Page 23 of Risky Obsession

“You have an injured hand,” I said, despite knowing my argument was pointless.

“Two dislocated fingers. My other eight digits are perfectly fine. Are you questioning my driving abilities, Kane?” Her fascinating, pale blue eyes flared, beautiful and dangerous. “Or are you afraid I’ll show you up behind the wheel?”

“Wow,” I muttered, caught off-guard by her feisty response. A part of me admired her sassiness but another part was pissed off with her attitude. “That hadn’t even crossed my mind.”

“Good. Glad we got that out of the way.” She opened the doors, and we climbed in.

“You can drive,” I said, pulling on my seatbelt, “but if your injuries slow us down, we’re switching.”

“Deal.” She smirked, but as she pulled her seat belt into position, she couldn’t hide the pain behind her eyes.

A twinge of frustration swept through me. I wanted to trust her, but I was getting all the vibes that I shouldn’t. Her injuries were much more than just a couple of damaged fingers. Had someone hurt her? A man? Was that what she was hiding from me?

“Kane.” Tory slapped my thigh. “You’re on navigation duty. Get us out of here.”

“Right.” I pulled my phone from my pocket and as I turned it on, she started the engine.

“Damn, it’s cold.” She fiddled with the knobs on the heater.

“Not what you were expecting?” I asked.

“I expected cold, but not freezing.” She flashed a smile that took my breath away.

After ramming the gear into reverse, she winced as she peered over her shoulder to check for cars behind us even though the rental had a reversing camera.

“It’s not just your fingers that are injured, is it?” I said.

“Nope.” She shoved the car into first gear and stomped on the gas. “I’m fine.”

I pressed my hand to the roof as she took off way too fast and pushed the gear into second like a rally racer. “Alrighty, then. How come you know how to drive a stick shift?”

She flashed that gorgeous smile again. “You surprised?”

“Yeah, actually. It’s a dying skill.”

“My first set of wheels was a motorbike.” She swerved around a car idling at the curb.

“That explains a lot.”

“But I earned my first driver’s license on a manual car. I guess some things you never forget.” She laughed as we bounced over a speed bump going twenty miles over the speed limit. “Which way?”

I tapped the screen on my phone. “I haven’t got the GPS set yet. You’re too quick.”

“And you’re too slow, old man.”

I burst out laughing. “That’s a bit mean. How old do you think I am?”

“I don’t know . . . forty. Forty-five.”

“Wow, you really are mean. I’m thirty-five.”

She braked at a red light. “Which way?”

She pointed at a road sign for an upcoming roundabout, offering four different destinations.

“Well, we haven’t actually discussed where we are going. What do you suggest?” So far, Tory had failed to reveal any intel that would explain why Aria put us together.

“I thought you had a clue or something. Quick, which exit?”