Page 54 of Unknown

Then, twisting the wheel again so that the tires wailed on the asphalt, Boris glanced at her and she saw in his expression that he was picking up on something. Something in her demeanor, maybe even the way she'd looked into that wing mirror, had triggered alarm bells inside his own head.

"What is it?" he snapped out tensely. His fingers tightened again on the grenade. "What the hell are you planning? I don't trust you!"

Cora took a deep breath, making one last attempt at distracting him. "Listen," she said. "I understand what you're saying, but you have to see that not everyone is weak. Some people have strong wills and can overcome any obstacle."

"Stop it!" he howled. "You have to stop it! I can see what you're doing. You're stealing my attention like a thief! You're trying to take me away from my purpose. You're trying to make me doubt myself!" He slammed his hand on the steering wheel, making the car swerve again. "But I won't let you. I know who I am. I know what I have to do."

"Okay," Cora muttered to herself. She had the sketchy outline of a plan, but it was as good as she was going to get.

She leaned back, using the last of her slack in the belt, and then she kicked out, flinging her leg across the seat, smashing it into the hand that was holding the grenade.

She put all her force into the blow. This was as deadly as she was going to get. And she managed to catch him squarely on his fingers.

With a shout of pain, he dropped it. But not under the seat. Into his lap, where he could easily grab it again. “Damn it to hell,” Cora hissed. She lashed out with her foot again, catching the edge of the steering wheel, and this time, the car veered all the way across the road, tires wailing. Thank goodness the other driver had stayed well back, she thought.

But that was enough. That got it moving.

The grenade shot out of his hand and thudded down onto the seat, rolling underneath it and out of harm's way. The pin was still in. The deadly explosion was averted.

There was a whole different fireball coming her way now.

“What the hell? What the hell!” Driving one-handed, because she’d managed to do some damage to his right hand, Boris stared down, looking desperately for the grenade as the car slewed to the side, tires screaming.

Then he turned to her, wincing in pain as he bunched his fist, yelling wordlessly, raining blows down on her. She was a sitting target, pinned in place and unable to use her hands to defend herself. At least she’d caused some damage, and he wasn’t hitting with full force, but even so, the attack was like an onslaught. She tried to defend herself as best she could, writhing aside as the punches rained down. She caught one on her shoulder. Ducked one that was meant for her jaw. His speed was bleeding off as his attack intensified. Using all the resources she could, she did her best to push him away with her leg.

With a squeal of tires, the car that had been following them sped past, accelerating ahead to safety. As it shot by, the driver gave a long, angry blare of his horn.

At least this innocent driver was no longer in danger. But she was.

Cora was able to block most of the punches, but some landed, jarring her body and making her vision blur. She knew she couldn't keep this up for long. His focus was on beating her. The car was now juddering onto the side of the road. Finally he hit the brakes.

Bad news for her. He was starting to think his way out of his predicament.

Now, he could find that grenade, and there was no way she could stop him. She hadn’t done enough. She’d hoped that first kick would break some of his fingers, but the angle had been wrong.

And if he got the advantage for long enough, he'd be able to stop and find that grenade. It was still in the car, and he could still use both his hands.

She jackknifed her body in the limited space and managed to land another kick on his thigh. She was fighting him with everything she had, but now he pulled up the handbrake, the car's wheels grinding into the dirt.

She didn't think things could get worse. She thought that now the grenade was out of the picture she’d have a fighting chance.

But she was wrong.

Trapped in handcuffs, in the locked embrace of her seatbelt, she was battered by the sound waves as Boris gave another furious, wordless cry.

And then, he grabbed her gun from off his belt.

CHAPTER THIRTY TWO

"No you don't!" Cora kicked out at him viciously. He was not going to use her own gun against her. He was not! She was going to do everything in her power to stop that. She kicked again, her leg flying out at him, and he grabbed it, twisting her ankle, shoving her backward as she tried desperately to writhe free from the seatbelt's restrictive grip.

With all her force, she thrashed against the restraints. It was now or never. She had to break free and fight back, or she'd be dead.

She lashed out again with her leg, catching him in the arm, causing him to cry out in pain. She needed to damage him badly enough that he couldn't use that right hand to shoot her with her own weapon. But he was fighting back now, fighting hard. His fist hammered into her thigh bruising it at once. Then he wrenched her ankle sideways so that she gasped in pain.

There was a swishing sound as another car passed behind them. It didn't stop to help. Perhaps the driver had been going too fast to realize there was anything wrong. At any rate, she wouldn't get help from anyone on the road.

She tugged her foot, jerking it out of his grasp, trying to kick him again. But he ducked away and then he reached again for her gun, grinning.

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