I’m not charged with kidnapping and murder, and we’re put in so-called protective custody, she will have us eliminated. No one can protect us from her. Do you get that? No one.” He didn’t wait around for her response.
“How can anyone be that powerful? Who is this woman?” Maggie hurried to catch up to him.
Light flickered.
“Down.” Slade crouched, tugging Maggie with him.
The headlights grew closer. Not a car. A truck. A big one.
“Go to the side of the road and wave. Maybe the driver will stop. You get the ride and I’ll catch up.”
Maggie searched his face a moment, then shot to her feet and rushed forward, quickly wading from the knee-deep grass to the recently mowed roadside. She waved her arms, moving closer to the pavement.
There was the possibility that if the driver stopped she could use the opportunity to escape. It was a risk he had to take. Any driver was far more likely to stop for a woman alone.
The truck’s air brakes whined as it slowed. As soon as the tractor-trailer came to a complete stop, Maggie rushed to the passenger-side door. She stepped up onto the running board and the window powered down.
Slade braced to run.
Her usually calm voice sounded a little high-pitched. He couldn’t make out what she was saying. She did a lot of gesturing.
“Hurry, Maggie,” he muttered to himself.
She reached for the door handle. He moved forward, staying low enough to use the landscape as cover.
As he neared, he heard Maggie saying, “I really appreciate this. I didn’t know how much farther I could make it.”
Slade dashed across the final expanse of shorter grass and lunged up onto the running board just as Maggie settled into the seat. He had his weapon in his hand before the driver could grab the one stored under his seat.
“We don’t want any trouble,” Slade advised. “We just need a ride.”
The driver glared at him. “What’s the gun for, then?”
“Same thing as the one under your seat.”
“Can we just go?” Maggie pleaded. “We really do need a ride. That’s all.”
Slade knew those shimmering green eyes of hers almost as well as he knew his own. He didn’t have to see her face as she appealed to the driver; he was well aware just how persuasive those jewel beauties could be. The driver didn’t stand a chance.
The man jerked his head toward Slade. “If he puts his gun away, I’ll take you as far as St. Louis.”
Maggie turned to Slade. He nodded and tucked the weapon into his waistband.
“Let’s go,” the driver said, turning his attention to the road. “I’ve got a deadline.”
Maggie scooted over, making room for Slade. He slid in next to her and closed the door. The driver let out on the clutch and the big rig roared forward.
Slade monitored the side mirror as they climbed the on-ramp to the interstate. Now all he had to worry about were roadblocks.
“You’re the couple the cops are looking for,” the man suggested.
Maggie turned to Slade, her eyes wide, her face pale.
“Unfortunately,” Slade admitted. Denying the accusation would be a waste of energy.
“Those men tried to kill us,” Maggie offered. “They just started shooting.” Her words warbled. “We tried to run away, but they came after us.”
The driver sent a sideways look at Slade. His sympathies lay solely with Maggie. “I guess you were in too big a hurry to explain things to the police.”
Slade put one arm around Maggie’s shoulders and rested his other hand at his waist. The truck was gaining speed, which indicated the driver had no plans to try to force them out of the truck. Still, he was making no bones about his suspicions.
“Something like that.” Slade exchanged another look with the guy. “Is that going to be a problem?”
The driver shook his head. “As long as there’s no trickle-down effect, I got no issue with it.”
When the driver had turned his full attention to the road, Slade relaxed.
His contact was compromised, but St. Louis was a big city. He would figure out a new route to his destination.
He wasn’t bested yet.
Chapter Five
St. Louis, 10:00 a.m.
Maggie roused from a fretful sleep. Where was she? Memories flooded her lethargic brain. Cognizance rocketed into full focus as the details from the passing landscape assimilated in her brain. Streets. Buildings. The beastly sound of the big truck. They’d reached the city. She blinked a couple times and tried to spot something familiar. This had to be St. Louis. Where were they going from here? In reality, she was terrified of what came next. Worry for her baby twisted painfully in her stomach. She ordered herself to try to stay calm. All these crazy emotions couldn’t be good for the tiny life just beginning inside her.
She’d finally drifted off before daylight this morning. Her body ached. Her neck was stiff. Tension rippled through her. She’d leaned her head against Slade’s shoulder and his arm was around her. As if this recognition had signaled all her senses, she became aware of his scent, the feel of his strong arm, the heat of his body. Every part of her that made her woman wanted to stay right there. To feel safe and protected.
But she was not safe. Maggie straightened, drew away from him as much as she dared without alerting the driver to the tension. “Are we—” she cleared her throat “—in St. Louis?”
“You got it, Red,” the driver announced.
His comment helped to ease the renewed apprehension ramping up. Maggie couldn’t begin to count the times she’d been called Red. She’d hated it in school, but, as an adult, she’d finally gotten over it and embraced the overture for what it was—more often friendliness than rudeness.
The driver’s name was Pete. Once he’d gotten started talking this morning, he’d poured out his life story. Maggie had fallen asleep at the part where he and his fourth wife had divorced. The man had kids in three states.
As wild as that all sounded, it carried a refreshing normalcy about it.
“I need to fuel up,” Pete said as he changed lanes and slowed for the next exit.
Not a hundred yards from the exit ramp, Pete made a right into the parking lot of a massive fuel station. In addition to selling fuel, the truck stop offered a restaurant and showers.
Who knew?
Pete parked the truck in the sprawling lot alongside dozens of other similar rigs. He shut down the engine, heralding
