Talk about a clusterfuck…
Rowan had been worried about the vehicle as soon as it had pulled out behind them at the hospital. The way it had stayed exactly two cars back the entire drive to her place. Nothing overtly aggressive, but she’d gotten that heavy feeling between her shoulder blades — the kind that usually meant she was being watched. And she knew better than to ignore her instincts.
The fact Bodie had picked up on it, even when she suspected his leg hurt far more than he’d let on, impressed her. And she meant what she’d said. He’d surpassed her expectations. The fact she couldn’t get how he’d covered her during the grenade launch out of her mind — risked taking more shrapnel in order to protect her — only emphasized how much of a warrior he was. That she was well on her way to developing a full-blow obsession for the man.
The road veered left, and she counted down her first maneuver as she hugged the right shoulder, the next exit appearing up ahead. Bodie gripped the handle above his door like he had the other night, body primed, his injured leg slightly turned. What she assumed was his way of bracing it for the upcoming fight. She just hoped she didn’t let him down.
The exit rushed up at them, the oncoming traffic spread out just enough she’d have to time it right or risk getting T-boned. The cars in front of her slowed, taking the exit ramp when she yanked up on the parking brake. Her SUV fishtailed hard, skidding several feet before she punched the gas — crossed the solid yellow line and slipped in front of a tractor trailer, then onto a nondescript road on their left.
Horns blared, tires screeched, a plume of smoke billowing in her rearview as the truck braked hard but kept moving, blocking any view of the highway before she rounded the next bend, continued up into an old industrial park.
Bodie mumbled something beside her, his gaze sweeping the mirrors before he cursed. “They’re back.”
“Guess I wasn’t paranoid, after all.” She advanced her GPS, scanned the terrain. “There’s an old paper mill up ahead. Place is a maze, with ramps and open buildings. I’ll get some distance. See if we can scoot in, let them pass, then double back.”
“And if they follow us inside?”
She spared him a quick look. “Then, we get creative.”
Rowan hit the accelerator, picked up speed as the single lane wove uphill, going through a couple switchbacks before straightening out. The main section continued on, vanishing around another corner. What eventually led to a series of old logging roads and spurs through a chunk of private and federal land parcels. Her next choice if she couldn’t lose the Bronco by hiding in the old factory.
The Chevy shook as she took a hard left, skipping over a bunch of gravel wash before gaining more traction on the cracked asphalt. The tires chirped, rocks pinged off the undercarriage before the vehicle shot forward, barreling through a set of open gates and onto the property.
Mud splattered across the windshield as she hit a series of potholes going way too fast, bouncing some loose change out of one of the cupholders. Bodie hissed out a breath, his jaw clenched as she took a sharp right — raced up a ramp and into a derelict warehouse structure. The last of the fading light winked through the holes in the slats, deep shadows stretching the length of the space.
She spun the SUV, pulled in alongside of a massive support beam, then killed the engine. It ticked in the background, the fan whirling for a bit before shutting off, plunging the interior into an eerie silence.
Bodie leaned closer, a twitch of his mouth the only indication his leg hurt. “At least all that rain kept the dust down.”
“The mud leaves tracks, though. Assuming they’d stop to check.” She cursed when the far bend brightened, incoming headlights reflecting off the surrounding buildings. “Guess we’ll have to get creative.”
“Do I want to know what you have in mind?”
She glanced over at him, her fingers hovering over the ignition. “We’ll start with not dying. Go from there.”
Bodie frowned. “Shooting at us in the middle of nowhere’s one thing. But taking on law enforcement out here?”
Rowan’s chest tightened. “Trust me. If my hunch is right, neither of our badges is going to be a deterrent.”
“So, you do know who they are.”
She paused, the hard tone of his voice dropping her gut. After everything he and his teammates had been through, she didn’t blame him for questioning her loyalty. Hell, her sanity. Even if she’d hoped her silence would keep the target off his back.
“Not who. I just have a pretty good idea what they’re protecting.” She turned on the engine, kept the lights off. “Hold tight. This might get ugly.”
The Bronco slowed as it rounded the corner, the passenger window already down, some guy in black tactical gear hanging out the side, rifle notched in his shoulder. He scanned the area as the headlights cut a path through the growing darkness, glinting off the exposed nails and metal railings.
Rowan waited, interior dark, engine purring in the background until the Bronco paused at the ramp, the driver’s door cracking open for a moment. What she assumed was the driver checking the tracks.
She punched the gas, spinning the tires a bit when they slipped on the concrete before the Tahoe jumped ahead, quickly picking up speed as she roared across the main floor, headed for the side exit on the far wall. The driver slammed the door, spun the wheel, mud and gravel spitting out the back as he tried to find purchase on the slick ground.
A bright light lit up her rearview as she shot out the far end, the Bronco quickly closing in. The exit ramp creaked and groaned, the old wooden braces giving a bit under the weight — dropping the Chevy a few inches as the vehicle soared off the end, sideswiping a bush before getting enough traction it peeled off toward the exit.
Until another vehicle appeared on her left, barreling down on them, grill filling up her field of view. Bodie inhaled beside her as she counted it down in her head, slamming on the brakes once the Suburban had committed to ramming her. It sailed past, barely missing her front end, the driver skidding wildly to the left when he tried to stop on a slick section of washboard. The heavy SUV hit the chain-link fence, metal grating on metal, one of the posts shaking as the Suburban clipped it.
Rowan got the Tahoe moving just as the Bronco half-slid off the ramp, hitting that same bush before leaping forward. She swerved right, tires kicking up a spray of gravel as she maneuvered around the gate, when another SUV skidded off the main road, headlights flashing on them, distance quickly closing. The passenger window lowered, another asshole dressed in black leaned out — aimed a rifle their way.
Rowan kicked the rear end out as she fishtailed left, skirted past a concrete barrier, up and over the curb before hitting the road. The chassis creaked, everything inside the vehicle catching air as the SUV hit the asphalt — veered right.
