Page 54 of Crossing Every Line

“That’s better.”

She grinned. “But what about this one?”

He glanced at her choice. “‘Wind of Change’ is a lyrical masterpiece.”

She ejectedMaster of Puppetsand slid in the Scorpions’ greatest hits and cranked the sound. She sang—loudly and about as off-key as she could manage. When she got a laugh out of him, she sang louder. “Rock You Like a Hurricane” was a perfect anthem song.

The sudden swerve of the truck and thepopfollowed by a screech of brakes and Shane’s arm slamming her back into the seat happened so fast she didn’t have time to scream. They rocked to a stop, and the truck slowly listed to the right. The next track on the CD belted out a song she’d never heard about loving hard all Sunday morning.

Then silence when Shane cut the engine.

“Son of a bitch!” He wrenched his door open and hopped out.

The road was endless and empty save for a tumbleweed bouncing along the sandy side. Shriveled plants of unknown origin looked like singed cotton balls. The sun was just above the mountains in the distance. She opened her door.

“Stay in the truck!”

She hopped out. “What? I’m going to get killed by a passing car? Oh right, there are no cars.”

His granite jaw flexed, and shocker—he was silent. He went to the back of the truck, and his face grew even more grim. She wasn’t sure it was possible, but it did. He slapped the tailgate and crouched.

“You have a spare, right?”

“Yeah, I have a spare—but I need two.”

She hurried after him and hissed out, “Shit.” She dragged her hair into a messy knot. The sun might be low, but it was still hot. At the moment anyway. She’d read somewhere that the desert temperatures were a drastic change once darkness set in.

Kendall stood in the center of the highway and looked ahead. Nothing but road. Miles and miles—hundreds of miles, to be exact—of road.

“Get out of the road, Kendall.”

His voice was low. Her skin prickled at the tone. She turned back and saw what had shredded their tires. A rusted length of pipe and the half-hollowed-out muffler were crumpled and sharp. One tire was mangled, and the other had simply torn thanks to the skid into the shoulder.

“I don’t think this is exactly in the AAA coverage area,” she muttered.

He dug his phone out of his pocket. “How’s your signal?”

She ran back to the truck and grabbed her phone. “I’ve got a bar.”

“Better than me.”

She flicked through her contacts. “I have AAA, actually.”

“Do it.”

“Sure, I can call them for you. No problem.”

He gave her a stony look.

“Okay, calling. Jeez.” She went back to the truck for her wallet and followed the prompts. She crossed her fingers as the operator came on.

“Are you in a safe location?”

She looked around. “For now.”

“Is that a yes, ma’am?”

“We’re on the side of the road in the desert.”

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