Pancakes that tasted like the batter was full of sand, paired with syrup that tasted more like motor oil was not what I had in mind when Dallas shook me awake to go get breakfast. No wonder we were the only customers at that café.

While we sat in awkward silence and ate, my mind drifted back to last night and all the wonderful things he'd made me feel. No doubt, the cleaning crew would know what we'd done when they saw how torn up the bed was. I was sure that every single guest at the motel could hear my blissful cries off and on throughout the night. I didn't care, though. Honestly, a large part of me wanted people to hear, wanted someone to know how good he made me feel. Under normal circumstances, I might've even taken to shouting it from the rooftops how in love I was with this man.

But these weren't normal circumstances. I was reminded of that when I looked up from my food to see Dallas's eyes scanning over every surface and darting to every corner of the café. It sickened me that I couldn't remember a time when I didn't do the same thing. Years of being on guard from the moment I woke up to the moment I fell asleep had really taken a toll on my psyche. I hated having to live as if there was danger lurking behind every corner, as if every stranger was an enemy. It wasn't fair, to myself or to any of the innocent people I judged.

"You're not hungry?" Dallas's eyes found mine and I noted a twinge of concern.

I shrugged, pushing away my barely touched plate. "I don't have much of an appetite. Too much on my mind."

"Thinking about today?" he asked knowingly.

Bile rose up in my throat at the thought. We'd spent thirty minutes creating a plan of action before leaving the motel. The plan was to break into the bank before it opened, undetected. Given the fact that we didn't know who all was after us or where we might encounter them, it seemed best to take our chances with breaking in rather than giving a customer or employee at the bank the opportunity to recognize one of us. With the German authorities searching for us, we'd likely made it onto the news stations by now.

I gave him my best unpleased look and groaned. "You and your ideas, David."

He just chuckled and downed the rest of his crappy coffee. I never did understand how he could drink it black. It was too bitter, in my opinion.

I hoped one day I would get to argue with him over whether or not creamer was a necessity as we sat in our own kitchen, in our own house, happily married and bickering over little things like a normal couple. Oh, how badly I longed for that.

"When do you want to leave?" I asked just as two tall men in police uniforms walked into the café.

Dallas and I acted as if we didn't notice them, but made sure to watch them carefully, peripherally.

The officers greeted the man behind the counter and then took a seat at a booth on the opposite side of the café. They didn't appear interested in us, but I wasn't about to let my guard down.

"We've got a little time," Dallas said quietly. "We can hang out here a few more minutes. Don't want to look suspicious, leaving right after they walked in."

I nodded and continued to circle the stir stick in my now-cold coffee while he scrolled through something on his phone.

The man behind the counter turned on a small tube T.V. hanging from the ceiling in the corner of the room as he made his way to the policemen to take their order. The morning news was just beginning with a skinny bleach blonde anchor who was all-too-cherry for it being so early. She was a fast talker, going through the details of several stories in just a few minutes. I wasn't paying much attention, only listening in for when the weather forecast would come on.

"It's seven o'clock now," Dallas piped up, keeping our conversation in a hushed tone. "The bank doesn't open 'til nine. By the time we get there, we'll have about an hour to do everything. I don't want to chance being in there any later than eight-fifteen in case the branch manager is one of those people who likes to go in early."

"You think an hour is enough time?" I cocked a brow, unsure.

He shook his head and shrugged. "If we don't get what we're looking for then, we can always take a chance on going in later with our federal I.D.'s."

"We better get going if we're going to accomplish anything."

Dallas and I stood up to leave, pulling on our jackets and tossing a reasonable tip on the table, despite the shitty meal.

"Hallo! Halt!" called the café manager as we headed toward the door. "Das bist du!"

He was pointing to the television where a still from a security camera at the Brandenburg prison was displayed on the screen. They'd captured an image of Dallas and I on the way into the main building. The anchorwoman was rattling off details, saying that we were both wanted by law enforcement for pretending to be federal agents.

"Das bist du!" The man repeated, saying it was us on the news.

His shouting alerted the policemen who were now getting up from their seats, looking at us with dangerous expressions and reaching for their side arms.

"Polizei!" The man yelled to them and pointed to us, as if to sick the cops on us like attack dogs.

Dallas grabbed my hand and jerked me out the door with him, the police immediately chasing after us.

"Is this part of your plan?" I looked at him in shock, doing my best to keep up alongside him. "Cause I'm not having fun right now, Dall!"

To my horror, he laughed. He actually laughed! But that was just like Dallas, always laughing in the face of danger. He was almost too cocky for his own good in these situations, but it had yet to come back and bite him. I had to hand it to him. He had a one-hundred-percent success rate when it came to ditching the police.

He let go of my hand when we reached the car, rushing inside. I barely got my door shut before he was flooring it over the curb and down the street. The cops were a couple beats slower to reach their cruiser, giving us about an eight second advantage.

"This day has barely started and I'm already tired of it," I complained, cringing every time Dallas jerked the wheel too hard and tossed me back and forth in my seat. "I think I'm going to be sick with your stunt driving."

"I think I missed my calling," he said calmly, eyeing the rearview mirror. "I should've been a NASCAR driver."

"You'd have a whole collection of trophies by now."

"Dallas David. NASCAR superstar," he laughed and continued weaving in between vehicles on their morning commute. "I like the sound of that, Tali."

I rolled my eyes. "And I'd like a barf bag right about now."

That famous confident smirk stayed plastered on his face. The police were still behind us, still keeping up, making every turn we did. The more cars Dallas cut in front of, the more distance he put between us and the squad car, but it could be a while until we were in the clear. I knew it was only a matter of time, though. Dallas was an expert at losing people on his trail.

"Do you have any idea where you're going?" I asked.

We were getting further into town, the hustle and bustle of Leipzig in rush hour in full swing. Did he really want to draw this much attention to us in front of so many commuters? Our vehicle would be on the news next, if it wasn't already.

"We're going to have to switch cars," I spoke again.

Dallas nodded. "Yep."

He was too focused on ditching our followers to give much of a response to me.

I kept an eye on the traffic around us – especially behind us – but I found it harder and harder to take my eyes off of Dallas. Looking at him, I could feel redness rise to my cheeks. He was, without a doubt, the sexiest man alive.

This was the absolute worst time to be letting sultry thoughts take over my concentration, but it had been so long since I'd been in the midst of a chase and felt completely safe. I'd grown so used to being in Dallas's position, doing my best to outrun someone in a panic while trying to hang on to my sanity. It was hellish being the getaway driver, trying to keep your comrades safe, usually having to dodge bullets at the same time. There were hundreds of ways that your escape could go wrong, and you, just you, were responsible for avoiding every single one of them.

I didn't envy Dallas in the least. I knew how hard this was on him, although he'd never admit it. But if I had to have anyone as my getaway driver, I was so fucking glad that he was my partner in crime. And despite the severity of our situation, I was finding myself extremely turned on by how talented he was at saving our asses.

That red shirt he'd thrown on still had wrinkles in the fabric from last night's escapades. His jeans were old and worn, telling me they'd been put through hell over the course of many missions. He wore the same black boots that I remembered him always wearing when he rode a motorcycle years back. I wondered if he still had that bike. He'd always looked so irresistible seated on it like he knew he was the hottest man on earth. And he was, to me.

Memories flooded my mind of sitting on the back of Dallas's Harley with my arms wrapped around his torso and my chin on his shoulder while he sped down the highway in the safety of the night. Rarely had he taken me for rides. Only when the night was black enough and the traffic was scarce. Even still, we'd always dressed in all black and worn black helmets, my hair tucked up inside mine. We were unrecognizable to anyone who may have spotted us out on the road, but we'd always been armed and ready, just in case.

I looked over at Dallas and I could see his pulse jumping in his neck. His Adam's apple bobbed when he swallowed, glancing at the mirror again. I looked, too, relieved to see that we'd lost the squad car. Dallas still held his one-hundred-percent success rating.

We turned a corner and drove a block or two down the street until he pulled into an alley and hid us safely behind a small business that hadn't yet opened for the day.

He blew out a shaky breath, confirming my suspicion that he was stressed to the max, despite not showing it.

"Well, that was fun," he chuckled and flashed me that knee-weakening smile.

"You're insane. I hope you know that." I couldn't help laughing.

He shrugged. "Eh. You got to be crazy to have a job like ours, right?"

Right...

There was an uncomfortable silence and I could tell he knew what was going through my mind at the mention of our insane jobs. He quickly changed the subject back to the task at hand.

"Since we need a new car, now that this one has been flagged by the authorities, I say we leave it here and go find another vehicle. There's a grocery store not too far away. It'll be easy to steal a car there and head to the bank."

I looked at the clock on the dashboard. Outrunning the police had cost us valuable time. It was seven forty-five. We'd barely have any time to search the bank before it opened.

"We're running out of time." I raised my brows, concerned.

"We've got plenty of time, Tali. Trust me. I've got a plan."