I reluctantly grabbed his hand to steady myself as I stepped off the dock. The jet ski listed to the side as I cautiously settled my weight onto it, and I snatched at his shoulders to keep myself from toppling right into the water.

I plopped down on the seat behind him, trying my hardest not to touch any of him while keeping myself from hanging off the end. Even as I finally found a comfortable position, I realized I'd never be able to hold it once we took off.

"Hell of a time to be shy, Flash." He patted his hip, glancing back over his shoulder.

I knew what he meant, but was it really coming to this? My movements jerky, I wrapped my arms around his waist, clasping my hands together on the other side. He tensed underneath me as my arms settled against his abdomen. I tried to keep them as high as I could.

"Here we go," he said, and I heard the effort it took to keep his voice casual.

I winced as the jet ski roared to life—surely someone had heard that—but it didn't matter as we pulled away from the dock with a jerk.

I plastered myself to him, my knees gripping his hips like some bizarre piggyback ride as I tucked my head against him to avoid the spray. As the shore disappeared behind us, so did what little light we had, leaving us with only the half-moon above. Even that eventually retired behind a veil of clouds, as if it couldn't bear to watch our doomed attempt at freedom.

Finally we slowed. The engine's roar softened to a steady growl, and I chanced a glance up to find orange lights marching in a line ahead of us.

"Where are we?" I asked.

"Plymouth."

The lights started to take the vague shape of windows, and I realized I was staring at a row of beach houses. Ciar stopped a few meters from the shore and cut the engine, twisting as far as he could to look at me.

"Ready?" he asked.

I stared at him. "Wait, we're getting off? Here?"

His shoulders shook with a single quiet, rasping laugh. "Yeah, here. Let the tide carry the jet ski out. No evidence we were ever here."

"But...what about...sharks and stuff?" And getting my only set of clothes sopping wet, I added silently, unwilling to come across as petty in desperate times.

"They're misunderstood creatures. Besides, would you rather face life in prison or lose an arm?"

I opened my mouth to tell him that the answer was, unequivocally, prison, but he was already throwing himself into the water.

No. No way. My knees and shins had taken some splashing during the journey, and the night's chill was settling in even though we'd stopped moving.

Ciar broke the surface, his hair plastered to his head and his stupid white shirt nearly transparent. "It's not even deep, Flash. Come on."

I glared as he rose to his full height to demonstrate, his chest almost halfway out of the water. He knew damn well that was all the way up to my chin.

He turned away and started to slosh through the waves. I huffed out a sigh and peeled off my sneakers and socks, then held them high above my head as I awkwardly clambered off the jet ski.

Ciar swirled around at the huge splash that resulted. I purposefully stared past him, stretching my arm as high over my head as I could while I flailed toward the shore with the other one. The water lapped at my chin, trying to push me off balance as my toes struggled for purchase on the sea floor.

"Don't," I threatened as he reached for me.

He had enough sense to leave me alone, and we struggled in silence after that.

Well, I struggled. Ciar walked. Goosebumps rose fierce and painful on every inch of my body that peeked above the surface, covering me completely as the water fell away. When we reached the shore, they had become my skin.

Ciar took one look at me shivering barefoot in the sand and jerked his head toward the nearest row of houses. "Let's go."

What else did he have up his sleeve? A summer home? Didn't he know it could be traced back to him? But he led me past the houses, into the street, and then to a late-model Firebird parked along the curb.

"Ciar!" I hissed between chattering teeth as he bent down to feel around under the car's front fender. The last thing he needed was to add grand theft auto to his list of crimes.

"Relax." He straightened, a set of keys in his hand. "Got a buddy that owes me a favor. Here."

He popped the trunk, and as I walked gingerly across the pavement, I saw the mismatched clothes piled there. He rummaged through them, tossing some to the side and taking the rest.

I took the remainder—an oversized men's t-shirt and a pair of sweatpants—and then stood there. Was I really supposed to change in the middle of the street? I was desperate and cold enough to do it. We both were, with our clothes clinging to our bodies like loose, clammy second skins.

I glanced at him, only to find him watching me. The second our eyes met, he deliberately presented me with his back and started to undress.

Nope. I whirled around before I caught a glimpse of anything. I didn't trust my pounding heart enough to know whether it was fully the fault of adrenaline, and I didn't need to risk finding out.

For a moment rustling filled the night as we scurried to change, but I kept my back turned long after it had died down. Ciar had gone still, too, and I wondered if he felt what I felt zinging through the air. Not electricity, but something that wouldn't let my heart settle back into rhythm. Alone together, in the dead of night while the neighborhood around us slept, it really was us against the world.

I turned my head just enough to make out his shape from the corner of my eye and whispered, "Ciar?"

Nothing. If it weren't for the sudden absence of his breaths, I would've thought he hadn't heard me.

"This is never going to work," I murmured. We both turned around in unison, and though our eyes met, we kept a safe distance. "You know that, right?"

He did. I saw it in the lines of his face, made even more obvious by the way the shadows threw them into sharp relief. We were doomed. It didn't matter how far we ran, the police would catch up to us eventually. Or Donovan, with God knew what kind of technology at his disposal. We'd be lucky if we didn't both end up dead or locked up by morning.

Ciar looked away, making a show of opening the passenger's door. "We should go."

I didn't budge. "Where?"

"Inland. We'll figure it out. But they'll look along the coast first once they realize you're with me, and we don't want to be here when that happens."

He rounded the front of the car and slipped into the driver's seat. I stood frozen, trying to resist the insistent tug that drew me toward him. After a moment, I gave in.

He glanced over at me, biting his lip as if working up the courage to say something. But finally, he just flashed a tight smile.

"Buckle up," he said, then pulled away from the curb.