Curses filled the air. The Hummer swerved, and he grasped the wheel desperately with his left hand to keep control. He punched his right hand back, trying to hit her in the face, but she dodged and then sank her teeth into his wrist.
She gagged as the taste of blood filled her mouth. He wrenched away and then swung at her with his left hand. As soon as his hand left the wheel, the Hummer hit a huge bump and the world went crazy around her.
Up became down and down became up. She had the vague sensation that she was in deep shit, and then she closed her eyes and prayed.
Her head cracked against something hard. Pain speared through her hand. And then suddenly everything went still.
Though her head throbbed, she cautiously cracked her eyes open. The Hummer had righted. She looked over at Tomas to see him slumped over the steering wheel. Blood splattered the windshield in front of him and she could see it dripping down the side of his head.
Her hand hurt.
Oh God, she was losing it. Was that all she could come up with? She’d just flipped a gazillion times with a man holding a gun, and the only thing that registered was that her fingers ached like a son of a bitch.
She looked down to see her pinkie and ring finger already swelling. The angle of her ring finger looked off, but her brain was so fuzzed all she could do was stare dumbly at her hand.
Out. Get out, Sophie.
She reached across her body with her left hand to open the door. Let it open. Please. She didn’t want to have to crawl out the window.
It popped open a few inches and stuck stubbornly.
She bumped at it with her shoulder but only managed to move it a bit. Swearing in frustration, she rotated her body and leaned back toward Tomas, praying the whole time that the bastard was dead. She braced her feet against the door and pushed with all her strength.
The metal shrieked in protest, but she managed to pry it open enough that she could get out. Eagerly she scooted forward until her legs stuck through the opening. When she automatically reached for the door frame to brace herself, she hissed in pain and yanked her injured hand back.
She shook it to try and assuage the horrible ache, and finally opted to rest it firmly against her chest.
“Let’s try this again,” she murmured.
Realizing the vest was in the way and that she had a better chance of squeezing through the opening without it, she fumbled with one hand on the fastenings until she loosened the vest enough to shrug out of it. Then she sucked in all her breath and eased her way between the door and the truck frame.
As soon as she was clear, she sagged against the beat-up Hummer and blew her breath out in a long exhale.
Somehow she’d come out of this alive. She took it as a sign that someone was looking out for her. The thought bolstered her flagging spirits, and she stared out over the rocky terrain. They’d driven several miles from the house, and the logical thing to do would be to retrace that path.
As she pushed away from the truck, she heard the sound of a vehicle in the distance. She put her uninjured hand to her forehead and scanned the horizon.
A chill went up her spine when she spotted the other Hummer tearing across the rock and sand. She’d seen her father go down. Half the side of his head was gone. He was dead. This wasn’t him.
Her heart started thumping fiercely. She took one step forward. Her knees shook, and her mouth went dry. She took one more step when the truck hurled over a rise about fifty yards away. It fishtailed, then came to a grinding halt. The doors flew open, and she heard her name shouted.
Relief poured over her soul like a waterfall.
Sam.
She wanted to run to him, but she was rooted to the spot where she stood like some statue. Sam and Garrett piled out and Donovan and Ethan jumped out behind them. Suddenly their expression changed from concern and relief to horror.
She frowned.
“Sophie!” Sam yelled.
Sam and Garrett broke into a run, and Sam yanked his gun from his belt and aimed at a point beyond her.
Stunned, she turned to see what they were seeing. She recoiled when she saw Tomas stumble from the wreckage. He looked like hell, blood covering most of his face and head. But he took jerky steps toward her, and worse, he had the gun in his hand, and it was pointed directly at her. And she was no longer wearing her vest.
There was a hollow-eyed, vacant expression hovering over him like gloom. Sophie wasn’t sure he had a clue who he was, where he was or what the hell he was doing, but he had that gun pointed at her, and he seemed determined to shoot.
She saw his finger tighten and she hunched in on herself, covering her belly as she tried to drop to safety. The shot exploded across the space just as a blur of movement caught her eye and Garrett exploded past her.
He flew, literally flew, through the air, arms outstretched as he threw himself in front of her body.
The sound of the bullet smacking his flesh was a sound she’d remember for the rest of her life.
“No!” she cried.
She dropped over his body just as a second shot exploded through the air. And a third. She didn’t look up.
“Garrett. Garrett!”
She raged at him, beating against his Kevlar vest in an attempt to get him to answer her.
He groaned and rolled to his back, holding up his arms to fend her off.
“God, woman, are you trying to finish me off?”
Tears filled her eyes. Rage suffused her face until her cheeks burned with heat.
“Why did you do that? Are you an idiot?” she yelled. “You don’t even like me, Garrett. How could you throw yourself in front of me? What if you die?”
She broke down as sobs tore painfully from her throat. She lowered her head and gathered his large body as close to her as she could, while she wept on his neck.
“Why?” she whispered. “Why would you do something so stupid?”
His hand traced gently through her hair, and then he gathered the strands in his fingers and pulled carefully until her head came away from his chest and he could look her in the eye.
“Because that’s what family does,” he said in a soft, pain-filled voice.
CHAPTER 31
SOPHIE stared down into Garrett’s eyes—eyes that were glazed with pain and beginning to fade. Warmth spread under her hand, and she looked down to see her palm pressed to his shoulder. Blood seeped through her fingers and over his shirt.
No. No, no, no. The bullet had struck him where he wasn’t protected.
She shook her head in denial as tears coursed down her face.
“Sophie, honey, stop looking at me like that,” Garrett said gruffly. “You’ll have me convinced I’m going to die.”
“You’re not?” she asked in a quivery voice.