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“Please Trust Me,” the Driver Said as He Hid Me in the Trunk on My Son’s Wedding Day.

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call this number,” Blake said, his voice dropping low—not angry, but scared. Actually scared. “I told you I’d handle it. Stop calling me.”

He hung up fast, and the car felt suddenly smaller, tighter. Blake’s breathing had quickened. He was lying to Frederick, to himself, maybe even to me if I’d been sitting beside him instead of hiding like a coward continue reading …

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