At the door, he climbed out, standing below, arm extended to help her.
She looked at him, burdened like a pack mule. Was she really going to do this? Run into the night with a stranger and a baby with a volcano threatening to bury them alive?
But the vehicle with no lights, the bullet holes, the blood...
With her ruined truck behind her, she clung to Cullen’s hand and stepped down into the darkness.
FOUR
Cullen triedto keep holdof Kit’s elbow to prevent her from foundering in the debris. They staggered up the slope with all the grace of two people in a bizarre three-legged race. When she stumbled, he held her steady, the baby’s cries swallowed by the rain. When he lost his footing, she grabbed the back of his jacket, which staved off a face plant.
He didn’t bother to keep track of the approaching car. Big Guns, presumably, was winding his way closer every moment. If they didn’t make it to his truck before company arrived, he’d have to hold them off somehow. At the moment it required all his concentration to achieve the first part of the plan. The sifting ash coated his face and stung his eyes, went up his nose. He prayed the raincoat was enough to protect Tot’s lungs. His own were burning.
Kit fell forward over a concealed rock, and he barely caught her, almost falling himself.
She looked at him, her face luminous with a coating of silver dust. “How much farther?”
“Five minutes. Almost there.” It was likely closer toten, but five sounded friendlier. His mother had always told her three boys everything good would happen in that mythical five minutes. He was a full-on preteen before he finally realized her trick. They kept battling, hands clutched together. He was wet and filthy, and Kit was having trouble yanking her legs from the mess when at long last he spotted the outline of his trusty old Dodge.Sweeter than a valentine.
“There she is.”
The sight lit a fire under both of them, and together they surged up the final steep section and crested the road.
“I’ll drive,” he said as he hustled to the passenger door. “You keep trying to get a signal on my phone.”
“But the baby,” she panted. “We left the car seat. How do I...”
He yanked the door open and practically lifted Kit inside, tossing the duffel bag at her feet. “Gonna have to make do. Buckle yourself in and hold on to her best you can.”
He hauled the seat belt as far as it would go and held it for her while she settled and snapped it into place. The windows were an absolute mess, and he swiped off a smattering of branches as he raced around to the driver’s seat.
“Thank you, God,” he breathed as the engine coughed to life. He released the brake and eased onto the road. The tires flung plumes of ash upward, which were again batted down by the rain. Nothing in the rearview, not yet. He increased the pace. Each foot of elevation they climbed made him hopeful they’d get a signal.
“Now?” He pointed to his phone. “Got anything? Are you checking?”
“Of course I’m checking,” she snapped.
Obviously not the time to micromanage. He applied his mind to plans while she continued to monitor the cell phone.
“There’s a turnoff to the highway in about a quarter mile. We’ll...”
The rest of the itinerary died on his lips as an SUV appeared around the bend behind them. No headlights. He wouldn’t have even seen it coming if a sudden, faint thread of moonlight hadn’t burst through at that moment. Stomach clenched, he accelerated. So did their pursuers. Smothering an oath, he pressed the gas to the floor. Sludge churned underneath them, spewing to either side.
The road was a minefield of potential obstacles, and he prayed they wouldn’t have a tire blowout. Kit grabbed the armrest, braced her legs, and clung to the squirming lump in her jacket. Tot wriggled and cried against Kit’s belly, undulating like the iconic scene from theAlienmovie.
No matter how fast he pressed, the followers kept pace, inching closer.
He gritted his teeth, straining forward as if that would increase their speed. “Truck’s not fast enough.”
Kit’s eyes went wide. “Are they going to ...”
Cullen had only seconds to shoot out an arm and pin Kit in place as the car rammed them from behind. The impact was violent, and even with his restraining forearm, Kit was thrown forward. “Protect Tot’s head best you can!” he shouted, gas pedal to the floor. He gained a few feet from the SUV, but the gap was already closing between his truck and the more agile vehicle.
His cop brain took notes. One assailant or two?
Minimum two, he decided, could be more in the rear seat, but he pushed that worrying fact to the back of his brain. Reality check. They weren’t going to make it to the turnoff that led to his property. Cold sweat speckled his brow. He risked a two-second stop and quickly grabbed the gun from under Kit’s seat, ignoring her stare. Then he floored the gas again. If it came down to him against two or possibly more armed men, he didn’t give them stellar chances.
His teeth ground together, gritty from the ash in his mouth.
