Page 91 of Ignite

That catches me. He’s not mad about the car. It’s something else.

“So why are you in such a grump? Worried I might’ve smashed up your car?”

He steps back and runs both hands down his face, pacing a second before turning on me again.

“What the fuck? No! I couldn’t give a shit about a bit of metal. You, Hallie. I’m worried about you.”

“Really?”

He exhales like it costs him, then pulls me against his chest. My tension drains as I settle into his embrace.

“I’d give up every single car I own in a heartbeat if it was a choice between you and them. Hell, I’d give up everything. You just need more practice in the McLaren before you race again. And I would never dream of taking your Shelby from you in return.”

Tears well in my eyes, and I wrap my arms tighter around him.

“You did good, trouble. I’m proud of you.”

Those words crack something open. I haven’t heard them in two years. Not from someone who meant it.

A sob punches out of me.

“Baby, please don’t cry. I promise I’m not upset,” he murmurs.

I tip my head up. His brows pinch, like he doesn’t know what to do with the mess I’ve become.

“I’m not sad.” I sniff. “I’m happy, I think.”

He looks at me like I’ve grown a second head.

“You want me to drive you home? I’ll have my men follow behind and drop the McLaren off?”

Pete clears his throat behind us. I flinch, but Conan doesn’t let go.

“Well done, Hallie. Here.” Pete hands me the wad of cash, eyes darting nervously between us.

Conan glares at him like he wants to rearrange his face.

“Conan. Good to see you.” Pete backs away slowly into the crowd.

“He’s scared of you,” I whisper.

“Fucking right.”

He takes my hand and guides me to his Range Rover. Two men, who are absolute giants, wait beside it like they were built in the same lab.

Conan tosses the keys to one. The other groans.

They nod silently and disappear with the McLaren. Conan opens the passenger door for me, but I don’t move. I have something on my mind, and I have to blurt it out.

“Are you hiding who you really are from me, beastie?”

His jaw twitches. One second later, he’s right in front of me, my back pressed against cool metal.

“Fine one to talk, Ms. Adrenaline Junkie.”

Okay, fair.

“There are a lot of parts to me, trouble. You gotta stick around to see them all.”

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