“Which brings me back to… what can I call you?” He could tell she was hoping he’d forgotten his original question.
“I know you’re not Franklin Benedict. He’s in his seventies and has gout,” Denny said helpfully.
She frowned. “Well, why are you driving me around then?”
“Because you looked pathetic and I’m a soft sell for pathetic.”
He pulled over to the side of the road.
“Do you want me to get out?” she asked, looking around.
Turning in his seat, he said, “No, you still look pathetic and that’s currency with me. Just tell me your name and where you want to go.”
“I can pay you,” she said. “That’s not why I hid in your car. Whatever your normal price is, I can pay it.”
“Your name, sweetheart,” he said firmly.
“Uhh… Jane,” she tried.
He raised his eyebrows. “Your real first name or I will drop you off here.”
She groaned and said, “Sabrina, but I can explain.”
Sabrina? “Not Sabrina MacNeal?” he asked.
Oh hell no. He should drop her off here. How had he not recognized her?
“This had better be some explanation,” Denny stated.
“Okay, it is but, first of all, I didn’t do it,” she said.