There was no way she would have wanted to do today with anyone else.
“Haven’t you heard from Anthony at all?”
That was a sore subject for her. “No contact.”
“I guess that makes it my turn to apologize.” He glanced at her. “Sometimes it works out like that. No contact is the safest thing for everyone.”
She pictured her nephew in her mind. He would have turned seventeen a couple of months ago. How much had his features changed since she’d seen him last?
She didn’t want to remember that final conversation. They hadn’t left things in a good place.
Understatement.
“What?”
She bit her lip for a second. “I wanted to go with him. Like, they could put him somewhere safe first and then I could come and live with him later.” She took a breath. “He said he’d rather be on his own, or even with a foster family, than ever see me again.” It had actually been a whole lot worse than that, but she was paraphrasing. “He told me he hated me for testifying. For what I did to our family. About as much as he hated his father for being a criminal in the first place. He told me he never wanted to see me ever again.”
Noah reached over and squeezed her hand. Then he pulled his hand back to the steering wheel.
Amy blinked back the tears that filled her eyes. “I really hope he’s okay.” She bit the quiver in her lip, then said, “The last time I saw him he was yelling at me.” He’d said he hated her. Amy had let him go, knowing the truth was that he would be safer somewhere far from her. Hopefully that had remained true in the year since.
She couldn’t think of anything worse than her nephew being on the run, chased by gun-shooting cartel foot soldiers.
Finally, on an open stretch of highway, Amy leaned her head back against the headrest and shut her eyes. Were they free of gunmen following and shooting at them? She wanted to believe she was safe now. That she could trust God to continue to keep them safe—which, of course, she could. He was the same God that He had been yesterday. The same He had been that day Noah and his people had rescued her from that house. And the same God He would be years from now.
A verse she’d read just that morning came back to mind. She believed in Him, with full faith that He would take care of her. Help my unbelief. Maybe that might not make sense to some, but to her it was the truth. That push and pull of trust and doubt. An honest explanation of the state of her heart.
“Okay?”
She opened her eyes and glanced over at him. “Yeah.”
She was okay. Was she all right? Not really. She wanted... Amy didn’t even know what she wanted. Time. Peace. A date with the man she was attracted to.
She blew out a breath.
“Hungry?”
“I could use coffee.” She patted her stomach, not entirely sure she could handle a meal right now. Adrenaline had left an unsettled feeling in its wake, along with a drenching fatigue. Like being caught outside in a rainstorm that pounded the earth with big fat droplets of water.
Nothing like the slow float of fat snowflakes now falling.
Noah shifted in the driver’s seat. She didn’t think much about it, until he adjusted the rearview mirror.
Then he adjusted the side mirrors.
“What is it?” She didn’t really want to ask, but what was the point of being naive about the danger she faced? It was her life. Might as well stand and face it. Try to be brave.
“I’m sorry.” He sighed. “I’m really sorry. I wanted this to be done. I wanted you to be safe.” He sounded quiet. Resigned. Almost defeated.
That was the last thing she wanted. For him to be blaming himself about what was happening. All this was because of her brother.
“I know.” It wasn’t like she blamed him. He’d been shot, and he’d been a total professional all day. She would probably be dead right now if it hadn’t been for Noah. “Just tell me what it is.”
“Someone is behind us. I think it’s cartel guys in pursuit.” He worked his jaw from side to side. “And they’re gaining on us.”
NINE
Noah glanced at the rearview every minute or so. The truck behind them was picking up speed. It swerved erratically, as though the occupants were on a Friday night joyride through town. Not a hot pursuit to capture Amy. If the cartel succeeded, who knew what would happen to her? One thing was certain—she’d likely wish for death before it came.
Noah gripped the wheel. Determination swelled in him again, rushing up as it clenched his stomach. There was no way he’d let them get her. But could he really keep her out of their hands? Wanting backup to come wasn’t going to help. Not if they didn’t even know he needed help. And they probably didn’t even know Jeremiah was here, in town.
He didn’t want to give in to the despair, but his emotional state didn’t much count right now. What counted was that they were together and alive. He and Amy both had some fight left in them. Noah would go down swinging, if it came to that.
“What are we going to do?”
Noah heard her breath coming fast. He glanced over quickly, before the bend in the highway. “We’re going to press on. Okay?” He didn’t wait for her to agree. “This is about keeping you safe. It’s about keeping on fighting, regardless of how we feel.”
She could have another panic attack. If she did, they would deal.
“Then what should I do?”
Noah didn’t have an answer to that. “Hang on.” That was about the best he could offer her. “I’m going to try and lose them, but they could pursue us until we both run out of gas. Or they could have friends up ahead waiting to block our path.”
“Or that helicopter.”
That was probably his biggest worry about this whole thing. He couldn’t call out. He checked, considering they were farther from town now. Still no signal. When he got to the segment of highway where he’d spoken to his boss earlier, would he have the ability to call out then? Noah wasn’t sure.
More worry.
What he didn’t want was to be ambushed and overwhelmed. There was no way to fight off a force like that. Not if he wanted to live, and keep Amy from being taken away.
He glanced back again.
The pickup was close now. Tracking with him every time he swerved the car to the side.
Amy was turned around. She watched out the back window. “Do you think that couple told them we were in her car?”
The idea he might’ve been sold out occurred to him again. “I don’t know. I’d wonder if they were tracking my phone if I actually had a signal. There’s no way for them to be tracking my GPS when it’s not connected to any cell tower or on Wi-Fi.” It was half a comment, half a question.
Amy shrugged. “I don’t know any of that stuff. Just what I’ve read in the thriller novels we stock at the store.” She winced. “And most of those are pretty scary. I’d hate to think any of that is going to happen to us.”
Noah sniffed out. Not a laugh, or anywhere close to it. He didn’t have the strength to devote to emotions. Not when he needed all his resolve to hang on to Amy through whatever came.
Should he tell her how he felt? Tell her that this was far more than him being a professional and trying to do the best he could at his job?
He was here because it was Amy. Because she trusted him to protect her. Because she looked at him as though he was the only one who could. Maybe that was all wrapped up in his badge and gun, but he had a niggling feeling she felt something for him. That maybe her feelings matched his, and she wanted it to be him that was here.
She had thanked him. He’d thought, at that moment, maybe...just maybe...she meant him. Not the US Marshal Noah. Just Noah.
He adjusted his grip on the wheel. The muscles in his hands were starting to cramp from the tension. “When are they going to make their move? What are they waiting for?”
Amy twis
ted again. Shifting from looking at the side mirror, to looking out the back window. “I think they’re getting closer.” She paused. “It’s almost like they’re herding us.”
He glanced in the rearview. “That’s what I’m worried about.”
There didn’t seem to be any way to get off this highway. To take a side road, or different street, and avoid wherever these guys wanted them to end up.
It wouldn’t be good, wherever it was. He didn’t want to find out what might happen there.
“I need a turnoff.” He looked, even though he’d been looking for a couple of miles now.
“What if it’s the turn they want you to take?”
That was another problem. He had several right now. Noah blew out a breath and prayed, asking for wisdom to know what to do. His lips moved, the words spilling from his mouth as a whisper.
“Why didn’t I think to pray?” Amy shook her head, then her lips moved as she did the same.
He reached over and held her hand. United together here, in the middle of danger, because of their shared faith. The trust they both had that God would continue to safeguard them. That He would bring them out of this.
“Amen.”
She squeezed his hand. “Amen.”
The pickup truck engine revved. It gained speed. Noah grasped the wheel with two hands just as the other vehicle bumped the back of them.
* * *
Amy choked back the scream. She was not going to freak out. Not this time, despite how much she wanted to.
The car lurched forward, then swerved. Amy grabbed the door handle and tried not to cry. Or whimper. All those noises she hated to make. No matter how strong she wanted to be, and tried to tell herself she was, they came out, anyway.
They were going to die.
She bit her lip so hard she tasted blood, letting out a moan because of that tiny prick of pain.
Amy twisted again. “They’re right behind us.”
“I know.” He gripped the wheel, the muscles of his forearms flexing. Any other time she might have been distracted by it.
But not right now.
Amy had to shove all those thoughts out of the way. It had been helpful to think about him before, while they were running for their lives. To distance herself from the fact she’d been about to die. And Noah was a good distraction.
Well, she hadn’t died those times. This could be the time, though. The end for her and Noah. She didn’t want him to realize he’d failed. Amy didn’t like thinking about that. Instead, she decided that keeping Anthony safe, and not letting Noah think he’d done anything wrong, was the important thing.
The pickup behind revved its engine again and slammed into them. Her whole body was jolted forward. Amy nearly hit her face on the dash.
Noah tugged on the steering wheel. The car swerved toward an embankment.
Amy held her breath. Were they going to go over it? Better than a cliff, but she didn’t like the idea of bumping over a berm and then having the air bag explode in her face.
He yanked both hands to the left. The traction control light flashed on the dash. She knew what it was because hers used to come on when it was cold in the car she’d had years ago—the one she’d been about to gift to Anthony right before she got involved in Jeremiah’s arrest.
Yet another way her “doing the right thing” as everyone called it had ruined more than one life. Or, at least, it had ruined her plans. What she’d thought her life would be. How she’d assumed it would go.
Amy had spent the first few weeks in this town grieving the loss of that promise. The death of all those dreams she’d had. Then she had made new dreams.
Noah hadn’t been featured in any of them. A fact she didn’t dwell on too much because it was so painful.
He grunted, the tires caught on the road again and the past quit flashing before Amy’s eyes.
She blew out a breath. Her hands cramped from holding on for dear life.
The next bump was bigger, making the car sway again as Noah lost control. Her head glanced off the window hard enough that black spots flashed across her vision. Or maybe she just lost awareness as her consciousness blinked in and out.
The car hit the rumble strip at the side of the highway. “No.” She didn’t want to end up in a ditch.
She heard Noah grunt, and tried to turn to him. The movement of the car jolted her back and forth. The front bumper glanced off a tree. Amy cried out.
Noah’s shoulder hit hers.
Amy swayed back toward the window to keep them from banging their heads together. She hit the window again. Brought her hand up and pressed it against the glass.
They hit another tree. The tires skidded on a patch of icy snow and the car started to spin.
It turned a full circle.
The back end clipped a stump, or downed tree, under the snow. The glass of the window shattered under her palm.
She cried out and lowered her hand.
She should have told Noah how she felt. No matter that they couldn’t do anything about it. No matter that nothing could, or would, happen between them. That wasn’t the point, was it? She should have said the truth out loud, instead of leaving it unspoken for him to maybe wonder. It wouldn’t matter if he didn’t feel the same way.
She should have told him.
The car high-centered on a mound of snow. The engine revved. Tires spun. Amy’s breath was a rush in her head. Each inhale and exhale made the sound fill her ears like a whirlwind. The pumping of her heart was so hard she felt like her chest wasn’t big enough to contain the thump.
She looked over. “Noah.”
He was slumped over the air bag on his side. She shoved hers out of the way and tried to reach for him. Pain screamed through her arm. She cried out again.
The door beside her opened.
Amy screamed as she twisted to see who it was. Not her brother.
“Shut up.” The man cuffed her across the face.
Then she saw the knife. He was going to stab her? But he didn’t. It glinted in front of her, and then he slashed the air bag. It deflated. Her arm lay in her lap, feeling funny even though it looked fine. Had she done something to it? The gruff-looking man pulled on her other arm. Pain sparked in her hand, like a hundred tiny needles on her palm. He hauled her out of the car.
“Noah!” She tried to yell as loud as she could, but it was barely audible. He had to wake up. They would kill him and leave him here, and then she would be alone, and—
A thousand thoughts ran through her head. Each breath was like a week, the space between them an entire litany. Wake up. Wake up. God, help me. Help him.
“Don’t just stand there. Get her legs or something.”
She blinked. A second man came into view. That was when she realized she wasn’t walking.
They were hauling her away.
TEN
Noah heard something above the rushing in his ears. His entire body felt like he’d been hit by a truck. Or maybe an airplane.
A groan escaped his lips and he pushed off the dash as he sat back. Pain ripped through the outside of his arm. He shoved at the air bag and then shifted so he could get out.
As he grabbed the door handle, what he hadn’t comprehended at first occurred to him.
Amy wasn’t in the passenger seat.
She was gone.
He stumbled out of the car and had to bite back the groan as he braced his injured arm against the door. The price of staying upright was more pain in his arm. Enough to cloud his vision with moisture. He blinked it back.
He had to get to Amy.
The pickup truck had stopped about fifteen feet back. He trudged through snow, cold wet jeans touching the skin of his lower legs. The discomfort of it was enough to distract him from the pain in his arm.
Noah pulled his weapon. He blinked. Took another ste
p. Should have drawn it before he got out of the car. But there was no time to berate himself for not thinking straight right now.
They were about to load Amy in that tiny sideways seat in the pickup, behind the passenger seat.
His legs started to numb. His arm hurt badly enough he thought about grabbing a handful of snow and holding it against the graze he’d gotten. Numbness in his arm would feel pretty good right about now.
Both men had their backs to him, struggling to get her to the pickup. Noah probably had two bullets.
He lifted the gun and then angled his steps to the left. Got a clear shot.
Took it.
The other guy spun around. He let go of Amy in the process. She started to fall, squished between the man and the vehicle. The gunman fumbled for his weapon.
Noah ran to him and slammed his gun down on the man’s temple. Might as well save the bullet. The man slumped to the ground. Noah relieved him of his gun.
He crouched by Amy. Her eyes were open, but glassy. “Hey.” He touched her cheek, swiping his thumb over the flushed soft skin.
She let out a moan that might have been, “Hi,” but didn’t really sound like anything. He checked the two men weren’t going to attack while his attention was on her, stowed his gun and hauled her to her feet. He deposited her on the passenger seat of the pickup.
Her head lolled to one side and she moaned, then drew her arm closer to her. Noah folded her legs in and then shut the door. He could buckle the seat belt when he got in.
He stowed his gun in its holster, and then tucked the gunman’s weapon in the back of his jeans.
Noah pressed the palm of his hand—of his good arm—against the door of the pickup and just took a minute. Pain from aches and bruises sparked as he inhaled, and then pushed out the breath. Thank You, God. He’d gotten her back because God had protected them.
The way He’d done a thousand times already today.
Noah was pretty sure this was going to shape up to be the longest day of his life. He rounded the truck to the driver’s door and saw that—thank You, God—they’d left the keys in the ignition.
Colorado Manhunt Page 6