Risky Obsession (Wolf Security #3)

6. Kane

CHAPTER 6

Kane

D espite the blazing sunshine, the chill of the air in Berlin hit me like a slap in the face as I disembarked from Aria’s private jet behind Tory. I rubbed my hands together, trying to instill some warmth into my fingers. Maybe I should have checked just how cold it was going to be before I’d packed.

I’d been given just twenty-four hours to agree to Aria’s terms for this trip. And a further three days to pack, and get Devil’s Fortune ready and my car secured, so I could leave.

Not that I was complaining. I hadn’t expected to hear from Aria again, let alone with the arrangement she’d suggested. But after I’d heard her out, I’d intended to say no. I had absolutely no desire to work with another treasure hunter . . . until she’d introduced me to the blonde bombshell, Tory Parmenter.

Side by side, we crossed the frigid tarmac. Tory tugged a small rolling suitcase, and I carried Pops’ old leather duffle bag that had probably crossed the globe a dozen times.

I stole a sidelong glance at Tory. She was smart and attractive, a deadly combination that I knew only too well. Something about her seemed off, though. And it wasn’t just her injured fingers or the bruise and cut on her cheek.

At the start of our eighteen-hour flight from Brisbane to Berlin, she’d popped a couple of white pills that had helped her sleep most of the way. Once she recovered from that comatose state, there had been a couple of times during the flight where she went so gray, I’d thought she was going to puke, but she’d pulled herself together. I had attempted to make small talk, but she wasn’t interested. I hadn’t met a woman yet who didn’t want to talk to me. But that just made her more intriguing.

I was all for a good challenge. Especially when a sexy, mysterious woman was involved.

At the entrance to the airport terminal, I raced in front of her to push open the door.

“After you.” I flashed a grin.

“Thanks.” When she turned to squeeze past me, she winced.

“Are you okay?”

She flashed a tight-lipped smile, but her gaze never met mine. “I’m fine, Kane. Just tired from the flight.”

How could she be tired? She’d slept for about twelve hours.

We merged with hundreds of other travelers on their way to the baggage carrousel and exit. Tory had also surprised me with her minimal luggage. Most people packing for a month in Europe would need a massive suitcase. Not the elusive Tory, though.

She was either well-traveled or na?ve.

As she adjusted a small bag that ran diagonally across her body, her movements were stiff, suggesting she had pain in her chest as well as her right hand. She’d told me her injuries were from a push bike accident.

I wanted to call bullshit, but there was something about her guarded expression that told me to back off. So I would—for now.

I couldn’t shake the feeling that Tory was hiding something. Then again, I hadn’t met a person yet, who wasn’t, and my instincts told me to keep my guard up. I hated that I had become so untrusting.

Tory looked innocent and sweet. So had my sister, and I’d spectacularly misjudged her.

But we needed to work together. Aria had given Tory and me just four weeks to get answers. Hopefully, whatever intel Tory had, which she was yet to share, would marry up with mine and we would figure out this eighty-year-old mystery. I had already spent nearly a decade trying to follow the clues.

Four weeks was hardly enough .

As we waited for our turn at customs, every time I looked at Tory, she seemed to be a little more stressed.

“Are you okay?” I asked, trying to sound casual. “You seem a bit . . . off.”

“Just gotta pee.” She stepped side to side, favoring her left leg. Her expression and darting eyes suggested there was a lot more going on than a full bladder.

“Nearly there,” I replied, nodding at the four people in the queue ahead of us.

She glared at me.

I smiled.

What the hell is her problem?

We processed through customs, and on the other side of the security exit, we collided with a massive crowd that moved in all directions at once. We made our way through the arrivals area of the airport, trying to decipher the German language signs to find the car hire area.

“You see the car hire section?” she asked, trying to peer over the field of people around us.

I spotted an Avis Rental sign. “Over there.”

Thankfully, the woman behind the counter spoke perfect English, and the car Aria had hired for us was ready for us in the parking lot. The woman slid the keys over the counter and Tory snatched them from my grasp.

“Let’s go.” She grinned and marched away with her suitcase, heading toward the exit.

Apparently, she no longer needed to pee.

The icy wind whipped around us as we exited the airport, chilling me to the bone. Tory shivered beside me, and she picked up her pace. Her height just reached my shoulders, but she was fit and strong, and she walked so fast, I had to stride to keep up with her.

“Which one is ours?” I asked, following her sexy ass along a row of rental cars.

Aiming the car remote forward, she pressed the button over and over, and finally, the rear lights flickered on a small sedan at the end of the row. “Found it.”

She popped the trunk, and I raced forward to help her lift her case into the back. But Miss Independent beat me to it. I put my duffle bag beside hers and closed the trunk .

“So, who’s driving?” I asked.

“Me, of course.” She fixed me with a steely glare as she removed the bag from across her chest.

“Oh really? Want to toss a coin for it?”

“Nope.”

“Arm wrestle?”

She smiled like she was debating that answer. “Nope.”

“You have an injured hand,” I said, despite knowing my argument was pointless.

“Two dislocated fingers. My other eight digits are perfectly fine. Are you questioning my driving abilities, Kane?” Her fascinating, pale blue eyes flared, beautiful and dangerous. “Or are you afraid I’ll show you up behind the wheel?”

“Wow,” I muttered, caught off-guard by her feisty response. A part of me admired her sassiness but another part was pissed off with her attitude. “That hadn’t even crossed my mind.”

“Good. Glad we got that out of the way.” She opened the doors, and we climbed in.

“You can drive,” I said, pulling on my seatbelt, “but if your injuries slow us down, we’re switching.”

“Deal.” She smirked, but as she pulled her seat belt into position, she couldn’t hide the pain behind her eyes.

A twinge of frustration swept through me. I wanted to trust her, but I was getting all the vibes that I shouldn’t. Her injuries were much more than just a couple of damaged fingers. Had someone hurt her? A man? Was that what she was hiding from me?

“Kane.” Tory slapped my thigh. “You’re on navigation duty. Get us out of here.”

“Right.” I pulled my phone from my pocket and as I turned it on, she started the engine.

“Damn, it’s cold.” She fiddled with the knobs on the heater.

“Not what you were expecting?” I asked.

“I expected cold, but not freezing.” She flashed a smile that took my breath away.

After ramming the gear into reverse, she winced as she peered over her shoulder to check for cars behind us even though the rental had a reversing camera .

“It’s not just your fingers that are injured, is it?” I said.

“Nope.” She shoved the car into first gear and stomped on the gas. “I’m fine.”

I pressed my hand to the roof as she took off way too fast and pushed the gear into second like a rally racer. “Alrighty, then. How come you know how to drive a stick shift?”

She flashed that gorgeous smile again. “You surprised?”

“Yeah, actually. It’s a dying skill.”

“My first set of wheels was a motorbike.” She swerved around a car idling at the curb.

“That explains a lot.”

“But I earned my first driver’s license on a manual car. I guess some things you never forget.” She laughed as we bounced over a speed bump going twenty miles over the speed limit. “Which way?”

I tapped the screen on my phone. “I haven’t got the GPS set yet. You’re too quick.”

“And you’re too slow, old man.”

I burst out laughing. “That’s a bit mean. How old do you think I am?”

“I don’t know . . . forty. Forty-five.”

“Wow, you really are mean. I’m thirty-five.”

She braked at a red light. “Which way?”

She pointed at a road sign for an upcoming roundabout, offering four different destinations.

“Well, we haven’t actually discussed where we are going. What do you suggest?” So far, Tory had failed to reveal any intel that would explain why Aria put us together.

“I thought you had a clue or something. Quick, which exit?”

I squinted at the signpost, trying to decipher the German words.

“Take the second exit,” I said, guessing.

The lights turned green, and she made the turn, smoothly merging in with the peak hour traffic.

“Have you been to Germany before?” I asked.

“Nope. Have you?”

“Yes. A few years ago.”

Her brows nudged up her forehead. “Treasure hunting?”

“Always.”

“Aria said you owned an antique shop. ”

“No, my grandfather did.”

“Oh, I must have heard her wrong.”

“Well, actually, I inherited his shop when Pops passed away.”

Her expression was a mixture of concern and curiosity. “So, you do have an antique shop?”

“I did. But it wasn’t the same without Pops around, so I closed it down.”

“You were close to your pops, then?”

“Yes. What about you? You close to your family?”

She fixed her gaze on the rear of the car in front. “I haven’t spoken to my parents in years.”

“I can relate to that.”

Frowning, she glanced at me. “Did your inheritance cause a rift?”

“Nope.”

She wasn’t the only one who could be elusive.

She didn’t probe though. Her grip on the steering wheel made the splint securing her pinky finger and ring finger together stick out like antennas.

“Is your hand okay?” I asked.

“My fingers are fine. Thanks.” She gave me a tight-lipped smile that told me not to ask.

Screw that. We had four weeks together. I planned to learn as much as I could about Tory Parmenter. “How did you crash your push bike?”

“Are you watching where we’re going?” She dodged my question.

“I’m watching, yes, but we haven’t decided on where we’re going.”

“I figured you’d want to take charge.”

“Really?” I cocked my eyebrow at her. “You’re the one who demanded to drive.”

She shrugged. “I get travel sick if I don’t.”

“Oh. Why didn’t you say so?”

“Don’t want you to think I’m weak.”

That explained why she took the pills on the plane.

I chuckled. “I definitely don’t think you’re weak. You’re driving with broken fingers.”

She raised her hand as if examining the blue splint. “Dislocated fingers. Besides, they don’t even hurt anymore. Just annoying.”

“I’ve never broken a bone, so I wouldn’t know. ”

“Lucky you. So, you figured out where we’re going yet?”

“Yep,” I said, but didn’t elaborate.

“Where?”

“You’ll know when we get there.”

She giggled, and the sound was so sweet, it was like she’d let a chink in her armor down.

Out the window, the vibrant colors of graffiti-covered walls contrasted with the gray facades of historic buildings. People rushed along the sidewalks with their faces hidden behind scarves and hats to shield themselves from the cold.

Despite the distractions outside, my focus drifted back to Tory. Even though she was driving on the opposite side of the road to Australia, she drove with confidence, navigating the unfamiliar streets with ease.

“What countries in Europe have you been to?”

“This is my first.” She fiddled with the dial on the heater again. “Can you turn that thing up? My fingers are going to drop off from frostbite.”

“Exaggerator,” I said as I adjusted the dial. “It’s at maximum.”

I tugged the scarf from around my neck.

“Here.” I slipped it across the back of her shoulders.

“What are you doing?” She flicked my hand away.

“Just getting you warm before you crash the car.” I pulled the scarf around to the front and adjusted it to cover the fine curve of her neck. “Better?”

She plumped the knitted wool at her throat. “Yes. Thanks.”

Her reaction swept my mind back to my earlier thought that someone had hurt her. I clenched my fists.

“Let me know if we need to turn off this highway.” She fiddled with my scarf, positioning it over her chest.

I could offer another way to warm her boobs . . .

I nearly burst out laughing. Tory would probably kick me in the balls.

“We stay on this road, the A10,” I said. “For a hundred and ten kilometers.”

“We may need to stop though.”

“That’s right . . . you had to pee?”

She gave me the side eye like I’d caught her out in that lie.

We left the city behind us, and the urban landscape gradually morphed into lush countryside dotted with quaint villages and rolling hills. The early morning sunlight cast a golden hue over the landscape, painting everything in its warm glow.

Although we didn’t make any exits, the highway changed from the A10 to the A11 to the A14, each time becoming less busy. I directed her off the main highway and as she slowed down to drive through a narrow main street of a tiny town, I rolled down the window. The air was crisp and fresh and carried scents of pine.

Tory yanked the car into a parking space.

“I guess we’re stopping here,” I said.

She pulled on the hand brake. “Yep. Time to pee. And I need some food.”

She pointed at a small café with outdoor seating bathed in sunlight where two couples sat, cupping steaming mugs in their hands.

“Great. I’m starving.”

We stepped out of the rental and the chilly air nipped at my skin, a sharp contrast to the cozy car confines. The cobbled street was quiet, and colorful buildings that lined both sides looked like something out of a travel magazine.

Our breaths clouded in the cold air, and Tory tightened my scarf around her neck and tugged at her coat as she dashed toward the café entrance. Inside, the café was warmed by a blazing fire, and scents of freshly brewed coffee and baked goods greeted us. We found a table by the window, and Tory settled into her seat with a relieved sigh. She cupped her bandaged hand to her chest and winced as she reached for the menu resting against a giant beer stein.

“What do you feel like?” I said.

The menu was all written in German.

“Anything warm.” Her smile was strained, convincing me that her pain was much worse than she let on.

She glanced at the menu, then flopped it onto the table. “I wonder if they have soup?”

“Only one way to find out.” Raising my hand, I signaled to the waitress who approached with a friendly smile.

Her warm welcome fell away when her gaze flickered over Tory’s bandaged hand to her bruised face. A hint of wariness clouded her expression before she said, “ Guten tag . ”

“ Guten tag ,” I replied in the most German-sounding tone I could muster, earning a crooked smile from Tory. “Do you speak English?”

“A little. Yes.” Her accent was thick, but understandable.

“Oh, lovely.” Tory smiled. “Do you have any soup today?”

“ Ja . Goulash, or potato and pork sausage.”

“Yum. I’ll have the goulash,” Tory said.

“And I’ll have the other one. Thank you. And a strong coffee for me.”

“Make that two.” Tory raised two fingers on her left hand.

After taking our order, the waitress marched to the kitchen like she couldn’t wait to get away from us.

Tory’s gaze lingered on the crackling fire beside us, her features softening. In the warm glow, the flames danced in her eyes, casting shadows and light across her pale irises. I had so many questions to ask, but I reined them in, hoping that she would open up to me on her own.

The waitress delivered the soups in chunky brown bowls and added a basket of steaming bread rolls to our table.

“ Danke ,” Tory said, nodding at the waitress.

The waitress left our table, and Tory’s eyes lit up as she broke open a bread roll. “This looks delicious.”

As she lifted a spoonful to her lips, blowing softly on it before tasting, I dipped a chunk of bread into my soup. The rich soup was the perfect balance of flavor and heat and hit the spot nicely.

Our coffees arrived and as we ate and drank in silence, Tory’s expression seemed to soften more with each bite. It was a stark contrast to the guarded facade she’d been wearing since I’d met her in Aria’s office. I had the feeling that Tory was pissed off at me before we’d even met, and I’d put that down to her knowing about that stupid mistake I’d made with Indiana over a decade ago. But Tory seemed to have walls built around her.

Pausing between bites, I said, “So, Aria tells me you’re a treasure hunter.”

“Yep. She said the same about you. Is it true?” She tore a chunk of bread off the roll and dipped it into her soup.

“I’ve found my share of relics over the years. What about you? Anything noteworthy?”

She shrugged. “Probably not. Nothing that made it into a museum, if that’s what you mean. ”

I chuckled. Tory was an expert at evading specifics. “So, you make a living out of treasure hunting?”

She settled back into her seat and picked up her coffee cup, taking a long sip. The steam curled around her face like a veil, adding to the air of secrecy that surrounded her. “Not really.”

“Oh.” That was a shocker. “So why did Aria say . . .?”

“My father was the real treasure hunter. When he passed away, I?—”

“I thought you said you hadn’t spoken to your parents in years.”

She paused to lower her coffee mug. “Yeah. Exactly. Dad died.”

“Oh. I’m sorry.” I scooped the last of my soup onto my spoon, trying to work out what to ask next. “You say your dad was a treasure hunter? What was his name?”

She waggled her finger. “I don’t think so, mister. I’m not giving you anything.”

I couldn’t fight the smile morphing across my lips. “Come on, just his name.”

“Nope.” She dabbed her lips with the napkin and pushed back on her chair. “I’m going to find a loo before I burst.”

She sashayed away and I watched her sexy ass all the way until she disappeared at the back of the café.

I turned my attention out the window. Tory was fascinating and confusing at the same time. She was definitely hiding things from me, yet she wasn’t discreet about doing it.

As much as I hated to admit it, not only did I have to watch out for ruthless bastards who wanted to get their hands on the treasure we were searching for, but I also needed to keep my guard up with Tory.

I didn’t know how she’d convinced Aria to pitch us together, but I had a rotten feeling that Tory wasn’t who she pretended to be.