Her stomach dropped. The target wasn’t them. Not anymore.
An old pickup truck rolled into view on the road ahead. The windshield spidered under a fresh hit, and she caught a glimpse of the driver. An elderly man. His head jerked, blood streaking the glass.
“Oh God,” Isla whispered.
The truck swerved, tires shrieking. Garrett’s curse joined hers a heartbeat before the pickup veered off course and slammed into the side of their SUV.
Metal screamed as the impact jolted her hard against the seat belt, rattling the air from her lungs. The pickup hit hard, metal shrieking as the front bumper crumpled into the SUV’s side. The jolt slammed Isla sideways, her shoulder crunching against the door.
Shards of glass tinkled down like ice, and the taste of copper filled her mouth where she’d bitten her lip. The smell of gasoline and burned rubber rolled through the air as she got a look at their situation.
Definitely not good.
The old truck sat jammed against them, its horn blaring in a broken, awful wail. Through the cracked passenger window she caught a glimpse of the driver, slumped forward, blood streaking down his temple. Her chest tightened.
“I need to help him,” she blurted, already reaching for the handle. “Cover me. I can drop out the passenger side and stay low to reach him.”
Garrett’s head whipped toward her, eyes flinty with refusal. “Not happening. I’m not letting you take that kind of risk.”
“There’s no other way,” she shot back, panic tightening her throat. “An ambulance can’t get through with an active shooter still firing at us.”
Garrett’s jaw flexed. Then his voice cut like steel. “Enough of this shit. We’re doing it on my call. Move on three. Get into the truck, and if you can, drag him out onto the ground. Don’t leave him sitting there in the line of fire.”
Her stomach lurched. “What about you?”
His eyes locked with hers, cold and unshakable. “I’ll stop this.”
A chill ripped through her at the stark certainty in his tone. She believed him. And that terrified her most of all.
The gunfire picked up again, bullets tearing into metal with sharp, punishing cracks. Isla’s pulse roared in her ears. Garrett’s voice came steady, unshaken. “One. Two. Three.”
She shoved the door open and dropped fast, practically tumbling onto the hard ground. Pain shot through her back, white-hot and vicious where her spine had been fused, but she bit it down and pushed forward on her elbows and knees. Grit dug into her palms.
She forced her eyes on the pickup ahead. The horn still blared, the driver unmoving. She couldn’t let herself think about the hail of bullets slicing the air or about the man behind her. Not about Garrett, even though every step she crawled felt like she was leaving him exposed.
Another volley cracked overhead, pinging against the SUV. She was nearly at the truck when a different sound cut through the barrage.
Gunfire, but controlled. Precise.
Garrett.
Isla ducked lower, heart in her throat. From beneath the pickup she caught the barest glimpse of him sliding into the ditch beside the SUV, moving with lethal efficiency. He wasn’tjust defending. He was in full warrior mode, all steel and muscle memory.
And he was about to take the fight to whoever had come for them.
Gunfire cracked sharp and steady from Garrett’s position in the ditch, each shot measured, closing the distance to the attacker. Isla forced herself to stay focused, to do what she had promised.
She levered up enough to reach for the pickup’s handle and yanked it open. The door groaned, the hinges catching, but she managed to wedge it wide. Inside, the driver slumped against the wheel, his chest rising shallow but steady. Blood streamed from a gash across his forehead, matting his gray hair. His lips moved, muttering words she couldn’t catch.
“You’re alive,” Isla whispered, relief mixing with panic. “Just hang on.”
The windshield above him webbed again as fresh rounds hit. Metal shrieked as bullets tore through the truck. Isla’s gut twisted hard. If she left him there, he’d be dead in seconds.
“Sorry,” she muttered, bracing herself.
She grabbed his arm, praying she wasn’t making his injuries worse, and hauled with every ounce of strength she had.
Inch by inch she dragged him toward her, his boots scraping across the seat and then catching on the threshold before sliding free. With one final heave she pulled him out of the cab and onto the ground beside her, away from the line of fire.
