CHAPTER
TWELVE
The next morning Asher drove with confidence, his hands on the wheel, eyes on the road, although Brooke could feel him glancing at her every so often. “So,” she said, “tell me about your unit in Kabul.”
“Why?”
“Why not? Tell me about the men you served with.”
He glanced in the rearview mirror and frowned. “They’re good guys. Sergeant Mark Dobbs was our medic. The man’s a genius when it comes to medicine and could improvise like no one’s business if he had to.”
“Where’s he now?”
“Still serving. We text some, but mostly he’s mad at me for getting out.”
“Mad?”
“I broke up the unit.”
“Oh. What about Gavin?”
“Oh yeah, we both get a snarky text every so often.”
“I’m sure that’s fun.”
“I understand where he’s coming from. He’ll get over it in time. And then there’s Jasper Owens. He was the youngest and most impulsive of all of us, but don’t let that fool you, he was also probably the most deadly. Nerves of steel, that kid.”
“You liked him.”
“Yeah. A lot.” He cleared his throat. “Unfortunately, he was killed by a sniper about two weeks before I flew home.”
“Asher, I’m so sorry.”
“It was supposed to be a routine mission. We were helping some children on the side of the road just outside the city and a sniper opened fire.”
“Was anyone else hit?”
“One kid about nine years old. Owens was giving him a piggyback ride. The bullet took them both out.” He rubbed his eyes as though he could rub the memory away.
“How awful.” Her heart ached. For the loss of life, for the people in Jasper’s life who’d miss him. For it all. “I didn’t know him. I saw him on base, of course, but I don’t think I ever actually exchanged words with him.”
“He was a bit of a hothead, but he was a good guy.” He fell silent a moment, then blew out a short whisper of a breath. “Yeah. I miss him. His family misses him. It’s sad and infuriating, but we know the risks when we sign up for the job. I think I related to Jasper because he reminded me a lot of myself, and his family reminded me a lot of mine.”
“What about them?”
“We’re just cut from a different mold,” he said. “I have no idea how two people can create completely different kids.”
“What do you mean?”
“Ah, well, my older brother, Nicholas, is a pain. He and I never got along at all. I used to think it was just that he didn’t know how to have fun, but . . .” He clicked his tongue. “I don’t know. I think he might actually be a sociopath.”
“Wow.”
“Yeah. He calls me the freak.”
“Why on earth would he call you a freak?”
“Because I chose to serve my country rather than . . . do something else.”
“Like what?”
“Anything that involved making a lot of money.”
“That’s sad.”
“Indeed. But that’s enough about my family. I like talking about the unit more. So, where was I? Oh, yeah. Mitch Sampson. He looks likes Paul Bunyan with a crew cut and no beard. He was our demo expert. Knows everything there is to know about explosives. It’s weird, but he collects pieces of every bomb he survives.”
“It’s a coping technique,” she said. “It probably makes him feel like God is on his side each time he walks away from something like that.”
“Could be. I felt that way too but didn’t want a souvenir as a reminder of how close I came to death.”
“Different things work for different people.”
“I’m not knocking him for it,” he said. “I just found it weird.”
“Is he still serving?”
“Oh yeah. The only way he’ll leave the Army is by death or retirement.”
“I’m voting for retirement,” she muttered.
His gaze went to the rearview mirror once more.
“Something wrong?” He flipped the blinker to change lanes, and his white-knuckled grip worried her. “Asher?”
“Nothing’s wrong. At least I hope not.”
“Then why are you so tense your teeth are about to shatter?”
He shot her a scowl before his eyes darted to the mirrors again. “I think someone’s following us.”
“Really?” Her stomach dipped and she resisted the urge to turn and look. “Which vehicle?”
“A black van a couple of cars back. I’m going to take the next exit and see if they follow.”
“Okay.” Her right hand came up to grip the seat belt that crossed her chest, and her eyes went to the side mirror. Nothing. She watched the rearview mirror. “The black minivan?”
“Yes.” Sweat beaded on his forehead.
“This isn’t Kabul,” she said. “May I hold your hand? Sometimes it helps to have that touch.”
He shot her a swift look, hesitated, then reached over to grip her left hand. “Just until I need it again.”
“Of course.”
He continued to drive, but she thought he seemed calmer. She slid her right hand over to cover his wrist and felt his pulse beating beneath her fingers. A little fast, but nothing out of control.
“So the hand holding was for me, huh?” he asked without taking his eyes from the road.
“I was hoping it would benefit both of us.”
He sat straighter. “All right, we’re taking this exit.” He adjusted the rearview mirror. “Can you see him?”
“Yes.”
“Let’s see if he follows.”
Asher waited until the last minute to cut the wheel to the right and speed up the exit ramp. He passed two cars using the emergency lane, rolled to a halt at the stop sign, then made a quick left.
Brooke kept her eyes on the vehicle Asher suspected of following. “They didn’t get off behind us.”
“But the white SUV did.”
“You think they’re together?”
“We’re going to act like they are.”
The farther he drove, the more remote it became, with woods on either side of the two-lane road. “There’s no one behind us.”
“I’m sorry. I guess I’m just paranoid,” he muttered as he slowed the truck to make a U-turn. “I’ll circle back to the interstate.”
Brooke wanted to chalk up his suspicious nature as a result of living on adrenaline for several years, but she couldn’t help wondering . . . “You noticed that vehicle for a reason. What was it that stood out about it to you?” she asked.
He didn’t answer right away but watched the road behind them. “I don’t know,” he finally said. “When I drive, I’m hyper aware of every vehicle around me and I spotted the van when we got on the interstate. It continued to stay behind us at exactly the same distance for the past twenty miles.”
“And that white SUV is—”
“Coming straight toward us. Hang on, Brooke.” He wheeled the truck to the right, but the driver of the SUV must have calculated that Asher would do that and managed to turn just in time to slam into them as they tried to pass him.
Brooke let out a low scream as the side air bags deployed, and her body rebelled at the impact. “Asher!” She looked over at him.
He had pushed up the side curtain air bag to see out his window. “Hold on! He’s coming back!”
Asher gripped the wheel, grappling for control of the truck as the SUV backed up, then gunned the engine to make another pass at them.
“Call 911!”
“Trying,” Brooke said. “I can’t find it!”
He could hear the stark terror in her voice and silently vowed to get her out of this alive. Adrenaline pumped. Scenes from the past blipped through his mind and he did his best to shove them aside. Focus. Just survive the moment. Think later.
Anticipating a hard hit to the front of his truck, Asher spun the wheel and stepped on the gas, his only goal to get far enough ahead of the oncoming vehicle in order to take the collision on the truck bed instead of the cab.
He shot forward and the SUV hit behind the back door on his side. Asher lost his grip on the wheel—and control of his truck. It spun once, twice, three times before it hurled off the road and into a large tree.
For a split second all was still and silent, then Brooke gasped, sucking in a breath.
Pain and shock held him motionless even while his mind ordered his body to move, to check on Brooke—and the location of the SUV. Finally, he pulled in a lungful of air and gave a quick glance back to see where their attacker was. The SUV was across the road, front end down and smashed up against a tree. No sign of the driver or a passenger. Yet.
Move! We have to move! “Brooke.” Her name came out on a whisper and he cleared his throat. “Brooke!” Stronger this time.
She lay against the window, blinking. He straightened and unhooked his seat belt. A good distance away, a car approached from the opposite direction that the SUV had come from. An innocent motorist or someone looking for them?
With a groan, Asher leaned over and unlatched Brooke’s seat belt. “Come on, Brooke, we’ve got to get out of here. I don’t know if that’s friend or foe coming this way, but I don’t want to find out the hard way.” His weapon still rested snug in his shoulder holster, but he didn’t know where his phone was. It had flown out of the dash mount and he didn’t have time to look for it. “Brooke.” He rubbed her arm. The vehicle rolled closer on the flat stretch of road. “Come on, darlin’, I need you to help me out here.”
“Asher.” She blinked up at him, the shock of the impact finally wearing off. She lifted a hand to her head and groaned. “That wasn’t an accident.”
“No, ma’am, that was definitely on purpose. The guy who hit us spun out too and went off the road into the trees on the other side of the road. We really need to get out of here before he recovers or his friends decide to come check on him.” He glanced at the still-approaching vehicle, getting closer by the second.
“Right.” She groaned again.
“No. I don’t think so. The seat belt did a number on me, but other than that, I think I’m all right. He hit on your side. How about you?”
“Nothing broken. Lots of bumps and bruises.” He gripped her hand. “You’re going to have to crawl over and come out my door.” Her side was crunched up next to the huge oak tree.
With effort, she nodded.
“Yeah.” He pushed open the driver’s door, climbed out, and turned back to her. “Ready?”
“Sure.”
He wasn’t convinced she was being honest, but they were out of time. With a grunt, he helped her across the console and into the driver’s seat. The car continued to close in on them and was finally near enough for Asher to make out that it was a black van.
“Hurry,” he said, adrenaline spiking. “They’re coming back to finish the job.” With another pull, he had her out of the vehicle. Asher stopped long enough to make sure she had her feet under her before leading her around the front of his truck. A thought stopped him. He turned back to the truck, telling himself he didn’t have time for this, but . . . “Hold on.”
She stood still, swaying slightly when he let go of her.
Working quickly, he grabbed his registration and other identifying papers and stuffed them into the front pocket of his jacket. Not that they couldn’t run his plates, but at least that would take more effort and time than getting his information from his glove box. He spotted his phone under the gas pedal.
An engine roared and a shot rang out.
Asher ducked and turned to find Brooke beside him. “Into the woods,” he ordered, and pulled her after him as two more shots split the air.