borrowed T-shirt. Alarm flared in Chris’s stomach. He lunged for her and wrapped her in his arms, picked her up and then dived for cover behind his truck as the drone released another shot. He opened the passenger door and lifted Natasha inside. They couldn’t stay out in the open; the drone operator could maneuver around to the other side of the vehicle and easily continue shooting.
“Lie down in there,” he instructed. “Make yourself into as small a target as possible. Cover your head.” She did as he instructed, and as soon as she was in position, Chris climbed in on her side, stepping over her to slide into the driver’s seat. A bullet slammed against his door with a clank as he started the Suburban. His window cracked and bowed inward, protecting them for now, but the bulletproof glass could only take so many hits. Without hesitation, he stepped on the gas and veered his SUV back onto the road, heart pounding in his chest.
“Tasha? You still with me?” His insides tightened as he anticipated her response.
“Yes” came her thin, choked reply. “Is it gone?”
He checked the rearview mirror. The drone still hovered in the air, but it didn’t appear to be following them. He continued checking as they drove away, and eventually the machine became a black dot in the distance. Who on earth would use a drone to shoot at Natasha? He supposed it was possible that the drone had been shooting at him, but an armed drone was the kind of weapon to be used on a fixed target—it took time to fly one, and the operator needed to know where to go. He’d been driving around for hours. She’d been by the side of the road for who knew how long. It seemed like an inefficient and cumbersome way to assassinate a person, even though it did provide an element of anonymity. Unless the police were able to take the thing down. He hadn’t gotten a good look at it, but a weaponized drone was no small thing to buy, equip and maneuver with accuracy. And if someone wanted to kill her outright, why on earth had he found Natasha lying in the dirt with no memory of how she’d gotten there and with a gun by her side?
“It’s gone,” he said. “Do you have any idea why someone would be shooting at you?”
She grew silent. Her shuddery breathing told him that not only was she in physical pain but the situation had already begun to take a mental toll. He had no doubt that once she got cleaned up and received treatment for her injuries, she’d be much better equipped to begin dealing with what was clearly memory loss.
“I’m going to use my radio to contact local police and let them know what happened here—all right? When I went to get water for you earlier, I let the FBI know I’d found you, and they contacted emergency services.” She responded with a barely audible affirmative as he fired up his Bluetooth system to make the call. “But now that we’re in the car, I’d rather not wait. We should get you to a hospital to get looked over.”
As he called in the incident to police dispatch, Natasha worked her way back up to a seated position and buckled in. From the corner of his eye, he could see she appeared to be struggling to remain conscious. He needed to get her to a doctor as quickly as possible.
“Try to stay awake,” he said. “I know it’s hard and you must be in a lot of pain, but it’s going to be a whole lot worse if you fall asleep. I’ll get you into good hands as fast as I can, so just—”
Bam! His vehicle swerved to the right before he reacted to the hit. The Suburban’s tires crunched against dirt as he gripped the wheel and corrected the vehicle’s course.
What in the world...? He checked the rearview mirror and saw nothing, then turned his head just as a second hit slammed against them, once again slightly bumping the SUV off course. With his head turned, Chris saw a navy blue Range Rover with deeply tinted windows hiding in his blind spot. He couldn’t see the driver through the front windshield, but he had a bad feeling about the situation.
After all, someone had to have been in charge of the drone. And it appeared that they weren’t pleased that Chris had found Natasha. There was no doubt in his mind—someone wanted to kill Tasha Stark, and he’d just become her human shield.
Natasha braced against the door and seat. Another slam against the side of the vehicle attempted to push them off the road, but the man who’d rescued her—Chris? Yes, Chris—had a firm grip on the wheel and kept them on course. His biceps and forearms flexed from the strain of each hit, and his jaw was set in a determined grimace. She blinked against the exhaustion that had started to call to her, telling her to close her eyes and surrender to the darkness. But Chris’s earlier words and a memory deep within her consciousness told her that she had to remain awake at all costs.
She strained to look over the back of the seat and out the rear window, despite the agony of turning her head. The blue Range Rover had dropped back, moving away from the side of their vehicle.
“Are they done?” she mumbled. “Will they leave us alone, since they clearly aren’t going to get us off the road that way?”
Chris shook his head and spoke through clenched teeth. “There’s more than one way to run a car off the road.”
“It looks like they’re done, though. They’re slowing down.”
She wasn’t sure if she heard correctly or if Chris actually growled under his breath. “Sit back in your seat, Tasha. Brace yourself. Please.”
“But why?” She looked at him in confusion. “They’re not—” She swung her gaze back at the Range Rover. Despite having dropped back moments earlier, it was now gaining on their SUV at an alarming rate. With a gasp, she sat back and tensed her shoulders just as a heavy slam against the back door sent their vehicle lurching forward. Metal scraped against metal, sending a high-pitched screech through the cabin.
“That’s why,” he said. He grabbed the gearshift, and their vehicle’s engine revved higher, sending them lurching and then zooming forward. “Why aren’t there any police around when you need them?”
“You already called them—aren’t they on their way?”
“I sure hope so. I’d call again if I didn’t need all my focus to make sure we stay on the road.” As if on cue, the truck heaved again, but this time a sickening crunch accompanied the hit. Another hit followed only a few seconds afterward, and the SUV swayed from side to side. In the mirror, she saw a piece of metal go flying from their vehicle into the ditch. The license plate!
Please, Lord. Help us. Natasha swallowed down her fear as a sense of peace and assurance settled across her shoulders. I haven’t forgotten You. I know You’re here.
Despite the direness of the situation, she had a strong faith—that much she remembered. God was with her, even in times like this. She didn’t need to panic.
“Tell me how to use your radio system,” she said, taking deep breaths to manage the rolling waves of ache in her head that seemed to increase with every jolt of the vehicle. “I’ll tell the police which direction we’re headed in case they’re coming from the other way.”
“Are you sure?” Chris poked at a button. The next slam against the SUV caused them to swerve since he had only one hand on the wheel.
“You need to keep us on the road,” she said. “We need help, and I don’t know how else to get it.”
“All right.” His gaze flicked over to take her in, probably to make sure she was conscious
