Page 38 of Ruthless Intent

“Attorney/client privilege,” I remind him before he says anything.

He almost rolls his eyes. “I’m aware. But as your attorney, I want to go on record as saying that I still think it’s a bad idea.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.” I shift my attention back to my dad. “Car?”

He hands me the keys. “Take the Mercedes, but you might want to check out the car at the very back of the garage.”

“Thanks.” I stand, walk to the door, then pause. “You should know, before Mom comes in to tell you, that my date tonight is Ashley Trumont.”

I walk out before he can respond.

The garage’s overhead lights flicker on automatically when I walk in, and I press the button on the keys so I don’t have to hunt around for where the Mercedes is parked. Lights flash near the back and I move between the cars parked to either side until I reach the black car that belongs to the key fob.

Beyond that is one more car. This one is covered by a sheet. Thinking about my dad’s instructions, I pass the Mercedes and stop in front of it. I have a feeling I know what’s hiding beneath. Dragging off the sheet, I step back, and for the first time since being released, a genuine smile pulls my lips up.

A 1969 Ford Mustang Boss 429, in candy apple red. My Mustang. A car I found rotting inside a barn when I was fifteen, and spent the next five years restoring with Jason. The car I convinced myself would have been towed away and destroyed long ago.

“Hey, baby.” I stroke my hand over the hood. “I missed you.”

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

ASHLEY

At six fifty-five, there’s a knock on the front door. I don’t rush to answer it. This isn’t a date. This isn’t a fun night out with friends. This is something I don’t want to do, but can’t think of a way to get out of.

At the second knock, which to my overactive imagination sounds irritated and a little bit threatening, I stand up, rub my palms over my thighs, and make my way to the door. I take a deep breath before reaching out and turning the handle.

My first thought when I see Zain is that I picked the right clothes. He’s dressed in a pair of black jeans, a black shirt, and black boots. Combined with his dark eyes, and even darker hair, the entire outfit makes him look dangerous.

That’s because he is dangerous.

“I’m surprised.” His deep voice cracks my composure, and my mouth dries up.

I swallow, and attempt to speak.

“By what?” The words come out a little croaky.

“By the fact you didn’t run. I expected you not to be here.”

“You didn’t give me much choice.”

“There’s always a choice. You could have called my bluff.”

“It wasn’t a bluff.”

“You’re right. It wasn’t. Are you ready to go?”

“No, but that doesn’t matter, does it?” I grab my jacket from the hook beside the door, check my house keys and cell phone are in my pocket, then join him outside. “Do I need my purse?”

“Wouldn’t be much of a gentleman if I made you pay for a dinner I invited you to, now would I?”

“You’re forcing me to join you, and you’re not a gentleman.” I blurt the words before thinking it through.

“How would you know?”

Lights flash on the Mercedes parked behind my car. He opens the passenger door, waits until I’m seated, then slams it and moves around to take the driver’s seat beside me.

“Where are we going?”

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