“Zach!” Carly leaned into the back to hug him. Zach clung to her and they held on to each other for several long seconds before Carly let him go. “Thank God you’re okay.”
“Boy, I’m really glad to see you guys.”
Carly’s throat swelled. “We’re glad to see you, too.”
“You okay?” Linc asked. “They didn’t hurt you?”
“I’m okay, but I really want to go home.”
“So do we,” Carly said, knowing that until they got back on the road and away from these men, anything could still happen.
One thing she didn’t expect was the sound of the trailer being unhooked.
“Oh, no—they’re releasing the fifth wheel.” The trailer contained all the video evidence they had collected, everything they needed to make this nightmare end. “What are we going to do?”
But she was talking to air because Linc had stepped out of the cab and was striding toward Cuchillo, who stood a few feet away. Carly unfastened her belt, reached beneath the driver’s seat, and moved the Glock to her side of the truck. The windows were down so she could hear the conversation.
“You can’t have the trailer,” Linc said. “That wasn’t the deal.”
Cuchillo raised his pistol and aimed it at Linc’s broad chest. “Get backin the truck. You can afford to buy your woman another trailer. This one stays here.”
“Is El Jefe a man of his word or not?” Linc pressed. “The trailer is ours. We’re taking it home.”
Carly’s heart was pounding, thumping faster with each hostile word. She wanted to call Linc back, tell him they would find another way.
The cab jerked a little as the trailer came free and another man walked up, tall with very dark skin and a nose that was narrow and slightly hooked. As she recognized the man in Ross Townsend’s photo, her pulse pounded so hard, her ears started ringing. It was the terrorist, Hassan Mohammed Al-Razi.
Linc must have recognized him, too, because he turned and started walking back to the truck.
“Where do you think you are going?” Al-Razi asked.
Linc didn’t answer, just climbed in behind the wheel, and clicked his belt into place.
As he started the engine, Al-Razi walked up to the window. “Do you think I am going to let you just drive out of here?”
Linc ignored him. “Grab something and hold on, Zach. We’re leaving.”
Carly’s insides were shaking. Grateful she had buckled herself back in, she looked out the window to see a dozen men moving into position around the truck, pointing a variety of deadly-looking weapons at the cab.
“Time to go home,” Linc said. Dropping the truck into gear, he started pulling away from the dock. A wall of men moved in from all directions, but Linc just kept driving.
When a pickup shot out of nowhere, blocking the way forward, he slammed the truck intoREVERSEand cranked the wheel, jammed his foot down hard on the pedal, and the truck moved backward. Using the side mirrors to steer, he shifted again, picking up speed as the truck shot backward, scattering men in every direction, knocking one of them down. Pistols roared and shots tore through the metal sides and back of the cab.
“Get down!” Linc shouted as he shifted into highREVERSEand roared back across the asphalt. A barrage of gunfire shattered the side windows; another blew through the sleeper, missing Zach’s head by inches.
From her place in the foot well, Carly yanked the Glock out from under her seat, popped up, and began firing. She hit a man in the leg, one in the shoulder, heard the thump of wheels rolling over a body, but Linc just kept going, increasing his speed, roaring backward toward the gate, crashing through it at thirty miles an hour.
When the wheels shot into the street, he jerked the yellow parking brake and cranked the steering wheel, spinning the truck a hundred and eighty degrees, sliding it into a forward position. He released the brake, shifted again, his boot jammed down hard on the pedal and the truck shot off down the road.
Linc zigzagged, throwing off the aim of the men chasing after them on foot, firing like maniacs, their bullets slamming into the cab. He downshifted, roared around a corner, then started picking up speed again.
There was a line of cars coming toward them from up ahead. For a moment, Carly thought Al-Razi was bringing in reinforcements and a fresh rush of fear shot through her.
The most welcome sight she had ever seen were the initials FBI printed on the sides of the vehicles blowing past them, careening around the corner they had just turned, heading for the food processing plant.
“The FBI!” Zach shouted. “The FBI is coming!”
Carly grinned.
