Then she slipped. Dawson caught her before she and Grace ended up on the ground. “You okay?” he whispered.
“Yes.” She righted herself. “Are you sure we’re doing the right thing by following Ricky?”
“He wants the same thing we do. To get the evidence into the right hands.” Dawson scanned her face, her expression barely visible in the darkness. “What’s the matter?”
“I don’t know.” She shook her head and adjusted the jacket over Grace. “It’s nothing. Let’s keep moving.”
Dawson nodded, and they continued on the path. Ricky had slowed down, allowing them to catch up. He waved silently, as if to urge them on, and then pointed to a small path leading through the trees. Dawson knew it well. He’d used it many times to find his way back to the house. Ricky was taking them in the right direction.
Still, a niggle of doubt, caused by Peyton’s suspicion, wormed its way through his confidence. Were they making a mistake to trust the ATF agent? They hadn’t verified he was, in fact, law enforcement. They’d simply taken his word because they’d both deduced he was ATF before Ricky showed up on their doorstep.
Lightning burst across the sky, brightening the woods with a flash. Dawson caught sight of two bikers in the woods, closing in. He raised his weapon and fired. Ricky mirrored his movements. Screams from the men indicated they’d both taken a hit.
“Hurry!” Ricky ducked under a low-hanging branch.
Dawson urged Peyton forward. She broke into a run, nearly slipping again on the slick path, before righting herself.
A shout.
Before Dawson could react, Peyton fired her weapon. A man hollered in pain. The woods were crawling with bikers.
God, help me get them out of here!
They raced the last few feet to the road. Ricky was already in the car, the engine fired up. Peyton fumbled with the handle of the rear door before flinging it open. She dove into the backseat.
Movement out of the corner of his eye had Dawson whirling. He fired his weapon. A muzzle flashed, and a second later, pain ripped through his hip. He fell to the ground, inches from the open car door. Peyton’s face appeared, little Grace’s dark curls peeking out from the top of the sling. Dawson couldn’t risk it.
“Ricky, get them out of here!”
Peyton screamed, “No!” as Dawson turned to fire again on the biker who’d just emerged from the treeline, his weapon pointed at the car. Gunshots rang out. The man fell to the ground.
Dawson collapsed against the muddy road, the rain pelting him, his leg throbbing with every beat of his heart, and watched as the vehicle holding the love of his life disappeared into the night.
TWENTY-FOUR
“We have to go back!” Peyton’s pulse roared in her ears as Ricky spun off the dirt track onto a two-lane road. Grace let out a wail, and she wriggled the pacifier back between her lips. The baby immediately took it, her cries quieting. “Ricky, turn around. Dawson was shot. We can’t leave him.”
The rusty sedan plowed ahead at top speed. Ricky’s jaw was tight, his hands locked on the steering wheel. Rain beat a relentless rhythm against the roof. Every second that put them further away from Dawson made it harder to go back. Peyton thrust herself between the two front seats. She hardened her tone. “Turn around now.”
Ricky's eyes flicked to the rearview mirror, but he said nothing. The car continued to accelerate. They were practically flying. Desperation took hold. Dawson had collapsed right before her eyes. There was no way of knowing how badly he was injured. He could bleed out right there, on that dirt road. She refused to let that happen.
“Stop this car. You know we can’t leave him?—”
Ricky slammed on the brakes. Peyton pitched forward between the seats, her injured side screaming as she threw herfree arm around Grace to shield the baby. In that half-second of imbalance, Ricky's hand shot back and ripped the gun from her other hand. Then she and Grace were thrown back against the rear seat as he violently hit the gas.
Her gaze met his in the rearview mirror. Cold dread churned her stomach.
“I’d suggest you buckle up.” His voice was flat. Unrecognizable. The desperate urgency from the ranch was gone, replaced by something hard and unyielding. “And stay quiet.”
Oh God, no.
Peyton swallowed down the fear crawling up her throat and slid closer to the door. Trees whipped past. They were heading away from town, but Ricky couldn’t maintain a high rate of speed forever. She needed to make a plan. To figure out how to get her and Grace away from him.
She touched the side panel of the door, searching for the handle. Her fingers found only smooth metal. Just a flat space where a handle should have been.
“You can’t escape, Peyton, so don’t try.”
That cold dread moved like sludge through her veins. Goosebumps broke out on her skin. “You’re working for Cade?”
