were making quite a line. His car, the one in front and two more just ahead of it. Taillights about a quarter mile ahead that he was sure belonged to the woman’s station wagon. He wasn’t sure where they were heading, but he pulled out his cell phone. One thing he’d learned a long time ago—only a fool headed into trouble without backup.
He never had a chance to call for it. One minute, he was keeping his distance, watching the procession of cars. The next, the car in front of him braked hard. He had a split second to realize what was happening before his windshield exploded, bits of glass flying into his face and dropping onto the dashboard.
He accelerated, adrenaline surging, every cell, every nerve alert.
The next shot took out a front tire. The SUV swerved, sideswiping a tree and nearly taking out a stop sign. He fought for control, yanking the vehicle back onto the road, the ruined tired thumping, the procession of cars pulling farther ahead.
“Not good!” he muttered, the SUV protesting as he tried to pick up speed again.
Not going to happen. The bumpy road and the flat tire weren’t a good combination. He jumped out of the SUV, glad he was carrying. He’d been known to leave his Glock at home. Carrying it around made him feel safe, but it also reminded him of loss and heartache. Of a hundred things that he was better off forgetting.
He snagged his cell phone, dialing Jackson’s number, hoping that his friend would pick up. In all the years he’d known the guy, there’d been only a handful of times when he hadn’t been available.
But then, that was the way the entire team was. There wasn’t a member of HEART who wouldn’t be willing to drop anything, travel any distance, risk whatever was necessary to help a comrade.
Jackson answered on the second ring. “Hello?”
“It’s Boone.”
“Yeah. I saw the number,” Jackson said drily. “What’s up?”
“I need your help.”
“With?”
“I’ve got a situation.”
“What kind of situation?” Jackson’s tone changed, his words hard-edged and sharp.
“The kind that involves guns and bullets. A woman. A kid. Three cars that are following her,” he responded.
“You call the police yet?”
“Probably would have been a good idea, but I’m not used to having police to rely on.” He was used to being deep in a foreign country, working in places where the only people he could count on were his team members.
“Where are you?”
“I didn’t see the name of the road. It’s the first right north of the Walmart you brought me to a few days ago.”
“I’ll be there in ten.”
“Call the police before you leave. I think we’re going to—”
The sound of screeching tires split the quiet, and he shoved the phone back into his pocket, racing toward the sound. He’d covered a hundred yards when light burst to life in the distance.
Fire!
His heart jumped, the new surge of adrenaline giving wings to his feet. He sprinted toward the soft glow and the velvety black of the eastern sky, the sound of sirens splitting the night.
Get out! Get out, get out!
The words raced through Scout’s mind as she crawled over the bucket seat and unbuckled Lucy’s car seat. Black smoke filled the car, filled her lungs. She grabbed the seat, relieved that Lucy was babbling away, more excited, it seemed, than frightened by the crash, the smoke, the crackling fire.
Get out!
She reached for the door handle, coughing, gagging on blood that rolled from a cut on her forehead to the corner of her mouth.
The door flew open, and hands reached in, dragged her out, Lucy in the car seat, singing in that baby language that only a mother ever really understood.
Scout jerked away, the car seat slamming against her legs as she ran. Straight toward the black car that had been following her. She veered to the left, saw him. Just standing there. Sport coat and slacks, hands in his pockets. He could have been anyone, but she knew he was death coming to call.
“Who are you?” she rasped, backing toward the tree her car had run into when the tire was shot out.
“It really doesn’t matter,” he responded, pulling a cigarette from his pocket and lighting it. The cold calculation in his eyes made her blood freeze in her veins. She wanted to scream and scream and scream, but there was no one around to hear. Nothing that she could do but try to find a way out, pray that the police came quickly. Keep Lucy safe.
Please, God. Help me keep her safe.
“I called the police,” she said, her heart pounding in her throat, her eyes burning from smoke and fear. Every nightmare she’d ever had was coming true. All the fear she’d lived with since she’d left San Jose congealed in the pit of her stomach, filled her with stark hard-edged terror.
She needed to think, to run, to do something to save her daughter.
That was all she knew. All she cared about.
She lifted the car seat higher, pulling it to her chest, the heavy ungainly plastic filled with the only thing she cared about. “They’ll be here any minute,” she continued, because he was staring at her, the cigarette dangling from his mouth. He must think he had all the time in the world, must believe that there was no way help could come in time.
God, please! She begged silently, easing toward the line of trees that had stopped the wagon from careening down an embankment.
She just had to make it into the trees, find someplace to hide.
The faint sound of sirens drifted on the cold November air. Her heart jumped; hope surged. She could do this. Had to do this. She ran into the trees, blood still sliding down her face, Lucy giggling as the car seat bounced. She had no idea. None.
Scout’s feet slipped on slick leaves, and she went down hard, her hip knocking an overturned tree. She bounced back up, the car seat locked in her arms, Lucy now crying in fear, sirens growing louder.
“Sorry, but this just isn’t your night.” The words whispered from behind her, the cold chill of them shooting up her spine.
And suddenly, she wasn’t alone with the man and his cigarette. Two dark shadows moved in, and she was fighting off hands that were trying to rip Lucy away from her.
She screamed as something slammed into her cheek. Heard Lucy’s desperate cries and the sirens endlessly blaring. Heard her own frantic breathing and hoarse shouts.
A car door slammed and someone called a
