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“Yeah.”
“We can smash it with a rock. Flush it down a toilet.”
“Or we can give it to Freya to play with.”
“How do we do that?”
He put the car in gear. They needed to keep moving. They might have a little time before the pricks who bombed the house realized Diana was alive, but they’d monitor the tracker until then. Just in case.
“I’ll drive. Call Freya and put her on speaker.”
They were only a block away from the auction house when Rand let out a low whistle. “Damn, you don’t see one of those every day.”
Kira followed his gaze, then let out a low curse.
“You don’t like vintage cars?” Rand asked.
She studied the pristine 1965 Shelby Mustang GT350. She actually knew almost nothing about vintage cars, but she knew more than she wanted to about this particular car, right down to the detail that the colors were Wimbledon White with Guardsman Blue LeMans stripes.
“That vintage car happens to be Mason Gardner’s pride and joy.”
“Ah. So it’s that car in particular you have a problem with.”
She grimaced. “I knew we might run into him at the auction house, but now there’s no doubt.” At least seeing the car was a warning, giving her a chance to brace herself.
Be a Valkyrie.
She straightened her spine and continued down the sidewalk. “They sell licensed replicas of the ’65 Shelby at Historie.”
“I didn’t know they sold anything that was so…modern.”
“They sell a handful of vehicle replicas now, but it started with Mason’s Mustang.”
They reached the entrance to the auction house, and Rand held open the door for her. She gave thanks that Mason was nowhere to be seen. Maybe they’d be lucky and not cross paths with him at all.
Rand introduced himself to the receptionist, who was probably in her midtwenties—although Kira knew better than to make age assumptions based on looks—and her eyes went wide as she took in the tall, blond, handsome SEAL.
Honestly, she handled his sheer beauty better than Kira had, given all her fluster and blushing, which was only slightly aggravating to Kira’s general anxiety.
Good lord. She was so smitten with her fake client, she was jealous for no reason.
She’d managed to center herself in the car. It had helped that he’d made the ridiculous assumption about her age even knowing about her degree and work history.
They’d both made incorrect assumptions about the other based on looks. She’d figured he would be smart and suave and perfect. He’d been easier to talk to after his blunder. Less intimidating.
Before climbing from the vehicle, she’d reminded herself—and him—that today she was a Valkyrie. She’d be bold. Strong.
Then she saw Mason’s car and felt her winged armor crack.
She straightened her shoulders and gave the young woman a professional smile. She was still a Valkyrie, and this auction house was one place in which she was an undeniable and respected expert. “We’re here to meet with Mr. Gillibrand about the collection that was in Friday’s press release.”
“Kira, what a surprise to see you here.” She stiffened at the familiar voice. Dammit. So much for not crossing paths.
She turned and gave a polite nod, not bothering with any kind of fake smile. “Mason.”
His gaze scanned her from head to toe. The same kind of assessment from other men might make her nervous in a basic social anxiety sort of way, but with Mason, it made her skin crawl. But then, he’d hit on her more than once, and more than once she’d told him no, even using the excuse she didn’t date employers or clients in an attempt to soften the rejection.
Then he’d charmingly threatened to fire her.
