He grinned. He’d forgotten how much he enjoyed her sense of humor. “As you can see, I’ve got everything under control.”
“Right, except for where you’re about to pass out from blood loss. Guess your consult didn’t go as planned.”
“I’ve had better meetings. Worse, too. Though, right now, we need to get to Sloane. She was on her way here when she just stopped. Last time my phone worked, she was stuck at a logging spur junction a few miles north of here.”
“Pretty sure I know the place, but there’s no way you’re walking all that way. In fact, my truck’s only a couple klicks south, and you’d be lucky to make it halfway.”
“I’m not giving up on Sloane?—”
“Relax, jackass, I didn’t say we weren’t going after her.” She motioned down the path he’d started on. “These boys have a Silverado parked at the head of this trail. Close enough even you should be able to drag your ass there before passing out.”
“Like you said. I’m not dead, yet.”
“Another thirty minutes with you bleeding the way you are…”
He huffed, started shuffling, each step an exercise in willpower. In forcing his feet forward, not falling face-first into the mud. Tierney guided him along, gaze constantly searching the forest, rifle at a low ready. It seemed to take forever to cover the short distance down the trail, emerge onto an overgrown logging road, pockets of broom and salal choking the two-track.
A dark-gray, heavy-duty Chevy pickup sat angled across the dirt, mud sprayed up the sides. Tierney arched her brow, silentlyasking if he could balance on his own for a moment before she folded back into the trees, reappearing a minute later on his other side.
She looped his arm around her shoulders, again, got them moving. “Area’s clear. Hopefully, it stays that way.”
He snorted. “Something tells me we aren’t going to be that lucky for the rest of the trip.”
“Not if you keep jinxing it. Sheesh, Nick, read the room.”
She stopped next to the vehicle, used a wedge to open the doors, then helped him into the passenger seat. “You should really go in the back, elevate that leg, but I know you’d spend the entire drive bitching about it, so…”
“I can stay awake for another five minutes.”
“I’d say that’s ambitious, at best, but you are a stubborn son of a bitch. Just, try not to bleed all over the seat.”
“Too la?—”
A distant rhythmic thump cut him off, the low timber lingering in the clearing until another round sounded. Heavy. Carrying a punch that hit him straight in the heart. What could have been thunder except he’d recognize the pop of automatic gunfire anywhere.
“Shit, that’s gotta be Sloane.”
Tierney cursed, yanked the wires down from beneath the steering column, got a spark jumping between them. The engine roared to life, chugging out a puff of blue smoke as she revved the motor before slipping back down to idle.
She shoved it into gear, looked over at him. “You might want to buckle up. If this road’s like the others, it’s gonna be rough.”
The tires spun a couple times as she punched the gas, spitting out rocks and dirt before the truck surged forward, eating up the track. The scenery rushed past, roiling Nick’s stomach, testing his claim that he’d last until they reached Sloane.
Tierney shifted her gaze to him, muttered something about him looking like death, then urged the truck faster. The chassis shuddered around a blind corner, everything sliding right as they hit a stretch of washboard, plowed through it.
Pain bloomed hot and sharp in his thigh, the previous numbness lost to the bouncing shocks, the way the vehicle skipped across a series of potholes, rattling the interior, sending something in the back skittering across the floorboards.
He tried to brace against the impact as she slalomed up a series of switchbacks, skidding around bends, then bucking through more ruts. They hit the top of a hill, careened down the other side, Tierney driving as if she saw the road five seconds into the future — knew what line gave her the fastest route without slamming into a tree.
Nick clenched his jaw, every jolt a fresh spike of agony. Not that he’d ask her to slowdown. Not with Sloane’s life in the balance.
They burst onto the paved two lane like a missile, tires screeching, backend fishtailing across the asphalt as Tierney spun the Chevy, left two long skid marks along the blacktop. She hit the gas, really picked up speed, the wheels humming as the engine whined, the scenery nothing but a blur out the side windows.
She rounded the next corner, the headlights mapping out the scene. What looked like a government-issue sedan idling sideways in front of a logging truck, glass cracked, bullet holes stitched across the side. A group of armed mercs closed in on the truck in a classic L formation, rifles up at their shoulders, body armor layered over black camo. Muzzle flashes lit up the shadows, a steady stream of casings clicking across the road.
A couple SUVs blocked this side of the two lane, doors yawned open, one hatch raised high.
Tierney didn’t even slow, just slammed her foot on the gas, clipped the back bumper of the first Suburban — sent it into an uncontrolled spin into the ditch. Nick leaned out, fired off a few rounds, kept anyone behind them from getting too ballsy as Tierney swerved around the next vehicle. She sheared one of the rear doors clean off the hinges before quickly closing in on the third SUV. The men scattered, diving into the parallel ditches as she kissed the last Suburban, physically shoved the entire chassis sideways.
