Chapter Nine

After another round of twenty questions, Annabeth was no closer to breaking through the tough exterior that Hank had shown her time and again.

It was impenetrable. The force field around his heart was so thick and strong she’d bet the current owners of the Millennium Falcon would love to get the schematics for their spacecraft. Even after she left the spacious backseat to sit beside him in the front of the Phantom, she couldn’t seem to ruffle the man’s impeccable feathers.

Sad rawr.

“How far are we?”

“We just entered Atlantic City a few minutes ago. There’s always some traffic in town, but we shouldn’t be too long,” he said.

Was it her imagination, or did the steely-eyed Falcon sound sad? She watched carefully for any sign that he was feeling something, anything, but nope. He gave nothing away. Eyes on the road, he barely glanced at her.

Discouraging? Yep.