Page 6 of You Betrayed Me (The Cahills 3)

Megan braced herself.

Bam!

The Toyota collided with the mountain.

Her seat belt jerked tight.

Her eyes squeezed shut.

The car’s front bumper crumpled, the hood damaged in a horrific groan of twisting metal and shattered plastic. The windshield cracked.

Something flew forward, launched straight into the mirror, shattering the reflective glass.

She expected the impact from the airbag as it burst out of the steering wheel.

Steeled herself.

Her car jolted to a stop.

No sudden burst of pressure or mass of air shot at her; no balloon trapped her against her seat.

Instead, there was silence.

Sudden and deafening.

And she was alive.

Miraculously unhurt.

Disbelieving, she stared at her gloved fingers, clenched in a death grip over the wheel. She slowly released them as she let out her breath. Her hands were trembling, her entire body quivering.

Get hold of yourself. You’re okay.

Glancing through the cracked window, she tried to calm her wildly racing heartbeat, to focus.

The car. Can you drive it?

Could she get that lucky?

What were the chances?

She twisted the key, heard the starter grind. “Come on. Come on.” If she could just get the car going, she would back up so that it wasn’t crosswise in the road. She could put the car in NEUTRAL, if she had to, and aim downhill, riding the brakes, right? Until she was in civilization. . . or until she could call . . .

Her thoughts were interrupted. Her phone? Where the hell was her phone? She searched the interior quickly, then remembered something flying into the rearview mirror. Was that her cell? Desperately, she patted the seat next to her, wet from her spilled coffee and loaded with books and her backpack, anything she could just toss into the car.

Nothing.

Quickly, she scoured the floor of the passenger area, but it had a trash basket and two pairs of shoes and . . .

Oh, screw it!

It doesn’t matter! Just get the car out of the road so you don’t get T-boned.

She twisted on the ignition. The starter scraped, but nothing happened.

“Oh, come on!”

Another try, and the engine turned over, but . . . a movement caught her attention. Something dark in the shards of glass in the rearview.

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