A couple of miles out of town, her voice came low and rough. “Do you think it’s true? About the affair?”
He wanted to reach for her, to take the edge out of her words, but he wasn’t about to give her anything false. “I don’t know. David never said anything to me about it.”
She didn’t respond right away. She just kept watching the road unspool ahead. When they reached the stretch by the culvert, she muttered, almost to herself, “I suspected it. I just didn’t want to believe it.”
Harlan swore under his breath, hands tightening on the wheel. He was about to pull over, to try to get her to look at him, when the crack of a gunshot tore through the morning air.
The truck jolted hard, the steering yanking in his grip as the front tire blew out.
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Chapter Seven
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The crack of the gunshot split the air, sharp and close, and the truck jolted hard to the right.
Laney’s shoulder slammed against the door as Harlan fought the steering wheel, tires screaming over the asphalt. The truck fishtailed, gravel spitting against the undercarriage, and the acrid stink of burning rubber filled the cab.
Her heart banged against her ribs, and she twisted toward the sound, the trees on her side of the road a blur of green and shadow. Somewhere in there, hidden by the tangle of brush, someone had fired at them. And another bullet followed. The second shot came fast, punching the driver’s side mirror into glittering shards that rained across Harlan’s lap.
Laney ducked low, her pulse roaring in her ears.
“Harlan!” she shouted.
She didn’t know if it came out as a warning or plea, but he already had the truck angled toward the narrow strip of ditch along the road. The grinding thud of the shredded tire made her teeth clench, but it was better than being a sitting target in the middle of the asphalt.
The truck skidded to a stop in the ditch, the frame rocking once before it stilled. She was already fumbling for both her weapon and the door handle.
“Go,” Harlan ordered, his voice low but sharp, and his command came a split-second before she intended to give the same one to him.
They couldn’t stay put, not at a standstill like this and with the bullets flying.
Laney drew her gun and hit the ground in a crouch, boots sinking into soft weeds. The air outside felt thicker, charged, every sound magnified. She heard the rush of blood in her ears, the ticking of the cooling engine, the faint rustle of leaves that could have been wind… or a shooter shifting position.
Yes, it could definitely be someone moving.
Glancing around for cover, she spotted some, and she darted toward the cover of a mesquite clump at the edge of the ditch. Laney kept her body low and the truck between her and where the shots had come from. Harlan was right behind her, the crunch of his boots just as fast and steady as her own.
Together, they dropped into the shadow and waited. Her breath was coming fast now, and her eyes scanned the brush, but she didn’t see or hear anything that would help her pinpoint, well, anything. The world seemed to hold its breath with them.
She was about to call this in, to request backup, when a dry cracking sound split the air and bark exploded from the mesquite trunk inches from her head. She ducked lower, her heart hammering. Whoever was shooting had a clear enough angle to kill them.
Harlan leaned out from cover just enough to peek past the truck. “The shooter’s in the brush, about forty yards out, near that fallen cedar,” he murmured.
His tone was calm, steady, but his eyes were locked in the way that told her he’d already not only calculated distance and cover, but he was coming up with a plan to put an end to this.
An end where they’d both make it out alive.
Laney did a quick text to call this in and tightened the grip on her gun, forcing her hands to stop trembling. She spotted a flicker of movement between the cedar branches. It was a sleeve, maybe. And she lifted her gaze just enough to watch the angle, tracking the shadow of the shooter shifting to try for another shot.
Another round of gunfire slammed into the truck’s side panel, and metal pinged in protest. Harlan gestured for her to circle wide and use the ditch to get a better position. She shook her head once, unwilling to leave him exposed, but his eyes narrowed in the kind of look that said they weren’t debating this.
Damn him.
The biggest risk was to stay put, and they both knew it. Still, now wasn’t the time to get into that. They had to do something now because one of those shots might actually do the job that the shooter obviously had in mind.
Silently cursing, Laney moved, sliding along the ditch and keeping low. The weeds and underbrush scratched at her arms, but she kept inching along with the shooter’s position slowly widening in her line of sight. And she finally saw him.
