The Mummy Mystery (The Mommy Mystery). Delores Fossen

and then figure out another way to get the child. Houston was expendable, too, because they could always get the money from his father, who was wealthy in his own right. But Houston didn’t want to let things get that far.

      Best to stop this now, so he could go about seeing his son.

      Gabrielle sucked in her breath. “They’re speeding up.”

      Because Houston had his attention nailed to the other vehicle, he noticed it immediately. Gabrielle sped up, too.

      That was all right for now; but within two miles or so, there were some deep curves, and Houston didn’t want her losing control of the car and slamming into the thick trees that lined the road.

      Houston got the gun ready, just in case. He watched the black car come closer. And closer. It was closing in on them fast.

      “Brace yourself,” Houston warned Gabrielle.

      But the words had hardly left his mouth when the black car bashed into their rear bumper. The jolt tossed them forward, a fierce jerking motion that caused his teeth to hit together. He tried to steady himself and kept a tight grip on the gun.

      “You’ll have to slow down ahead,” Houston warned her.

      The car rammed into them again.

      Houston heard the scream bubble up in Gabrielle’s throat, but she clamped on to her lip to stop the full sound. She was obviously terrified. So was he. If they both died right here, right now, what would happen to his son?

      Gabrielle did as he asked and slowed down, which only made the next jolt even harder. The black car was bigger, and obviously, the driver wasn’t concerned about damage, because he bashed into them again. And again.

      This time though, the car didn’t fall back to launch another assault. It stayed pressed right against their bumper, and the driver sped up.

      The SOB was trying to make them crash. And with those curves ahead, he just might succeed.

      “Hit your brakes.” Houston had to yell over the sound of the metal grinding against metal.

      Gabrielle did, and that kicked up a curtain of smoke and sparks. But they still didn’t stop. The black car kept propelling them forward, even though it was now a slow, creeping speed.

      Houston quickly thought of the road that lay ahead, and just on the other side of the upcoming curve, there was a ranch trail to the right. It was wide enough for Gabrielle to turn onto safely.

      He hoped.

      Then, maybe she could get far enough ahead on the trail so that they could stop and try to protect themselves. If he could get some cover, like an outcropping of rocks or a cluster of trees, he’d be able to make a stand. Against who or what exactly, he didn’t know, and that bothered him. Houston had no idea if he was up against one or many, because it was hard to see through the tint on the windshield. It was also possible that some of the car’s occupants could have ducked down and out of view.

      The smoke from the brakes and tires was so thick now that he could hardly see the car behind them, but he could feel it. The driver was trying to push them to the right, off the road. And for now, Houston would use that to his advantage.

      “Turn onto that trail about fifty yards away,” he told Gabrielle. “It’s on the right.”

      She shook her head. “I don’t see it.”

      “You will,” he promised.

      Houston wanted to remind her that his ranch hands were on the way, that they’d soon have backup. But backup might not arrive in time to do any good. Thankfully, there’d be enough tire treadmarks on the road that his men wouldn’t have any trouble finding them.

      “There,” Houston told her, when he spotted the trail.

      Since Gabrielle’s foot was already jammed onto the brake pedal, all she had to do was turn the steering wheel. The driver of the other car must have realized what was happening, because he made one last attempt to slam into them. Gabrielle took her foot off the brakes, and the momentum shot them forward on the dirt-and-gravel path.

      “Hit the gas,” Houston instructed.

      She did, and what was left of the tires kicked up rocks and gravel and spewed the debris back toward the black car. Houston saw their windshield crack, the broken safety glass webbing across the entire surface. However, what he still couldn’t see was the driver or any gunmen who might also be in the vehicle.

      Gabrielle kept going, tearing her way through the trail that was little more than a path. Tree branches slapped against the car, and rocks battered like gunfire against the undercarriage.

      “They stopped,” Houston mumbled. But he held his breath, waiting. Because maybe it was just temporary.

      “Are they coming?” Gabrielle asked. She had her attention nailed to the trail ahead. Good thing, too, because she had to jerk the steering wheel hard to the left when a deer darted right in front of them.

      Houston stared at the black car. “No. Stop up ahead by those rocks.”

      “You want me to stop? Are you crazy? We’re getting away from them.”

      “Yeah. And if we do that, it just means they’ll try this again. And again. It’s been my experience that people get pretty tenacious when there’s a lot of money involved.”

      “Right,” she finally answered, and pumped her brakes to bring the car to a stop.

      Once the dust settled, Houston had no trouble seeing the black car. It sat there like a jungle cat ready to attack. But Houston was ready, too. He opened the glove compartment so he could get to the extra ammunition, and aimed the gun at the vehicle.

      No one got out. They just sat there. And the moments crawled by.

      When Houston’s lungs began to ache, he realized he was holding his breath, so he forced himself to relax. He was a good shot—had even won some shooting competitions in his teens—and if necessary, he would kill these attackers if they came after Gabrielle and him.

      But they didn’t come.

      The black car’s engine roared to life, and the driver threw the vehicle into Reverse. He headed off the trail fast, and back toward the road.

      “What should we do?” Gabrielle asked. Her voice was strained and practically soundless.

      Houston considered going after them, but he had a better idea. He grabbed his phone and called Dale.

      “How far out are the ranch hands?” Houston asked his foreman.

      “They left a good five minutes ago.”

      Then they’d be here soon. “Tell them to follow the black car I told you about. And they’d better not lose sight of it. I want to know where that driver goes. If the car stops anywhere, I want to know about it.” He didn’t want these SOBs going anywhere near Lucas.

      Wherever that was.

      “Hang on the line, and I’ll tell them,” Dale assured him.

      Houston heard Dale make the call and give the ranch hands the instructions to follow. Good. The driver of that black car wouldn’t know that these men worked for Houston, and maybe, just maybe, he would soon have answers.

      “You’re sure you have Lucas someplace safe?” Houston asked Gabrielle.

      She nodded. “No one except the nanny and I know where he is.”

      Gabrielle sounded confident enough, but Houston wasn’t willing to take that chance. If the car went near where Lucas could be, he’d have the ranch hands stop them, one way or another.

      “I called your friend, Jordan Taylor,” Dale said, when he came back on the line with Houston. “The plates on that black car are bogus.”

      That wasn’t a surprise. It was clear the driver had criminal intent on his mind, and he wouldn’t