Page 22 of Risky Obsession

She was either well-traveled or naïve.

As she adjusted a small bag that ran diagonally across her body, her movements were stiff, suggesting she had pain in her chest as well as her right hand. She’d told me her injuries were from a push bike accident.

I wanted to call bullshit, but there was something about her guarded expression that told me to back off. So I would—for now.

I couldn’t shake the feeling that Tory was hiding something. Then again, I hadn’t met a person yet, who wasn’t, and my instincts told me to keep my guard up. I hated that I had become so untrusting.

Tory looked innocent and sweet. So had my sister, and I’d spectacularly misjudged her.

But we needed to work together. Aria had given Tory and me just four weeks to get answers. Hopefully, whatever intel Tory had, which she was yet to share, would marry up with mine and we would figure out this eighty-year-old mystery. I had already spent nearly a decade trying to follow the clues.

Four weeks was hardly enough.

As we waited for our turn at customs, every time I looked at Tory, she seemed to be a little more stressed.

“Are you okay?” I asked, trying to sound casual. “You seem a bit . . . off.”

“Just gotta pee.” She stepped side to side, favoring her left leg. Her expression and darting eyes suggested there was a lot more going on than a full bladder.

“Nearly there,” I replied, nodding at the four people in the queue ahead of us.

She glared at me.

I smiled.

What the hell is her problem?

We processed through customs, and on the other side of the security exit, we collided with a massive crowd that moved in all directions at once. We made our way through the arrivals area of the airport, trying to decipher the German language signs to find the car hire area.

“You see the car hire section?” she asked, trying to peer over the field of people around us.

I spotted an Avis Rental sign. “Over there.”

Thankfully, the woman behind the counter spoke perfect English, and the car Aria had hired for us was ready for us in the parking lot. The woman slid the keys over the counter and Tory snatched them from my grasp.

“Let’s go.” She grinned and marched away with her suitcase, heading toward the exit.

Apparently, she no longer needed to pee.

The icy wind whipped around us as we exited the airport, chilling me to the bone. Tory shivered beside me, and she picked up her pace. Her height just reached my shoulders, but she was fit and strong, and she walked so fast, I had to stride to keep up with her.

“Which one is ours?” I asked, following her sexy ass along a row of rental cars.

Aiming the car remote forward, she pressed the button over and over, and finally, the rear lights flickered on a small sedan at the end of the row. “Found it.”

She popped the trunk, and I raced forward to help her lift her case into the back. But Miss Independent beat me to it. I put my duffle bag beside hers and closed the trunk.

“So, who’s driving?” I asked.

“Me, of course.” She fixed me with a steely glare as she removed the bag from across her chest.

“Oh really? Want to toss a coin for it?”

“Nope.”

“Arm wrestle?”

She smiled like she was debating that answer. “Nope.”