"Ugh," Sara mumbled. She really wasn't in the mood to see him right now. Not after the way he'd treated her.

"Sara!" he yelled again.

She groaned and walked over to the sports car.

Its metal body sparkled in the bright sunshine.

She dropped her bags onto the ground and put her hands on her hips. "Bentley, I really don't want to talk to you right--"

She blinked.

The car was empty!

"Oh my gawd," she said. She glared at the sports car. "You're the one talking to me, is that it?"

The sports car's engine rumbled. "Get in, Sara," its electronic voice demanded.

Sara snorted. "No way. Your owner is a total JERK! Besides, he clearly has NO IDEA you're trying to pick me up. Where is he anyway?" Sara pretended to look down the street. "You ditched him again, right?" She laughed to herself.

"GET IN, SARA!" the car growled.

Sara jumped back. Whoa, this car DID have attitude. "What are you going to do about it if I refuse?" she teased.

The car immediately sounded its car alarm.

BEEP! BEEP! BEEP! BEEP!

"AHHHH!" Sara shrieked. She covered her ears with her hands. It was SO loud. And obnoxious.

"Okay! Okay! I GIVE UP!" Sara yelled. She threw her bags into the trunk of the car.

She angrily slid into the passenger seat.

The sports car's side door closed.

She distinctly heard it lock. "So I'm your prisoner now?" she asked.

The car didn't respond. Its tires squealed against the pavement and it peeled away from the curb.

Sara made sure her seatbelt was fastened.

For some reason, riding alone in the HUMMER that morning hadn't really bothered her. She guessed it was because the war tank of a machine actually seemed to like her.

But driving alone in Bentley's favorite sports car made her really nervous. Especially since he likely knew nothing about it.

"I want to go home, please," Sara said. She fidgeted her fingers on the seat.

"That tickles," the car said.

Sara let out a slight scream of humiliation. She quickly removed her hand from the seat. "Unbelievable," she hissed. She folded her hands tightly in her lap, trying not to touch anything else.

She noticed they were driving way across town. "I told you I want to go HOME!" She didn't mean to sound so bossy. But she was really, REALLY uncomfortable being alone with this car.

"Change of plans," the sports car said.

"What plans?" Sara asked. She tried to ignore the heady smell of Bentley's sexy as crap cologne that was deeply embedded within the leather seats.

Her eyes settled on the screen in the center of the dashboard. It showed a map of the town. She saw that its original destination -- her home address -- had been changed to a different location. And apparently that was where they were now headed.

She squinted, trying to see the small digital font for the new location.

The words read: Krav Maga.

What in the world is that? she wondered.

The car pulled swiftly to a stop in front of what looked like a deserted building in an empty parking lot.

Only one other vehicle was in the lot. It was a dark black SUV.

Sara bit the inside of her cheek as she waited impatiently.

"This area's a tad seedy, don't you think?" she asked aloud.

Before she could say anything else, a deep voice echoed over the speakers.

"Bad Boy! Confirm location."

Oh my gawd! Bentley was calling for his car!

The sports car's engine rumbled. "Krav Maga," its electronic voice said.

Sara's entire body went rigid when she spotted Bentley emerging from the desolate building.

He wore his familiar black sweatshirt and sweatpants. He carried a duffle bag over his shoulder. It looked like he'd just had a shower. His milk chocolate hair glistened in the setting sun. His eyes, however, were dark and stormy. He didn't seem to be in a very good mood.

No way. No way. NO WAY! Sara thought. She could not...WOULD NOT face him right now.

Without really thinking, she dove into the car's tiny backseat and dropped down to hide.