Mojave Rescue. Tanya Stowe

fired another shot. It pinged off a nearby rock and forced Drina to turn around. Closing her eyes, she counted.

      Numbers, she could do. Numbers were normal. They gave her courage. At sixty, she popped her head up, closed her eyes and pulled the trigger.

      Dirt splayed up in the air ten feet in front of the shed.

      If she kept aiming like that, Carter would know it wasn’t Norwood firing. She counted again, closed one eye and tried to aim for the shed.

      Carter popped his head out. She fired but lost the bullet again. No telltale spray of dirt or ping of metal indicated that she’d even come close. She absolutely had to do better or Carter would know it was her shooting. Then he’d do something crazy like charge the rocks.

      She fired again and again. Carter popped his head out here and there, like he was playing cat and mouse with her, growing braver each time.

      He must have realized Norwood was gone.

      Somewhere in the culvert below she heard the ATV engine start up. Carter heard it, too. He stuck his head out farther than usual.

      Drina took aim and actually hit the shed. Carter ducked back, but slowly...as if he knew he wasn’t in any real danger of being hit.

      A long time passed. Had the man moved to the other side of the shed, as Norwood had suggested?

      Sure enough, Carter peeked out from the opposite side. He looked to the left, about ten feet away at a stacked-high pile of sheet metal and damaged windmill blades. The equipment was only a few feet from the side of the hill. If he reached the shelter of that pile, it was a short distance to the edge of the cliff and a clear shot at Norwood.

      Suppressing a whimper, Drina took aim and fired. All she heard was an empty click. She was out of bullets.

      Carter took that moment to dash across the space to the safety of the discarded equipment.

      Drina dropped the gun. Now what? How could she stop him? She heard the revving of the ATV engine again. In minutes, Norwood would be climbing up the hill...straight into Carter’s line of fire.

      Frantically, her gaze searched the surrounding area...and saw nothing. No weapon. No help. Nothing.

      But she heard another engine.

      Norwood’s car was still running. Could she reach it? Carter wasn’t looking her way. His attention was focused on the culvert.

      Not giving herself time to think, she dashed across the open space back to the shed. Carter never even turned his head. He knew the real threat was down below with Norwood.

      Gasping, her whole body tingling with adrenaline, she rounded the corner of the shed. Her gaze landed on her computer, still resting on the short hood of the SUV.

      No way was she leaving that behind. She grabbed the laptop, tucked it under her arm. Halfway to the car she remembered the money. Money funded these men and their violent acts. She wouldn’t leave that behind, either.

      Spinning, she ran back to the shed and halted at the door. Whitson’s body still lay slumped on the floor. Drina paused, trembling and shaking. She had to pass close by him to reach her backpack.

      A shot rang out, galvanizing her into action. Leaping over Whitson, she stuffed the money into her backpack, slid the computer in on top, flung the straps over her shoulders and hurried back to the door.

      As she crossed to Norwood’s small car, she heard another shot. She slid into the seat but could barely reach the pedals.

      No time to move the seat closer. She grasped the wheel, shoved the gearshift into Reverse and shot backward.

      Slipping all the way back against the seat, she almost ran the car into a ditch. The briefcase on the passenger seat flew through the air and landed on her lap. She shoved it aside and pulled herself forward, then slammed on the brakes, pushed the gearshift into Drive and spun the steering wheel in the direction of the equipment.

      This time she was prepared when the car hit the slight ditch on the side of the road. The unlatched door flapped open...closed...open again. She gripped the wheel tighter and gunned the engine. The car jumped into the air. When it came down, her foot jammed onto the gas pedal and the engine revved.

      Carter, who still faced the culvert, heard the noise and spun.

      Drina cried out as he aimed the gun in her direction and fired. She ducked to the side, leaning out the open door. The bullet shattered the windshield. The car slowed almost to a stop. Drina saw Carter through the crack in the swaying door. He marched forward, taking aim again. Soon he’d be close enough to hit her. Drina pushed the gas again. The car was only a few feet from the edge. It would be over the side in seconds.

      Reaching across, she tugged the briefcase down onto the floorboard, directly onto the gas pedal, and rolled out the door. She hit the dirt hard, but turned quickly to see the car shooting straight toward Carter. He lunged away and fell backward over the side of the hill. The sound of twisting metal and shattering glass echoed through the culvert before the motor stopped abruptly.

      Drina sagged against the ground. Taking a deep breath, she sucked up dust and felt grit on her lips. Trying to catch her breath, she rolled onto her backpack and looked up to see the blue sky fading into twilight.

      She needed to get up. Carter might come marching over the hill any moment, pointing his wicked gun right at her. But she couldn’t move. Couldn’t force her body into action, even when she heard another motor close by.

      She opened her eyes as the quad spun around next to her, kicking dust in the air. Norwood extended his hand.

      “Come on. Let’s get out of here.”

      The half smile floating over those oh-so-perfect lips gave her the reassuring charge of energy she needed. She gripped his hand. He pulled her up and she climbed onto the back.

      “Hang on tight. It’s going to get bumpy.”

      Drina wrapped her arms around his waist. With her cheek pressed against his warm, strong back, only one thought went through her mind.

      We’re safe. We’re safe. We’re safe.

      Norwood gave the quad gas. Dirt and gravel spun out behind the big wheels as he headed toward the road. Drina had to loosen her hold slightly as they hit bumps, but not too much.

      She wasn’t sure why he’d betrayed his partners in crime...especially since he’d probably leaked the information that led to her kidnapping in the first place. Was he hoping to sell her plan and pocket the money for himself? Or was he on her side? Was that why he had risked his life to save her? She wasn’t certain but right now his strong, sturdy body was the only solid, stable thing in an exploding world. She clung to him with all her might.

      The ATV reached the dirt road leading back to town. They dipped down into the culvert and started to climb the other side. Drina glanced back at the shed and the pile of equipment behind it. Still no sign of Carter. They were safe, really safe.

      With that thought, they crested the hill and a helicopter surged in the air directly in front of them.

      The black machine hovered above, menacing, kicking up wind and gravel. Drina squinted and narrowed her gaze just as a man in dark clothing leaned out of the side, a long rifle poised in his hands.

      “Hang on!” Norwood yelled and turned so fast, Drina almost slid off the side of the quad. A series of wind turbines were located along the ridge to their right. The turbines rose over two hundred feet in the air, and the blades were over a hundred feet wide. The helicopter couldn’t follow them into the clustered turbines of the wind farm. If Norwood could put enough distance between them and the helicopter, they might be out of the rifle’s range.

      Drina clung to his back, trying to remember the range of a rifle. She worked with weapons. She was sure ranges were one of the useless details she’d picked up over the years, but for the life of her, she couldn’t put her finger on a number.

      Figures