Ronan’s grip on the steering wheel tightens, and his eyes become laser-focused on the road. It’s hard to miss the flush creeping down his neck. This big, strong killer gets embarrassed when I talk to him. I’ve never understood it. He’s not like this with anybody else. He’s blunt and short and tells things like they are with everyone but me. He can’t even seem to look at me most of the time. I just asked him if he was following me, and his only response is to drive faster.
