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"Reservations have long memories, Miss Rachel," he finally muttered, his voice a low rumble akin to distant thunder. "Grudges... they get buried deep. Like rattlesnakes in the sand."
Her heart quickened. This was it; the thin veneer of reluctance was cracking. She leaned in closer, the seatbelt cutting into her shoulder.
"Then it's possible—"
A sudden boom split the air, raw and deafening. Lone Elk’s head jerked back against the headrest, his profile etched sharply against the blinding flash that split the sky.
Rachel's instincts screamed. She threw her arms up, her body tensing for impact. The Jeep swerved, its rugged frame groaning in protest, and the world outside blurred into a dizzying whirlwind of dust and fear.
Glass shattered. The Jeep's passenger-side window exploded into a web of cracks, and with it, Lone Elk's lifeless gaze met the horizon for the last time. Rachel's ears rang as she stared at the officer, slumped sideways, the weight of his body pulling the steering wheel down with him. A bullet wound in his head.
"Officer!" she screamed, her voice lost in the cacophony. But there was no response—not from the man who had been her reluctant guardian just moments ago.
The Jeep careened off the dirt road, its tires fighting against the rough terrain. It bucked like a wild horse, throwing Rachel against her restraints as she struggled to grab hold of the steering wheel.
"Come on, come on!" Her hands slipped on the leather, slick with the native cop's blood that now painted the interior crimson. She wrestled with the wheel, her breathing erratic, pulse thundering in her temples. Where had that gunshot come from?
As if in answer to this unspoken query, machine gun fire erupted, relentless, the sound tearing through the air like a violent storm. Bullets peppered the side of the vehicle, punching holes through metal and plastic with mechanical indifference.
"Damn it!" Rachel spat out, her mind racing. Lone Elk was gone; there was no backup, no cavalry coming over the ridge. It was just her, alone, in a hailstorm of lead.
She ducked, her body instinctively curling as low as possible. Sparks flew as bullets ricocheted inside the cab, each one a harbinger of death if it found its mark.
"Got to get out," she whispered fiercely to herself. Each word punctuated by gunfire, each thought sliced by fear.
The Jeep finally slammed into something solid—a rock or a tree, it didn’t matter. The impact sent a shockwave through Rachel's body, her vision blurting, her grip failing. The world spun, and then darkness crowded in on the edges of her sight.
"Stay awake," she commanded, but the words were a distant echo. She needed to move, to escape before whoever was unleashing this torrent of violence realized she was still breathing.
The gunshots seemed to slow, their rhythm becoming clear and methodical. They were closing in, the shooters taking their time now, confident in their deadly pursuit.
The Jeep was sideways... when had that happened? Her chest ached from where the seatbelt pressed against her, holding her tight. Her mind was slow. Shock was setting in.
She unbuckled herself, and nearly fell on Lone Elk's lifeless form.
She cursed, scrambling up.
The gunshots continued, and she pried open the door of the Jeep, flinging it wide, then crawling through.
Shouts now. She spotted two cars coming towards her, from the direction of a stationary mobile home off the road-side. Wyatt's? Shit. She was flying blind. Moments like these, she missed Ethan more than ever.
She rolled over the top of the Jeep, landing behind it, placing the overturned vehicle between her and the approaching cars.
Grit crunched under Rachel’s boots as she lunged from the Jeep, throwing herself behind a stout juniper. Her breath came in ragged gasps, each inhalation mixed with the acrid scent of gunpowder and dust.
"Move, think," she muttered, hugging the rough bark. Lead thumped into the other side of the tree, sending splinters dancing around her. The shooters were still out there, their bullets slicing through the silence like deadly whispers.
Rachel's eyes darted, searching for any sign of movement in the sparse landscape. The vehicles with the gunmen had slowed now. She heard doors opening, slamming. Loud voices. The sound of boots against the dust.
And then long shadows stretched towards her, cast by the harsh sunlight.
The gunmen were encroaching, and she had nowhere left to hide.
CHAPTER NINE
Gunshots echoed around her as the Texas sun scorched the rocky landscape, casting jagged shadows across the red stone. Rachel's breath was steady despite the adrenaline coursing through her veins. She hunkered down behind the twisted juniper, its bark gnarled from years of desert winds, and beside an overturned Jeep that had become her makeshift shield.
Dust swirled as boots crunched closer, the gunmen's voices a low rumble on the horizon. Rachel's finger hovered over the trigger of her sidearm.
