get it, but Egan immediately pushed her down onto the seat. Good thing, too.
Because the next bullet slammed into the seat right where Jordan had been sitting.
If Egan hadn’t moved her at that exact moment, she’d be dead. She still might be, and this time the shooter might kill Egan right along with her.
“Hold on,” Egan warned her. Keeping low, he started his truck, threw it into Reverse and jammed his foot on the accelerator.
The sudden jolt of motion knocked Jordan against the seat. Hard. Her head hit, too, and the pain jolted through her. Still, feeling the awful pain was better than being shot again, but they weren’t out of the woods yet.
A third bullet smacked into the windshield, and she could have sworn it missed Egan by less than an inch. The bullet went into the headrest next to where he was hunched down.
Jordan lifted her head to get a better look at the vehicle. It was the same truck, all right. And the person inside obviously wanted to have another go at killing her. The guy had the driver’s-side window down, and he had a gun sticking out.
“I can’t see his face,” Jordan said. Because there was a dark tint on the windows. It didn’t help, either, that the driver had on the high beams, and they were shining right in her eyes.
“Don’t make it easy for him to shoot you,” Egan snarled. He shoved her back down, and he kept speeding down the road in Reverse.
Jordan wanted to remind him that she was a PI and former cop. She could return fire. However, at the moment that might not even be true. She was dizzy from the pain, and her hands were shaking. It was possible she couldn’t even hit the truck, much less the driver.
There was the sound of tires squealing against the asphalt, and Jordan knew what that meant. “He’s coming after us.”
Egan didn’t confirm that, but since the shots had stopped, it told her that the driver might be the sole person in the truck. If so, it was a gutsy move on his part to go after two armed and trained people. Then again, the guy did have them on the run, and that driver had a lot more control over his vehicle right now than Egan did. It was easier to drive forward than in Reverse, but there was no place for them to turn around on the narrow road.
“Call nine-one-one,” Egan ordered. “I want backup. But not the ambulance. Once we’re out of this, I’ll get you to the hospital.”
Seeing a doctor was the least of her concerns right now, and Jordan made the call for backup. The problem wouldn’t be getting someone out here because they weren’t that far from town. But Egan was literally taking up most of the road, and it would make it hard for the deputies to get in position to help them. Still, she wasn’t sure how much longer Egan could keep this up.
Jordan had just finished the call when she felt the jolt. The other truck had slammed into them. Hard. She heard the sound of metal scraping against metal. Unless the second truck had a reinforced bumper, he could be doing as much damage to his vehicle as he was to theirs.
Egan was still low in the seat, using the side mirror to navigate, but he had to adjust so he could better grip the steering wheel when the driver came at them again. If he hadn’t done that, they would have gone into the ditch. It hadn’t rained recently so it wasn’t filled with water, but they’d still probably get stuck. Then, they’d be sitting ducks for the shooter.
The memories came. They always did whenever Jordan had a gun in her hand. That wasn’t exactly an asset for a private investigator—to have the memories come at her so fast and strong that it put her on the verge of a panic attack. It was the reason she didn’t wear a badge any longer. It was also the reason her life, and her head, were a mess.
If Drew Paxton was behind this, then he was getting a good laugh right now. Not only was he trying to “kill” any living piece of Shanna, he might manage to take out the man Shanna had loved. Of course, Jordan felt as if she had already managed to “take out” Egan. Shanna’s death had crushed him.
And Jordan was responsible for that.
Drew had been aiming at Jordan to finish her off when he’d fired that deadly shot. But he hadn’t hit his target. Because Shanna had jumped in front of Jordan at the worst possible moment. And now Shanna was dead from a gunshot wound to the head, and Jordan was alive. Egan would never forgive her for that, and she’d never forgive herself.
The memories thankfully moved to the back of her mind when the truck crashed into them. Egan had to fight with the steering wheel again, and it didn’t help when the driver rammed into them a fourth time. He would almost certainly continue to do that, too, until he disabled the engine, forcing them to stop. Then, he could try to use his gun on them to finish this.
“Hold on,” Egan repeated to her.
Jordan lifted her head again so she could get a glimpse out the windshield, but the glass was so cracked and webbed that it was hard to see anything. She certainly couldn’t tell if the guy was about to hit them again.
But she did hear the squeal of his tires.
Not the other truck’s but Egan’s. Egan hit the brakes, and in the same motion, he turned the steering wheel, backing onto what appeared to be a ranch trail. It was gravel, and the rocks pelted the undercarriage. The sound was deafening, like being bombarded with bullets, but it wasn’t loud enough to drown out the other driver hitting his brakes, as well.
Now that they were both stopped, Jordan figured either Egan or she would have a shot. Of course, so would the driver of that truck. That was probably why Egan got his window down in a hurry. Before Jordan could even sit up, Egan got off two shots.
Jordan lowered her window, too, and she tried to steady her hand enough to take aim. She didn’t get a chance to do that, though.
“What the hell,” Egan mumbled.
The other truck’s door flew open. Not on the driver’s side, either. But the passenger’s. Maybe she’d been wrong about the shooter being the only person inside the vehicle.
And then something fell from that opened door.
It was too dark to tell exactly what it was, but Jordan thought maybe it was a person. If it was someone, Jordan figured he or she would get up and start shooting at Egan and her.
But that didn’t happen.
The driver of the other truck slammed on the accelerator, leaving the other person behind. Jordan braced herself for the truck to hit them again. It didn’t. The driver sped off, heading in the direction of town.
She could practically feel the debate Egan was having with himself as to what to do. He volleyed his attention between the person on the ground and the escaping driver of the other truck.
Egan finally snatched his phone up from the seat, pressed a number and immediately put the call on speaker. No doubt so he could free up his hands in case he needed to use his gun.
“John,” he said to the person who answered.
John Clary was one of the deputies who worked for Egan at the McCall Canyon Sheriff’s Office. Jordan had known him for years, and she knew he was a good lawman. He had almost certainly brought another deputy with him, too.
“You’ve got a dark blue truck headed your
