“I’m not.” His faux friendliness evaporates with those two words.
The worker glances back to me, but I’m just as confused as she is.
“Have a good night.” Nero dips his chin, then drags me away.
“What was that about?” I ask when we’ve put some distance between us and the security guards.
“Nothing.”
“Who’s Hans?”
He’s quiet for a few strides, then heaves out a breath. “No one you want to know.”
I press my lips together but decide to take him at his word.
The walk to Nero’s car goes by in a swirl of dancing thoughts while I pretend the cold air isn’t licking at my bare butt.
Nero turns into a small surface lot and walks me up to the passenger side door of a low, probably expensive, sports car.
He lets go of my hand to pull the door open, then stands off to the side so I can get in.
