Just before I hit the road, I text my best friend Arietta.

“Finally on vacay! Packing right now. Hope you’re having fun, send pictures, plz.”

She won’t answer me right away because she’s on a hiking trip along the Hardangervidda mountain plateau in Norway with her fiancé. I run an annoyed hand over my soft stomach as I think about Arietta’s slim figure and Donovan’s toned abs. I wish I was fit enough to hike a mountain. Or had a fiancé as hot as Donovan.

That’s not happening.

My phone rings, and the name ID makes my eyes roll. “Hi, Arietta. Isn’t it like three in the morning where you are?”

Her mocking giggle tickles my ear. She launches into speed talking in Russian, and I don’t understand.

“Jeez, doll face, slow down.”

She scoffs. “Woke up on the wrong side of the bed, bitch?”

I smirk. “Yeah, you weren’t in it.” Flirting with her always puts her in a good mood.

Another giggle rises, but it turns into a hysterical laugh. “Sorry,” she says through her laughter, “Donovan has been a bad bunny, so I was busy putting him to sleep. I swear, that ten-inch dick is a whole lot of maintenance.”

I squeak and my face turns red-hot. “T.M.I. Arietta. Please. You win.” Flashes of Don’s crotch come to my mind, and I must admit, I wouldn’t be surprised if he was hung.

“Course I do!”

There’s no winning here, for sure. I blink away the image of my first meeting with the six-foot-one police officer. Seeing a hunky cop get yanked down by his choker for a kiss is something I haven’t been able to get out of my mind. Never seen a man get on his knees so fast. But they both radiated so much happiness that I pushed my unease down, and it turned out that I liked Donovan Forester.

I shake it off. “What were you calling for, then?”

“Did you put the dress in your suitcase?”

“No.”

“Marianne! You promised! That dress is your ticket to a fun and sexy vacation. Pack it. And the black bikini, too!”

Never.

Those things are too revealing, drawing attention. I don’t want attention. I want peace.

“Vacation at the beach is to have fun and be daring,” she singsongs.

I groan, but she’s right. Arietta always knows how to push me out of my comfort zone. I open my suitcase and cram the floral ruffle short dress between stacks of neatly folded clothes. And then the bikini. “Fine, fine. It’s done. Happy?”

“Ecstatic,” she purrs. “Promise you’ll wear it. The off-white makes your tanned skin pop, and the bow on the bikini makes those big tits of yours look so juicy.”

Such a filthy mouth, Jesus… I love it.

“Only if I meet someone worth wearing it for,” I reply.

“Deal.” A soft snoring rumbles through the line. “He’s so precious when he sleeps.”

An unnerved exhale escapes me. “Are you sure you’re talking about a grown man?”

And a cop, nonetheless. Ew.

“Ah! Believe me, he’s all big and grown…” She finishes in Russian, and I’m glad I don’t understand everything.

“I should never answer your calls when you’re in post-coital bliss,” I mumble.

“Say what?” She snaps back to reality.

“I’m happy for you and your dirty bunny cop. Now, can I please proceed with my vacation?”

Arietta continues the conversation on her own. “Maybe you could even have sex with a fisherman. I heard they’re quite the catch.”

I burst out laughing at the pun, my cheeks cramping from the lack of it. “I hate how much I love you.”

“Oh, Marianne… Ya lyublyu tebya do luny i obratno.” I love you to the moon and back. “Now, go have some wild adventures for both of us.”

“I’ll try,” I say as I hang up.

A smile curves my lips. Arietta’s infectious energy always lifts my spirits, even when I’m reluctant to admit it.

Once packed, I toss my suitcase into the car, the black clouds morphing over me like a warning.

On the positive side, I’ll see my family soon. It will take me approximately thirteen hours of driving to reach my uncle’s house in St. Gabriel and another twelve hours to reach Nay, where my beach house is located.

The stop at my uncle’s house is a mere pit stop.

Recharge and go.

It’s been two years since I last saw my family. When I think about them, an invisible weight presses on my lungs so hard I wheeze instead of breathing. My uncle Corey and his wife, Nina, are the only family I still talk to. When I fled the nest to study to become a nurse, just before I turned nineteen, I wanted to leave all the bitter memories that came with it. I wanted to prove Richard—my father—was wrong about me.

Erasing myself from my family meant healing. An accomplishment on my own. I thought I could leave the pain behind and forge a fresh path.

But the wounds of my past were too deep to heal, and I sought solace in the arms of Eric. It was a huge mistake; he only left behind a trail of shattered dreams. I would’ve been safer playing Russian roulette with a fully loaded gun. And now, as I sit in my car, the memories of our breakup, four months ago flood my mind.

The air in our living room crackled with tension as Eric loomed over me, his tall frame casting a menacing shadow. His face twisted into a sneer of pure disdain; his hazel eyes narrowed. “Oh, princess. This isn’t a mistake. We’re over,” he said, and his jaw ticked at my stillness.

My eyes stung from unshed tears as I tried to avoid his gaze. Don’t break.

“You’re a real piece of work, you know that?” he spat out as his hand scratched his buzz cut. He stepped closer, invading my personal space and making me shrink back against the wall.

“Why? What did I do?” I asked, my mind already retreating into a protective fog.

Hush, crazy lady, don’t say a word...

Eric’s laugh was harsh and cruel. “Look at you, Marianne. How pathetic,” he said, wrapping his massive hand around my throat. “I said it’s over, and you just stand there like a lost little girl.”

“O... Okay.” The words were barely audible as they fell from my lips, my heart breaking into even smaller pieces with each passing second.

Nobody’s gonna buy you a mockingbird...

Eric’s grip tightened around my neck, his scent of leather and rosemary wafting through my nose. “Who said you can talk back?” he growled, shaking me roughly. “Do you have any idea what’s gonna happen now, princess?”

I shook my head, trying to apologize and appease him before it was too late. Eric chuckled darkly, and I knew whatever came next would be nothing short of a nightmare.

In the labyrinth of your mind, where demons crawl...

“You’re going to realize no one else can put up with you without your fucking pills,” he snarled, his voice dripping with sadistic pleasure. “Nobody but me.”

Silent screams echo, haunting the hall...

“You’ll beg me to take you back, and I can’t wait to break you all over again.”

I tried to mutter an apology, but Eric only squeezed harder, cutting off my air supply.

Hush, crazy lady, don’t let them see. The fractures within, the agony.

“What was that?” he demanded, his voice like poison pouring into my ears.

“I... I’m sorry,” I managed.

“Pathetic,” he sneered, finally releasing me and watching with satisfaction as I collapsed to the floor, gasping. “Don’t forget your fucking pills!”

Wrapped in shadows, where nightmares breed. Reality’s a lie, too cruel to heed.

Breathless and heartbroken, I gathered my things and got out of the apartment we’d been sharing for two and a half years. He locked the door behind me and said, “Let’s see how long you last on your own.”

That day, a piece of my humanity broke. I let the darkness lurking within him consume me. And I attempted suicide. After a month in Winnipeg’s central hospital, filled with nothing but shame, I listed only one contact on my form: Arietta Chrenowskovic. I let Eric and my demons win, and it was unacceptable.

Only Ari knew what had happened, but she never judged me. She was also the most attentive ear I had ever come across, and for that, I was grateful.

But even though she was physically with me in my hospital room, I felt empty and left out. This was one of the few moments I envied my best friend, and still, today, when I think about it... I want to be happy for her. But she seems to have everything she wishes for. She’s beautiful, smart, and has a guy who would do anything to please her.

In comparison, no one really understood me or what I was going through.

Most of the time, I don’t even understand myself.

I call my family every month, but until now, I didn’t have the strength to see them in person. After three months of attempted healing, I ache for the love and acceptance of Corey and Nina. But I’m unsure if I’m worth it. When I think about opening up to them, excitement and nervousness compete for the podium, but shame wins the game. If they knew what I did, they would be ashamed.

Guilt still hides in the darkest corners of my mind and pops up out of the blue in a sick game of peek-a-boo with my sanity.

As I drive through the winding, empty roads, I blast cello covers of my favorite pop songs to drown out memories of Eric. The powerful melodies fill my car, and I forget about him for a moment.

But then, something catches my eye. A lone figure standing on the side of the desolate road, his thumb outstretched. He wears a tattered backpack on one shoulder and faded jeans hugging his legs. A well-worn leather jacket hangs over his arm, giving off an air of ruggedness. Despite his unkempt appearance, he looks normal enough.

My curiosity gets the best of me, and I slow down.

In my chest, a sense of purpose and adventure blooms. I want to take him with me. I can’t just leave him there on the side of the road. His tired form calls out, and compassion pulls at my heartstrings.

He needs help, and I need a karma change. If I help him, maybe it can fill a bit of the hole in my soul.

Despite the risks, I can’t resist the urge to connect meaningfully with another human being. In a world that is so fast-paced and disconnected, the idea of a simple conversation with a stranger is a welcome respite.

The mirage of an unforeseen event calls to me, and my heart holds no anxiety. I’m just a human being helping another, and it makes a warmth coat the inner side of my abdomen.

I stop.

The hitchhiker approaches my blue Civic with a straight face, but his purposeful stride catches my attention.

That’s confidence in motion.

The short sleeves of his gray T-shirt hug his muscular arms, and his eyes bore into my soul. I unlock the door and roll down the window. He leans in, and an intimidating buzz radiates from him, causing an unfamiliar but pleasant fizzle in my stomach.

A discolored patch surrounds his right eye—purple, blue, and yellow—like a violent piece of abstract art. The real-life picture of Seito.

“Where are you heading?” he asks.

“Nay’s seaside,” I reply.

He lets out a complex, rasping laugh, sending warm electric shivers through my heart. Crap.

“Then, you’re my ride,” he says, his words already sitting in the passenger seat like there’s no way I’ll refuse him.

“Okay,” I say.

He climbs into my car, and my heart pounds so hard it might rip out of my chest. The air is thick and impossible to breathe. But my fingers don’t tingle. I try to stay calm, taking deep, slow breaths to calm my nerves, focusing on the texture of the soft seat beneath my butt and the sticky leather of the steering wheel.

This man needs help, and it’s up to me to provide it. Isn’t that what being a good person is all about? To help no matter who needs it.

I need to be a good person to feel better about myself.

“Where are you going?” I ask as I steer us back onto the road.

“The end game is British Columbia.”

What are the odds of me finding someone who needs a ride to the same destination?

“Okay.”

My mind envisions all sorts of scenarios. My best friend Arietta’s voice is in my head telling me how stupid I am to allow a stranger in my car because, you know… Stranger Danger. But she isn’t here, so I must navigate my thoughts alone. She said to have wild adventures. I’m getting to it.

The chance this could positively impact him or me makes it worth the risk. But his aura tastes like a hazardous adventure.

“You know,” he says, breaking the silence, “it’s nice of you to pick me up. People usually worry about picking up strangers.” There’s an undercurrent of disdain in his voice.

A weak laugh escapes as I reply, “Ha... It’s been a long time since I had someone to share the road with. I don’t know what to say.”

The man turns his head to me, whispering a thank you, and the color of his eyes stuns me. The deep green exterior is mesmerizing, brightening with flecks of gold sparkling in the sunlight up to the pupil. It’s like a summer sunrise on the ocean.

The weight of his gaze pushes against me, squeezing my chest with a delicious ache. His eyes seem to see past all superficial layers and into the depths of my being.

He cracks an arrogant smirk, and I find myself lost in the depths of those green pools once again.

“What do you do for a living?” His voice is a sugary river, flowing with a golden warmth that wraps around me.

“I’m an emergency nurse.”

His grin fades as his eyes widen in surprise at my profession. “That’s... interesting,” he mumbles.

I nod. “It’s a rollercoaster, but saving lives, facing the unexpected... it’s different.”

His eyebrows raise. “Sounds intense. Do you ever get a break from the craziness?”

I chuckle. “Does chaos ever take a breather?”

He leans in a bit closer. “Fair enough. Must be tough.”

Eyes fixed on the road, I gulp, captivated by how he’s tuned into our conversation. “It has its moments, for sure. But enough about me. What’s your daily torture?” I ask, hoping to shift the focus away.

He grins, his eyes holding a masked sparkle. It sings about years of not letting people see through him, something I understand. “I work for my father in sales and distribution. Not as interesting as saving lives, but someone’s gotta do the dirty work.”

We share a laugh until the cloak in his eyes hesitates to lift, and he rolls his tongue in his mouth. “I’m on vacation for the next three weeks,” he adds, dragging each syllable out in a low purr.

“Me too!” I say this with enthusiasm, my words tumbling in a rush.

He smirked at me, and oddly, an unusual warmth pooled into the pit of my stomach.

That man makes me hotter than should be allowed. I want to touch him.

He runs his hand through his black shoulder-length hair, giving him a rugged, untamed appearance, and I notice a tattoo on his left hand. It’s a skillful black dragon wrapping around his wrist in a magnificent work of art. The intricate details and bold lines are mesmerizing. As he talks and gestures with his hand, the dragon seems to come to life as if it’s a part of him. It’s a powerful and mysterious image that adds to the mystery of the man.

Have I seen this tattoo somewhere? It looks strangely familiar.

I try to focus on driving, but the thoughts of this stranger consume my mind. Listening to Michael Jackson’s best hits, I yelp when a dull sound from the right wheel snaps me out of “Thriller.”

“What was that?” Stranger Danger asks, gasping.

“The safety bands. I’m sorry.”

“What?”

“It’s the safety strips on the road to warn people they have exited the lines. I’m sorry; I rarely go out of line. Did I scare you?”

He chuckles, making his Adam’s apple pop. “You’ll need more than that to scare me.” A condescending gleam lights up his sunrise eyes.

Ah, I bet I can.

“Did you walk for long?” I ask.

The question makes him shove away any emotions I might see in his gaze. “I walked for thirty minutes.”

I frown. The biggest city around here, Winnipeg, is at least two hours away, and that man doesn’t look like a small-town citizen. “Are you from Palco Springs?” I ask, my brows furrowed as the hitchhiker’s response lacks the precision I’m hoping for.

“No, I’ve been traveling for a few days.”

Inappropriate thoughts pop into my mind as we drive, and I can’t push them all away.

Does he have any other tattoos... elsewhere?

I salivate at the thought, but I ask nothing else. Maybe it’s because of his intimidating disposition or the fire in his eyes when they’re set on me. I can’t believe I’ve gotten myself into this position. I intended to go to Nay to leave my problems behind, but I picked up a hitchhiker instead. Why am I doing something so foolish?

Because I can’t fight my need to help. Or because my mind goes into the dirtiest places when I look at him.

“Do you have children?” he asks.

My breath gets caught in my throat, and I cough. “What?”

“I’ll take that as a no. A boyfriend?”

I snort and laugh, thinking of Eric—a nervous, painful, weak laugh. I don’t have to spill my guts, though. “No,” I let out, wondering if I was about to get murdered by a sexy man.

“That’s hard to understand.” His hoarse voice is just a whisper, running through my ears and enveloping my heart in a gentle caress.

“I beg your pardon?” I mutter.

“You’re young; you have…”

“Stop!” Cutting people off midsentence is rude, but I can’t bear the thought of discussing my loneliness. It’s a conversation I can’t bring myself to have. It will only make me suffer, and his remark makes a swarm of ants crawl in my fingers.

“I may be a psychopath who killed her last conquest to escape the police,” I quip.

His vivid gaze hooks onto my right cheek, commanding me to look at him. “Are you?” he asks, like it makes actual sense. Then his eyes narrow, and his lower lip softens. “It’s not something to say when you pick up a hitchhiker.”

I know. “Sorry.”

I scroll through my music library to distract myself and choose an old anime soundtrack. Memories of watching these shows with Uncle Corey flood my mind, transporting me back to my teenage years when I spent hours engrossed in anime and manga books. The stories all blur together in my head, creating a vibrant world where I lose myself and breathe freely, where even villains live rent-free, and everything is possible.

“Anime fan?” he asks, breaking the brief silence as my fingers tap to the soundtrack’s beat.

I nod, trying to keep my focus on the road. “Yeah, I grew up watching some with my uncle. Old times.”

He scoffs. “Funny coincidence. I’m half Japanese myself.”

I’m in trouble...

His features are captivating, and I wonder if the rest of him is as stunning as those eyes. I shake my head and let out a small giggle.

I need to focus on driving and not indulge in inappropriate thoughts about his manhood. He stares at me with an unreadable expression, his lips moving as if saying something.

Shit, I missed the start of his sentence.

“What are you giggling about?” he repeats.

Oops.

“I just thought of something funny,” I try.

I’ve never had someone being attentive to me before, and I’m unsure if I like it.

“I’d give a lot to know what you were...” he starts, but a patrol car diverts his attention to the side of the road. “Pay attention to the police.”

I have no reason to be nervous about the police because I drive like an old lady. However, my passenger’s behavior becomes peculiar as he slumps in his seat, staring at his feet.

Is he trying to hide from the cops? Is he a criminal on the run?

Oh, my god.

I’m an accomplice in helping a wanted criminal escape the law!

Cool! No, Marianne. Not cool.

Despite myself, I find this fact extremely interesting.

As if we’re going to fall in love and have a glamorous life on the run, drinking tequila in Barbados. News flash: nothing exciting ever happens to ordinary girls. The police will find us, and instead of an epic boat escape, sharks will devour us as we fall into the open sea. The end. Cue the dramatic music.

Bah, no one likes cops anyway.

Time runs as the landscape rushes past the window, and I gradually start to sing again. The vibrations of the bass resonate through my body. A musical massage is anchoring me in lethargic tranquility. The presence of the hitchhiker is more soothing than intimidating. Like I found a hidden oasis in the desert of my chaotic thoughts. I no longer need to overthink.

“Do you plan to stop at some point, or are you doing the trip nonstop?” the hitchhiker asks.

He’s making jokes now. Hilarious. Taking my silence as a refusal, he explains.

“I have to use the restroom.”

“Oh no, I just realized I forgot to bring a second pee bottle. You’ll have to tie a knot in the hose to make it work. Do you need any help with that?”

What the fuck?! Lord, did I say that out loud?

The man freezes and grins. “It’s been a long time since someone spoke to me this way. You’re fun.”

I can’t help the silly smile spreading across my face. He likes me.