Page 11 of Red Obsession

“Trying to get you into the truck?” I have no idea why it comes out sounding like a question. All hopes that she won’t pick up on it go out the window when she narrows those beautiful green eyes at me.

Beautiful?

I’m so fucked.

“And I beg the question, why?”

“Honestly, I have no idea. I just–” I stop myself. I just what? How can I explain to her that I don’t have a reason behind my actions, that she’s just different?

“Just what?”

When I fail to answer her, she lets out a long sigh, dropping her hands at her side. “How can I trust you?”

“You can.”

“You just killed a man,” she states. Which in fact, I did. She just doesn’t need to know this wasn’t the first time. Nor will it be the last.

“I did.”

“How do I know you won’t kill me? I mean, I’m annoying. And I know I am, so before you try and argue you th–”

“You are. You talk a lot, and you call me names.” And yet none of it bothers me coming from her.

“I called you names before you told me your name. I had to call you something. I mean, I’m sorry. I really am, it was rude of me.”

Grunting, I roll my eyes. She called me a giraffe after the fact, and yet I don’t correct her.

“You’re not going to hurt me?”

Shaking my head, I wait for her to make up her mind. Though it’s not beyond me to just kidnap her.

Finally, she steps closer and stands directly in front of me. “Alright, big guy, don’t make me regret this. So, come on up we go.”Waving her hands at me.

Trying to hide my smile, I grab the back of her thighs again. Lifting her onto the seat, I grab the seat belt pulling it across her.

“I can do that myself, you know, the whole seatbelt thing.”

“I know, Red,” I murmur, ignoring her and clicking the seatbelt in.

Getting into the driver’s side, I pull my phone out, bringing the GPS up. Holding it out to her, I wait for her to take it. When Izel doesn't glance over, I watch as she folds her legs underneath her. I smirk, knowing she’s getting comfortable, it does something to my heart.

“Where are we going?” I ask, placing the phone into her hand.

“Denver.” She smiles. I watch as she inputs the address, switching to my music app. “I call dibs on music. I don’t imagine you listen to, well, anything good. Also, here.” She takes the money I gave her from her pocket.

“Keep it.” I have my card and can always pull more out.

“Nope. That doesn’t sit well with me, I don’t want it.” Again, shoving the money in my direction. Taking it from her, I toss it into the middle console. “Alright, now that that’s done. Let’s go, times a wastin’.” She chuckles, clapping her hands together.

Only twenty-six hours locked inside a car with her was bound to test my patience and my restraint with being so close to her.

4

Zion

Twohoursintothetrip and I am damn near the point of ripping my hair out of my head—moments from driving this truck off the damn road, to crash into any object just to put me out of this misery.

Izel insists on playing every Hannah Montana song, on fucking repeat. My head is moments from exploding. I don’t think I can listen to another pre-teen pop song. But when I think things can’t get worse, she begins to sing at the top of her lungs as though she is in a mini concert.

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