Page 13 of Hot for Hostage

Sadie chewed on her lip again—it was a miracle there was anything left to chew on at this point. “I don’t know… Daisy doesn’t really like other people touching her. She’s picky like that.”

“Daisy?”

Her look made it clear she thought I was slow, then she nodded at her car.

I stared at the beat-up piece of junk. “You named your carDaisy?”

“Why not? It’s a cute name for a cute car.” She patted the top of the car like an old friend. The metal groaned under her touch, and my eye twitched. Sadie frowned. “But I guess you have a point. I really should keep my focus on you, just in case.”

That was fine by me.

I opened the passenger door for her before she could change her mind, and she gave me a surprised smile before ducking inside. Shutting the door after her, I questioned my own sanity while circling the car to the driver’s side.

The driver’s seat was practically kissing the steering wheel. Even after I cranked it all the way back, the space was a tight squeeze. Sadie laughed softly when my thighs brushed the bottom of the wheel, and I wanted to hear her make that sound again.

Yup, I was in trouble.

“Sorry.” She yanked on her seat belt, trying to buckle it one-handed. “I forgot how tall you are. Daisy’s more short-people friendly.”

“I can see that.” I fastened my belt while she fumbled with hers. “Here. Let me.”

I took the seat belt from her and easily buckled it in before pulling the belt tight. Her chest rose as she sucked in a breath, and I couldn’t help but notice how good she looked strapped in.

Then a blush spread across her cheeks, sending all my blood south.

“Thanks,” Sadie whispered as I pulled back.

“Anytime, sweetheart.”

She rolled her eyes before looking out the window. “I’m not your sweetheart.”

I grinned and started up the car. “My mistake.”

gladys does not approve

. . .

Sadie

Sadie’s Guide to Hostage-Taking, Tip #5: Wear something with large pockets. Most women’s clothing isn’t made with hostage-taking in mind.

It was a short drive back to the shelter, and Davian parked in an open spot right in front. I’d been worried about someone other than me driving Daisy, but he handled her like a pro.

Part of me was a little miffed she took to him so nicely when it’d taken me months to win her over.

It felt strange walking up to the shelter, knowing Bear wasn’t in there, but at least I had hope we’d find him soon. Davian walked beside me and cleared his throat, then nodded pointedly at the gun I held at my side.

“I don’t mean to overstep, but it might be better to hide the gun while we’re outside?” he suggested. “Wouldn’t want any passersby to ask questions.”

“Right.” I nodded and went to stuff the gun in the front of my overalls again—but Davian’s quick grip around my wrist stopped me.

I stared down at his hand, shocked at how big it looked around my small wrist.

“Did you make sure the safety is on?” he asked, sounding concerned. He let go of my wrist, and I tried to shake off the phantom touch. “Wouldn’t want you accidentally shooting your leg.”

My cheeks flushed at my foolishness, and I turned the gun over in my hand to look for whatever this “safety” thing was. Was it labeled?

Davian stepped even closer, fully invading my personal bubble.

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