Sudden horrible silence filled the cab.
It all happened so f**king fast. I couldn’t quite breathe and my heart was exploding with adrenaline.
“Shit,” I muttered, pushing the bag away from my face. God, something smelled horrible. Like burning. “What happened?”
Hunter didn’t answer. I blinked, trying to get my bearings. My eyes were watering and I couldn’t quite see. The seat belt held me suspended on my side, the position painfully uncomfortable. I reached up and rubbed my eyes, which didn’t help, and realized that the air itself was hurting my lungs.
Flopping my hand around, I found the window control and pushed it, the battery miraculously still working. The window rolled down into the door and a rush of cold air came in. I took a deep breath. Thank God, I could breathe again. Unfortunately, with the fresh air came cold, freezing rain.
“Hunter?” I whispered. Nothing. I looked down at him and gasped. A shattered tree stump had smashed up through the driver-side window, the remains splintered into sharp spikes of wood. It was less than an inch from the front of Hunter’s face, and I saw blood trickling out of his nose. Branches and pine needles were everywhere, so many I could hardly see him. They filled his entire half of the cab.
“Babe?” I asked slowly. I reached down and touched his shoulder. He shifted his head and moaned. Alive. Thank God, because if that thing had been one inch closer, it would’ve gone right through his skull. I reached down and felt his neck, finding a strong pulse. Okay.
Now what?
I shook my own head, forcing myself to focus. I needed to call for help, but my purse had gone flying. Where the hell was my phone? I couldn’t see it anywhere, and I’d smashed his last night. Damn it. That’s what I got for having a temper tantrum. Then I spotted my purse down in the footwell.
But how to get it? I reached down with my left hand and braced my body against the side of Hunter’s seat, then unclicked my seat belt with my right, holding on to the strap like a jungle vine for balance. Slowly I slid down into my footwell, kneeling on the side by the center console.
Hunter stirred again.
“Em?” he asked, his voice rough.
“I’m fine, babe,” I said, looking down at him. His eyes were open now, and I tried to see his pupils. Were they the same size? That’s when I realized the radio was still playing . . . I reached up and turned on the light, and we both flinched from the sudden brightness.
“Look at me,” I said. His head turned, and I breathed a sigh of relief. Pupils were fine, and he seemed to be getting more alert every second. Must’ve hit just enough to knock him out, but hopefully nothing serious.
“We had an accident,” I explained, my voice shaking. “I don’t know what happened—I think we lost a couple tires, maybe? Then we hit ice.”
“Someone shot out the tires,” Hunter said. He started squirming in his seat, trying to move his arms, but the stump and branches held him completely trapped. “One tire blowing, I can see. But two? That’s someone who knows their shit. We need to assume they’re outside, Em. Have to get ready for them. Start by turning off the light. No reason to give them an easier target than we have to.”
I froze, eyes wide. I hadn’t quite processed the whole shooting thing, but of course this wasn’t an accident. Not good. Not good at all.
“This really sucks,” I whispered, then realized how ridiculously inadequate that was, given the situation. Shit. I turned off the light and started fumbling in the darkness for my purse. It fell open and I nearly lost the phone. I caught it right before it fell, but unfortunately I dropped the purse in the process.
Hunter watched the whole time, frustration written all over his face.
“Call your dad. The club can get here faster than anyone else, and they’ll have the best shot of dealing with whoever’s out there, too.”
“What about an ambulance?” I asked.
“I’m fine,” he said, twisting in his seat uncomfortably.
“That’s what people usually say right before the brain hemorrhage kills them. You need a hospital.”
“Em,” he said, his voice firm. “Stop talking to me and call your dad. Now. Then I want you to find my gun and get ready to protect yourself while I try to work myself loose. Fuckin’ tree.”
My hands shook a little as I dialed my father’s number, but I forced myself to stay calm. Our lives depended on me not falling apart, no matter how scary the situation had gotten.
“Yeah?”
“Dad, it’s Em,” I said. “We’re about four miles from the Armory, and we’re in trouble. Hunter’s truck went off the embankment by the railroad tracks, on the south side of the road. I need you to get here fast.”
“Ambulance?”
“Hunter says no,” I said, glancing down at him again. His color was good, so that was something. “Someone shot our tires. That means they’re out there right now, they’re close, and they know what they’re doing. I need to hang up and grab my gun now.”
I shoved the phone into the console. Now what? My gun was in the purse, which had disappeared into the mass of branches and pine needles.
“My gun should still be down between the seat and the console. I have a holster built in.”
I started digging around, and sure enough, the gun I’d checked for him before was still there. I pulled it out carefully, checking the magazine one more time out of habit before I cocked it. Then I pulled myself up and tried looking out through the windshield.
More branches, everywhere.
That was a good thing, I realized. We had decent cover.
“Should I climb out my window, you think? Look around?”
“No,” Hunter muttered. “Just stay down in the footwell. Our best bet is to hide and wait for the cavalry.”
“I’m a good shot,” I told him, refusing to acknowledge the panic I felt welling up into the back of my throat. Calm down, I told myself firmly. You can lose it later, once we’re safe.
“It’s dark, there’s freezing rain, and all you have is a handgun,” Hunter replied, his voice dry. “Nobody’s a good shot under those conditions. Just stay low, sweetheart. I’m gonna try and get loose, but I’m thinkin’ they’ll have to cut me out of this one. If I die in this truck, don’t tell Skid I got my ass kicked by a tree, okay?”
I snorted, then giggled. Obviously he’d lost his mind. I tried to stay quiet but another giggle broke free. Then Hunter stuck out his tongue at me, and I laughed out loud, tears rolling down my face.
“You’re crazy,” I said, wiping my face with the back of my hand.
“Maybe,” he said, giving me his crooked smile. “But nothing burns off tension like a laugh. You think you can reach my seat belt?”
I leaned out of the footwell and dug around through the pine needles, ducking my head down to get a better look. In that instant, a bullet punched through the windshield into the passenger seat, passing through right where I’d been just seconds before.
I froze.
“Goddammit,” Hunter said, suddenly thrashing to get free. “Holy f**k, I cannot believe this.”
I fumbled for his seat belt urgently. Crap. CRAP. Just because I knew how to shoot a gun didn’t mean I was ready for a f**king firefight. Another shot tore through the glass, this time closer to Hunter’s head. So much for all that cover . . . Or were they just shooting randomly? I couldn’t figure out how they could possibly see us.
“Back in the footwell,” Hunter ordered, and his voice didn’t leave any room for negotiation. “Keep the gun handy. I don’t know if you’ll get a chance to shoot, but if you do, I want you ready.”
“What do you mean?”“Well, a sniper’s not gonna come in close unless he has to,” Hunter said. “Which means ideally—from his perspective—you’re dead without ever making eye contact. Right now this one doesn’t have a clear target, so that’s in our favor. We just need to hold on for a couple minutes, until the Reapers get here.”
Another bullet came through, winging Hunter’s ear.
“Fuck,” he muttered as blood started pouring out.
I gave a sobbing gasp.
“Emmy, you have to hold your shit together,” he said, his voice sharp. “I love you, babe. I can’t hide or defend myself, so I need you safe in that footwell. Then if he hits me you’re alive to save me. Hold your shit together for me, sweetheart. I need you to hold it together.”
I took a deep breath and nodded, although I knew he was lying again. If the sniper hit him, it would be a headshot—Hunter wouldn’t have a chance. He was just trying to protect me. Ridiculous. Like a footwell would stop a bullet, anyway? I racked my brain, trying to think of some way to protect us.
This was insane—I had to do something or we’d die out here. I looked up through the rain at the open passenger window. We needed a distraction. I eased out of my hidey-hole.
“Stay down, Em,” Hunter said, his voice cracking like a whip. I ignored him, checking the gun to make sure it was ready. All good. I slid into position expecting another shot to hit any second, crouching with one foot on the side of Hunter’s seat and the other on the inside wall of the well. I counted to three, then popped up and shot four times into the darkness.
I dropped back down, gasping.
Hunter blew up.
“What the f**k was that about?”
“I want him to know we’re armed,” I said. “Playing possum only works if they don’t know what they’re doing. I’ll bet a hundred dollars his orders are to make damned sure we’re dead, and I’m not just going to sit and wait for some ass**le to put a bullet in my brain.”
“He could’ve shot you, Em.”
I stared at him, trying not to let out the hysterical laughter I felt bubbling up deep inside.
“Seriously, babe? That’s your argument? That’s a f**king bullet hole about an inch from your face, and let’s not mention the ear. Getting shot is almost a given at this point, more of a when than an if. We need to hold out for Dad, and now that our sniper knows we can fight back, he’ll have to be more cautious about approaching the truck. That’ll slow him down, which might make the difference for us.”
“So your solution is to play Whac-a-Mole with a murderer?”
“Hunter?”
“Yeah?”
“It’s done.”
“Fuck, but you piss me off,” he muttered. His body twisted, and then he kicked out, hard. “Fuck!”
Long seconds passed, and I started shivering as the icy rain soaked my shirt. Maybe I should shut the window? No . . . At least this way maybe we’d hear something if they got too close.
Hunter kicked the truck again, rocking it slightly.
“Well, let’s look on the bright side,” I said, deciding he needed a distraction.
“Don’t.”
“The good news is that we’ll probably be either rescued or dead before we have to worry about serious hypothermia. There’s always a silver lining, Hunter.”
He growled at me again.
Men.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
HUNTER
I don’t think I’ve ever been so pissed off in my life.
Em frustrated me so much I wanted to strangle her, maybe save our sniper the trouble. I was angry with myself, too, because I should’ve been able to control the f**king truck. Now instead of protecting my woman, I was stuck watching her crouch over me with a gun, ice building up in her hair as her lips turned blue.
All because I’d been captured by a f**king tree.
Another shot rang out, although this time it didn’t hit the truck. At least that was something . . . Although if I died tonight without protecting her, I hoped to hell I’d find a way to come back and haunt Picnic Hayes. I’d use my ghostly powers to make him desecrate my useless f**king corpse.
More shots. Then shouting.
“Em!” I heard someone yell. She rose slightly.
“No,” I said, voice cracking. “Stay down until they find the shooter. Just call out. Let them know we’re okay, but under fire. Safer that way.”
“We’re safe!” she bellowed, so loud it hurt my ears. “The sniper hit the truck at least three times, so be really f**king careful. Also, I have a gun. Identify yourselves before coming too close, or I’ll shoot you myself.”
“Hang tight, kiddo,” I heard a deep voice yell back. “We’re comin’ for you.”
He sounded familiar . . . Then I placed him. Duck. Old guy I’d met when I negotiated with the Reapers for Em’s release.
“Do you think they’ll be able to find him?” Em asked. Her teeth started chattering. Shit, at least I had my pine needle blanket . . .
“No idea,” I told her. “If he’s smart, he’s already taken off. He could stay out there and try picking them off, but weather like this sucks for everyone.”
Then I noticed her hands had started trembling. From the cold or adrenaline—didn’t matter which.
“I think you should set down the gun.”
“Nope.”
“Don’t shoot me by accident, please.”
Em looked down and smiled, still gorgeous despite the icicles building up in her hair. In the faint light from the dashboard, I could see that her lips were blue, her nose was red, and her shirt was soaked through. Not the best time for a wet T-shirt contest, but her tits looked outstanding.
“I promise,” she said softly, biting her lip. “I will never shoot you by accident.”
I considered her response.