Amidst one of the late nights in the city, a sports car raced down the empty streets, another one chasing after it. You sat at driver’s side, your foot pressing against the gas pedal, fingers gripping the steering wheel tightly as you attempted to get away from Simon, the SAS bastard who was trying to get you for months now — without any success.

It felt like a last race against your biggest enemy, adrenaline pumping through your blood despite him being so dangerously close to you. He’d do anything just to have you; was he that desperate? Unfortunately, your ego was getting the best of you; he wasn’t there for feelings nor attraction, as he despised you profusely.

He needed to get his job damn done and you weren’t making it any easier.

It just took you a little distraction — smudged lipstick — to slow down and have him hit your car, flipping it over the edge of the road, down the sea. For a moment, he thought he had messed up the plan. He needed you alive.

Without thinking twice, he dove into the freezing water, recovering your unconscious form laying from the broken windshield. Hell, he finally had you in his grasp, barely alive though. Emerging from the water, he dragged himself with you in his arms towards his car, laying you down on the hood. He checked your weak pulse as he sighed in frustration, “Bloody hell.”

He rolled up the bottom of his balaclava and brought his lips to your freezing ones, attempting a quick CPR to get you back. As soon as he blew breath, you pulled him into a hypnotizing kiss, making his eyes widen. He pulled away, jaw clenched tightly, hand wrapped around your throat as he forced distance between your faces, and you laughed at him.

Crazy. Totally crazy. “Behave.” He growled lowly, ready to get you in the car and finally turn you in.