Page 79 of Not This Time

But this didn't slow him.

He'd angled so his body would roll, and roll it did. Right up against the shattered windshield.

Pieces of glass jutted every which way, blocking his progress. But the glass was weakened, shot to pieces.

And now, he reached out with his knife, his other hand finding the grooves in the hood, holding on as she tried to back up again, veering sideways to shake him.

His arm strained, and he yelled fiercely as he held onto the groove in the top of the hood with his blood-stained fingers.

Now that he was so close, she had a good look at him for the first time.

His features were gaunt, and his eyes were wild and crazed. Blood dripped from a deep cut on his forehead, and his clothes were tattered and torn.

Rachel's heart raced as she realized that this man was not going to give up.

He continued slamming his knife into the windshield, shattering more glass.

He was trying tobreak throughthe remaining portion of the windshield to reach her.

His hilt hit the glass again. Again. Pieces scattered across her lap.

She was increasing speed, going faster, faster. She raised her own gun, but he lungedthroughthe glass with a scream, grabbing at the weapon. She shot once.

He tore through his hand, but this didn't stop him.

Though his hand was now punctured, bloody, he managed to rip her gun away.

And then he screamed, "Pull over! Now!"

His knife was gone. He'd dropped it. His gun was in his hand once more.

He was pointing through the shattered glass.

But he wasn't aiming at her.

His one hand was bleeding horribly, but the other clutched the gun, pointing directly at the captive's head where she lay in the backseat.

"I said pull over, or I waste her!" he screamed.

She was slowing down now, her mind racing. But there was no obvious solution.

Rachel's stomach churned with sickening fear as she watched O'Connor's hand tremble on the gun. The captive in the backseat was a young woman, no more than mid twenties, and she looked up at Rachel with terrified eyes. Rachel knew she had to act fast before O'Connor pulled the trigger.

She slowly eased her foot off the gas pedal, bringing the car to a stop. O'Connor's wild eyes darted between Rachel and the captive, and Rachel could feel the tension in the air. He was breathing heavily, bleeding everywhere.

"Get out of the car," O'Connor growled at Rachel, his gun still trained on the captive.

Rachel hesitated for a second, then slowly opened the door and stepped out. Her heart was pounding in her chest, and she could feel the sweat beading on her forehead.

O'Connor motioned for her to come around to the front of the car. She did as she was told, keeping her eyes on the gun in his hand.

"Turn around!" he snapped.

She stared at him, warily.

"I said turn around!" he screamed.

Reluctantly, she complied.

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