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Boone’s dog gave Gemma an adoring look. He was pretty sure Atlas was half in love with her.
Soon they were back on the road. If they had a good run, they should make Denver by the afternoon.
Gemma handed him a donut, and he ate it while Gemma ate her muffin. She sang along to some sickly-sweet pop song that came on the radio.
Boone smiled. She didn’t have a bad voice, but she wasn’t exactly in tune. She made up for it with her enthusiasm.
The highway stretched ahead. It had been a while since he’d driven such a long distance. He glanced at Gemma, who was serenading Atlas. It was nice to take a trip with company. A woman filled with light and life. She was fighting off the weight of expectations to follow her passion, and she was being hunted by dangerous people, but she was still smiling.
He glanced in the rearview mirror.
Then he stiffened.
Two black SUVs were bearing down on them. Fast.
His instincts started screaming.
“Gemma, you strapped in?”
Her singing cut off. “Of course. Who doesn’t wear a seatbelt in this day and age?” Then she frowned, picking up on his tension. “What’s wrong?”
“We have company.”
She gasped and looked back. “How? How did they find us?”
A good fucking question.
“Stay down.” He stomped on the accelerator.
As he picked up speed, so did the SUVs.
One roared up beside them. The windows were tinted, and he couldn’t see inside. Then suddenly, the SUV careened into them. Metal crunched. Gemma screamed.
Boone held tight, fighting to keep them on the road. Then he jerked the wheel, ramming his truck into the SUV.
“God, we’re going to die,” she cried.
“Not today.” Jaw tight, he rammed the SUV again. It lost control and careened off the road.
In the rearview mirror, he saw it flip.
“Oh, shit,” Gemma panted.
“Stay down.”
Bullets peppered the back of his truck. Boone ducked, and Gemma screamed again. Atlas stayed low, and didn’t make a sound or move. Boone leaned over him, opened the glove box, and pulled out a handgun.
There was more gunfire, and suddenly the truck shuddered. Dammit, they’d hit a tire. He set the gun on the seat beside him, and gripped the wheel to stay in control.
Suddenly, Gemma opened her window.
“Gemma, what are you doing? I said stay down.”
“No.” She grabbed the handgun. “I’m going to help.”
“Gemma,” he growled.
He couldn’t stop her and keep control of the truck at the same time.
