GREGORY'S POV
The SUV doors seal out sound. That's the point. One second its gravels and cameras and Zack shouting, the next it's leather and silence and climate control set to 21 degrees.
I didn't look back at the gas station. Rule two of cornered things: don't let them see you hesitate.
Zack slid in beside me, tablet already open, mouth already moving. "We've killed the amber alert. Press release is going out in ten: 'Mr. Hale located safe, thanks public for your concern.'. Your father wants a call, the press. The board wants a call. The donors want-"
"Later," I said.
She stopped. That's the thing about Zack. He knows when later means shut up.
The car pulled onto the main road. Panther way disappeared in the side mirror. So did the girl. Tinsel- I didn't know her name yet, but one of the security guys said it into his radio. Tinsel. Like the Christmas stuff.
I could still smell smoke on my shirt. And blood. My handkerchief was gone. Left with her.
Zack waited exactly four minutes before trying again. He turned the tablet towards me.
"These are already circulating."
They were photos. Her.
Sitting against that concrete wall, my coat still wrapped around her firmly, the ugly sack bags around her waist, my handkerchief tied around her hand. Blood had soaked through the linen. Her face was tilted up, confused, lit by morning sun and camera flash. She looked about twelve, not twenty-two as she had stated earlier to the press. She looked like she'd been dropped there from somewhere else.
The caption under the first one was: unknown girl found billionaire Gregory Hale after he went missing on panther street.
Second one: "Who is she? #HaleRescue"
Third one: "Hero or stunt?"
My jaw locked. I hadn't told them to take pictures. I hadn't told Zack to give anything. But Zack's job was to control variables. And right now, that girl was a variable the size of a billboard.
"You gave her a card," I said. It wasn't a question.
Zack nodded once. "Standard contact protocol. No name, no promises. Just a line is she needs it. Better we control the narrative than-"
"She doesn't know who I am."
That made Zack pause for a bit. "She will by noon."
The city rolled past the windows. Hale tower came into view. My name in steel letters twenty stories up. The same name she didn't recognize when was just Greg by a fire.
My phone had charged enough to vibrate. 57 missed calls, 15 voicemails. The first was from my father "Gregory this in unacceptable, call me." The second was from the head of PR: "We can spin this. Lost while surveying underserved areas. We'll get the girl to-"
I deleted it.
Zack was watching me. He's been my best friend since childhood. He knows the difference between Hale and Greg.
"You didn't speak to her," he said. Quiet. Not a question either.
"No," I told Zack. "I didn't want to."
It was a lie. But Gregory Hale is good at those.
I leaned my head back against the seat and closed my eyes. For ten hours I hadn't been a headline. I'd been a guy with a dead car and a fire and a girl who told me "My fire now."
Now I was back.
AND SHE WAS ABOUT TO FIND OUT WHAT THAT MEANT.