A few more practice runs turned into three more hours at the range. Joey told me about the first time he shot a pistol, having already learned how to fire a shotgun. He said he'd thought it would be really simple since he knew how to shoot one firearm. The other couldn't be that difficult, right? I burst into laughter when he told me he tried to shoot a .44 magnum and the kickback startled him so much, it knocked him on his ass.

"It's not funny!" he'd defended, laughing as well.

Joey then told me how his grandfather had told him to shoot a .44 first as a joke. He ended up learning the right way to fire a pistol with a .9mm Beretta. He told me he still has both guns in a box in his hall closet back home. They'd belonged to his grandpa who had given them to him for his eighteenth birthday.

I was impressed with my own shooting skills that had been entirely nonexistent a few hours prior. I'd managed to adjust my aim just right and my eleventh set of rounds hit the center of my target perfectly three times. I was so proud of myself. I'd jumped up and down like a cheerleader, hugging Joey and squealing when I realized I'd gotten it right in the bullseye.

When we'd walked into the range, I hadn't thought I'd be able to shoot at all - at least not any good - yet somehow I'd taken to it quickly and even impressed Joey.

Ron had congratulated me on my achievement when Joey returned the revolver to him. The last twenty minutes of our time at the range consisted of me watching Joey have his fun doing target practice. He nailed the target in the center of the bullseye almost every single time. Watching him shoot was a huge turn on. Watching him smirk in victory at his impressive aim was practically panty-melting. I also took note of the fact that the bulge in his jeans was still very, very evident.

My mouth began to water as I watched him. He reminded me of some sexy secret agent taking out the bad guys.

Memories of Joey on top of me with my legs wrapped around his waist flooded my thoughts and my breath hitched. I desperately wanted to kiss him, to bite his lip, to taste his mouth again. He was effortlessly driving my hormones crazy. I craved his touch and his kiss and the way his teeth had grazed my neck. I craved his hot breath on my skin and his fingertips teasing me.

I felt like my entire body was blushing and started fanning myself, beginning to sweat as I watched him empty the chamber. My hairline was damp and I felt like I had too many clothes on. I wanted to go stand in front of a giant industrial fan - or get naked.

"You did great today, Jess," Joey complimented as we were leaving.

My successful shooting had completely slipped my mind by then. All I could think about was Joey and how ridiculously hot he was.

"You alright, Jess?" he raised an eyebrow, opening the driver's side door. He looked fairly concerned.

"Yeah," I nodded awkwardly, trying to keep cool. "Fine."

That wasn't true. I was painfully turned on.

Joey and I slid into the vehicle and he turned the radio on. Old rock songs from the eighties came through the speakers at a low volume and one of AC/DC's hits sent a blur of images through my mind of Joey kissing, biting, and fucking me all night to the tune of You Shook Me All Night Long.

My libidinous imagination threw my hormones right to the edge of losing control and I released a sudden exaggerated breath and cranked the air up full blast.

"Hot?" Joey chuckled in amusement as we pulled out of the parking lot.

Yeah. You're hot.

I wanted to reach across the console and unzip his jeans, but that seemed way too brazen. I simply nodded, trying to hide how extreme my attraction to him was becoming.

"Want to get some lunch?" he asked.

I wasn't hungry. At least not for food. I shook my head, still fanning my face. The air conditioner was blowing my hair back and starting to give me a chill, but my face was still so hot. My cheeks were probably beet red. I wanted to dump ice water on myself.

"Jess, are you alright?" Joey raised an eyebrow.

It was obvious my emotions were tangled up over something, but I didn't want to tell him, for fear he'd get upset. We hadn't addressed "us" since our sexcapade had occurred, and it didn't look like he cared to discuss it any time soon.

"I'm fine," I lied, sighing again.

He didn't buy that one, pulling over in a tiny church parking lot and turning in his seat to face me, concern evident in his eyes.

God, those eyes.

Joey turned the radio off and tapped his fingertips on the console in a slow rhythm, staring into my eyes as though he could hypnotize me into telling him what was on my mind.

"What's bothering you, babe?" he frowned.

Babe? The voice in my head echoed suggestively.

"Nothing."

I attempted to avoid the conversation, hoping he'd just let it go. I didn't want to have to tell him I was horny as hell and have him end up breaking the news that he wasn't interested in me that way. I didn't want our one night to be a one-night stand, but I wasn't ready to ask if it was going to be either.

Yes, we'd crossed a massive line that night, but everything had felt so fucking right. I didn't want to chalk it up to a simple lack of self-control. Hormones were deceptive, sure, but that night had felt like so much more than just raging hormones.

Joey rolled his eyes, leaning over the console and placing a hand on my cheek, softly stroking my skin with the backs of his fingers. I quickly begun to get lost in his sapphire orbs, looking lustfully into them, between glances to his perfect, soft lips.

Without realizing it, my lips parted and I leaned closer to Joey. He swallowed hard and inhaled sharply, his frown deepening.

"Jess..." he trailed off, his voice barely audible.

I watched the air flowing through the vents softly move his eyelashes as he blinked.

"Yeah?"

He continued to stare into my eyes. I didn't feel intimidated. I felt comfortable with him. I'd stopped thinking of him as a Boston police officer not long before we'd had sex. Anymore, he was just Joey to me. Not the cop I was with. Not Officer Cavannaugh. Just Joey. Joey Cavannaugh. And I liked it that way.

Without finishing what he'd started to say, Joey twirled a few strands of my hair that were hanging down in front of my face around his index finger. What had previously been my bangs had grown out quite a bit and I was considering cutting my hair again.

My thoughts of making an appointment with my hairstylist were interrupted with Joey's lips pressing against mine in a less than gentle kiss. He grabbed a fistful of my hair, leaning the console back so that nothing was between us.

Joey wrapped an arm around me, tugging my body forward. He pulled me onto his lap, moving the seat back and resting a hand on my thigh.

We proceeded to sit in the church parking lot, furiously making out, oblivious to the world around us. The noise of the passing traffic and the air conditioner faded into a blur and all I could focus on was Joey's mouth and the buttons on his shirt that I couldn't seem to undo fast enough.

I thought back to thirty minutes prior when we were at the shooting range. The image of the bulge in Joey's jeans was still fresh in my mind as I ground my hips against his, feeling his length harden beneath me. I hated his jeans for being in the way.

Joey's lips moved to my neck and I tilted my head to the side to give him better access, a soft moan escaping my mouth when I felt his teeth graze my skin. Goosebumps sprouted as his hands snaked over my body, squeezing my hips and sliding beneath my shirt.

I'd received the answer to my unasked question. He was still interested in me, and I was certainly not disappointed.

Joey groaned against my skin creating a vibrating sensation and I gasped when I felt him softly buck his hips. He was harder than I'd thought.

Without warning, a loud crashing sound and an abrupt shove of the vehicle forcefully threw us both against the driver's side door.

"Are you fucking kidding me?" Joey shouted.

Before I could process what was happening, he'd pushed me back into my seat and floored the gas pedal, not bothering with the seatbelt.

I thought I could feel every nerve in my body. Terror shot through me and I spun around in my seat, looking out the back window to see the all-too-familiar black Cadillac tailgating us.

"What the fuck just happened?" I put my hand on my chest as if that would steady my heartbeat.

"I got cock-blocked." Joey glared at the road ahead, weaving between cars in attempts to lose them. "That's what fucking happened."

If the circumstances hadn't been so traumatic, I probably could've laughed at his choice of words, but all I could think about was how slow it felt like we were moving. We couldn't seem to get away fast enough.

A terrifying flashback of Joey driving us over the bridge in Minnesota played through my mind like a horror movie. I could still feel the water pouring over my body inside the car. I could still feel how cold the water had been. A chill shook me and I intuitively slid my hands up and down my arms trying to warm up.

"Please tell me we're not going to take out another bridge guardrail," I crossed my fingers, stuttering a few of my words.

Joey hit the wheel with his fist when the truck in front of us slammed on their brakes out of nowhere causing us to slow down dramatically. He quickly jerked the wheel to the right, changing lanes and speeding around the vehicle.

"We'll do whatever I have to do to protect you!" he snapped, increasing his speed through a yellow light.

I cringed, shutting my eyes tight when a van turned the corner, almost hitting us.

A startling noise that mimicked the sound of fireworks made me jump in my seat. Joey tried to shrink down in his spot, reaching over and pushing my head down. I realized he was trying to get me to duck just as a bullet came speeding through the back window, glass shattering into the backseat and a few shards landing up front with us.

The second and third shots that hit the vehicle made popping sounds, probably hitting the trunk. I glanced to the side mirror seeing the Cadillac right behind us. Joey blared the horn when we passed a McDonald's, earning the attention of a Westfield police officer who was sitting in the parking lot. The squad car's lights and siren came on almost instantly and he tore out after us.

"Did you mean to alert the cops?" I asked, my voice coming out in gasps since I was still hunched over.

Joey nodded, ducking when another bullet flew through the vehicle taking out the rearview mirror and leaving an almost perfectly round hole in the windshield. I could feel broken glass lying on my back and in my hair. I accidentally sliced my finger trying to brush the shards off.

A second cop car appeared behind us and the Cadillac veered off in another direction, cutting off oncoming traffic. One of the cops followed them while the other stayed right behind us. I wondered if Joey was going to pull over and talk to the officer. Since he was a cop, too, maybe there wouldn't be a problem. Right? Wrong.

"What are you doing?" I raised back up in my seat since bullets were no longer flying through our windows.

Joey didn't answer for what seemed like forever, swerving around a Mack truck and turning a corner on two wheels fast enough that I swore the vehicle was going to flip. The cop didn't miss a beat, running over the curb and following right behind us, not slowing down a bit.

"Shit," Joey breathed, pushing his hair out of his face.

What started out as a good idea had turned into a bad one real fast. We couldn't seem to lose the squad car.

"Can you not just talk to him? You're a cop, too!" I threw out the idea, hoping they could somehow work it out.

He flashed me an incredulous look, jerking the wheel again to turn another corner.

"I'm breaking the law like no fucking other right now, Jess!" he shouted. "I'm not immune."

Okay. So talking it out was not an option. The cop behind us didn't know Joey was a cop and I wouldn't have been surprised if he hopped out of his car, gun drawn, if we pulled over.

Joey cut off several more vehicles, finally swerving onto a merge ramp and getting on the interstate, successfully losing the squad car when an eighteen wheeler blocked its path. We still weren't in the clear, though.

"We've got to ditch this car," Joey told me, passing the eighty miles-per-hour mark on the odometer. "If they haven't already, they'll put out an A.P.B. on us and it won't be long before we're being chased again."

I felt tears pricking my eyes and I blinked rapidly, trying to get rid of them to no avail.

Joey drove us east toward Boston, eventually taking a northbound exit into a rural area. Silos, small homes, and ranches lined the road, each one spread pretty far apart. We drove on in silence for roughly twenty minutes before Joey spoke up again.

"I might be able to take the backroads to another city this way," he sighed. "I don't want to try to steal a truck out here. Country folks will shoot you if you try that shit. I don't know about you, but I've had my fill of being shot at for one day."

So had I. But not just for the day. I never wanted to get shot at again. Although, under the circumstances, I wouldn't be surprised if it happened again.

Suddenly, my phone started ringing. The unexpected sound startled me and I jumped in my seat, pulling the phone out of my pocket and frowning when I didn't recognize the number. I assumed it was a wrong number, considering the phone was a burner and I doubted the number had been given to many, if any, people.

Then again, how had Samantha gotten the number?

"Who is it?" Joey's voice sounded dull.

I handed him the phone and he stared at it for a few seconds, finally deciding to answer.

"Who the fuck is this?" he demanded in a voice that would've scared the hell out of me if I had been on the other end.