‘Ugh!’ She levels me with a glare. ‘Would you stop! I’m the one asking the questions here.’
This is the hottest I’ve ever seen her, and I’ve always found her mouth-wateringly sexy. Then I notice a little puffiness to her red-rimmed eyes. She’s upset. I remember her heartbreaking, brutal, uncontrollable sobs from the last time I saw her cry, four years ago. The very thoughtof someone making her cry like that sends a flash of rage coursing underneath my skin.
Suddenly, she jerks back, wary. ‘Ryker?’
‘What?’
‘Thank god.’ The tenseness in her body eases. ‘Your eyes. They … change sometimes, like you’re not in there and a monster takes over. I don’t know where you go.’
I give a noncommittal grunt and straighten my spine. ‘I’m right here.’ My eyes flick to the dented rear panel of her car.
‘What happened?’ I ask, jerking my chin. Of course, I already know, but I want to see if my Little Suspect is also a little liar.
She shakes her head, refusing to answer while she fidgets with her rings. I head to her car, letting my fingers run across the concave metal. The dent is deep.
When she says nothing, I continue, ‘You don’t have the right tyres to drift on dirt.’
‘Well.’ She turns up her nose. ‘That’s none of your business.’
‘It’s my business when you’re burning up the clutch of a classic by doing everything wrong. I taught you better than that.’ I lean against the car and face her. ‘You need a quick drifting lesson?’
‘I don’t need your help.’
I push away from the car, lowering my face to hers. ‘Baby.’ Her skin is soft when I grip her jaw, forcing her to look at the damage. ‘Yes, you do.’
I chuckle as she frantically slaps at my hands. ‘It’s so easy,’ I muse.
‘What is?’
‘To rile you up. These panties of yours are still in a twist?’ I hook my index finger in the waistband of her skirt and bring her close. ‘What’s got you in a mood, huh?’
She swats my hands away, but I slip them around her waist. She thrashes against my hold for a few moments, always a fighter, but then her movements slow and she softens, leaning into my touch.
There she is.
Her breathing calms, and when she looks up, her eyes glower a little less.
‘So,’ I croon, ‘what trouble did you get into?’
She hesitates a moment, looking at her fingers that scrunch the fabric of my shirt.
‘I … I lost a race. And I can’t lose again. We were never meant to lose a race,’ she mumbles, more to herself.
We.I don’t have to ask who she means. Guilt immediately rears its ugly head.
‘Why are you friends with that guy?’ she tacks on.
I’m grateful when she quickly changes the subject, obviously not wanting to go down that road just as much as I don’t.
‘Guy?’ I frown.
She focuses her absent gaze on me, her eyes glazed with confusion and maybe even worry. ‘The guy that came into work this morning. Alexander.’
‘Friend is … a loose term.’
‘So you’re not really friends?’
‘No, Gianna.’ I don’t bother telling her there’s some shady shit going on that I’m trying to work out, because I think she knows more than me. ‘You’ve never been good with sarcasm, have you?’
