In the roadway, Mitch winced with each earsplitting shot as Molly let off several more rounds at the fleeing vehicle. And that was when he smelled the gasoline.
Behind them, only one of the Jeep’s hazard lights continued to blink through the inky darkness. The four-by-four must have struck the Wrangler’s fuel tank.
“Molly!” But his voice was lost to yet another shot as the four-by-four’s taillights disappeared around the bend.
“Molly!” he shouted again.
The blast of her final round echoed through the woods. It was followed by the quiet, yet unmistakable whisper of a fire igniting. In the next second there were flames. Over the low crackle, he heard Molly curse again, turning to the vehicle as though she hoped to rescue some of her belongings.
“Molly, no. Come on!” he shouted above the hiss, tugging at her coat.
She’d lowered her gun, and in the intensifying red-orange glow of the hungry flames that already engulfed the driver’s side of the Jeep, Mitch saw the shock in her expression. The heat of the flames, searing against his own cold-numbed skin, seemed to hold her back.
The air was swollen now with the heat of the fire. Flames licked higher and higher into the stormy night, fanned by the wind.
“Molly, now! It’s going to blow!” This time when he grabbed at her coat, Mitch didn’t let go. He half dragged, half ran with her away from the Jeep and down the empty road, uncertain how much distance was needed.
It wasn’t enough.
There was the low whoosh of gas igniting, followed by an earth-shattering explosion that hurled both of them to the cold ground. The shock of the blast rippled through the air around them, followed by a wave of thick, acrid heat and a storm of flying shards that rained down around them.
“Are you all right?” His body covered hers, and when he raised himself enough that she could move, Molly rolled over and sat up. She brushed snow and grit from her face and stared back at the burning wreckage, the flames reflecting in her wide eyes.
“Are you all right, Molly?” he asked again, taking her by the shoulders.
She managed a nod and instantly scanned the snow-covered ground. Locating her gun, she brushed it off as well.
“Yeah,” she said at last, “I’m okay. I think…I think we need to get out of here.”
“I couldn’t agree more.”
It was when Mitch started to stand that he spotted the two figures in the roadway. Twenty…maybe twenty-five yards away, they were no more than silhouettes in the flickering glow of the fire, but there was no question as to their intent. Each of them carried a gun, and each approached with the steady determination of hired killers.
Chapter Four
He’d saved her life. Not once, but twice now. And Mitch seemed bound and determined to do it a third time, Molly thought as he tore at her sleeve.
This time, however, Molly needed no prompting. With one eye on the two advancing men in the roadway, she nudged Mitch to the side of the road. She winced against the searing pain along her right side. She’d felt it for the first time up on the embankment, and hoped it had been a rock or a stick that had caused the injury. But now it felt warm. Hot, in fact. And Molly wondered if she might have actually taken a bullet during the rain of gunfire.
Hurriedly, she reached under her anorak with her bare hand, certain she felt the slipperiness of blood as she groped for her Glock’s extra ammunition clip.
“Over the bank,” she whispered harshly, jamming the magazine into the grip of her semiautomatic.
Even at fifteen yards, she could feel the singe of the flames as the two of them stumbled across the road. Vaguely, she was aware of various parts from her Jeep strewn about them from the explosion. She and Mitch had been lucky.
But there would be no counting of blessings if she didn’t get them out of there…and fast. Sabatini’s men were serious—dead serious. The guns they wielded were nothing short of illegal. To her trained ears, even in the heat of the gunplay only moments ago, she knew the men’s weapons were fully automatic.
With the cold, wet Glock in one hand, and Mitch holding her other, Molly relied on his strength to drag her to the top of the embankment. On the other side, the snow was deep and loose, swallowing them almost to their waists. Molly needed no words. Mitch seemed to understand she had a plan. She moved ahead of him and led the way back toward the section of the road where they’d left the Blazer idling.
Molly could only pray that Sabatini’s thugs didn’t expect them to be brave enough to come back right at them with little more than the embankment for cover. But what other option did they have? Stumble through the deep snow and the storm into the middle of the bush? And then what? No, their only option was to get to the Blazer.
Staying in a semicrouch, Molly pushed her way through a tangle of branches and saplings. She could feel Mitch right behind her. He’d caught her more than a couple of times as she nearly tripped over hidden rocks and fissures in the earth beneath the thick snow.
They had to be close now. If Sabatini’s men had kept up their pace, then they should be parallel to them. Only a few yards separating them. A few yards and a snowbank. Molly realized she was holding her breath, as though the men on the roadway would actually hear her over the roar of the fire that steadily consumed her Jeep.
Still, she didn’t dare peer over the bank to confirm her guess. They had to keep moving. Only now, she gestured to Mitch to go ahead. Testifying aside, she was here to protect him, and protect him she would. No matter what happened, if Sabatini’s men wanted Mitch, they’d have to go through her first.
For a panicked moment, she thought she heard their voices. Shouts over the crackle of the flames. And any second she expected to see one of the men crest the snowbank, his gun blazing. But…nothing happened.
With Mitch ahead of her now, the going was a little easier. She followed the path he cut, ignoring the snow that jammed down the tops of her boots and blew under the collar of her anorak. She wasn’t sure where her gloves were; she’d removed them when she first took out her gun. Her hand was numb around the weapon’s rubber grip. Sore even. She hoped she’d be able to fire the Glock when and if it came to that again.
A transient wave of relief swept through her when she heard the low sound of the Blazer’s idling engine. Sabatini’s men could easily have tampered with the vehicle, but instead they’d passed it by, obviously more intent on finding Mitch. Perhaps even thinking the explosion had taken care of their business for them.
Molly snagged the edge of Mitch’s coat. He stopped. Waiting for her next move.
With extreme caution she eased herself to the top of the bank and peered over. She scanned the roadway behind the Blazer. There was nothing visible but the burning Jeep. And then, finally, she saw them. The first man had obviously spotted their footprints and seen where they’d scaled the snowbank. He was already halfway up, stumbling over clumps of ice and gravel. His counterpart was right behind him.
“They’re onto us,” she whispered to Mitch. “Come on—” she nodded to the Blazer “—you take the wheel. Circle around the front. And the second you’re in, floor it.”
She didn’t need to wait for his nod of acknowledgment. Mitch was right behind her. Together they scrabbled down the crusty bank, a small avalanche of frozen snow cascading around them and onto the roadway. There was no way of knowing whether it was their movements or the sound of the Blazer’s doors opening that alerted the men, but in the same instant that Molly landed in the passenger seat, the black night erupted around them for a second time.
Bullets sliced the air, some exploding against hard-packed snow, while others struck deeper in the forest where the road curved to the left.