I took her to my favorite burger joint when I was in college, a hole-in-the-wall place that stayed open late near BU. "Stay in the car," I told her when we parked. I had a far more romantic setting in mind, even if we were just going to chow down on the best Cajun-spice-dusted fries. "I don't want you to be scared off by the looks of the place."

"If you don't want me to see the dining room of the place we're ordering from," she said, "Because that's scary, forget the kitchen, I'm not so sure about this."

"I know it's not your style, but try trusting me," I said. "Could be fun."

"I trust you," she said, unconvincingly. Even when it was just a burger, she couldn't cede control.

While I waited for our order, I texted with Liam, getting the details of Liam's arriving flight that weekend. Even though Liam was a pilot, he was taking a normal commercial flight back east. He had to take a flight into Boston instead of the closer T.F. Green Airport in Rhode Island, though, so I would have to break it to Naomi that she would once again be confined to a car with me. I was never very comfortable on long car rides – too much leg, too much shoulder – but I liked being stuck in the car with her, nothing to do but to talk, to catch the flash of her bright smile when she gave in and laughed.

There was something, too, about the fact she had almost been my girl once. The way Naomi had brushed against my shoulder as we passed each other on the pool, smiling good luck. Back then I’d imagined long swims on the weekends with her, lying on a blanket on the grass of the beach, kissing the gritty sand off her cheeks, feeling the warmth of her under my palms.

The thought that I'd hurt her made me ache. I didn't deserve a second chance. But this time, with Naomi, I wanted more than what I deserved. It made me spin back and forth between how I should handle the obvious, sheer lust between us.

"Your food, sir," the server called, putting a paper bag on the countertop.

"Thanks," I said, snagging the warm bag. The moon was small and pale above as I crossed the parking lot, the night damp-tinged even though the clouds had passed.

I swung myself into the passenger seat, settling the bag of grease in my lap. "I've got a favorite spot we can head to. Almost as scenic as that rooftop."

"That's great," Naomi said, her voice quavering but under control. "I think we've got a problem, though."

"No problem, man," a voice said from the back of the car. From the edge of my vision, I caught the glint of a gun barrel. "We're just going for a little drive to the ATM."

"All right.” I felt my heart rate drop–the bizarre reaction to stress that most SEALs developed–as time felt like it slowed. I nodded at Naomi, giving her an encouraging look.

Her hands trembled on the wheel. I had to keep her and the situation calm until there was a better chance to take out the risk. "Just drive. It's going to be all right."

Naomi nodded at me, her large hazel eyes damp with tears. I felt my guts twist, and I forced the emotion away. I could make this guy pay, later, but for now I needed to stay cool. Protect Naomi. That was all that mattered.

"There's an ATM two blocks away," the man said. "Go straight."

Naomi pulled away from the curb. She almost rolled through the stoplight ahead without seeing it, and as we began to pull through the intersection I said gently, "Brake. Red light."

She slammed on the brakes, throwing us all forward into their seatbelts. The man in the backseat muttered a curse.

I would have liked to curse too. I practiced tight personal security, as a multimillionaire and as a Navy SEAL, but I hadn't seen this coming. And ATM machines? Talk about small potatoes. Or was this just the start? Where the fuck had this guy come from?

"Green," I prompted, but Naomi was already easing up on the brake.

She cleared her throat. Her words came out in a hoarse whisper. "I'm not that bad a driver, Rob. I know what green light, red light means."

It was a shabby attempt at a joke, but it made me smile, aching with both pride and protectiveness. She was one brave girl.

"Quiet," the guy said. "We're all going to stay calm and quiet and this is all going to be over soon."

I nodded in agreement. Although it wasn’t going to end in a way that he would like.

"Right here," the guy said, gesturing with the gun angrily. Unacceptable fucking trigger control. "Pull over."

Belatedly, Naomi turned right into the deserted parking lot of a bank. I swayed against my seatbelt with the force of the turn, and then she braked awkwardly alongside the ATM.

The guy in the back, who sounded young, in his early twenties, pulled his baseball cap lower over his face. "You get out of the car," he said to me. "I'll stay here with the girl. Make sure you come back."

"All right," I agreed. I opened the passenger door and walked around the front of the car to the drive-up ATM. The small yellow light of the security camera watched me, but I knew it was not a live feed. That would be too helpful.

I inserted my card and punched the buttons to withdraw the maximum amount from the ATM, wondering how many ATMs this guy planned to visit in one night. Without Naomi in the car, it would have been easy to dispatch the idiot. But I wasn't going to put Naomi at risk. I needed a way to get the guy out of the car.

I slid back into the car, twisted in the passenger seat to offer the man the money. "You want this now?"

"Yeah." The guy snatched it greedily out of my hands. "There's another ATM not far. Make the right at that first light."

Naomi drove to a second ATM, and a third. I bided my time. Naomi was growing exhausted under the tension, struggling to listen to the man's directions while her adrenaline raced in fight-or-flight mode. But she was calm, even if she was clearly struggling to pay attention to traffic lights and road signs.

When she glanced over at me, as we drove to the fourth ATM stop, I thought that I saw trust in her eyes. I gave her a hint of a smile in return. I was going to get us out of this mess. She could count on me for that, at least. Her hazel eyes were dry now, although her hands were still trembling. I wished I knew what was going on in her head.

Meanwhile, our captor was starting to feel awfully laidback for someone with a gun and two hostages. I couldn't wait to take advantage of his complacency and hurt him for what he put Naomi through.

At the fourth ATM, I went to the machine and stood in front of it for a second. I felt the rain mist against my jacket. This guy knew where all the ATMs were, which suggested he'd done some homework. He had to know there was a cap on daily withdrawals as well as individual ATM withdrawals. I took one long, slow deep breath before I returned to the car.

I swung my door open and put my knee on the seat, wanting to move between the carjacker and Naomi in a hurry if this all went south. "Hey. The machine's not letting me withdraw. Says I'm over the max."

"Not yet you aren't," the guy said.

I shrugged. "I'll try again."

"You, get out of the car," the guy said to Naomi, gesturing with the gun again. Didn't anyone teach these thugs gun safety?

Naomi obediently opened the driver's side door and slipped out of the car. I was grateful the guy made the mistake of throwing open the passenger side door in irritation, getting down with the gun in his right hand as he gripped the door frame. Naomi was all the way on the other side of the car.

I slammed into the guy. Get the gun, get the gun. My hand locked on it, making sure the barrel was turned skyward. I turned the man's wrist backward, and the guy released it involuntarily, trying to keep his wrist from breaking. I felt the metal barrel slide smoothly into my palm.

I flipped the carjacker over my shoulder into the pavement, following it up with a quick, brutal kick that leveraged all my weight to put the guy down. The thug's head fell against the pavement. After all the time I'd waited, the fight itself was all over in a matter of seconds.

"Oh my god," Naomi said from the other side of the car. I made sure the guy was out cold, checked him for other weapons, and then turned around, finally ready to comfort her.

Naomi was already in the driver's seat again, her purse in her lap and her cell phone up to her ear. "We're at the Sun Bank. I don't remember what street this is on. Rob? Do you know?"

I looked at her, sitting in the car again as cool as could be with 911, and wanted to laugh because I was so pleased with her. So relieved.

Instead, remembering the street signs I'd watched with the part of my attention that wasn't on the unsteady carjacker, I said, "We're on Dudson."

"Dudson," Naomi relayed.

I joined her at the door of the car, and she held the phone away from her ear, turning on speakerphone. The 9-1-1- operator said, "I'll stay on the line with you until the police arrive."

"Okay," Naomi said, setting the phone down in the cup holder. She looked at me, an unreadable look on her face.

"Are you all right?"

"I'm alive," she said, one corner of her mouth quirking up. I wanted to kiss that little quirk, an impulse that rose in stark contrast to our strange night.

"I wouldn't let anyone hurt you," I promised.

Still, with that unreadable smile, a long look she gave me from under her eyelashes. Impulsively, I leaned in towards her, feeling the heat between our bodies; she looked up at me uncertainly.

"What are you thinking?"

She shook her head, glancing away out the windshield. This close, I could smell the creamy scent of her shampoo. Her dark hair was wild around her face, as if she'd run her fingers through it in her anxiety, and I smoothed it with my palm. Almost involuntarily, she let her eyes drift shut, heavy lashes meeting her cheekbones, turning her face into my hand.

Police sirens bleated in the distance, and two squad cars turned into the parking lot. Naomi's eyes snapped open.

"It's going to be okay." I held a hand out to help her out of the car, and she took it reluctantly, sliding down from the driver's seat.

I set the gun down on the hood of the car and took a few long steps back besides Naomi, lifting my hands to show the police empty palms. Naomi hesitated, then raised her hands above her shoulders.

"No big deal. We want to make it easy for them," I assured her. "Let them know we're the good guys."

"Are the police there?" the 9-1-1 operator asked.

"Yes," Naomi said, a tremble in her voice. "We're standing outside the car."

"It's all right," the 9-1-1 operator said. "You guys are safe. Everything is fine."

But now that everything was fine, Naomi seemed to be falling apart. Her hazel eyes were suddenly pooling with tears, and she started to wipe her face, then put her hands back up in the air.

"It's all right," I repeated, putting a steadying hand on her shoulder. She was safe, and I wanted her to know she was safe. "It's all over."

I wanted to hold her, comfort her, but two police officers joined us just then, taking possession of the gun, asking questions. Once the situation was calm, they took Naomi over to one of the squad cars to get her version of the story while I gave my own statement. The Suburban was taken into evidence for the time being.

"This," I said, as we rode back to the hotel in a police car, "Is not the romantic evening I'd planned."

Naomi laughed, a little bit too heartily, her face still blotchy from her earlier tears. "I told you, no romance, no flirting. This is what happens when you don't listen to me."

"Fluke carjackings? Well, that is scary."

"We'll try to get your car back to you by tomorrow afternoon," the policeman who was driving promised. "Sorry for the trouble."

"It's all right," I said. "I'm happy no one got hurt."

"He got hurt," Naomi said.

I felt a jolt. I wondered how much of the abrupt, bloody takedown of that carjacker Naomi had seen. I wanted to ask if she was afraid of me now.

Instead, I said, "I bet our burgers are cold."

"Let's go back to the hotel and order a pizza," she said. "You sure know how to treat a lady. We're like six hours into this date and I still haven't had a decent bite to eat."

Back to her usual sharp self. I could’ve laughed in relief. "Oh, a date? You changed your tune on that one."

"I have to call it a date," she said, "So I can tell all my girlfriends about the worst date ever."