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“We have to report this, Raina.”
“I know, but let’s just try to wrap this up in less than two hours—with us alive at the end of it, of course.”
“I love your optimism.”
Ignoring the pain in his limbs, Vince scanned the area for a phone—and came up empty. Not that he was surprised. Mostpeople had their cells and didn’t bother with a landline anymore. “Well, there’s enough hay in here to keep about ten horses fed for a few years, so if we get hungry, I guess we can chow down.”
“Yay.” She sounded so forlorn, so opposite from only seconds before, he couldn’t help but smile in spite of everything.
He pulled the bag from his uninjured shoulder and tossed it to her. “Anything in there you could use?”
Her eyes widened. “You grabbed my bag? We don’t have to eat hay, I have protein bars and trail mix. You’re my hero. Thank you.”
Despite the chill invading every inch of his body, heat crept up from his neck into his cheeks. He cleared his throat. “You’re welcome.” He walked to the window next to the door and looked out in the direction they’d run from. He could see his truck listing in the ditch. Probably totaled. Rats. He’d liked that truck.
The rain still fell, creating small rivers in the muddy field. But he didn’t see any evidence that someone had followed them. Not that that was a good indication. The water would have washed away any footprints.
He started to turn, but movement near the truck whipped him back around.
“What is it?” Raina stepped up next to him, a blanket wrapped around her, and her hair pulled back in a ponytail tied at the nape of her neck. She looked beautiful, vulnerable, scared ... and strong all at the same time.
He swung his gaze back to the area where he’d seen the shadow but was now wondering if he’d imagined it.
Sure hadn’t imagined the bullets that had come their way.
Doing his best to ignore the cold—yet again—and the pain in his leg, he stayed focused and ... yes, there. The rain had slowed to a drizzle and Vince could make out the figure in the truck bed. “He’s going through my truck,” Vince murmured.
“What?” She scooted closer, trying to see.
He made room for her, breathing in the scent that was uniquely hers. A mixture of strawberry body wash and vanilla shampoo. A scent he didn’t think he’d ever get tired of—Stop it!
“While he’s distracted, now might be a good time to head to the house,” Raina said. “See if there’s a phone there?”
He really didn’t think there would be, but...
The guy stood, yanked his ball cap lower with a movement that indicated frustration. He had a bag over his shoulder—probably loaded with ammo—and turned to survey the area, gun in his right hand, left hand on his hip. “He’s mad we’re not there,” Vince said. “He thought he got us. The good thing is, I don’t think he saw us run for the barn.”
“How is that possible?”
“I don’t know. Something distracted him? He assumed his bullets hit their mark?”
The man’s gaze landed on the barn and Vince ducked back. In time? He eased back to the window. “But it’s safe to assume that since we’re not dead in the truck, he’ll know we got away and are hiding somewhere close by. Won’t take him long to figure that out and start looking. Probably here first.”
Their attacker walked through the flooded ditch to the side they’d exited. His gaze swept the ground and he punched the fence post with a fist.
After several seconds, he walked back to Vince’s truck.
“What are you doing, dude?” Vince whispered aloud.
Raina reached out and took his hand, her fingers spasming around his. The guy stuck something in his bag, checked the weapon, then aimed himself at the barn.
“What’s he doing?” Raina asked. “He’s carrying something. I can’t tell what it is.”
“I don’t know, but just like I figured, he’s coming this way.”
CHAPTER
EIGHTEEN
