Page 19

And silence doesn't appear to be one of her talents.

“What's your name, sweetheart?” I ask.

She looks up at me.

“Why?”

“Because I've spent the last half hour making sure you don't die, and I'd like to know what to call you besides little burglar.”

Her cheeks flush.

“Madison.”

“Madison what?”

“Compton.”

Pretty name.

Suits her.

“I'm Torch.”

“I know.”

I raise an eyebrow.

“You know?”

She suddenly finds the seat belt fascinating.

“I did some research.”

“On me?”

“A little.”

Striker makes a sound behind me.

I don't need to turn around to know the bastard's enjoying himself.

“A little?” I repeat.

Madison folds her arms.

“Are you always this suspicious?”

“Only when strange women climb through my windows.”

Her mouth opens.

Closes.

Then she glares.

Christ.

I'd give a lot to know what she's thinking.