“Keep your eyes forward,Ahren,” Nikolai instructs when my constant staring in the rearview mirror nearly makes us crash into a tree.
He yanks on the steering wheel, straightening our tires before he searches the truck for a weapon. His hunt comes up trumps when he finds a Glock in the glove compartment. From a distance, it would be pointless. But for the vehicle approaching on our left, it will come in very handy.
“Lean back.”
I sink into my seat a mere second before Nikolai fires the Glock. Even with his pupils filling his corneas, his aim is perfect. The driver’s slumped frame sees his 4WD veering to the left before it bursts into flames upon impact with a large tree trunk.
The scene continues to unfold like an action-packed blockbuster. Nikolai takes down another three men in a similar fashion, his fight only coming to an end when he runs out of bullets.
“What now?”
“Keep driving.”
Nikolai dumps the empty Glock on the floor of the truck before searching its interior for the second time. I don’t know what he is looking for, but I doubt he’ll find it here. There is nothing but a torn picnic blanket, a pack of half-smoked cigarettes, and a metal gas can.
“Seriously?” I screech when he gathers the three items I mentioned in his hands. You’re not MacGyver.”
Nikolai flashes a grin that shows why I fell for him so quickly. He has a devilish and highly appealing body and face, but his insides reveal nothing but a little boy dying to be loved. “Who do you think I learned the statistics of killing a man with a fork from?”
“Ah. . . your criminally insane father?”
Nikolai’s grin doubles. I really wish he’d stop smiling. I’m already lightheaded from eyeing the copious amount of blood seeping into his shirt. I don’t need more distractions.
Recalling the dangerous situation we are in, I return my eyes front and center. They’ve just adjusted to the darkness when a dog darts across the dirt road we’re traveling on.
With barely a second to spare, I yank my steering wheel to the right.
It isn’t the best decision I’ve ever made.
We’re heading straight toward the edge of a cliff.
Just as I slam on the brakes, we’re bumped from behind by the SUV tailing us. Fear surges through me when they plow into us a second time. I maintain my pressure on the brakes, but my willpower has nothing on the goons’ determination.
They’ve spotted an opening to end us without bullets, and they’re running for it.
I stop clutching the steering wheel the instant the front tires of the truck careen over the gorge. I can’t steer us out of this, but I can protect my stomach from additional impact. It won’t do our baby any good if I’m dead, but at least the baby will know I did everything in my power to protect him or her .
The world slows as we roll to our imminent deaths. Nikolai’s roared shout of my name, his clamber across the cracked vinyl seat separating us, even the weaving of his fingers through my hair occurs in super slow motion. His hold is peaceful—almost surreal.
I’m so out of my mind, I don’t realize what Nikolai is doing until hot Las Vegas air streams through my nostrils from him throwing open the truck’s door to propel us out of the wreckage.
We sail through the air like hang gliders, the brutal impact of Nikolai’s back with a tree trunk the only thing slowing our descent. . .
My thoughts return to the present when my temple collides with the window of the SUV.
“Damn dog. Get out of the fucking way.” Trey corrects the swerve he took to avoid a white dog sitting in the middle of the road before lifting his eyes to the rearview mirror to make sure I’m okay.
The bones in my neck squeal when I crank my head back to the dog. He’s one of those shepherding breeds, bred to protect herds of sheep. He’s big, white and seems oddly familiar.
“Stop!”
My scream scares the living daylights out of Trey. He slams on the brakes so fast, the SUV tailing us nearly rear-ends us.
The dust kicking up from Trey’s abrupt stop scratches my eyes when I fling open my door. I dash through the dust cloud so I can scan the area surrounding us. For the most part, it looks like barren land, but there are telltale signs corroborating my belief that this is the land Nikolai and I raced across during our escape. There are small tire marks similar to the ones of the all-terrain vehicles that chased us down. A tree on the horizon has char marks halfway up its trunk and is missing a chunk of bark right at the spot a vehicle may have impacted it. And there are bullet casings glistening in the low-hanging sun.
“There’s a gorge somewhere near here. Nikolai is in that gorge.”
Not having the time or the eagerness to answer the numerous silent questions being slung at me, I return to the SUV to gather the maps inside. The useless ones roll off the SUV’s hood, but I keep a firm grip on the topographic map. It shows the elevations and falls of the land surrounding us, meaning within seconds I have a better idea which direction we should be heading.
