“Sierra—”
“Okay, okay. I know the routine,” she snapped, turning around and sliding down into the footwell.
Beau sweated for a second, hoping the engine would still work after all the gunfire that had hit his truck. He blew out a breath in relief when it started right up.
He swung his truck around and floored the accelerator. It peeled out, the smell of burning rubber filling the cab as the truck shot down the road toward Mystic Lake.
Beau tossed the Kevlar vest on top of her.
She yelled in Spanish at him. Although he had no clue what she was saying, he was quite certain he didn’t want to know. And dang if she wasn’t adorable when she was ticked off. He had to bite his cheek to keep from smiling and risk whatever payback that might earn him.
As soon as they rounded the next curve, he braked, stopping the truck so quickly it rocked on its springs.
She grabbed the front of the passenger seat to keep from face-planting against it. “What’s the problem now?”
“Phone.” He had his in one hand and held his other hand out toward her. “Hurry.”
“I don’t understand. Why do you need—”
“Sierra, I’m trying to save your life. And mine. Please, give me your phone.”
She reluctantly handed it to him.
He hurled both phones out the window toward the ravine on the far side of the road.
“Dang it, Beau. Was that really necessary?”
“No electronic trail, remember? Hang on.”
She clutched the front of the passenger seat again as he slammed the gas pedal. He spun the wheel, sending the truck racing toward the other side of the road, the one where the forest marched up the mountain toward the sky.
“Hold on,” he warned again. “Another sharp turn coming.”
“Let me guess. You learned to drive watching those ridiculousFast and Furiousmovies,” she snapped.
He laughed and spun the wheel again, earning a few more swear words as the truck did a one-eighty and stopped on the shoulder of the road.
“Good grief,” she muttered. “Tell me when I can open my eyes.”
“Definitely not yet.” He grinned and jammed the accelerator, skidding off the shoulder into a narrow rock-strewn area behind some boulders. If someone else drove down the road, it would be nearly impossible for them to realize there was a cut-through back there. Even though he’d known it was here, it had been hard for him to find it.
It was overgrown, by design. Little more than a path through the trees and barely wide enough for his truck to maneuver. Branches brushed the sides, making him wince at the sound ofthem scraping against metal, scratching the paint. Of course, that was nothing compared to the bullet holes and busted-out windshield. He was lucky the radiator hadn’t been hit, or they’d have been stranded.
Once he couldn’t see the road through the trees and bushes anymore, he pulled to a stop, and waited.
“Beau, what are we—”
“Sh,” he whispered.
Her eyes flew open. Then she squeezed them shut again.
A full minute passed. Then the roar of a car rushing past them came from the road below. As soon as the sound of the engine began to fade in the distance, he sent his truck forward again, racing up the mountain. He rounded a switchback, then another, weaving back and forth heading higher and higher.
He risked a quick glance at Sierra to make sure she was okay. Her eyes were open wide now, and she was hanging onto both the front of the seat and the armrest on the door, her knuckles whitening because she was gripping so hard.
“What’s going on?” Her voice was thick with a mixture of anger and fear. “What’s happening? Why are all of those men after us? Did the injured man, Randy, did he die? Beau, please. Tell me something, anything.”
Guilt rode him hard at the sound of the fear in her voice, the near desperation in her beautiful dark brown eyes. “I promise I’ll explain soon. You can sit in the seat now. You’re safe.”
