She glanced frantically around the front seat, searching for her purse. Her instincts screamed to find her phone and call for help. The purse lay on the floorboard on the passenger side, its contents spilled and tossed in every direction. Leaning over the center console, muscles screaming in protest, she reached forward, her fingers scrambling for the cell phone. She needed to call for help—she needed Antonio. Too bad the darned thing was out of reach. The tips of her fingers barely brushed against the cool metal case, only succeeding in moving it a little further away.
Straightening in her seat, she took a deep breath, and latched onto the door handle. The other driver, she needed to check and see if they’d been injured. She hadn’t noticed anybody else in the car, but because she hadn’t seen anybody didn’t mean there wasn’t. Everything happened too fast for her to be sure. Pulling on the handle, she pushed, but the door refused to budge. Bracing herself for the pain she knew was coming, she rammed her shoulder against the door, trying to force it open. No use.
Something sticky and wet trickled into her eye, and she touched it. Her hand came away with bright red blood coating her fingertips. Using the back of her arm, she whisked away the dripping blood with her sleeve. Looking around, she tried to figure out how to get out of the car. The windshield was intact, so she couldn’t climb out, and she definitely wasn’t strong enough to break it from the inside. Which meant she had to climb out the passenger side.
Great.
Maneuvering across the center console and onto the passenger seat took a lot longer than she’d thought it would, muscles screaming with every movement, but finally she managed to grab onto the door handle and push the door open. Sliding across the seat, she swung both legs out the open door, only stopping long enough to grab her cell phone.
On shaky legs, she stood, and a wave of dizziness swamped her, and she latched onto the doorframe hoping it would pass. She rubbed absently at the center of her chest, right along where the seatbelt strap hit her torso. It had probably saved from a whole lot worse injuries, but it was beginning to ache.
Bracing herself on the car, she shuffled her way around the back end of the car, slipping and sliding a couple of times on the muddy roadway shoulder. The black sedan who’d hit her blocked both sides of the road, the engine dead. The front of the car faced away from her, and she couldn’t see the driver. Gingerly, she made her way to the passenger side, and peered inside.
A dark-haired man sat slumped over in the driver’s seat, facing away from her. His body rested against the steering wheel. It didn’t appear the airbag had deployed. One arm rested atop the steering wheel, while the other dangled at his side. Knocking on the passenger window to get his attention, she watched, but he didn’t move. Maybe he was unconscious?
Serena made her way around to the driver’s side. The entire front driver’s side was crushed, the wheel well caved in, the tire flattened from the impact. Jagged gouges from the crash scraped along the driver’s door, and she prayed she’d be able to get it open and help the injured man.
“Sir, are you okay?”
The driver slowly raised his head and she got the first clear look at his face and gasped. Mixed feelings of recognition and dread coiled deep inside. Her first instinct was to run away, as fast as her legs could carry her, because once he saw her face, any hope of remaining in Shiloh Springs unrecognized disappeared like a puff of smoke. Despite her trepidation, she couldn’t leave him. What if he was hurt—or worse? She’d never forgive herself if she ran away and left him to die.
“Jonathan?” As gently as she could, she reached through the shattered window, and eased him back against the seat. He groaned, the sound pain-filled, though she couldn’t see any blood. When he turned to look at her, she saw the moment recognition struck. He tried to move, and moaned in pain.
“Sharon, is it really you? Or am I hallucinating?”
“Sit still, I’m going to call nine-one-one. Help will be here soon.”
“I wouldn’t do that, Sharon.”
She looked up at his words, her fingers hovering over the keypad. The gun in his hand pointed straight at her. She didn’t know a lot about guns, but she’d watched enough television and movies to recognize a nine-millimeter, knew the damage it could do at close range.
“Jonathan, what are you doing? Let me call for help—”
“Toss the phone on the ground. Now. Don’t make me hurt you.” He shoved his shoulder against the car door, and it opened. Keeping the gun trained on her, he unhooked the seatbelt and climbed from the driver’s seat. Instinctively, she took a step back, before stopping in her tracks at his angry scowl.
“I’m won’t ask again, Sharon. Toss the phone on the ground.”
Knowing she didn’t have a choice with the gun pointed at her, she complied. Her gut tensed when he rammed his heel against the phone, crushing it. He gave it a second stomp, making sure the screen cracked beneath his shoe.
I can’t stand here and let him shoot me. I’m not ready to die. Not without ever getting the chance to tell Antonio how I feel.
“What are you going to do? Shoot me in the middle of the street? There’s not a lot of traffic on this road, but it won’t be long before somebody comes by and sees us.”
“I didn’t mean to hit you quite so hard. You’re okay. My car isn’t going anywhere. We’ll have to take
