As bright as they’d been before, when the car had come rushing at her.
She froze, with her arms still over her head. The car wasn’t slowing. The driver had to see her, even through the rain, but he wasn’t slowing.
Veronica ran back toward the side of the road. Just as she left the pavement, she slipped in the mud and fell down hard. Mud soaked her clothes, and it felt as if her shoulder slammed into a rock, but she dragged herself forward to the row of trees near the edge of the road.
Behind her, brakes squealed as the car stopped. Her heartbeat echoed in her ears. Maybe the driver had seen her. Maybe he was coming to help her and she was panicking over nothing.
Maybe.
Cautiously, she turned back around. Because of the darkness, she could see very little about the car. The vehicle seemed low to the ground, with a long hood and a stretching trunk, but she couldn’t determine the car’s color or make. Veronica inched a bit closer. “Hello?” she called out. The driver’s door had opened. She’d heard it creak.
And, over the rain and her racing heartbeat, she seemed to hear footsteps.
She pressed her muddy hands against her jeans. “Hello?” Veronica tried again.
But there was no response. She crept forward, just a little, and a sudden blast of gunfire ripped right past her head. Veronica slammed into the earth instantly.
Her breath heaved in her lungs. He shot at me. She remembered the eyes of the men who’d died before her.
Footsteps thudded toward her.
That was no Good Samaritan up there, coming to help a stranded motorist. Her instincts had been right about that.
Whoever it was out there...he was hunting her.
Carefully, she slid back into her cover. The line of trees was thin, and wouldn’t provide her much protection. She glanced to the left, to the right. If she tried to run away from the road, she’d be running straight into the middle of nowhere. And the shooter could just follow her. Then what would she do?
Die.
Her gaze went back to the road even as she began to creep to the left, a path that would take her away from the shooter’s car and—
Another shot blasted. Veronica stopped trying to creep away. He had a lock on her. Creeping wasn’t going to work.
So she just ran. Dodging left and right, the way her brother had always told her she should run if someone was ever shooting at her.
Another Cale Lane rule...“Never give ’em a steady target. The more you move, the harder it is for them to hit you.”
So she moved as fast as she could, dodging in between the trees, never moving in a straight line and praying, praying, that someone would come along soon to help her.
Then...then another vehicle’s rumbling engine cut through the wind and rain.
* * *
WHEN HE HEARD the gunfire, Jasper’s foot slammed down even harder on the accelerator. His windshield wipers sliced through the rain, and he kept a strong grip on the steering wheel. He hadn’t been able to reach Veronica at her home. The phone had just rung and rung. Every ring had made him more afraid.
There was another roll of thunder—no, hell, another blast of gunfire. He knew that familiar sound too well. He rounded a curve, headed hard and fast down the long, narrow road. He didn’t see anyone, not yet.
Then his lights cut across the darkness and the rain, and there was a shadow, a person, running right into the road. Running right at his vehicle.
He slammed on his brakes, and in that one frozen instant of time, Jasper was able to see her face.
Veronica. Terrified.
So afra
id that she’d just run right into the path of a car. He jerked the wheel to the left, determined not to hit her, and his rental car bounced twice, then came to a jarring halt in the thick sludge of mud on the shoulder of the road.
Grabbing his gun, he leaped from the vehicle. “Veronica!”