Page 2 of Her Protector Daddies

“You drive a 2009 Toyota Yaris, correct?”

“Yes.”

“Blue?”

“Uh— yes.”

Detective Grant’s striking eyes flicked up from the folder. “You don’t know the color of your own car?”

I would have been more indignant by that insinuation if his voice hadn’t been so deep and soothing.

“It’s a steel blue,” I replied, fiddling with the strap of my bag. “So faded it looks gray in some lights.”

He nodded and returned to the folder. “And you’re the only driver?”

“That’s right.”

Detective Grant closed the folder and tucked it back under one arm as he crossed his thick arms over his chest.

“Were you driving it this morning?”

“No.”

“Are you sure about that?”

“Yes, I?—.”

“Because your car was involved in a hit and run at 11:17 am this morning and, after losing a cop tail, was found wrapped around a telephone pole with no driver in sight.” His eyes narrowed slightly, accentuating the laughter lines around his eyes and somehow making him look even more attractive than before.

My heart lifted slightly at his words – no driver meant that my father was okay, right?

“Oh my god.” I tightened my grip on my bag. “That wasn’t me, I swear. That car needed an oil change and a bunch of other work. I haven’t driven it in a few days. I took the bus to work today because it was cheaper.”

“Then who was driving your car?”

“I have no idea,” I lied hurriedly. “Wait— you said it was a hit and run? Are they okay? Is someone hurt?”

“The car wasn’t going particularly fast when the victim was struck, so they got away with minor cuts and bruises,” Detective Grant said. “But if you weren’t driving, then I need to know who has access to your vehicle.”

From the lilt in his tone, it didn’t sound like he believed me at all, so I started digging around in my purse. Surely the fact that I had the keys would prove it wasn’t me?

“It wasn’t me, I promise. See?” My fingers closed around the cold metal, and I held the keys aloft with a small smile. “I have the keys right here.”

Detective Grant lifted one brow. “So you took the keys after you crashed?”

“What? No! I mean—.” Shit.

“I have the keys because they’ve been buried at the bottom of my purse all week because I haven’t been driving. My car’s just been sitting in front of my apartment building.” The more I talked, the less it seemed Detective Grant believed me and my heart started to race. If I wasn’t careful, I’d end up making myself look guilty and there’d be no hiding the possibility that it was my father.

“My car was stolen!” I blurted out the lie.

“Stolen?” He definitely didn’t seem to believe me.

“Yes. I— I noticed this morning that it was gone. Which is also why I have the keys…” I trailed off and clasped my hands together, tangling my fingers in a bid to stop them from shaking.

“And you didn’t report it?”

“I was going to,” I replied lamely. “But I was late for work, and I’m on my last warning there because I keep dipping out. Not that leaving work to come here will be helping my case, but I was just in too much of a rush.”

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