He had to get out of the car. How was she supposed to get rid of him if he stayed right there? The gas in the tank would take her to the next town, so she’d drive off as soon as he disappeared around the side of the building. It was a shitty thing to do, given they were in the middle of nowhere, but her conscience wouldn’t bother her overmuch. A man like him could take care of himself.

“Probably should,” came his laconic response. The guy unfolded from the passenger seat with easy grace. “No onions on my dog, please. Bean and cheese if you go for microwave burritos.”

Kyra stared at him, bemused. She’d intended to give him five bucks to buy his own dinner, but the way he sauntered off said he assumed she’d fetch it for him. He must be used to women waiting on him; that always made a man cocky.

Well, his loss. She wouldn’t be here when he got back and he’d denied himself a few dollars with his big ego. To make it look good, she started across the parking lot, watching him every step of the way, but he slowed as she did, evidently wanting to make sure she went into the shop. Just her luck—she’d picked up a suspicious-minded, knife-wielding stranger.

Dammit.

Well, she’d duck in and out quicker than he could take a leak. A bell jingled as Kyra opened the glass door, squinting at the shift from shadow to light. Instinct slowed her step when she saw nobody behind the counter. The clerk could be crouched down taking inventory, she supposed, so she angled her head to check the security mirror in the far corner of the store. Several cartons of cigarettes lay scattered back there, some smashed or split open.

Two cars, no attendant. Shit. This wasn’t good.

A muffled thump from the back room reinforced that impression. Robbery in progress—the idiot would be trying to get the cashier to open some hidden safe when most people knew convenience stores had drops in the floor that couldn’t be opened except at shift change. If she had a lick of sense, she’d get out and call 911 on her cell.