Page 75 of Trapped

He tried the front door of the vehicle and found it open. A good sign, she supposed. Nobody cared enough to lock it up.

Slipping inside, he wedged himself onto the floor below the steering wheel and began fiddling with wires.

She watched nervously, expecting someone to discover what they were doing and come charging out of the house with a shotgun. Thankfully, nobody appeared.

When the car started, Cash eased up from his position on the floor. But as she hurried around to the passenger door, a light came on in the house.

Trouble!

“Hold it right there,” a voice boomed out.

She almost jumped out of her skin, then jumped again as a blast from the shotgun she’d pictured earlier split the air.

Lucky for her, the guy was too far away to do any serious damage.

“Get in,” Cash shouted.

She jumped into the car and slammed the door as he headed down the hill.

The engine sputtered, and he cursed. Behind them, another blast sounded.

She cringed down in the seat. “I guess he’d rather get us than save his car.”

“Yeah.”

“Better fire a couple of shots across his bow.”

“Are you crazy?”

As Cash kept driving, he reached over and took the gun from her, then leaned out the window and got off several shots—aimed high.

“Stop.”

“I’m not trying to hit him—just scare him.”

“Great.”

She had been looking behind her. When she swiveled to the front again, she gasped. “Cash, watch out.”

He brought his attention to the road again, then yanked the wheel hard, barely missing a fence post.

She breathed out a sigh, then looked behind them again. “The good news is that he’s stopped.”

“The bad news is that he may call the cops. And we don’t want to get nailed for armed robbery.”

She winced.

Cash kept going, picking up speed as he barreled onto the road and turned right.

“You know where we’re going?”

“I wish I did.”

He drove for another few miles, then pulled into another darkened lane.

“Now what?”

“We have to change the license plates.”

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