Blitz (Blast Brothers #3) - Sabrina Stark Page 0,88

only a few moments ago had been warm and friendly, cooled several degrees as she said, "I think you know exactly which book I mean."

I drew back. Crap.

Given her demeanor, I could think of only one book that would excite such interest. But the book wasn't due out for another week, which made her question totally absurd.

Still, I summoned up another smile. "If you mean Blasted by Angelique Delmonico, no, I haven't read it."

"Well, you really should." Her lips twisted into a nasty smirk. "I've read it."

"Oh." What on Earth could I say to that? "So, um, what'd you think?"

At this, her tone grew snippy. "Hey, I'm the one asking questions here."

I didn't like her tone one bit. Still, I was all too aware that I was here as an official spokesperson, which meant that I couldn't exactly tell her to buzz off. I tried for another smile. "So…are you a reporter or something?"

"Didn't you hear what I just said? My job is to ask questions. Your job is to answer them."

Oh, screw it. "Fine. Then you'll need to make an appointment." This wasn't the way I normally handled interviews, but in her case, it seemed wiser to retreat until I knew what the heck was going on.

She gave a snort of derision. "Like I'd fall for that trick."

Technically, it was no trick. Sure, fielding questions was part of my job, but that didn’t mean I had to field them in the ladies room.

I gave her a sharp look. "Do you have a business card?"

She crossed her arms. "I dunno. Do you?"

I did, actually. Long before the first festival, the marketing department at Blast Tools had supplied me with a whole slew of promotional materials, including my own business cards, complete with the familiar orange logo.

The cards didn't contain my personal information, but rather an email address and phone number set up exclusively for the campaign.

I stepped away from the sink and retrieved a business card from my oversized tote bag. I held out the card in her direction. "If you'd like to call me, we'll set something up."

"Why?" she said, even as she snatched the card from my hand. "You're here. I'm here. Let's just do it already."

I felt my gaze narrow. "And you're from…?"

"Michigan. Same as you."

"Actually," I clarified, "I meant which media outlet."

"Oh, I’m independent," she said. "A freelancer, if you will."

The more she talked, the more her story stunk to high heaven. By now, I had the distinct impression that she wasn't here to interview me at all, but rather to cause some sort of trouble.

"Lemme guess," I said. "You're a friend of Angelique's?"

She stiffened. "What makes you say that?"

"Call it intuition."

"Oh yeah?" she said with a little laugh. "Well, you can't be too intuitive if you're with him."

Him. Meaning Chase of course.

I didn't know what exactly was going on, but I did know that I wanted no part of it, especially now that a sudden hush had fallen over the ladies room.

When my only reply was a cold stare, the brunette reached into her oversized purse and pulled out a thick hard-cover book. "Here," she said, shoving the book in my direction. "Consider this a gift."

Some gift.

Still, I took it anyway. Anything to end this encounter. As soon as I did, she turned and flounced away, calling out over her shoulder. "Oh, and you're welcome."

Yeah, and you're a psycho.

But I didn't say it out loud, because this wasn't the kind of publicity we needed. So, with what I hoped was a smile, I shoved the book into my tote bag and left the restroom to find Chase.

Tonight was one of our favorite events – a demolition derby sponsored by Blast Tools. We were attending it together. Or at least, that was the plan.

And even though I stuck to that plan, I felt like I was only half-there as the cars rumbled into the dirt arena. Sure, my body was sitting next to Chase as usual, but my brain was somewhere else entirely, thinking about the book in my bag, and wondering what stories it had to tell.

Soon, I decided, I'd be finding out.

Chapter 59

Chase

Something was wrong. Mina didn't say so, but something was eating at her. What, I didn't know.

We were sitting in the front row of tonight's demotion derby, where the action was the most intense. On the big dirt field in front of us, only seven cars were still running – jostling for position, ramming their opponents' cars, or hotdogging it for the