Her thumb was out, but it wasn't the first thing Warren noticed. Had there been any other traffic besides his BMW on the tree-lined state highway, her figure would have stopped it. Honeyed hair, the same hue as the endless scorched road surface upon which he'd been travelling, tumbled down her back and brushed the exposed strip of midriff below the loose hem of her white vest top. Stunning. And that was before his gaze ventured lower.

He assumed she was a trick of the heat and slowed on the approach to be sure. Drawing nearer afforded the impressive vista of her tight behind, packed into a pair of denim shorts that'd appear small on a jockey. Cut dangerously high at the back, he practically drooled at the twin semicircles of succulent flesh peeking from beneath. He told himself chivalry was the primary reason he stopped on her shadow beneath her outstretched arm. His libido knew otherwise.

The Tanzanite Blue paintwork reflected the tan of her shapely, scissored legs and four-inch sandals as Warren drank in her profile. Firm tits, a perfect handful, were barely constrained below a dual-tier necklace that could have been boiled sweets strung together. Chic. Alluring. Revered by one sex, reviled by the other.

And she knew it.

With a nonchalant demeanour, her arm lowered, head turning to scan the dusky leather interior of the car, open to the uninterrupted azure sky, before fixing her attention on him. Her flawless complexion was devoid of make-up, oversize shades set atop a 90210 nose, and kissable lips that exhibited little emotion. Early twenties, tops. Probably got more pocket money from Daddy than Warren made in a month. The fact she exemplified high maintenance didn't dissuade him from lifting his Ray-Bans to perch atop his mousey crop of hair and giving her another once-over, feet to face.

Her lips curled into a tight smile. "You gonna gawp all day or help a girl out?"

Nondescript, middle-American accent.

"Depends where she's heading."

She raised her arm again, the bangles on her wrist clacking as she pointed ahead. Warren followed the line of her finger into the distance, between trees that framed the shimmering heat from the road's surface.

"Sure? Junction City's that way. Two, three hours at least."

She shrugged. "That's good."

It was Warren's turn to smile, dimples forming. "Anything I should know?"

Another shrug. "Asshole boyfriend's in the other direction."

Since he'd stopped, the true measure of the heat was potent. Warren looked her over once more, grinned and popped the door latch, leaving the engine idling as the car insistently pinged its unheeded warning. She stepped aside to let him out, shorter by a few inches even in heels, and Warren noticed the case for the first time. Terracotta. Boxy, with squared-off reinforced corner plates. Not her style. Like it belonged to some city lawyer instead of in the grasp of a sexy blonde hitchhiker. But he reached past the diamond-encrusted Movado on her dainty wrist to prise the suitcase from her death grip. She smelled all kinds of wonderful, sweet perfume masking the light tang of a body that had been immersed in the unrelenting heat. The entire week had been unseasonably humid, despite Nebraska being more famous for Kool-Aid than its summers.

She gazed into his hazel irises from a distance of less than a foot before releasing the handle. Warren transferred the weight of the luggage to his other arm, the steel clasps catching the sun's rays, then heaved the case over the bodywork into the space behind the seats. The car absorbed the shock with a bounce.

"Travelling light, huh?"

Her customary shrug. "Not planning on going back."

She didn't wait for an invitation. Strutted round the front of the car, catwalk style. Mesmerising. The way her tits strained against her top as she bent to release the door, slithering into the leather like she was part of the designer's vision, gave Warren the beginnings of an erection he knew would get him in trouble.

Shaking his head and reseating his shades, he climbed back in, stabbed the pedal and cruised south.

For the first few miles of SW 86th she only delivered curt replies over the road noise, preferring to stare out at the trees and bushes blurring by, sometimes close enough to touch. He learned her name and that she was with Sasha Models out of Omaha. Figured. Beyond the fact her statuesque curves were up for grabs – by a matter of hours – she revealed little else.

The road opened out giving unimpeded views across acres of flat, arable land, dotted with smallholdings, outbuildings and silent machinery. Warren preferred the state highways to the tedium of the interstates. Not as direct, but the scenery was better. Many of the roads criss-crossed the country parallel to the busier freeways, and he could push the needle correspondingly higher. Stationing cops and speed guns out here simply wasn't worth the return on investment.

Her hair whipped in the breeze as the car nudged eighty, swallowing the miles and spitting them out with ease, dust billowing in the rear-view mirror. He watched her relax into the seat.

"You like fast?"

"I like anything that puts distance between me and him."

"That bad, huh?"

She stared dead ahead. "You don't wanna know. Trust me."

He glanced across, worked his way down her body, wondering how anyone could mistreat such splendour to the point she walked out and climbed into a stranger's car. Sure, she was aloof. Spoilt, probably. But he couldn't help imagining how none of it would matter when she was naked, riding on top of him. No amount of emotional detachment could offset the excitement of being inside her; pawing her tits, bouncing her way to orgasm, head tipped back, mouth open, panting hard, slick with lust.

His reverie was broken when she spoke. "He looked at me like that."

Warren realised he'd been staring and faced forward, correcting his road position. "Like what?"

"That… hunger. Like I was his property."

"I wasn't…" but the truth was, he had. "Sorry. You deserve better." It sounded pathetic. Hollow. But he couldn't think of anything else.

A brief flash of inner pain clouded her beauty before the impassive exterior returned. She sighed and they continued in silence for a while, the BMW's suspension making the journey more comfortable than it would have been in a lesser car.

"So, Alyssa?"

"Yeah?" She swiped away strands of hair plastered to her cheek.

"What were you doing hitching in the middle of nowhere?"

She turned to the scenery flashing past and took her time answering. "Ditched the car."

"Whaaat?!"

"It was too conspicuous."

"That's no reason to get rid of a car! What was it?"

"A Porsche."

"Daddy gonna buy you a new one?"

It was intended as a joke but he immediately regretted blurting it out. Doubly when she flashed him a look that could kill wildlife.

"That's not fair."

Warren looked away and kept his tongue.

"Besides," she went on, "it wasn't mine."

He slammed the brakes, the ABS juddering on the less-than-perfect surface, skidding the car to a stop at an angle across the highway. "You-" he checked the horizon, despite knowing nobody was within earshot for miles, and hissed, "You stole it?"

Alyssa chewed her lip and nodded. "Sort of. It's Rob's." She qualified: "My now ex."

"Oh that makes it alright then." Warren banged the steering wheel with the heel of his palm. "Great. One good deed and I'm an accessory."

"It's not like that. He's an asshole."

"And assholes don't miss their cars?"

She was silent. He was sure there was more.

"How long do we have?"

"Couple hours, maybe."

"Then you need to get out."

Alyssa whirled and stared at him, panic on her pretty features. "No, no. Please don't leave me here. He'll find me. He has friends. Connections."

"Oh this just gets better. Like the mob?"

"Just… unpleasant people who owe him favours."

"Even more reason to dump you here."

"Please! They'll find me. Hunt me. I'm begging you. Take me away from him." She swivelled to look in the wing mirror and whispered hollowly. "From that life."

Warren exhaled and scanned the countryside, which all of a sudden didn't seem so vast. "Why didn't you say something earlier?"

"Would you have picked me up if you'd known?"

He didn't answer.

"Please, Warren. I'll pay for the gas and your trouble." She took off her shades revealing aquamarine eyes set among feathery lashes that shouldn't have softened the situation, but did. "Take me with you. Junction City's the next state over. Drop me there and split. I'll be alright."

He regarded her longer, drumming the steering wheel. "Anything else I need to know?" She shook her head. "No more surprises?"

She looked away. "Just drive, Warren. Please."

He inhaled fully, held it, let it go, put the car in gear and spun off, kicking up gravel behind them. She was trouble, but he couldn't leave her. Not here. Not when the situation she was running from appeared worse than surviving the heat. Her dynamite figure was also a major factor.

He gave her a few miles to stew as a car loomed ahead then blazed past. They powered through its dust cloud.

"So what type of Porsche was it?"

"A Cayman."

"Jesus. He's gonna be pissed."

"Probably." She gave a wry grin. "Fucking quick, though."

"I bet."

"It was stupid, but I've been planning this weeks. Had the bus from Lincoln all paid for. But as I heaved my-" she glanced behind the seats, "-stuff outta the house and saw the car in the garage. Well, I couldn't resist."

"Doesn't he need it?"

"He took the Alfa today."

"Of course."

"Anyway, I started to panic someone would see me on the highway so I pulled off. Then I panicked that I might pass someone who'd recognise the car so I got out at an intersection. Released the handbrake and watched it roll into the ditch. You know the rest."

Warren whistled. "You're crazy."

"Crazy not to have left months ago. He treated me like chattel."

"I'm sorry."

"It wasn't like that in the beginning. He bought me stuff. Rings. Clothes. Lingerie. Got me a job. But then it was like I owed him somehow. For making me what I am, even though I can do it on my own." She shook her head. Looked away. "I should have listened to my father."

"Hey. Anyone who can't treat you right is an asshole in my book."

"Thanks." Alyssa delivered a weak smile, her vulnerability turning him on.

"What does Rob do?"

"Investment banker."

"An asshole by trade too, huh?"

She smiled again. "You could say that."

Warren looked down, flicked a bug from his polo shirt. "Did you have a big exit planned? Storming out? Leaving a note?"

"Nope. Just grab what I could carry and get a head start."

"And that included rocks?"

"What?"

"In the case."

She looked out the window again at a farm in the distance. "Like I said, ain't going back."

"Oh Jesus, it's not… you seen the movie Seven?"

She laughed. "I'm not mailing body parts to his other bitches."

"He was stepping out?"

"Well it's not like we were married. And he never admitted it, but I kinda knew." She paused and he let her take time. They were miles from the border into Kansas. "I'd smell them on him when he came back late. Pretended I didn't notice, but it still hurts when you realise you're not the only one."

Warren nodded, eyeing her fingertips idly tracing shapes atop one creamy thigh, wishing he could be down there instead, trailing kisses up to where her slashed shorts began, listening to her sighs as he brought her untold pleasure.

She continued. "Thing is, I sorta wasn't surprised. What's not to like when he buys you a bottle of Veuve Clicquot and whispers he wants to take you to bed?" She sighed. "But you don't really know someone until you see them with their guard down. He rarely lowered his."

Warren knew that all too well: Hannah. Besotted at first by her mystery, then her kisses, her skin, her taste, her sex. His forever girl who set his heart aflame then doused it in liquid nitrogen five months later.

Alyssa continued. "And Rob's attentive." Her fingers moved inward between her legs, looped figure-eights, brushing, drifting higher until she caught herself. "At least when he's not…"

"What?"

She turned to him, pressed one of her nostrils shut with the pad of her fingertip and sniffed.

"For real?"

She nodded. "He turned violent with that shit in his system. Selfish. Honestly, it was better he used the other girls when he was high. Meant I didn't always have to put up with his… ways."

"Asshole."

"Yeah. But he won't be doing that for a while." She smirked.

Warren caught her eye and almost lost control of the wheel. "You didn't…? In the case?"

She laughed again, a whole body laugh. "Relax, Mr. Getaway. No bricks of coke in there. I just opened his safe, and tossed out some of the bags before I left. Slashed 'em and tipped powder all over the bed so he can roll in it with his whores."

"You are crazy. A simple goodbye would do. Don’t you know subtle?"

She tousled her hair. As if proving his point, she put her arms straight up, allowing the wind to buffet them before unclipping her belt and standing in the passenger footwell, arms outstretched, aeroplaning as the car rocketed along.

"Yaaaaahoooooooo!"

Warren looked up at her. Carefree. Using the danger as catharsis. But one question was doing spin cycle in his mind. He couldn't shake it as she sat down. "So what’s in the case, Alyssa?"

Her hair streamed behind her and she remained looking forward, still grinning broadly. "Don't you go rummaging through my underwear. There are names for people like that."

"I'm just curious is all. Lead-lined panties?"

"You know what curiosity killed."

He fell silent. Chewed up some more miles until a speck appeared on the horizon, growing larger as they neared. A gas station at a crossroads. Mom and Pop affair with a shop.

"Hey, Warren. Can we stop? I need to use the bathroom. And I've lived on a bagel and adrenaline all day."

"Sure." His stomach rumbled in sympathy as he checked the car’s fuel gauge. "Might as well get some gas too."

He hit the blinkers and pulled onto the forecourt, the bell in the store dinging as he crossed the breaker, levelling with a pump. Alyssa stepped out and checked herself in the wing mirror, primping her windswept hair as best she could.

Warren looked across at the store. Basic supplies at best. "Some chips and a Coke? Maybe a sub if it looks fresh."

"What type?"

"Surprise me. You're good at that."

She threw him a grin. "I'll get the gas too."

"Thanks. You need some money?"

"I got enough."

With that, she strode across the forecourt leaving Warren once again wondering how anyone could two-time such a perfect ass. He lifted his shades and marvelled at the way her cheeks rose and fell rhythmically beneath the scrap of denim. If Pop were in the store, he'd get a hell of a shock when she bent over. She might get the stuff for free.

He watched her enter, the bell above the door ringing out into the expanse of the Nebraska nothingness. She paid for the gas and gave him a thumbs-up through the store window, then disappeared out back to use the restroom. Warren stepped from the car, flipped the filler cap, grabbed the nozzle and pumped, watching the dial rocket up.

It was cooler beneath the sheltered canopy, a gentle breeze blowing through the station, carrying with it the stench of gasoline. His gaze fell upon the case. Calling to him. But like she said, there were words for folk who invaded people's privacy. Especially the privacy of vulnerable, if unhinged women he'd just met.

But he needed to know. For his own sanity. Looked over his shoulder to see Alyssa now selecting from the store's refrigerators. The pump clicked so he capped off and climbed back in the Beamer. Glanced in the rearview mirror a few times at the case, splitting his attention between it and Alyssa wandering the tiny aisles, plucking produce from the shelves.

Maybe one quick peek.

He knelt in the seat, reached over, heaved the case horizontally and popped the clasps. Sweating, he lifted the lid, half expecting designer clothes, half expecting pieces of her boyfriend in bags. Or the coke. But not neat bundles of hundred dollar bills. Row upon row. More than he'd ever seen in his life.

In a panic, he snapped his eyes across the forecourt then out to the road, convinced a police cruiser was going to pull up any second and take him down. But there wasn't even any tumbleweed. Just him and, what, a hundred thousand dollars? Two? Three? He picked up a bundle, rifled through it then dropped it like it was radioactive. Prints. He pulled the windscreen cloth from the glove box, wiped and replaced the stack carefully before shutting the case. Lowering the clasps, he returned it and wiped down every part he'd touched, sinking into his seat, mind whirling.

He considered taking off. Tossing the case onto the forecourt and screeching the hell out of her life. No. That'd leave prints on the handle. Maybe take some money as expenses? Or rip her off entirely? Tempting, but he'd be a criminal. Hunted. Either by her, the boyfriend, or the law. He was stuck. Heard the bell jangle and swivelled to see her emerging with a bag full of snacks. He willed himself to start the vehicle and leave, but stayed gripping the wheel, perhaps held by her incredible magnetism as she strode across his vision, a blonde poison Goddess, climbing in and placing the groceries between her dainty feet.

"Let's go. We can eat on the way."

Warren tried to control his nerves. He fired the engine and pulled back out onto the dusty highway as she reeled off her purchases. He only half listened. Thoughts tumbled like spilled library index cards, unable to latch onto any one fully.

"Hey!" She sounded indignant.

"Wha… sorry."

"I said tuna or cheese?"

"Tuna's great. Thanks."

She rummaged in the bag and produced his selection, tossing a bag of Lay's into his lap and wedging a bottle of Coke in the central console. Then she reached across to his lap, peeled the bag of chips apart and partially unwrapped his sub. He was momentarily distracted by her hands so close to his groin. Imagining what they could do to his cock under different circumstances.

"Thanks," he said again.

"No problem. If you wanna swap, that's cool. I'll drive if you like."

"No," he shot back, perhaps too hastily.

Alyssa eyed him a second then unwrapped her sandwich and took a hungry bite. Warren did likewise, not particularly enjoying the repast. He battled internally with how – and if – to broach the subject of the case with her. Choices: a) keep quiet, play dumb, b) dump her sexy ass and poisonous cargo at Junction City and run, c) cut a deal, d) blackmail, e) go with her. A hundred scenarios flooded his head as he chewed and sipped, no closer to a resolution when he'd finished. But at least he felt better for the food.

They turned off the SW 86th and picked up another south-facing state highway. Warren knew he'd soon have to rejoin the interstate, probably just before they crossed the Kansas border. It was then a straight run to Junction City. But what if the cops stopped them? How would they explain the case? Uhh, we found it, officer. On our way to the station now. Followed by years of being careful not to drop the soap. He shivered, despite the sun. His planned tour of the area had gone to shit the moment he opened the door for her. He'd have to do that another day when her perfect body was a distant memory. If he could ever forget that ass. If he got away.

"You okay, Warren?"

He shook his head in a feeble attempt to clear it. "Yeah."

"You've just been… I dunno, quiet since we left the store."

"Sorry. Preoccupied. What will you do with the modelling now you're on the run?"

"You think that's what this is? Me running?"

"Isn't it?"

She was silent a few beats. He could feel the cogs whirring. "You opened the case didn't you?"

He shrank into the seat.

"Didn't you?"

He didn't answer.

"Warrrrrennnn?" she intoned, the cadence of his name rising as he sweated ice against the steering wheel.

He nodded sharply, half hoping she wouldn't see the movement, letting it serve to absolve his conscience. It didn't.

"Fuck, Warren. It was for your own safety."

"And not yours?"

She cocked her head to one side. "I'm not perfect."

"Jesus, Alyssa. How much did you rip off?"

"Enough."

"How much?"

She paused, sucked in a breath. "About a million."

Warren spluttered. "A million bucks? Lying around the house?"

She nodded. "In the safe next to the coke. Stack upon stack." Almost meekly, perhaps justifying the act to herself, she added, "Just begging. I left my clothes, grabbed the case and filled it with everything I could lay my hands on."

"This is nuts. You're nuts."

"He fucking owes me," she spat. "For all the shit he pulled. All the girls he screwed while I pretended not to notice. All the times I let him fuck me while he was smacked off his face, telling myself it'd be better next time. That I could turn him around. No, he owes me, big time. I can disappear. The cash was a better ticket than the bus."

"Grand theft auto not enough?"

She fumed, looking at the floor. "Fuck off."

Warren stamped the brakes again, the car slewing to a stop. He flung his door open and hauled the case out. Alyssa flew from her seat, rounding the car as he dumped the case on the roadside.

"Stop it, Warren! Please."

"I'm not going to jail. Not for you. Not anybody."

"Don't be a pussy. It's drug money. Rob can't go to the cops."

"But I can. Tell 'em you coerced me. Maybe you had a gun."

"No! I'm begging you. This is my chance to get out. Start over." She grabbed for his hand and he tore away but she reached for it again. "Please reconsider."

"I can't…"

"Shhh. Listen, Warren. Is there nothing you want? Nothing I can offer to persuade you?"

He gazed out along the dusty road and when he swung his attention back, she'd taken her shades off. Those eyes. Searching his. Looking for a chink in his defences.

"Come on, Warren. Think about it. Cash. I'll split it."

"I don't want your drug money."

"Then what?"

She placed her hand on his arm. Hot, despite the ambient temperature. Crept it upwards until she reached his shoulder, inching closer, her dangerous scent threatening to engulf him. She whispered, "How about this?" The back of her hand brushed his cheek. "I've seen the way you look at me. The way you want me."

Alyssa trailed her fingertip to his mouth, pressing a 'shhhh' at first, waiting before gently prising his lips apart. She drew the wet digit down to her nipple and rubbed, causing the cap to rise against the fabric, then continued her tease. "You want these? You can have them. Or-" she spun and reversed into his crotch, grinding the denim against his rising erection, "-how about this?"

Warren looked away, tried to resist, but his body betrayed him. Moreso when she bent forward, then back up and slid her frame fully against his. There was no point pretending. He wanted her, despite the baggage. Even just once. His manhood threatened to burst from his jeans when she unsnapped the button on her shorts, bent forward again and slid them down her legs, kicking them onto the highway. Her tanga pants were chequered red and white, the pattern warping as she performed a vertical lapdance against him.

He hadn’t felt as excited in months. Grabbed her hips, pulled her to him. Insistent. Hard. She gyrated more, then turned to face him, looking down at the obvious mast and tracing its outline.

"Do you want me? Here? On the road?" Her fingers trailed up his toned chest, over his chin, face, taking off his Ray-Bans and tossing them alongside hers in the car. He blinked in the intense sun, their eyes locking. "Warren?" He kept quiet as she stood on tiptoe and brought their cheeks together, whispering in his ear, "Take me."

A hundred emotions conflicted. Truth. Power. Fear. Desire. Knotting his mind until the tangled mess snapped. He grabbed her hair and jerked her head back, planting his lips on hers. The kiss was fevered, hotter than the day, their tongues dancing. She brought her arms behind his head, crossed them and pulled him into her impossibly soft lips. She somehow tasted soft and dangerous; Warren was past caring. His hands snaked down her back and grabbed the perfect ass beneath her underwear, his libido thanking him with a surge of blood to his engorged cock as he felt the swell of her skin give beneath his fingertips.

Alyssa moaned into his kiss, louder than the idling engine noise and wildlife that braved the heat. Her arms uncrossed, hands flying between their bodies to rub his length before grappling for the button and zipper. Their loins ground together, the friction exciting them both. She reached behind herself, extracted one of his hands and brought it round to her crotch, pressing his fingertips into the dampening material and sucking in a breath at the contact. He sought her clit and circled, adoring the noises she made against his mouth. By the time his hand slithered beneath the cotton, she was soaked and he was fighting the urge to come in his underwear.

His fingers dipped into the cleft of her pussy, wet and inviting. The glistening digits emerged and he broke the kiss to bring them to her mouth where she hungrily tasted herself, eyes closing. When they reopened, he knew she needed more. Hoisted her into his arms, strode to the front of the car and sat her on the bonnet, pushing her back against the hot metal above the hammering pistons. Alyssa raised her shapely legs and he yanked her knickers off, dumping them on the car and dropping to his knees, diving face first into her juicy, bare cunt. She tasted hot. Earthy. Syrupy. Her ankles crossed behind his head as he devoured her hairless centre.

"Oh, Warren. Yes!" she gasped as his tongue skated the divine rink either side of her sopping entrance, then pirouetted around her engorged clit. "More!"

He obliged, sensing how close she was to losing control, craving one drop of wetness for every dollar she'd stolen, to cleanse his conscience. Her fingertips sought his head, gripping, guiding, needing the release. To atone, perhaps. Or to forget, albeit temporarily. His hardness ached and leaked pre-come as he licked and tasted, savouring her exquisite cream and escalating gasps. She tensed and her centre overflowed, accompanied by cries that scattered birds in a nearby tree. Her heels dug into his shoulders and Warren drank everything she gave until she went limp, draped over the side of his rumbling car.

As she drifted down from the orgasm, her contented sighs kept him hard. He freed his throbbing shaft and watched her, stroking the veined length until her eyelids fluttered open, teal rings dazzling in the sunlight. Beckoning. Urgent. He stepped in, aimed and sank to the hilt, her eyes rolling back in her head as he filled her completely. She was fabulously tight around him, his rhythm measured and deep from the outset. Alyssa grabbed his taut shoulders, arched her back off the BMW and bucked against him.

"Fuck me, Warren. Fuck me!"

He liked that she asked twice and slammed inside her again and again, each thrust driving him closer to completion, the threat of discovery adding to the thrill, even on the virtually deserted highway. He reached for her tits and massaged them through the thin material, pinching her nipples, every breathless gasp that escaped her lips intoxicating. He threw his head back and roared to the sky as he erupted inside her, jettisoning ropes of spunk into her already drenched channel.

They stayed that way, joined, panting until he pulled back and zipped up, helping her off the car, then watching her dress. They kissed again. Less frenzied second time around, savouring each moment of the afterglow. Mutual conspirators.

His silence bought, Warren hauled the case back into the car, a million bucks as heavy as the price attached to its secrecy. He stared at it, and her. Unassuming from the outside, deadly inside. Both worth the risk. At least today.

As he climbed alongside her, he wondered if he'd get the chance to fuck her again. Junction City. Apt, given the decision he'd have to make. She was toxic, that much was certain. Bewitching. Manipulative. Yet he somehow felt a connection, beyond the lure of the money. A spark, like the combustion of the Beamer's engine as he revved and put it in gear. Something worth nurturing, or extinguishing before she could hurt him like Hannah?

He had seventy miles to decide.

Warren pulled his Ray-Bans on, looked across at Alyssa, flashed her a grin and floored it, the car spraying gravel into the boiling Nebraska afternoon.