Page 84 of Ignite

“Nice ride!” the blond guy says.

“Uh, thanks,” I reply quietly, feeling small under their stares.

Pete turns toward me, worry carved deep into his face.

“Hey,” I say.

He nods, eyes flickering past me to the McLaren. Fingers brush his beard.

“If you stole that, return it before you end up dead, Hallie,” he says bluntly.

My heart stutters.

“Stole?”

I pause.

“Dead?” I can’t hide the shock from my tone.

“Are you shitting me? You don’t know who owns that monster?” Pete says.

Confusion hits me.

“Yeah. Conan?”

“Oh, holy fuck. Hallie. Seriously, leave him be. You’re way out of your depth on this one.”

I shake my head hard.

“He knows I have his car. He gave me it. Stop panicking.”

Pete rubs the bridge of his nose like he’s trying to will calm into existence.

“You sure you wanna race it? Seriously?”

My stomach flips.

“I mean, I’m slightly worried that if I scratch it up, I won’t be able to afford the paint job. But, other than that, I’m certain. How can I not race this thing?”

I glance back at the car, a slow smile spreading.

“Okay. Your funeral, I guess.”

“Why do you keep saying that? He’s my friend.”

I nervously twist my rings.

“Friend?” His tone is thick with surprise.

“Yeah. Friend.”

“You keep some interesting choices for friends, Hallie. Be careful.”

I swallow hard, the words heavy in my throat.

“Sure.”

Conan makes me feel safe. Why would I be scared of him?

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