It felt like everything was moving in slow motion as his eyes went huge, then his jaw clamped down.
The SUV wrenched sideways as Jax must have yanked the wheel hard. The right wheels came off the ground and for a terrifying moment, she thought he was going to flip it. Then the SUV came back down again and he must have hit the brakes. But not hard enough, because the front of the SUV slammed into one of the trees lining the trail and the whole front of the vehicle crumpled inward.
“No!” Keara screamed as the bomber hit the gas again, and she went flying to the back of the truck.
She grabbed hold before she was tossed over the edge, her hands shaking with the desire to let go, let momentum carry her. But if the fall didn’t kill her, the bomber would surely get out and finish the job while she was incapacitated or out cold.
Praying that Jax had survived the crash, Keara stared at the SUV, hoping to see him climb out. But all she could see was smoke billowing from the front of the vehicle, and then too soon, the bomber turned off onto another trail.
Trying to push Jax to the back of her mind, Keara scanned the truck bed, searching for something she could use as a weapon. But there was nothing here. The gun box had been empty, too. But it was old, dented from her twisting inside it and slamming her boots into the lid. Could she rip it off? It wasn’t much, but it was better than nothing.
Before she could even start to pull herself back to the front of the truck, the bomber slowed and then came to a stop.
Shoving herself to her feet, Keara glanced over the top of the truck at a tiny cabin, tucked deep into the woods. Swearing, she leaped off the truck, ready to make a run for it.
Too fast, she heard the truck door open behind her and the bomber snapped, “Do it and I shoot you in the back.”
A small part of her, knowing it was probably the least painful way to go, wanted to do it anyway. But that wasn’t her. She was a fighter, right to the end.
Gritting her teeth, she turned toward him.
He laughed, surprise evident in the sound. “That was a rougher ride than I thought, wasn’t it?”
Ignoring the jibe, she tried to throw him off guard, give him a reason to think she was still a worthy opponent, not worth killing yet. “So where’s Rodney Brown? Is this all your doing or are you two working together?”
He let out another sound, somewhere between a laugh and a grunt, and his gun lowered to his side. “Rodney has been dead for seven years.”
Surprise jolted through her as he continued, “I borrowed his car when I killed Celia Harris. You know I did that, right?” He nodded, a slight smile forming. “I didn’t expect anyone to come looking for the car. Rodney was belligerent with the cop, of course, and I couldn’t take any chances.”
Pain and anger filled her, overriding her physical pain as he spoke of her husband.
His smile grew, as if he could see it. “Rodney has been dead since the day that cop—your husband, right?—came to the house. I dumped his body in the ocean. Then I tracked down the cop and slit his throat.”
Keara felt herself sway at the words, felt a familiar, incapacitating grief rip through her as the bomber shrugged and added, “And then I moved on.”
He lifted his gun again as she tried to breathe through the pain. “And I’ll tell you, you’ve been a lot of fun, but it’s getting a bit dicey for me here. I think it’s time for me to move on again.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
Something was burning.
Jax groaned and lifted his head off the steering wheel, not sure if he’d blacked out or if he’d just hit his head when he’d slammed his SUV into the tree, trying to avoid smashing into Keara.
Keara!
Opening his eyes, he saw nothing but white. The airbag had deployed. He groaned again as he twisted his head, peering around it out the side window. The truck was gone.
Woof!
Jax whipped around in his seat, and his chest and shoulder screamed in protest. “Patches! Are you okay?”
She whimpered and he cursed himself for having brought her along.
“I’m sorry, Patches. I’m coming.” He tried to smash the airbag out of his way and the movement sent a tearing pain through his left arm. Cursing, he unhooked his belt and twisted, ignoring the way his shoulder screamed as he slid out from behind the airbag.
Peering into the backseat, he saw his dog on the floor. She stood when he met her gaze, her tail wagging slowly, pointing downward.
“Are you okay, Patches?” He reached back with his right hand, letting his left arm hang limply. Had it been wrenched out of the socket in the crash? He wasn’t sure.
When he pet Patches, she leaned closer, stretching her head between the seats and licking his face.
His gaze ran over her, searching for injuries, but she looked okay. Then she leaped up, putting her front paws between the seats, and relief filled him. If she could move like that, she probably hadn’t broken anything.
Resting his head on hers for a second, Jax tried to take deep breaths. It hurt his chest a little, but he was pretty sure it was the way he was twisted, pain radiating from his shoulder.
Then the hint of smoke hit him again and he spun forward, peering out the front. There was a lot of smoke coming out of his vehicle, but he didn’t see fire.
The whole front of the vehicle was smashed in. Would it still drive?
He turned the key, giving it a try even though it seemed pointless. It didn’t even make a noise.
Swearing, he slid over to the passenger side and opened the door.
