Page 86 of Defending You

Cici’s heart hammered against her ribs as the passenger window rolled down, something gleaming in the darkness.

“Gun!” she screamed.

Asher swerved hard to the right, the motorcycle’s tires bouncing off the edge of the pavement. The crack of gunfire split the night air. The bullet missed, but she could swear she’d felt the heat of it whizzing past her face.

The bike wobbled dangerously as Asher fought to maintain control, getting it back onto the pavement. There was a deep gully separating the highway from the forest, filled with water. Impossible to tell how deep.

There was no exit until they made it to the turnoff.

“Two hundred feet!” She could barely force the words out over her terror, watching the map.

Another shot rang out, this one shattering the motorcycle’s side mirror. Fragments battered her helmet.

She dipped to the side, looking for the road. “It’s just ahead!”

Asher had just downshifted when she caught the glint of something, right where the side road should be.

They were nearly there when that something materialized—a truck.

It lurched onto the road in front of them, blocking their way.

Asher swerved to avoid it, the bike’s tires skidding on the wet pavement.

The world seemed to slow as the bike skidded, veering toward the far edge. It hit the lip and careened into the forest.

Beyond the layer of trees ahead, there was nothing but blackness. A cliff?

The bike crashed into a clump of bushes and small trees.

She lost her grip on him and flew, then landed in the bracken a dozen feet away.

She lay there, shocked, on the soft ground. Everything hurt, but she could move. She wasn’t badly injured.

She crawled to a nearby tree and pulled herself up. “Asher!” She stumbled toward him.

He lay half covered by the dirt bike. He wasn’t moving.

Lights shone behind her. The men were coming.

They were running out of time.

Moving toward him, she yanked off her helmet. When she reached where Asher had fallen, she lifted the heavy, ruined bike off him, pushed it out of the way, and knelt at his side. “Asher, please!” She shook his shoulder.

Her hand came away sticky. He was injured. Shot?

“Run.” His word came out on a rattling breath. “Run, Cici.”

What? No, she couldn’t leave him here. She needed him to be all right. “Come on. We have to?—”

Someone gripped her arms and pulled her away.

She screamed and twisted, her elbow connecting with something solid. A grunt of pain, then rough hands dragged her backward through the underbrush. Branches tore at her poncho as she fought against her captor’s grip.

“I’ll take care of her.” The man’s voice was gravelly. “Check the bodyguard.”

A couple more men closed in, surrounding Asher and the bike.

“He’s done,” one of them said.