Page 97 of Date With Danger

I gape at his ridiculously attractive side profile and the plastic water bottle he’s extending. “Not happening.”

I’m being held here against my will, and despite my hopes, it’s not all it’s cracked up to be. Time to make a run for it.

I shove the hoodie sleeves up to my elbows, playing with a button on the dash with one hand while my other hand slips to the door handle. I wait a moment for him to crack and change his mind. But he doesn’t.

He’s left me no choice.

“What’s that?” I point out the window on his side of the car to a shadow that has been there all night. “Is it a man?”

Caleb leans further away from me to get a better look and that’s when I throw open the door and jump out like a criminal on the loose. I’m Usain-freaking-Bolt, catch my dust with your stupid water bottle, Cale—

Two strong arms latch around my waist and I’m lifted off the ground and tossed over a shoulder. In my line of sight is the very firm tush of an extremely frustrating FBI agent. Not that I’ve memorized it or anything.

“Put me down!” I bang on his back.

“No.”

I reach for his butt and pinch with all I have, but as before mentioned, it’s ridiculously firm.

“Fine, then you should know, this position is pushing on my bladder and I’m two seconds from peein—” My body flies through the air, off his shoulder, and straight into a cradle against his chest.

“Better?” He stops at the car.

“Much.” I nod, my head shaky. This stakeout resembles my fantasies after all.

And then he drops me in the passenger seat.

“We have to go, he’s leaving,” he says.

My brain is still caught up in the clouds, but my body is reminding me of a very important thing. “But I still need to pee. And don’t offer me a water bottle again. I will murder you.”

“I’m sorry, that was a joke but it wasn’t funny. Let’s see where he’s going, then I will personally escort you to the nearest bathroom.”

“And then can we talk about how you’re a freaking ninja?”

He arches a brow. “What do you mean?”

“I didn’t even hear you coming after me.”

His expression hardens. “I didn’t like watching you run away.”

He shuts the door then runs around the other side of the car and hops in. But I’m still sitting awkwardly in my seat, too stunned to move.

The car starts, and without warning flies forward. The movement propels me sideways into the window with the side of my forehead.

Pain shoots through my skull as I pull myself back upright.

“Sorry, Amelia,” he says, right before he steps on the gas.

I guess I can add whiplash to my list of grievances tonight.

Chapter 39

Caleb

I couldn’t even look at Amelia after throwing her accidentally into the window. I took off after our guy, making sure to remain at a good distance. But after going through a Taco Bell drive-thru, he went right back home.

What kind of drug dealer eats Taco Bell at ten p.m.?