Julian groaned at the set-back, but he wasn’t close to giving up.
Leaning slightly, he positioning himself at a ninety-degree angle from the door, drew his legs into a tight tuck, then kicked out with all his strength.
The door moved, but only by an inch.
Still, it was progress.
Julian wasn’t discouraged. Determination was on his side.
He put all his concentration into continued strikes.
Petula didn’t likeher temporary route. Not one bit.
And she was hoping it was just that.Temporary. She certainly wasn’t going to complain to her boss. If the bitch knew that this route was not to Petula’s liking, she wouldn’t put it past the sour-puss to make the change, permanent.
Checking that her next stop was still ten minutes out, Petula paused when she heard…a horn? Strange. This one wasn’t warning of someone coming around a corner toward her. This one had come from behind.
Petula slowed to a crawl, shifted her eyes from the road to her rearview mirrors, and…
Where was Julian?
There was no sign of him. When last she’d looked, he was only a few hundred feet behind. Of course, therewasthat bend in the road that could be hiding him. He could show up any minute. But…
She had doubts.
Was he having car trouble?
Petula wouldn’t dismiss that, considering the size of his vehicle and the conditions in which he was having to drive.
She made a quick decision, stopped, and told herself she’d wait for him to show.
Seconds ticked by, and after forty or fifty of them, Petula knew something had to be wrong. She was going to have to walk back—since turning her van on this road would be impossible——and see if he needed a lift.
Before she could even get a finger on the handle, however, her door was wrenched open, and in one swift move, hands pulled her out of the van and pushed her low to the ground.
Petula struggled.
“Wha—?”
“Shh,” a voice said in her ear. “We have to move. He’s coming.”
“Who? Who’s coming?” Petula asked shakily.
The voice sounded like Statler’s, but it wasn’t Stat, so?—
“Jefferson?” she asked incredulously in a quiet voice.
“Yeah. It’s me. But we have to move,” he reiterated. “Now, and quickly,” He helped her off the ground, then kept close to the van before urging her into the cover of the woods.
Petula tried to shake his firm but gentle grip loose.
“Where are you taking me? And who do you think is out here?” she questioned, beginning to grow concerned. “Jefferson. Stop. Julian is just behind us. He’s?—”
“Been ambushed,” Jefferson told her succinctly. “His car is toast. He’s okay, though. He’s moving. I saw. But he’s trapped inside. If you wait for him, it could be too late.”
“Too late for…?”
That’s when it hit her. Jeff wasn’t trying to hurt her. He thought he was helping in some way. But how? And was he delusional?
