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.”