Rob looked at her lips. God, he hadn’t known Revlon or whothefuckever made a shade of lipstick that bright, that red. And the way the lips looked, so plump and moist…holy hell…he ached to kiss her. Which was about six thousand shades of fucked-up, given the circumstances. He made himself swallow again and said, “What do you…hate?”

There it was. That quaver he’d expected to hear before.

“Liars.”

Rob’s brow furrowed as he squinted at her. “What?”

“Liars. I fucking hate liars.”

Rob couldn’t help it-he laughed. “Hold on. You have no problem with threatening to kill a guy and steal his car, but you hate liars?”

“That’s right.”

Rob grunted. “Huh. Well…shit, I don’t really know what to say to that.”

“You don’t need to say a goddamn thing. Your approval isn’t something I require, liar boy.”

“You’re not very nice.”

She almost smiled. It was very quick and he nearly missed it-just the slightest and most fleeting twitch at the edges of her mouth. There and gone in the space of a nanosecond. “No shit. What was your first clue? The gat in your gut or my sweet disposition?”

“Did you just say ‘gat’?”

“Yeah. Problem?”

“It makes you sound like a gangster moll in some old movie.”

“So?”

Rob thought, This conversation is insane.

He shrugged. “Whatever. Just an observation.”

Rob’s head turned slightly at the sound of an approaching motor. A silver Hyundai was pulling up on the opposite side of the pump. The girl saw the Hyundai and pressed herself against him. Her lips were soft against his ear. “Put your arms around me.”

“What?”

She made an almost inaudible sound that nonetheless managed to convey deep exasperation. “Hold me, you fucking idiot. You’ve got about five seconds to make these people think I’m your girlfriend. Unless you want me to shoot you now and blow them away, too?”

Rob didn’t bother commenting on the craziness inherent in this question, but only because there was no time.