Page 52 of Ignite

“Fair point. And no, you’re not psychotic. That’s Finn. You’re more of a… short fuse. You wear your emotions on your sleeve. On the plus side, that means you’ve got them.”

“Right. Thanks for that. Did you train to become a shrink recently, Rowan?”

“Nah. I just know psychos. You kinda have to when your fucking twin is one.”

It’s always the quiet ones. Finn and Reggie prove that. Silent. Deadly. Monsters, but ours.

“Well, we wouldn’t change our brothers, so we live with it. I’ll meet you at the club at seven.”

“You got it, Con.”

I cut the call and signal left, heading down the gravel road to my solace.

As I roll into the unit, Hallie pulls up beside me. From the outside, it’s nothing, just another industrial shell. But behind that steel door?

It’s my kingdom.

I get out, stride to her door, and pull it open.

“M’lady.” I offer her my best mock curtsy as she slides out.

Fuck. She looks good behind the wheel of my car.

“So. What’s this place, then?”

I tap my nose. “Come on.”

I unlock the metal door and shove it open.

My busted Bugatti stands on the lift in center stage, a monument to obsession. Ever since I got behind the wheel of one in Russia, saving Charlotte from her douche ex-husband, the first thing I did on my return was buy this.

“You fix them up yourself?”

I nod, hand on the small of her back as I guide her in.

“This is awesome.”

She turns left and gasps.

My collection. My pride.

“Is that—?” She rushes to the one-of-a-kind gold-plated Aston Martin.

“Yeah, that’s her.”

She spins to face me, eyes wide. Mouth parted.

“Okay. Which is your favorite?”

I move to the only car under a cover and yank it off.

“Shut up. The Ford GT40? What is it, like 1960s? It’s immaculate, Conan. Oh my god.”

That pitch in her voice, like pure delight, it swells something in my chest I don’t want to name.

“She was my dad’s. Had her shipped over after he died. Did a few fixes. She runs like a dream.”

“That’s incredible,” she breathes. “A proper car. You have taste, sir.”

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