Page 125 of Perfect Cowboy

“Get out,” he snaps, reaching over to unlatch my seatbelt. “Right now. Jump down and run into the field as fast and far as you can.”

“What? I–”

“Ashley! Get out! Now!”

The panic in his voice should propel me into motion, but it doesn’t. I wasn’t built for survival under duress, and apparently, my body can’t even get fight or flight right.

I don’t want to do either one. I just want everyone to leave us the hell alone.

We’ve stopped, but the truck is raised so high that I’ll probably break an ankle trying to reach the ground. But that would be better than whatever else is going on based on the tight, anxious expression on Gavin’s face.

But I’m frozen.

And now I can smell – something. I don’t recognize what it is, but it’s wrong. Vehicles don’t smell this way, and there’s a weird noise even though the truck is turned off and isn’t moving. Something is wrong.

Very wrong.

Gavin is out the door and running around to meet me just as a devastatingly loud explosion crashes through the air and makes my ears ring. The truck is raised off the ground and smashes back down with a thud, snapping my teeth together hard enough to draw blood.

The smoke is already so thick, and I don’t know how Gavin is going to find me. He’s always saving me, always rescuing me when I make the wrong decisions or can’t react fast enough.

But there’s no playbook for how to survive attempted murder – repeated attempted murder.

I can’t stop coughing, and maybe I’m screaming, too.

The door opens and Gavin grabs me, yanking me roughly into his arms. And then he’s running full speed as a secondary explosion stronger than the first one blasts through the air, making him stumble and nearly fall.

But he doesn’t.

He keeps running and all I can do is repeat a mantra over and over in my head, begging whoever is listening that we’re going to reach safety.

If we had stayed inside that truck one minute longer…

Now I’m definitely screaming, but there’s no way that Gavin can hear me over all the noise and ringing and fear.

We were literally just in California, curled up in front of a fire pit and eating wine-doused marshmallows. Now we’re standing in the middle of an empty field at the side of the road in Montana after someone just tried to kill me – again.

How is this shit show my life?

Gavin sets me on the ground, and while his lips are moving, no sound comes out. I focus on his face and understand that he’s asking if I’m okay.

I simply nod and he grabs the cell phone out of his pocket, calling what I assume is 911.

It must be freezing outside and I’m shaking, but I don’t feel the cold. My teeth are chattering so hard that my jaw hurts, and this must be what happens when you’re in shock.

Gavin’s arm is linked through mine, and he’s guiding me further into the field and away from the explosion.

“What the hell happened?” I ask.

“I’m not sure yet,” Gavin replies grimly. “Someone must have put something in the gas tank to cause a chemical reaction. And then boom.”

“They were trying to kill me. Maybe both of us. Again.”

“It would appear that way, yeah.”

“And you want me here,” I say, disbelief soaking my words.

“I can’t keep you safe if you’re not with me. And I love you. I always want to be with you.” He stops me in my tracks and cups my face, looking right into my eyes. “I promise I’ll find out who is doing this to us and I’ll kill him.”

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