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The sound of muttered curses echoed behind her, followed by the heavy fall of footsteps. She summoned all the energy she had left and ran faster, harder, for the truck. She reached the driver’s side and flung open the door, hopping onto an attached footstep on the side and hurling herself on the seat. Her breath came out in ragged pants, and her lungs burned. She closed the door and pushed down on the manual lock with shaking fingers, then reached across the seat to lock the passenger door.
Straightening, she looked at the ignition, disappointed not to find a set of keys dangling. She slid her hand into a tray below the radio but came up empty. No. This was her last shot. The keys had to be in here or she was screwed.
Pounding on the driver’s side window pushed adrenaline through her veins. Cory stood beside the door, face red and filled with fury. The gun aimed at her through the glass. “Open the damn door.”
Ignoring him, she flipped down the visor, and a single key tumbled onto her lap.
The sound of gunfire exploded, and a bullet blew through the window and lodged in the passenger seat. Glass shattered, sharp shards pelting her face.
She screamed, fighting the instinct to duck and cover her head with her arms. Gripping the key, she shoved it in the ignition then swallowed hard at the cluster of dials and gauges on the dash.
Cory plunged his arm through the jagged hole in the window.
With no time to think or second guess herself, she started the engine, shoved what she assumed to be the clutch, and jammed her foot down on the gas.
The dump truck shot backward, and Cory flew off the side.
Izzy slammed on the brake, repositioned the clutch, and gunned the vehicle forward. The truck veered to the side, and she jerked the wheel. Tires crunched over a lump, jostling her in the wide, cloth seat. Instinct pressed her foot against the brake, and she threw the dump truck in Park. She leaned over the steering wheel and peered out the wide window.
A pair of jean-clad legs stretched out from under the oversized tire. She covered her mouth with her hand. Bile coated her tongue. Her need to escape fought against her natural instinct to make sure she hadn’t just killed someone.
Even if he deserved to die.
She fell back into the seat and gripped the round knob of the clutch.
A large man popped up at the side of the door and hooked his arm inside the shattered window.
A scream ripped through her, and she struggled to put the clutch in in Drive. Terror bounced around inside her and unshed tears burned the backs of her eyes.
The man unlocked the door, yanked it open, and jerked her through.
She spilled out of the vehicle and crashed onto the ground, the impact knocking the air from her lungs.
The man kneeled beside her, a creepy smile twisting his lips. “You’re not going anywhere, sweetheart.”
* * *
A hurricaneof emotions whirled inside Beau, stretching his skin. Fear and anger boiled his blood as impatience at the chaos circling him in Izzy’s kitchen cracked through his veneer. He kept his gaze on Paxton as she paced and twirled a strand of hair around her index finger over and over. Gavin, her boyfriend and current police academy recruit, stood with his back pressed against the sink, his foot tapping an annoying pace against the floor.
A stinging pain brought his attention back to Vaughn, the young EMT who’d cleaned and dressed his shoulder. When Cruz and Brooke arrived ten minutes before, Beau’d fought hard to go with them as they searched the property for signs of where Izzy had gone. But his need for medical attention had kept him on the sidelines, desperate to be in the action.
“Sorry, man,” Vaughn said, securing an adhesive patch over the sensitive skin on his shoulder. “You can put your shirt back on. You’re lucky the bullet didn’t lodge into your flesh. I was able to take care of it here. The shot to you calve looks a little worse, but I managed to clean it as best I could. You should head to the hospital, though.”
“Thanks.” He scooped his shirt off the floor and swallowed hard. Blood stained the gray fabric, drying and making the material stiff.
Paxton cringed. “I’d offer you something, but I don’t think any of us have clothes that’d fit you.”
He balled up the shirt and tossed it on the mahogany table. “I have a duffle in the truck.”
“I’ll go grab it,” Gavin said. He crossed to Paxton and rubbed his palms over her arms then pressed a kiss to her forehead. “We’ll find her.”
Paxton drew in a shuddering breath and leaned into him. “How? Last time, I was right there when they took her. Finding her wasn’t a total shot in the dark. This time….” A sob caught in her throat.
Gavin gathered her close and caught Beau’s eye over Paxton’s head.
Beau clenched his jaw, willing Gavin’s words of comfort to be truth.
The back door swung open, and Cruz and Brooke came inside.
