Page 51 of Tough Justice

“What is all that gunk?”

“It happens when the sulfate in the battery reacts with the lead in the terminal posts.”

“Can you dumb that down for me, please?”

“It means your battery is probably kaput. How old is it?”

“Five, maybe six years old.”

“You need a new one. I can clean the terminals for you, but you really need a new battery.”

“How can you clean all that crud off?”

“Simple.” He touched the tips of his index finger and thumb together, forming a circle, then he inserted his other index finger through the hole. “I shove a wire brush through the terminal clamps and clean out the crud.”

Tori gulped. Who knew auto repair could be so sexual? “Um, how long will that take? I have to be somewhere.”

“Start to finish, maybe an hour.”

She looked at her watch. “That won’t work. I’m late as it is. I’ll call an Uber. They can be here in ten minutes.”

“Where do you need to go?” he asked.

“Westminster. My father’s house for dinner.”

“Stand back.” He pulled down the hood of her car and locked it back into place. “I’ll drive you.”

Without waiting for a response, he placed his hand at the small of her back, urging her to the passenger door of his SUV. That touch—that one little touch—sent a shiver zigzagging up and down then back and forth across her spine, just like it had before.

Taking his charity didn’t work for her. “You don’t have to do this. I can easily get a car. I’ll have to get one for the ride home anyway.”

“Then I’ll save you”—his eyes dipped then he cleared his throat—“half the trip.”

Oh no. Her physiology was betraying her. Her nipples stood at full attention, thanks to his sexually charged battery-cleaning demo. Quickly, she draped her sweater over her shoulders, allowing the long sleeves to conceal her now-pert nipples.

“You’re wasting time.” He opened the passenger door, waiting for her to get in.

“Fine. Just give me a minute.” She took her medical bag from the backseat, locked up her car, then stowed the bag in the trunk for safekeeping.

Thirty minutes later, they turned onto her father’s street. During the drive, Deck had checked his rear and sideview mirrors no less than twenty times, a grim reminder of last week’s near-fatal confrontation. According to Deck, T-Lo was proving elusive.

Her sister’s car sat in the driveway. She shoved open the door, intending to make a quick escape, but stopped. “Thank you for the ride and for having the police watch over me. You didn’t have to do that.”

“I did.” His eyes darkened as he leaned over the console and touched his fingers to her cheek. It was the barest of touches, but she felt it straight to her toes. He leaned closer, and his lips parted. Her heart pounded and her breath came in quick little gasps. Their mouths were only inches apart.

Thor snorted, blowing warm air against the side of her face and effectively separating them as he shoved his head through the connecting window. Tori jerked back then gasped loudly. Her father and sister stood not five feet away on the front steps, an amused look on their faces.

Heat flamed her face. Suddenly, she was a teenager again, caught by her parents kissing a boy on the top step in front of their house. Getting caught nearly kissing a man shouldn’t have been a big deal. Getting caught kissing a DEA agent was a betrayal of her family. Could she be any more callous, especially to her father?

I’m a terrible daughter.

More to her annoyance, the corner of Deck’s mouth lifted, and he opened his door.

“Wait!” She grabbed his arm. “Where are you going?”

“To open your door. A man doesn’t bring a woman home in front of her father without executing proper etiquette.”

Proper etiquette? She couldn’t believe this was really happening. “Wait!” she repeated with more urgency. “Don’t tell them what you do for a living, and don’t say a word to them about the shooting.” Correction, shootings, as in two of them. “I don’t want to worry them. Okay?”