The SUV lurched forward, tires spinning in the mud before catching traction. Avery turned to look back, the glow of Warren’s porch light fading into the storm.
Jackson didn’t slow as they reached the end of the driveway. He leaned forward slightly, scanning the road.
Then the sound hit—a sharp, deafening crack.
Bullets slammed into the side of the SUV.
Chapter Nine
The gunfire kept coming, sharp and relentless. The sound tore through the rain, echoing off the trees. Jackson gritted his teeth, his hands locked on the wheel.
Whoever was shooting wasn’t alone. The pattern of the shots was too fast, too steady. Either there were multiple shooters, or someone was using an automatic.
Charlotte. Darian. Maybe even Mick.
He couldn’t tell. He couldn’t see a damn thing through the rain and glare of the headlights.
“Stay down!” he shouted, glancing in the rearview mirror to make sure Avery had ducked.
She had. Her head was low, her arms covering it. Good.
Jackson pressed the accelerator, sending the SUV flying down the drive. Mud and water splashed over the windshield, the wipers barely keeping up. Another burst of gunfire rattled against the reinforced panels, the sound like hail against metal.
Then came a heavy thud. The SUV jolted hard to the left. Jackson swore.
A bullet had hit the tire. It wouldn’t blow completely. These tires were bullet-resistant. But the impact had cost him pressure. The vehicle wobbled, pulling left as he fought to keep it straight.
He gripped the wheel tighter, forcing it back into line. “Hold on,” Jackson warned her.
Rain and mud streaked across the glass. The headlights cut through the storm in broken flashes, and still, he couldn’t see who was firing.
Whoever they were, they were close. And they weren’t letting up.
Jackson fought the wheel, muscles straining as the SUV fishtailed on the slick road. The damaged tire dragged, pulling hard to the left, and he had to jerk it back to keep from sliding into the ditch.
He could feel it, air bleeding out fast. He wouldn’t get far before the tire gave completely.
“Buckle up!” he shouted over the rain. “And get your gun ready, just in case.”
Avery’s voice came tight from the backseat. “I’m on it.”
Good. He needed her alert, not panicked.
The gunfire cut off as suddenly as it had started, leaving only the roar of the rain and the grind of the damaged tire. Jackson glanced in the mirror, scanning the darkness behind them. For a few seconds, there was nothing but sheets of rain. Then a pair of headlights appeared.
Big ones.
A truck.
It came fast, the lights bouncing over the uneven road as it gained on them.
Jackson’s pulse kicked up. It wasn’t the van Darian and Charlotte had been in, and it wasn’t Mick’s truck either. But that didn’t mean anything. They could have swapped vehicles. Or maybe they’d brought in backup.
A hired gun.
The kind who didn’t stop shooting until the job was done.
Jackson’s grip tightened on the wheel. “Hang on, Avery,” he said, voice low and steady. “This isn’t over.”
