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The truck coughed once, expelling a burst of exhaust, then turned over.
“Yes!” Finn shoved the truck into reverse, slapped his hand on the back of the seat and whipped the truck around. Gunfire echoed behind them. His hand hit her in the head, forcing her to fall across the seat. “Get down!”
Lauren covered her head with her hands and tried to stay on the seat as the truck whipped back and forth on the gravel. They turned toward the road, but just before they reached the pavement, Finn slammed on the brakes. Lauren’s body sailed forward into the dash, then dropped to the floorboards.
She squealed, then groaned. Finn didn’t seem to notice. He rolled the window down, lifted the gun and aimed.
Gunfire echoed in Lauren’s ears. Shouts followed. The truck’s tires spun out but finally found pavement. More gunfire exploded behind them, and then all sound faded but the hum of the old engine and the beat of Lauren’s racing heart.
She pushed herself up from the floor, crawled back on the seat. “What the hell was that?”
Finn’s jaw was a slash of steel beneath his skin as he shook his head. “I don’t know how they found us so fast. I shot out their tires, so hopefully they won’t be able to follow us.”
“Oh, my God,” she whispered, sinking back into the seat, staring out at the headlights illuminating the barren road. “The motel owner.”
“Don’t think about it.”
Right. Like that was possible. She fingered the gem at her chest. Was all this really about some stupid necklace?
Finn reached for the phone in his pocket, hit a number and held the phone to his ear. “Jake? They found us. Shit, yeah, we’re on the move. No, we’re both okay. Wait. I’m gonna put you on speaker.”
He hit a button, set the phone on the dashboard. “Lauren’s here with me.”
Lauren. Why, in the midst of a life-or-death crisis, did the sound of her name on his lips set off butterflies in her stomach ?
“Busy night for you, Ms. Kauffman. You doing okay?”
Jake Ryder had a strong, confident voice, one that for some odd reason put Lauren at ease. “I’m still alive. I guess that counts as okay.”
A soft chuckle echoed from the phone. “Balls of steel,” he muttered. “Tierney, you were wrong.”
Lauren had no idea what the man meant by that, but Finn obviously did. “I know,” he muttered. “Look, what do you know about a ruby called the Red Devil?”
Silence echoed over the line, followed by the distinct sound of computer keys clicking. “Nothing, but then I’m not big on the gem trade. Why?”
Finn checked the rearview mirror and glanced at Lauren. “Santiago gave Lauren a necklace. A teardrop-shaped gem, looks like a ruby, could be glass but . . . sonofabitch is big. He called it ‘the devil.’”
“Lauren,” Jake said af
ter a moment’s pause. “Describe it for me.”
She told him what she could, detailed the shape and weight and color of the gem, then said¸ “It can’t be real, can it?”
“I don’t know,” Jake answered. “Let me do some research. I’ll call you back.”
The phone clicked off. Finn glanced in the rearview again, then turned off on a side road, one Lauren didn’t even see in the dark.
“Are we being followed?” Anxiety amping, she twisted in her seat to look behind them.
“No, I’m just being cautious.” He looked her way, the lights from the old dash illuminating the contours of his now-familiar face, the bruise across his jaw, the little hickey on his neck she’d given him only hours ago. “You’re pretty damn good in a crisis, Slim.”
She sat back again, couldn’t help feeling warmed by his compliment. Then cooled by that nickname all over again. Fortunately, her heart rate was finally back in the normal range, and she felt she could breathe once more. “You’re not so bad yourself.” She looked ahead at the dirt and gravel illuminated by the truck’s headlights and the thickening jungle on both sides of the makeshift road. “Where to now?”
“Jake has an operative who’s got a place down here. He’s got a chopper at his ranch. Should be able to fly us out.”
“An operative? Way out here?”
“Yeah. He’s kind of on a break.”
