"That's right," she encouraged. "Keep braking."
He did, pulling over onto the grassy shoulder, the car rolling gradually to a stop. He pushed the emergency brake down with his foot and started to lower his hands.
"On the steering wheel!" she barked. She didn't want his hands anywhere near his waistband and the gun she was sure he had in a holster there.
"Jesus, lady," Levi said, but he obeyed, looking at her sideways.
"Now, one hand on the door handle."
"If you want me out, I have to unbuckle first," Levi said.
"Don't you put your hands anywhere near your waist." She held the revolver steady. "I'll take care of that."
She reached across with her left hand, keeping her right hand with the gun in it more than an arm's length away. She kept her eyes fixed on his face, watching the belt buckle in her peripheral vision. Her fingers found the button to free the belt, the metal rectangle flat against his thigh. She pushed-
-And everything became a blur. He lunged for her, faster than a man could move, making a low growl in his throat. Harper's finger spasmed around the trigger. The bang was like a slap in her ears, and the gun jumped against her palm, the barrel jerking upward as she tried to dodge his rush.
Levi didn't even slow. He reached across her body, his hand folding over hers on the gun, dragging her arm down easily even as she kicked him and punched him with her other hand. His hard body was over hers, the weight of it pinning her against the bench seat of the car-which in other circumstances, if he weren't a car-thief psychopath, might be quite pleasant.
He twisted her wrist mercilessly until she cried out in pain. Circumstances be damned, that was decidedly less pleasant.
"Let go of the gun," he said in her ear.
"No!" She tried to bite him, but he dodged easily.
"I'll break your wrist. I won't like it, but I will."
How could he have done all that? She'd had the gun trained on him, and when he moved, she had fired. It was impossible that she had missed at such close quarters. The bullet should have stopped him dead.
"I shot you!" Harper said. "Why aren't you shot?"
"Let go," he repeated.
She considered her options. She didn't have any.
So she let go.
Still lying full length on top of her, he shifted his weight just enough to shove the revolver into the back of his waistband. She took the opportunity to punch him in the jaw. But he just grabbed her wrists without flinching, one in each hand, and pinned them above her head to the door.