Page 13 of Burn It Down

“I wanted to check your oil temp after that acceleration. Sticker says you’re due in about two hundred miles and that kind of acceleration on old oil can be rough.”

“Oh. Right.”What the hell is oil?Dylan is short-circuiting my brain.

I get us turned around and headed back on track when my phone rings loudly in the small space. Once again, my dad’s name flashes on the screen. Knowing it’ll be far worse if I don’t answer, I catch Dylan’s eyes and hold a finger to my lips before pressing the button on my steering wheel that connects the call.

“Father.”

“Jacob, I know you’re aware of what time it is considering I bought you that Rolex on your wrist. Do you think I pay you to avoid coming into the office?” he asks condescendingly.

Embarrassed that Dylan is hearing this, I fire back at my father, which I’ll be honest, isn’t a smart move.

“First of all,youdon’t pay me anything. My clients pay me because I’m damn good at my job. Secondly, there was an…incident…when I came to pick up the Maserati. I’m handling it, but it’s taking a bit longer than I anticipated and I’ll need to reschedule our meeting.”

“I warned you,” my father snarls into the phone. “You should’ve taken it to the dealership. I can’t believe you let the asshole who hit it attempt to fix it.”

Without thinking, I reach over and place my hand on Dylan’s forearm protectively. Shaking my head, I mouthI’m sorry.

It isn’t until he pats my hand that I realize I’m touching him. Too caught up in the humiliation that is my father, I’d reacted and crossed a line. I pull my hand back and place it on the steering wheel alongside my other one, feigning the need of both hands to make my turn.

“Actually,” I start, hoping my father can hear the sneer in my voice, “the car is perfect. Some sick bastard put a brick through the window of their office.” I don’t owe my father an explanation, but it doesn’t feel right to allow him to assume Dylan fucked up. Even through the phone, I feel my father’s surprise. I rarely give him attitude and I’ve now done it twice in one conversation.

“Well, with their location, I’m sure they’re used to it. Martin’s been concerned about the growing crime on that side of the city for a while.”Martin Cosey. The governor, Cora’s father, and my father’s best friend.“When you’re done playing vigilante do-gooder, get your ass back to the office.”

As soon as he hangs up Dylan lets out a low whistle, a trait he must have picked up from his father. “Wow. Your dad is—”

“A condescending asshole?” I finish for him.

He snorts a laugh, unknowingly easing my discomfort. “I was going to say intense, but yeah, your description is pretty accurate.”

“I’m really sorry you had to hear that. It’s hard to believe at thirty-years-old, my father still has so much control over my life.”

As we talk, Dylan points, telling me our next turn is approaching. Talking with him feels so different than talking to Phoenix, Hudson, and Knox. Maybe it’s the excitement of something new or maybe it’s justhim.

The other guys get so riled up by my dad that I never really vent about him because they’ll start trash-talking before I can even explain what I’m pissed about. They’re loyal as hell and I’m so grateful they have my back, but Dylan’s calm reaction is a balm to my scorched heart, making me want to bask in his presence all day.

“Are you an only child?” he asks.

I shake my head. “I have an older brother, but he chose a different career path and was basically disowned. I still see Tim every now and then, but he never comes home.” To be fair, his job doesn’t really let him come home that often, but I leave that part out.

My older brother is the personal bodyguard of Beautiful Deceit’s bassist, Ryan Battle. After joining the military at eighteen to get the hell away from our father, Tim got into private security shortly after being honorably discharged. Sitting behind a desk in a suit all day would have literally killed him. After landing the gig with Beautiful Deceit, he could pretty much write his own ticket, but the band is like his family now and Ryanand his wife, Emma, recently had their first child, so I definitely don’t expect him to leave anytime soon.

Ten minutes later, we’re pulling back into Ryder Automotive’s parking lot. Did the car shake when making right hand turns? I couldn’t tell you.

Dylan looks around when we pull in. “How’d you get here?” he asks.

“I had the company driver drop me off.”

Dylan rubs the back of his neck, causing his biceps to flex and his tattoos to dance, immediately drawing my eyes to the movement. “Oh, okay. Just so you know, if you ever need it, we offer a pick-up and drop-off service, like if you need to bring your car in, we’ll give you a lift back to work…or wherever.”

“That’s good to know.” I hold my hand out to shake his, craving any contact I can get. “I need to get back to the office, but Knox’ll be here soon. You can trust him. He does good work.”

“Thanks again for doing all that,” he says, grabbing my hand. “You really didn’t have to.”

“Just protecting my investment,” I say, praying like hell the smirk onlyfeelslike it’s on my face this time. I’m confident Dylan doesn’t realize the “investment” I’m interested in protecting ishimand not his shop, but if I start grinning like the cat that got the cream, he’ll be on to me soon enough.

It was a car ride for fuck’s sake, but I haven’t been this excited about something in quite a while.

“Cora? I’m home.”

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