Darius had seen that look before. He saw it every morning in his bathroom mirror. He rolled down the passenger window. Hey. He had to raise his voice over the rain.
You need help? She turned. She was younger than he expected, maybe late 20s with sharp, steady eyes that ran a fast practiced assessment of him, his truck, and the situation before she said a single word. He noticed she kept one hand near her phone, which was smart. He appreciated smart.
"My driver left," she said. Her voice was controlled. "I've been trying to reach my assistant for 15 minutes. My phone is almost dead and the hotel is full. There's some kind of medical conference.
Is there a car service you know of? Something reputable in this weather on a Thursday night. Darius said, "You're looking at 45 minutes minimum, probably an hour." She closed her eyes briefly. When she opened them, she looked back at the hotel entrance where three camera lenses were pointed in her direction from across the street.
"I can't wait outside," she said quietly. More to herself than to him. Reporters, something like that. Darius looked at her, looked at the cameras, looked at the rain, ran the mental calculation that any decent human being runs when confronted with someone else's genuine distress at 9:30 on a miserable Thursday night. I live 12 minutes from here, he said.
I've got a couch and dry towels, and I'm too tired to be anybody's problem. If you want a safe place to wait out the storm and charge your phone, I'm offering. She studied him for a long moment. "You don't know who I am," she said. "It wasn't arrogance.
It was a genuine observation, almost a question." "No," he said. "Should I?" Another pause. Another fast assessment with those steady eyes.
Then she pulled open the passenger door and got in. She didn't talk much during the drive, which suited Darius fine. He turned the heat up, kept his eyes on the rain-slicked road, and didn't ask her name or her business or anything else. She had her phone plugged into his charger within 30 seconds of sitting down and spent the first 7 minutes of the drive sending rapid fire messages. Her thumbs moving like she was conducting a symphony.
He noticed she never once mentioned where she was. Operational security. He thought smart. Thank you. She said when they pulled up to his building on the north side, a six-story walk-up on a clean block.
Nothing fancy but well-kept. I'm Victoria Darius. He killed the engine. You want to come inside or wait in the truck? Inside, she said without hesitation.