by Becky Avella
“See ’em anywhere?” Rex’s muffled voice asked. He stepped into Sean’s line of sight. Rex seemed to be in charge of the small group.
“Not yet,” Reid answered him.
“What do we do when we find them?” asked the third man.
“We leave no witnesses,” Turner answered.
His voice lowered in volume, making it more difficult for Sean to hear through the garage walls. But it was the last part he heard that mattered.
“You find them,” Turner commanded. “You shoot them. It’s that simple.”
* * *
Deanna groaned softly. She and Sean had escaped one cage today only to find themselves in another one.
She rubbed her eyes with the palm of her hand. It had been only the span of an afternoon, but she was battle weary, tired of fighting to stay alive. How good would it feel to be back in Kinakane with Gram making coffee, with nothing bigger to worry about than money and Blake. The things that had weighed her down back at The Hangar earlier today seemed so trivial now. Bankruptcy didn’t seem that scary anymore. Even the fires seemed farther away. Being shot at had a way of putting life back into proper perspective.
There had to be some way to let someone know what was happening to them. But there wasn’t. Without phones, they couldn’t even dial 911. She thought of Harley Hopkins and how helpless and panicked he must have felt out in Scotch Creek when he was having his heart attack, unable to call for help.
No superhero or police officer was going to come crashing in to save the day here, either. Their only hope was themselves.
Wasn’t that true about life in general anyway? She was responsible for fixing her own messes. This mess just happened to have higher stakes than she was used to. It was bigger than she knew how to fix.
Her dad had tried to drill that lesson into her. “You need to have the skills to take care of yourself,” he told her. “It’s a dog-eat-dog world, and if you are going to survive in it, you have to look out for number one.”
He might be the king of clichés, but he’d gotten his point across. And when she was only five years old, he gave her plenty of practice at being independent. He was tired of Kinakane and restless. Alaska called to him, as he put it. When the right job offer finally came through, he left her with Gram.
“It’s just a job, Dee-girl. I’ll be back soon,” he promised. He kept up the pretense for about a year, sending her scenic postcards of the Alaskan wilderness with even more promises, “Looking at all this beauty reminds me of my beautiful girl. I’ll be home soon, sweetheart.”
But “soon” never came, and she’d quickly learned that he was right. She couldn’t count on anyone but herself. She squared her shoulders. She would not be a damsel in distress here, either. Time to save herself.
Sean scratched the side of his head. “We need a plan.”
“No, we need to get out of here.”
“I know, but as soon as I open this garage door, they’ll be on us.”
“We can make all the plans we want, but it’s time to choose. Sit in here and wait or take charge.” She put her hands on her hips and tried to stand taller. “We need to take the power back,” she said. “Otherwise we might as well go out there and hand ourselves over now.”
Sean’s eyes narrowed. “That’s all good in theory. But you still haven’t given me anything we can act on. They’ve got orders to silence us. They’ll shoot first and ask questions later.”
The shotgun that Sean took off Nathan Reid had been left behind inside his uncle’s house. Without any shells, it wasn’t worth lugging around, but Deanna still had her Glock, and she’d reloaded it before they left the airplane. She had about eight rounds. Was that enough to shoot their way out in a blaze of glory?
The walls hiding them from the armed men were thin and uninsulated. She could hear them coming closer. Her gaze jerked over to the truck. “What if we don’t open the garage door at all?”
“You mean stay in here?” Sean spun around like he was playing a game of hide-and-seek, looking for the best hiding spot.
“That’s not what I meant,” she said. “What if...” She hesitated. This was action-movie, stuntman-type stuff she was thinking up. “What if we gun the truck and bust through the garage door?”
Sean blinked at her, the expression on his face dumbfounded. He probably thought she was insane. But he’d been thinking that all day.
“What?” she challenged. He wasn’t coming up with any better ideas. “You have to admit it would give us that element of surprise you’re always talking about.”
A slow smile spread across his tan face, softening the chiseled stone. He really did have an amazing smile.
“You are certifiable, you know that?” Sean said.
“You’ve told me that a couple times today. Looks to me like doing something crazy is our only option.”
She patted the truck’s hood gently. “You’re not afraid of letting this beast get a few scrapes, are you?” she whispered.
“Get in,” Sean said.
Deanna settled into her seat, easing the truck door shut as quietly as she could.
Sean chuckled softly. “What is it you like to say? Hold on? Get ready? Oh, I know.” He winked. “Brace yourself, Deanna. This might be a bumpy ride.”
She rolled her eyes. “Very funny. You know there are guys out there with guns that want to kill us, right? You could get going anytime now.”
Sean pushed the key into the ignition and turned a satisfied smirk toward her. “It’s just nice to be in the driver’s seat for once.”
“Don’t get used to it, cowboy.” Deanna stared at the solid wall in front of them. She did not like being in the passenger seat like this. Her idea had felt more right in theory than it did in actual execution.
“Oh man. You were right. This really is nuts,” she whispered.
“Nah, I prefer to think of it as being brave,” Sean whispered back. “Ready?”
No, but she nodded anyway. The engine growled a few sleepy grumbles before it finally roared to life.
“Here we go!” Sean hollered, slamming his boot against the accelerator.
Deanna jerked backward, held hard against the ripped upholstery as the truck lurched forward, punching a hole through the old garage door. Pieces of broken wood and splinters flew around them as the old Ford broke free. It was easier than she’d thought, like a football team running through a butcher-paper sign before a high school game.
The shocked expressions on the men’s faces probably mirrored her own. Rex Turner had approximately two seconds to dive out of their way to avoid getting run over. Profanity rang through the air as the three men scrambled to start the pursuit.
“Yee haw!” Deanna yelled. But then a bullet connected with the passenger-side mirror, and the thrill evaporated instantly. Glass shards exploded, leaving a hole that went straight through the mirror’s metal backing. Deanna screamed and slid down in her seat. If there was any remaining doubt in her mind that they were still in danger, it was gone now. Only a slight move to the left and that bullet could have blasted through her head instead.
SIX
As they bumped along the rutted dirt road, Sean worked to stay ahead of the constant volley of bullets. He floored the accelerator, but the old truck had sat idle for too long. Its engine only whined at being pushed so hard. There might not even be enough gas in the tank to make it back to town.
His stomach flipped as Deanna hung out the side window and shot back. She shouldn’t be so exposed. He grabbed her shirt’s hem and tugged her back in. “Save your bullets.”
“I can get them,” she promised.
“You don’t even know if you’re hitting anything back there. You should save the few bullets we’ve got left.”
“I’ve got to try,” she insisted.
She leaned out the window again but another bullet hit the toolbox in the back with a metallic crunch. Deanna squealed and popped back inside. Sean imagined the metal buckling around the hole the bullet left behind and thanked God it hadn’t gone all the way through the truck and into his spine.
“Better if you just stay down.”
This time she didn’t argue. She cowered, hugging her knees. She was so tough, but he could still see the fear she was trying to hide.
A picture of her barrel-racing popped in his head. He saw her bolting across the start line at top speed, leaning across her horse’s wide back with her legs out, her blond hair streaming behind her, her eyes fixed on the prize. Fearless. That was Deanna Jackson.
He quickly squeezed her knee. “It’s going to be okay,” he promised. “We’ve come this far. It’s not going to end here.”
He glared into the rearview mirror. He’d brought her here. It was his responsibility to make sure he fulfilled that promise.
The tires hit loose gravel, sending the Ford’s back end into a fishtail slide. Sean counter-steered, struggling to regain traction and to right the truck. If they could only get to the paved road ahead, they’d have a smoother ride. But the pavement would also make it easier for Rex’s brand-new rig to catch up. Rex would beat them in a speed race every time. At least this bumpy road leveled the playing field a bit.
Sean leaned across the bench seat, keeping his left hand on the steering wheel and his head up only high enough to see where they were headed. No use keeping it up there where it could get popped like the mirror and the toolbox.
When the tires hit the paved road, the difference was apparent immediately. There wasn’t any more bumping or jostling. It was too quiet, eerie even, as they waited for the next gunshot.
This highway would lead them to town, but the descent was steep and there were no guardrails. He was driving way too fast for the curves, and there were worse ones coming up. One in particular made him really nervous. He would need both hands on the wheel to navigate them. He tried to sit up, but as soon as he lifted his head, another bullet connected with the back window.
The glass exploded with a sound like illegal firecrackers. Deanna screamed and ducked to avoid the flying shrapnel-like debris. Sean shoved her head even lower. “Keep down,” he commanded.
Hot wind whistled through the shattered back window. It wasn’t as if the glass had been some great barrier of protection for them, but it had felt like it. Now they had nothing between them and those bullets but air. Sean tried to assess the damage to Deanna while still keeping his eyes on the road. A streak of bright red blood rolled down her cheek. It looked like a minor wound, probably a cut from flying glass, but his vision turned the same blood red. His pulse thundered. How dare they hurt her like this!
“You okay?”
She nodded and looked up at him, her eyes wide.
With his eyes on her instead of the road, the truck wandered too close to the steep edge. His back tires spun on the shoulder’s loose gravel, giving Sean a close-up view of the direction he did not want to go. Small stones tumbled down the steep ravine, bouncing and skipping out of sight.
“Stay on the road,” Deanna pleaded.
Sean righted the truck, turning sharply into the next turn. Rex pulled back a bit, slowing to avoid a collision with the fishtailing Ford’s back end. Sean decelerated, also.
“Why are you slowing down?”
“I can’t maintain this speed around these curves. There’s a ninety-degree turn up ahead.”
It did feel wrong to slow down, but he had to do it. He didn’t know how many times he’d driven this road in his lifetime. He knew every inch of it, and his gut told him they were going too fast. “There’s no other way—I have to slow down.”
Rex didn’t waste any time covering the distance between the two vehicles. Deanna glanced backward, doubt written all over her face. “I hope you know what you’re doing.”
The turn Sean was worried about was next, hidden from view until you were right on it. If a turn ever deserved to be described as sharp or hairpin, this one was it. As they approached it, Sean hit the brakes even more. Instantly he knew things were about to get ugly. Rex wasn’t slowing down at all. The scene through the rearview mirror was like a reverse game of chicken playing out in slow motion.
It was human nature to avoid a collision at all costs, and that’s what Rex chose to do. He swerved away from the obstacle before him.
It was a deadly mistake.
Everything around Sean slowed, like he’d stepped outside time. As Rex’s truck took flight over the cliff edge, Sean was an observer instead of a participant. He wasn’t hearing or thinking, maybe not even breathing. Then just as suddenly, his blood rushed to his brain, and he woke up. He pulled the truck over to the shoulder and jumped out of the cab, already in a sprint, Deanna at his heels.
They didn’t speak as they looked down at the red pickup tumbling end over end down the ravine. Deanna covered her face. Sean reached for her, drawing her against his chest. And then the truck reached the bottom and burst into flames.
* * *
Deanna stepped back, numb. Sean had let her go too soon, and she missed the comfort of being wrapped in his strong arms. She wanted to keep her face buried in his chest, to avoid turning around and seeing the death below her for a while longer. But Sean had already clambered over the road’s edge and was inching his way down the steep ravine, rocks skidding out from under his cowboy boots, before she finally snapped out of her daze and realized where he was going. She imagined him tumbling end over end like the truck had done, breaking his neck in the process.
“What are you doing?” she’d screamed down at him.
“I’ve got to get to them. Someone might have survived.”
“Five minutes ago they were shooting at us and now you want to rescue them?” Unbelievable! “It’ll take you forever to reach the bottom going that way.”
He didn’t slow down. Did he need her to spell it out for him? “Sean, stop! It’s too late. Look at that smoke,” she hollered at him. “No one is coming out of that truck alive. It’s not your fault. It was an accident, and we’ve got to let someone know what happened. This could blow up fast with all that bitterbrush to burn.”
And that’s what finally changed his mind. She rolled her eyes as he climbed back up the hill. Of course it would be the appeal to the greater good that got through to him. He was just so...good. Too good for his own good. It was one of the reasons she’d never let herself entertain feelings for Sean in the past. She couldn’t deny a renewed attraction to him, but she had to stop herself from acting on those feelings. No matter what she felt, Sean was too good for her. She thought only about herself.
The violence of the truck crash might’ve horrified her, but playing hero and trying to rescue those men hadn’t even crossed her mind. She’d been aware only of feeling safe again. That awful chase was over, and there would be no more bullets. But Sean? He wanted to save his enemies.
They jogged back to the truck.
“Where to now?” she asked, buckling her seat belt.
“Town. We’ve got to tell someone that we just started the sixth fire.”
SEVEN
Deanna fixed her gaze on the road’s center yellow line, the old truck’s vibration lulling her into a strange sense of quiet. Or was it shock?
Her stomach growled. When had she eaten last? The orange of the smoky sky outside the passenger-side window had deepened to neon tangerine. It must be getting close to dinnertime, but she didn’t wear a watch, so she didn’t know the exact time.
The adrenaline that had sustained her all afternoon was gone. Exhaustion pulled at her eyelids. If she leaned her head back, she’d give in to sleep, but what kind of nightmares might follow if she did? She allowed her eyelashes to rest against her cheeks briefly
, but images of Rex Turner’s somersaulting pickup truck made them flutter back open.
So many questions and theories bounced inside her brain. She should talk to Sean about them, but she couldn’t organize her thoughts into individual words, let alone a conversation. Besides, shouting above the wind coming through the shot-out window behind them felt like too much effort.
It was Sean who finally broke the silence. “I don’t think we’ve met the man behind this yet.”
Deanna shifted away from a sharp piece of ripped upholstery that was poking her in the back and then turned to face Sean. “You don’t think Rex Turner was in charge?”
“No.”
“What about Greg Martin?”
He shook his head. “Not him, either.”
“Explain,” she said.
“They all acted scared, like they were trying to clean up a mess before they were blamed for letting it happen. There’s always a hierarchy in these kind of things, and I don’t think any of those men were the boss.”
Sean listed off all the men they could identify. “Do any of them fit the profile of a leader?”
Deanna slumped back against the seat. Admitting she agreed with him meant accepting that they still weren’t safe. Who knew when they’d ever be safe again? His theory did match her own impressions, though. She replayed the events of the past few hours, and she could come to only one conclusion: Sean was right.
“We can tick Rex Turner and Nathan Reid off the list of suspects,” she said. She didn’t elaborate further, trying to keep her voice matter-of-fact. Their deaths had been so horrible. She didn’t even want to think about that yet, let alone talk about it. She was thankful Sean moved on quickly.
“And Greg Martin has always been the sidekick type. I can’t see him calling the shots on something like this,” he said.
“So if not them, then who?”
“Nathan Reid talked about that Pritchard guy as if he was in charge. Maybe it’s him, whoever he is. I don’t know. But we have to find out who is calling the shots.” Sean sighed heavily and leaned his head against the window next to him. “Until we know exactly who it is we are dealing with, we won’t be safe.”