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Her face went hot at his mention of her teddy bear. “I...”

A gust of wind blew a wisp of ash through her ruptured windshield.

“Last name Garrido like on the side of the truck?” he said.

She allowed a small nod.

“All right then, Ms. Kit, we can get to know each other better later, but the sun’s setting, and right now we got other problems.”

“The volcano,” she said absently.

“That’s way up there on the list. This road’s been red-zoned.”

“Red? When I left, emergency services said yellow everywhere except the northern side of the mountain.” When I left ... which was when , exactly?

“There’s been a lateral eruption on the flank. Earthquake swarms, the mountain’s continuing to bulge out, it all adds up to a mega eruption.”

She studied him, swallowing another wave of nausea. His chin was stubbled, face tanned.

He shifted. “To save time, can you tell me if anyone knows you’re here?”

“I probably talked to my office guy before I left.” For where?

“Probably?”

Her brain felt dazed, like a bird that hit the window glass midflight. “I don’t remember exactly.” It pained her to say so.

The crow’s feet deepened, bracketing his eyes, puckering the eyebrow scar. “Okay. Let’s backtrack. What do you remember? Your age? Address? Anything?”

Her chin went up. “Of course I know that. Kit Garrido, age thirty. I live in a trailer in Tulley Valley, where my trucking office is.” Instantly she regretted rattling off the information to a complete stranger. So much for playing it close to the vest. She really must have a concussion.

“What were you driving?”

“This.” She flapped a hand at her ruined vehicle, her life savings crumpled and wrecked. Tears blurred her vision. “A Freightliner Cascadia.” Her rig. Her everything.

The muscle in his jaw jumped. “I meant what cargo? For whom? Do you remember that part? Maybe they’ll alert someone when you don’t show up with the delivery.” Sweat trickled down his temple. Odd since she was so cold her toes had gone numb.

What was her cargo? And her destination? “I can’t recall at this moment.” And she wasn’t sure she should tell him anyway.

He peered around as if he could find someone else to answer his questions. “You’re sure you don’t have your phone on you? In a pocket or something?”

She gritted her teeth. “It was in the charger next to my seat.” At least, she figured it was since that was where she always kept it.

He was still scanning the horizon, lost in thought. His gaze wandered back over the contents of her cab, the wrecked steering wheel, the imploded glass. Eyes narrowing, he suddenly went still for a long moment before he let out a low whistle. “We’ve got more problems than a math textbook.”

She felt like laughing. “Besides the fact that I was in a crash and now we’re stranded somewhere in an evacuation area near a volcano that’s about to erupt?”

He scrubbed a hand over the back of his neck. “Yeah, besides that.”

She tried for a calming breath, but it hurt coming in and going out. “Like what?”

He pointed. “Take a look for yourself.”

At first she could not understand the significance of the little round hole punched in the driver’s side window or the second one two inches below it. “Are those ...”

“Bullet holes. Yes, ma’am.”

She gaped. “Someone ... shot at me?”

“Appears that way. Could explain why you crashed.”

“Who would do that?”

“Great question. Carrying precious cargo?”

“I don’t—”

He cut her off with a sigh. “Remember. Right.”

A shooter had tried to kill her? Steal her cargo? And was possibly still out there? Cullen stood motionless, watching her. He was a stranger ... with no vehicle visible that she could see.

He indicated something else with a jut of his chin. She looked. A splotch of red caught her attention, and she gasped. The small print on the passenger window was a bloody, partial outline of a hand. Cold inched along her nerves.

His brows drew together, lines bracketing his forehead. “Not your blood. You were still strapped in when I arrived.”

“And not yours?”

He held up his calloused palms as if she were attempting to rob him. “No blood, and that’s a tiny print. I got big hands.”

Someone had pushed their way out of her truck. Someone bleeding. “I was alone. I never travel with anyone else.”

“Until today maybe.”

“No. I was alone.”

“Ms. Kit, we can talk about that after we’re clear of this location. Gotta get out. Take us ’bout a half hour to reach my truck. Let’s stick to the trees in case whoever it is hasn’t left.”

Before she could reply, he’d climbed down again and started to scour the ground.

Without a moment of warning, the slope let loose with a noise like thunder.

Cullen barely managed to scramble back inside and slam the door.

They flung themselves in the seats and held on.

Soil rolled and pummeled her rig, shaking and rattling. A brown avalanche rushed by the wreck.

Debris shot around them, rocking the trailer.

Unbelievable. They would die here in her truck, the machine she loved that had given her an independent life.

A boulder slammed into the roof, the percussion swallowing her scream.

Would the roof give? Cullen leapt up, pushed her behind the driver’s seat, and crouched beside her.

Her heart thundered so hard she was sure he could feel it, his wide chest pressed against her shoulder.

The percussion of the earth piling all around them was like the onslaught of a hurricane.

Time stood still. Five seconds? Ten? Fifteen? And then it stopped.

Her breath came in harsh gasps.

He crept to the window. “Well, you’re not driving this rig anytime soon, but it appears we won’t be buried alive just now.”

She forced her lungs to do their job. “We can dig out. I’ve got a small shovel.”

He opened his mouth to answer when a strange noise emanated from the sleeping area. They both jerked as if they’d been touched by hot lava.

That sound...

It couldn’t be what she thought it was. Her brain was misfiring. It had to be the concussion. But the noise con tinued, and Cullen looked as if he’d heard it too. The hairs on the back of her neck prickled. “What ... what is that?”

His intense stare added to her unease. “You said you never carry any passengers.”

Passengers? “I don’t.” She gaped.

He shoved aside the curtain to the sleeping area and crawled inside.

She was immobile as he returned a moment later, eyes wide with shock, holding a car seat.

The seat held a baby in pink pajamas who wriggled, let out a cry, and strained against the straps of her carrier.

The toothless mouth opened wide like that of a newly hatched bird.

Kit could not summon a single word.

“Her seat was belted to the chair in your sleeping area.” He looked from the baby to Kit, his expression hardening with suspicion. “Well?”

She blinked, nerves screaming. “I...”

He cocked his head. “How exactly did this baby get into your truck, Kit Garrido?”