He didn’t even try to stop the truck—just distract and redirect, drawing its attention with the subtlety of a battering ram—effectively cutting off the truck.
Outback policing, apparently.Taryn shook her head, half in disbelief, half in admiration.She’d never underestimate an NT cop again, especially one who’d worn out three patrol wagons as part of his day job.
But the truck fishtailed.Just for a moment, as if trying to make a choice on which track to take.
They’d blocked off three roads at Billycan Corner.All that was left was one tiny gap of a wallaby track and the road that Craig had blocked with his horse truck.
The road train hit the wallaby track.
‘Come on.’Finn gunned it, and the troopy roared in response with pure steel and stubbornness on wheels.
The road train hogged the entire wallaby track with its massive tyres chewing the dirt.
That left Finn with only one option…
Off-road.
Taryn gritted her teeth, and held on tight, as the troopy ploughed through the scrub, as the bull bar smashed through saplings like they were matchsticks.A cloud of powdery red exploded as they obliterated a termite mound, with the impact rattling up her spine.
Yet Finn kept the truck pinned to their left, shadowing it through choppy ditches and pig ruts.
The wheel juddered in his grip.The chassis groaned and the V8 engine howled with every jolt.But Finn looked like he wasbornfor this.Focused.Fierce.
She wasn’t sure if this was bravery or madness—but either way, she was into it.Right seat.Right team.Wrong terrain.And loving every second of it.
The drone’s footage showed the Hellhound was doing the same on the other side of the truck, with Amara in the police ute closing in from the rear.
‘Amara, Porter,’ barked out Finn on the radio, ‘keep the pressure on.Craig, you know what to do, take that shortcutnow.And we’ll let the driver think he’s choosing the paddock over prison.’Finn pushed the troopy to roar down the sides of the road train, a double-decker wall of cattle so close, Taryn could reach out and touch it.
Ahead, from nowhere, Craig’s horse truck suddenly appeared like a wall of steel—parked sideways near the curve, effectively narrowing the path.
The driver saw it.
He braked.
The rig skidded.
One of its trailer’s jack-knifed dangerously close to wiping out the troopy, as dust exploded from beneath it.
The entire metal beast groaned—a deep, grinding scream of torque and steel—as the cattle bawled, with panic rippling through its trailers.
When, finally, it shuddered to a stop.
Finn brought the troopy to a halt, dust swirling around them in hot, blinding clouds.
Taryn shoved the door open, badge and gun already out, adrenaline surging, as she raced for the truck driver’s door.‘DRIVER, OUT OF THE TRUCK NOW!HANDS WHERE I CAN SEE THEM!’
For a second, nothing happened as the dust fell like a curtain to reveal the sky.
Then the cab door cracked open.
A sweaty male in his early forties lifted his hands.‘What’s going on, officer?I’m just making a delivery.’
‘You’re under arrest for livestock theft, dangerous driving, and endangering livestock.And that’s just the start of our list of charges.’Taryn’s tone was as cool as stone.
‘What are you gonna do?’Finn’s voice was gruff as he climbed out of the troopy—all six-foot-something and bad attitude with a badge.‘Play cowboy?Or play nice for the lady?’
Ooh.He called her a lady now.
