Page 28 of Tessa's Trust

“What’s going on?” I sat up straighter in my seat.

“I’m not sure.”

I looked around. There were trees, ice berms, and a lot of snow on my side of the SUV, and cement dividers on his. We were just starting to descend through the mountain pass, and the roads were icy, the snow falling hard. “Nick?” I asked.

Just then, the vehicle behind us smashed into the rear of the Jeep. We jerked forward, and the seat belt cinched hard against my chest. Pain blasted through my rib cage, and I gasped.

“What the hell?” Nick grabbed the wheel and fought the ice. I yelped and planted a hand on the window. The vehicle spun and went off the side of the road, smashing against a tree.

My head jerked back and forth, and I sucked in air, my ears ringing. I looked wildly around. No other vehicles were coming either way right now.

“Get down!” In one smooth motion, Nick released my seat belt, grabbed my neck, and shoved my chest to my knees. Pain flared in my back, but I didn’t move, my heart thundering.

He opened the console, and I caught the glint of a gun out of the corner of my eye.

“Wait,” I protested.

“Stay here.” He stopped the engine and ducked down. I turned my head to see the entire interior of the vehicle awash with light. Whoever had pushed us off the road was right behind us with their high beams pointed at the Jeep.

Nick partially levered up, turned, and pointed. “Cover your ears.”

I did so instantly. Two shots rang out, jolting my entire body, and then darkness descended. The remaining glass from Nick’s back window clattered into the back seat. Whoa. Nick had just fired through the vehicle.

With the darkness came silence. Hard and heavy.

Nick opened his door and dropped out, rolling once across the ice. I gasped and scrambled over to watch, reaching into my bag for my weapon. We were all armed. After Anna’s frightening experience as a child, we all knew how to shoot and were more than ready to protect ourselves.

I kept low and fell to the ground in case Nick needed backup. Icy shards bit into my knees. I crouched, pointing my gun at the darkened form of the truck behind us. I couldn’t see anybody, but as my eyes adjusted to the darkness, I could tell that the passenger-side door was open. Whoever had hit us had gotten out that way.

Graceful and smooth, Nick kept low as he hurried toward the back of his Jeep and pivoted, heading straight for the passenger-side door of the other vehicle, all animal grace.

I saw a flash of fire and heard the sound of a gun firing a second later. Nick dove to the ground, and then faster than I could track, got up and tackled the shooter with an impact that echoed through the storm.

They barreled into the forest. Snow and ice fell from boughs, and the sound of grunts and punches echoed back. I couldn’t breathe. I could barely think. My legs shook, but I stood and hurried toward the truck, my gun pointed inside it. It was empty.

A man yelled from the tree line, and then there was silence. The wind blasted me, and I had to wipe snow from my eyes. My heart pounded wildly, and I could barely breathe. But I put my back to the empty truck and slid along the side and then across the grill, pointing my weapon toward the trees.

“Nick?” I called out.

“I’m fine.”

Gratitude nearly buckled my knees. “Are you sure?” I fumbled for my cell phone to hold up. I pressed the flashlight icon and nearly fell in relief as I saw him walking out between two snow-laden pine trees, dragging a figure by the collar.

I lifted the light to see Nick’s face. There was blood on his lip, swelling on his cheek, and fury in his tawny eyes.

I slid to the side. “Who is it?”

Nick twisted his shoulders and tossed a half-conscious man against the grill of the white truck. The guy groaned and fell to the ice.

“It’s Ozzie Morrison,” Nick snapped.

I lowered my weapon. “Morrison?” And then I looked at the truck, shining my flashlight on it. It was the white one the shooter earlier had driven so quickly past the diner. “The brother of the guy you convicted? So this is about you?” I should be ashamed to admit that a little bit of relief flew through me.

“Apparently, so.” Nick pulled his phone from his back pocket, looking dangerous and pretty much invincible in the swirling snow.

It was a totally inappropriate moment for me to catch my breath at how sexy and deadly Basanelli could be after kicking the butt of a man who’d tried to hurt us.

I didn’t know Ozzie Morrison, but he looked like about two hundred and fifty pounds of solid, beefy muscle. It must have been a good fight, and Nick had won. Parts of me warmed inappropriately.

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