“I don’t—”
He cut her off with a sigh. “Remember. Right.”
A shooter had tried to kill her? Steal her cargo? And was possibly still out there? Cullen stood motionless, watching her. He was a stranger ... with no vehicle visible that she could see.
He indicated something else with a jut of his chin. She looked. A splotch of red caught her attention, and she gasped. The small print on the passenger window was a bloody, partial outline of a hand. Cold inched along her nerves.
His brows drew together, lines bracketing his forehead. “Not your blood. You were still strapped in when I arrived.”
“And not yours?”
He held up his calloused palms as if she were attempting to rob him. “No blood, and that’s a tiny print. I got big hands.”
Someone had pushed their wayoutof her truck. Someone bleeding. “I was alone. I never travel with anyone else.”
“Until today maybe.”
“No. I was alone.”
“Ms. Kit, we can talk about that after we’re clear of this location. Gotta get out. Take us ’bout a half hour to reach my truck. Let’s stick to the trees in case whoever it is hasn’t left.”
Before she could reply, he’d climbed down again and started to scour the ground. Without a moment of warning, the slope let loose with a noise like thunder. Cullen barely managed to scramble back inside and slam the door. They flung themselves in the seats and held on. Soil rolled and pummeled her rig, shaking and rattling. A brown avalanche rushed by the wreck.
Debris shot around them, rocking the trailer.
Unbelievable. They would die here in her truck, the machine she loved that had given her an independent life.
A boulder slammed into the roof, the percussion swallowing her scream. Would the roof give? Cullen leapt up, pushed her behind the driver’s seat, and crouched beside her. Her heart thundered so hard she was sure he could feel it, his wide chest pressed against her shoulder. The percussion of the earth piling all around them was like the onslaught of a hurricane.
Time stood still. Five seconds? Ten? Fifteen? And then it stopped.
Her breath came in harsh gasps.
He crept to the window. “Well, you’re not driving this rig anytime soon, but it appears we won’t be buried alive just now.”
She forced her lungs to do their job. “We can dig out. I’ve got a small shovel.”
He opened his mouth to answer when a strange noise emanated from the sleeping area. They both jerked as if they’d been touched by hot lava.
That sound...
It couldn’t be what she thought it was. Her brain was misfiring. It had to be the concussion. But the noise continued,and Cullen looked as if he’d heard it too. The hairs on the back of her neck prickled. “What ... what is that?”
His intense stare added to her unease. “You said you never carry any passengers.”
Passengers?“I don’t.” She gaped.
He shoved aside the curtain to the sleeping area and crawled inside. She was immobile as he returned a moment later, eyes wide with shock, holding a car seat. The seat held a baby in pink pajamas who wriggled, let out a cry, and strained against the straps of her carrier. The toothless mouth opened wide like that of a newly hatched bird.
Kit could not summon a single word.
“Her seat was belted to the chair in your sleeping area.” He looked from the baby to Kit, his expression hardening with suspicion. “Well?”
She blinked, nerves screaming. “I...”
He cocked his head. “How exactly did this baby get into your truck, Kit Garrido?”
TWO
