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CHAPTER 19
Jonah had no idea what would happen when the van hit the fence, but busting through seemed like his only option. He couldn’t risk going to the house in hopes of getting Butch’s family to help. What if they wouldn’t come to the door? Or stalled?
It was up to him to use whatever tools he had at his disposal to save Francesca. As long as he wasn’t too late….
Pressing the accelerator to the floor, he clung to the steering wheel, trying to remain in his seat despite the jolting of the vehicle as it bounced across the rocky desert. One tire had already popped. He’d heard it go several seconds earlier, had to fight to keep the steering wheel from pulling too hard to the left as a result, and expected one or more of the other tires to follow suit. He was driving over cacti, broken bottles, who knew what else.
But he didn’t care if all four wheels wound up rolling on their rims. He wouldn’t stop. He’d seen Butch’s dog shoot off that porch with single-minded intensity and was willing to bet he’d reached his goal by now. If Francesca wasn’t dead, she would be soon, or she’d be severely hurt.
The fence loomed in front of him. In case the windshield shattered, he turned his face away but kept his foot on the gas. He’d decided to break through the gate, figured that would mean less of an impact than trying to mow down an entire section of the perimeter fence. There was also more empty space toward the front, so there’d be less to crash into after he went through.
Although he was braced for the worst, the impact rattled his teeth, especially when the air bag went off. It sounded like a shotgun as it punched him in the face. The resulting powder and gases burned his face and arms, but the bag had stopped him from cracking his skull on the windshield, which was what would’ve happened when the sudden deceleration threw him forward.
Dazed, he blinked several times, trying to clear his vision.
Steam rose from the van’s engine. Something must’ve gone through the radiator. Jonah could hear the hiss. He just couldn’t figure out where he was—until he heard the feverish growling of a dog.
Butch.
Demon.
Francesca.
The thought of Demon mauling Francesca brought him out of his stupor. He had to get to her. That was why he’d crashed the gate.
Grabbing the door handle, he jerked it up to release the latch, but it wouldn’t open. He had to crank down the window and crawl through it instead.
Move! Now!
Scrambling faster than he was really capable of after such a blow, he fell as he cleared the window and banged his knee on a sharp object. It hurt like hell, but he ignored the pain and got to his feet.
“Hey!” Trying to attract the dog’s attention, he flapped his arms as he ran. There was some action taking place about twenty feet away. He could hear the scuffle, see some figures, but thanks to the shadows cast by the pole lights and the black spots that danced in his vision from the crash, he couldn’t be sure what was going on.
“Demon!” Butch called.
Was Butch urging the dog on or trying to call him off? Jonah couldn’t tell. But if Butch was trying to stop Demon, the Doberman was too worked up to listen. He veered away from Francesca, but came bounding toward Jonah, teeth bared in a snarl, legs working in a fluid motion as he began to jump.
“Demon!” Butch cried again.
At this point, Jonah was fairly certain he was trying to call the dog off. But it was too late. Demon was already in the air, lunging for Jonah’s throat…
With just a split second to react, Jonah had only one choice.
Drawing his gun from his shoulder harness, he fired.
* * *
The sound of the gunshot nearly deafened Francesca. Yet she managed to hear Butch’s gut-wrenching reaction.
“You killed my dog!” he screamed as Demon fell to the earth.
Closing her eyes, Francesca held her injured arm against her body and murmured a silent prayer of thanks. She’d been bitten when she tried to protect her neck and face but, fortunately, Jonah had smashed into the salvage yard before Demon could make another attempt at her jugular. Two or three more minutes, and she’d be the one lying motionless on the ground.
“You k-killed your dog,” she corrected, but she was shaking so badly she couldn’t stay on her feet and sank to the ground.
Butch whirled on her as if he’d finish her off himself, and Jonah fired his gun again. Since he was aiming at the sky, the bullet went into the air above them, but the threat was clear enough to convince Butch that he’d better back off.
“You bitch! Why did you come back here?” he cried. “What’s wrong with you? Why won’t you leave me alone? What have I ever done to you? I’ve told you and told you, I didn’t kill April Bonner! I’ve never killed anyone!”
