My heart jumps into my throat, and something cold shivers through me. I whirl, trying to keep the panic down as I scan the area, like I’m somehow missing the entire car. The meth lab is in an old warehouse in this shit-hole area next to a coal-processing plant. My eyes land on the spot where I know I left the car, and when I see the broken glass littering the broken pavement, my heart sinks.

…Of all the fucking days to get your car stolen? Yep, this would be the worst. The absolute worst. Fear roars through me, and I’m whirling, trying to figure out what the fuck I’m going to do now with a shotgun, a bag full of stolen drug money, and no car, when the sound of shooting erupts out of the meth lab behind me. I whirl, bringing my own gun up, my pulse racing through me.

There’s the sound of yelling and then an engine roaring to life. Suddenly, a pickup truck I know all too well comes roaring around the side of the warehouse. It barrels right for me, and I swear as he comes to a skidding stop next to me, kicking up gravel and dust.

I’m still coughing dust and swearing like a sailor as his deep, rough voice melts through my ears.

“Get in.”

I blink, looking up and half expecting to find a gun in my face. I mean, it’d only serve me right at this point. But there’s no gun, just those deep, piercing gray eyes of his looking right at me through the open passenger side window.

“What?”

He sighs, reaching across and shoving the door open. “Get in the fucking truck, sweetheart.”

My eyes narrow, my hands tightening on both the gun and the bag.

“No.”

He rolls his eyes. “Get your sweet ass in the car.”

“Or what?”

There’s the sound of shouting behind us from the meth lab.

“Well, the extremely pissed off meth cooks with guns we just ripped off might be a good fucking motivator.”

I hesitate, and he swears. “Or how about this? You want me to motivate you with this?”

He nods at the gun tucked into his belt.

“You gonna pull your gun out on me, cowboy?”

His face breaks into that hungry grin again. “All you gotta say is please, darlin’.”

A shot rings out, and we both duck, whirling to see the meth cooks coming charging around the corner, guns in hand.

Where the fuck did they even have those?

“Now or never, sweetheart,” he growls. His hand reached out, and his eyes locked on mine. “Get in.”

Screw it.

I don’t know him, and this may be a trap. But I know damn well that staying here without a getaway car is going to mean getting shot by the drug dealers I just stole from. And when I put it that way, going with the hot, sexy cowboy stranger just seems like the best choice possible.

“Fine,” I hiss. I heft the bag into the truck, and I’m just about to jump in myself when suddenly, two things happen.

The first is a bullet suddenly shatters the back window of the pickup truck. I scream, whirling at the sound of it. But that’s when the second thing happens. And the second thing is the feel of cold metal clicking around my wrist. I whirl back, and when I see the handcuffs attaching my wrist to his wrists, my jaw drops.

“Are you a fucking cop?!”

“Goddamnit!” he roars, yanking his head over his shoulder, grabbing the gun out of his jeans, and firing off a few rounds at the meth cooks.

“Are you fucking—”

“No!” he snaps, his face livid.

“Handcuffs?!”

“They were for the bag!” he yells, his face as pale and as shocked as mine. “You fuckin jerked your wrist in the way!”

I stare at him. “Wait, the—” my jaw drops as it click into place. “Wait, you were going to handcuff yourself to the bag of money?”

“Sure was,” he hisses.

More shots ring out, and I scream, moving to duck before I remember that I’m fucking handcuffed to him — my arm jerking as I try to squat out of the way.

“Get the fuck in the truck, now, sweetheart!” he roars.

“I can’t believe you fucking handcuffed me!”

“I can’t believe we’re still fucking talking about this! Get in!”

I swear as I throw my shotgun into the truck cab, jump in, and slam the door shut.

“Keys. Now!”

He turns, when suddenly, more gunfire erupts out from the side of meth lab. Bullets pepper the back of the truck, and he swears as his side mirror explodes. He stomps on the gas, the truck lurching as we kick up gravel and go barreling out of the parking lot. I throw my head back and hoot a laugh, the adrenaline junkie in me screaming for more as we roar away from the danger.

My pulse thunders in my ears, and every bit of my skin is tingling. God, doing this is almost better than sex. Almost. And for better or for worse, even if I might have to end up splitting it with him, I’ve got the money, and I’m in one piece.

…It takes me another full minute to realize my stranger is still swearing a mile a minute.

I turn to him, raising a brow. “Calm down, cowboy, we made it. Now where’s the key to these fucking things, so we can—”

“Back there.”

The smile drops from my face.

“What?”

He growls, his jaw clenching as he turns to glare at me. “The keys are back there.”

I blink, the truck roaring down the back road as my pulse roars in my veins.

“Excuse me?”

“I dropped the fucking keys,” he hisses. “Which means—”

“We’re stuck together,” I finish, my voice hollow as I slowly drop my gaze to where our wrists are locked together.

I’m handcuffed to the man I lost all control with last night. The man who was supposed to be a one-time thing. A memory.

Fuck.

Slowly, I realize he’s chuckling next to me, and I turn my glare to him to see him smirking right at me.

“Still want me to pull my gun out, sweetheart?”

Well now what?