Too Hot to Handle by Aleah Barley Read Free Book Online Page B

bulged when she moved.
    There was definitely something in the crawl space under the house—or there had been until a few minutes ago. Now it was in the bag.
    Prying might give him some answers—a hint as to what was going on—but it would also make Honey pull away, and he couldn’t risk that. He turned her, slipped one arm around her waist, and began to lead her back toward the parked cars.
    He’d take care of this. What kind of police officer would he be if he couldn’t figure out who had set fire to one house? What kind of man would he be if he couldn’t keep Honey safe?
    “Where do you want to go?”
    …
     
    Slumped in the passenger seat of the Super Bee, Honey took one deep breath after another. Her grandfather’s words rang in her mind. The only protection you’ll ever have is your wits.
    Still, she felt calmer with Jack sitting beside her. Her wits might be powerful protection, but it sure felt nice to be able to count on his broad shoulders and strong right hook.
    Jack’s hand dropped down to rest on her knee, the move familiar, possessive, and surprisingly reassuring.
    “Don’t worry, Honey. Everything’s going to be all right,” he promised. “I’m not going to let anything happen to you.”
    He took his hand off her leg long enough to pull the car out of the driveway and throw it into gear. Then his long fingers were back, squeezing her knee, working their way slowly up her thigh.
    “Everything’s going to be all right,” he repeated.
    No amount of kind words could stop the hair on the back of her neck from standing up. “Jack,” she said, a short gasp. “Jack—”
    “What is it, Honey?” He drew each word out, like he was talking to a child. “You want me to turn on the radio?”
    They pulled out of the small side street onto a major thoroughfare. Four lanes in each direction, heading toward the freeway.
    “Something’s wrong. Something…” Staring out the window, straight into the side mirror, Honey took a deep breath.
    The wrongness was only a feeling, an itch at the base of her spine, until she saw a car switching lanes behind them. A boxy sedan in a nondescript color somewhere between beige and green. Aftermarket headlights made it look heavy, ominous. Fog lights that had cut through the darkness the night before like a knife.
    “There.” Honey twisted in her seat to point at the car. “That’s the guy who burned down my house.”
    He sucked in a sharp gust of air. “What are you talking about?”
    “That car. It was outside my house last night. Jack, please—” He had to believe her. They were in danger. “It followed me last night.”
    “You can’t know that for sure,” he said. “There have to be a hundred cars like that in this city. Maybe a thousand.” But a second later, he yanked the steering wheel to one side. Making a sharp right without signaling, he sent the Super Bee off down a side street. Two blocks of calm, quiet, and then the sedan turned onto the street behind them.
    “It’s a coincidence,” he said.
    Neither of them believed it.
    Another turn.
    “Wait.” In the mirror, Honey could see the boxy sedan idling at the corner. “They’re slowing down.”
    “They’re giving us time to pull ahead.” Jack kept one eye on the rearview mirror. “That’s a good thing. The driver doesn’t know he’s been spotted.”
    “Put your foot on the gas.” They needed speed. The sedan was getting closer with every passing second. A lead foot on the gas pedal was the only thing that could save them.
    Last night, she’d darted through traffic for forty-five minutes before finally losing the sedan on a freeway entry ramp. Luckily, the Super Bee was faster than her old truck.
    “Come on, Jack,” Her teeth were clenched. “That thing’s a boat. You can outrun it any day of the—”
    “I’m not outrunning anyone.” Another quick turn. “Not in a residential neighborhood.”
    It was Saturday at eleven in the morning. No one was on the streets. They