on her shoulder. He could be right. She hadn’t been eating well since she started chasing this story. The stress diet. Maybe she should quit journalism, write a diet book, make millions.
In the distance a pair of headlights flared—too far off for the beam to reach her and Flynn, but resolutely aimed their way.
“Flynn, the car’s turning.”
“I see it.”
“What do we do?”
“We hope. They get too close, we hit the deck, make like rocks and hope some more. It’s a massive patch of land and a dark night, so if their lights don’t get a direct hit we might be okay. Even then we might get lucky if our camouflage works. You sure you’re good to move?”
“Yes. Go.”
He released her. She swayed. She hadn’t realized how much she was letting him prop her up—in all sorts of ways.
It had to be healthy that she recognized she was in danger of falling for him—out of some sense of fear or gratitude, perhaps, some outdated feminine impulse to secure protection. And if she was aware of it, she could damn well make a conscious decision to resist it.
She settled back into his stride, faster now, the rifle bouncing against her back. Maybe that was why her instinct was going mental, like the mouse mom’s. Not because there was something familiar in his face, but because her brain was intent on protecting her from another Kurt-esque debacle. Clever brain. She should let it take charge more often.
The closest headlights grew bigger and brighter. Another light swept from the side of the vehicle—someone hanging out the passenger seat with a flashlight. The village lights weren’t getting any closer. Flynn was near sprinting, Tess stumbling along behind as if he were dragging her on a tow rope. Her breath was getting shallower, her toes jarring with the shock of each step. Tough it out. A good run wouldn’t kill her. Plenty else around here would.
Flynn glanced back.
“I’m fi—” she began.
But he wasn’t looking at her—he was looking over her shoulder, frowning. She followed his gaze. Another set of headlights was barreling straight for them. Oh God.
“Could we hide in those trees?” she gasped.
“What trees?”
“At your two o’clock.”
“I don’t see them.”
She pointed, though his back was to her again. “You can’t see that?” True, they weren’t much—a tangle of spindly branches—but they were clearly outlined, black against gray. The more she looked, the more trees she made out. Could you summon a mirage at night?
“Wait. Now I do.” He changed direction, angling toward them. “We don’t have a choice.”
It was all she could do to keep breathing. The trees didn’t seem to be getting bigger. The headlights behind her were.
“Down,” he whispered, hitting the deck as the flashlight swept their way.
She didn’t land quickly enough. The beam lit her up. Crap. It passed on without hitching. Keep going, keep going. It stopped and lurched back, burning straight into her retinas. Flynn sprang up, grabbing her hand. Her vision swam with black and red and purple. They hurtled toward the trees, her shaky legs threatening to give out.
“They still want us alive, right?” she shouted.
“I hope so. If anything, they’ll take me out and haul you back.”
“I’m not going back.” She upped her pace. Gunfire cracked around them.
“Just warning shots,” he yelled.
“How do you know?”
“We’re not dead.”
Her eyes adjusted. Both sets of headlights were trained on them, bouncing light and shadows on their path. The engines screamed. Flynn pulled her to the left—skirting the bleached skeleton of an animal. At least, she hoped it was an animal. Half a minute later, she heard it crunch and snap under a wheel. They passed the first tree, then the second. Another hundred feet and the goons would have to follow on foot.
The terrain changed. They plunged downhill, her knees wobbling as the ground steepened. Flynn’s hand tightened. Spindly trees panned out around them. It was a gully. Crap.
The headlights flared on something red, to her right—a warning sign, with a skull and crossbones.
“Flynn, it’s a minefield.”
“Good.”
“Good?”
“That’s what I hoped.” He released her hand and skidded down a bank. “Stay behind me. Some of them spray sideways.”
Oh Jesus. Behind, a vehicle skidded to a stop. More gunshots, too close. She braced. No pain—nothing new, at least. She was still on her feet, her body still taking orders from her brain. The second engine roared closer.
“Out there we have a hundred percent chance of death,” Flynn shouted. “In here, maybe less.”
They careered downward, slaloming between trees, ducking under branches. It was hard to figure out where Flynn even was, let alone follow his path or watch for mines. Her mind was about to blow, with all the warnings it was pelting at her. Gunfire smacked into dirt by her feet. She yelped. Shouldn’t warning shots go upward?
The second vehicle slowed. As the engine silenced, another motor filled the gap, farther off but pushing fast. Possibly more than one. Among the clatter of gunfire she caught shouts edged with panic. Hell, they were worried?
A beam of light swept past them. Something glinted on the ground ahead of Flynn.
“Stop! Flynn!”
He kept charging. Her scalp went cold. She lunged for his waist and dragged him to a shuddering halt, her toes bouncing on the stones.
“What are you—?”
“Don’t move.” She drew upright, practically climbing his body, and clung to his left arm. “Something shiny.”
“Where?” His biceps was rigid.
“An inch in front of your foot.”
“I can’t see anything.”
“Like a bunch of nails sticking up.”
“You’re kidding me. That’s a bounding mine.” He shook his head. “I still can’t see it. You must have superhuman sight.”
“Guess I got used to the dark.”
To their left, the light snagged on trees.
“Maybe I should go first,” she said. God, that was the last thing she wanted.
“No.”
