Page 94 of Deadly Secrets
Chapter Seventeen
For a quick heartbeat, Brooke wasn’t sure what happened.
Douglas Weber was there, sitting on a rock with his hands raised, and all of a sudden, there was a rapid-fireping-ping-ping. Roman jerked the wheel of the car, and they were spinning.
Her seatbelt locked up, glass broke, Roman swore. The landscape became a blur as the car did a 180.
“Get down!” Roman yelled and the pelting noise continued, reminding her of that night at the bar, the sound of rain on the metal roof like pebbles being dropped by a giant.
But this wasn’t rain.
Gunfire.
A strong hand caught her by the back of the head and shoved her down so she couldn’t see. Her window exploded, raining glass down on her and she heard a scream.
It was her own voice. Her vocal chords continued to cut loose but she slammed her eyes shut as the world spun. Only the sensation of Roman’s hand holding her head anchored her.
The car stopped its merry-go-round spin and Brooke heard more gunfire, saw the headlights of the other cars lighting up the interior of the Jeep. Roman hit the gas and they jetted forward, the pressure of his reassuring hand leaving her as he used it to shift.
Brooke felt something warm on her neck. She touched the spot and her fingers came away bloody.
She felt no pain. Shaking tiny shards of glass off her arms, she scanned her body and saw no other blood.
She peeked out the hole that had been her window. The cars that had been behind them were now passing on either side. The state troopers had once again hit their sirens and lights, screaming by in a wash of red, blue, and blaring noise.
Brooke dared a look back over her shoulder. There, on the boulders stood at least ten men, one apiece. Each held a semiautomatic rifle and peppered the cars with bullets.
As the police cruisers skidded to a stop, forming a roadblock, Detective Clyffe added his car to it. Win and Polly went off-roading, driving in behind one of the lean-to structures. Return gunfire from the state troopers sent the men on the boulders scrambling for cover.
Roman steered the Jeep behind an outcropping of trees. He killed the ignition and tossed her the keys with one hand as he simultaneously unhooked his seatbelt with the other. “Stay here and stay hidden. Backup’s on the way but I need you to contact Thomas and let him know what he and the others are driving into. Can you do that?”
She nodded. Before he’d turned off the car, killing the dashboard lights, she’d seen a dark spot on his right shoulder.
The blood on her neck hadn’t been hers. It was Roman’s. “You’re bleeding.”
“It’s nothing.” He yanked on his car door handle and started to jump out.
Brooke grabbed his forearm. “You’re shot!”
“Not the first time.” He gave her a quick grin, leaned over, and kissed the end of her nose. “I’m fine, Brooke. The bullet skimmed me, that’s all. Get your gun out and shoot anyone who comes this way if you don’t recognize them. If it looks like we’re losing, get the hell out of here. Get back to the freeway and call Shane. He’ll know what to do.”
“I’m listening, you know,” Shane’s voice said over her comm. “I’ve already alerted Thomas and Mitch, by the way. And for the record, this is a bad idea, Walsh.”
He kissed Brooke again, this time on the lips, and bailed out, completely ignoring his computer tech. The sound of gunfire tapered off. Brooke watched as Roman retrieved something from the rear.
He closed the door quietly and scooted around the vehicle wearing a vest and carrying a large, black weapon. He didn’t look back at her as he disappeared into the shadows.
Brooke climbed into the driver’s seat and flipped the locks on the doors, even though the other window was busted out. Her purse was in the passenger footwell and she snatched it up, shaking off more glass pellets before pulling the Glock out. She checked the chamber to make sure a round was loaded and ready to fire.
She couldn’t hear anything coming through her earbud—everyone had their comms muted. She laid the Glock in her lap, her free hand on the steering wheel, drumming over and over.
Silence now met her ears.
“In pursuit,” Win’s voice broke the silence. He was breathing heavy, like he was running. “Male, medium build, wearing a cap, jacket, jeans, boots. Carrying a pistol.”
The sound of a scuffle ensued. A gun went off, the bang so loud in her ear, Brooke flinched. She strained her eyes, searching the area, seeing nothing but the scrubby trees blowing in the breeze.
“Suspect down and incapacitated,” Win said a moment later, and Brooke released the breath she’d been holding.
