No White Knight

I check my mirrors, just as a huge semi-truck comes ripping up the road behind me, veering in from one of the small feeder roads.

It’s speeding like a missile on wheels.

Faster than rigs should go, way over the speed limit, its engine howling like a rabid dog in my wake as it comes charging up at my rear end.

“Holy shit!” I whisper.

There’s barely time to get a bad feeling about this.

I slam on the gas, making my truck leap forward, but I feel like I’m already outgunned.

Being smaller and more maneuverable doesn’t cut it. Not when that thing’s got an engine made for long haul power.

My pulse punches my throat, hot fear-sweat and even hotter anger rushing through me.

I grind down hard on the gas and beg for just a little more speed out of my poor truck. I’m a fighter, but I’m not stupid.

That rig could splatter me like a honeybee.

I just gotta get to the little lane that dips off the road, down the palisades of the highway, toward my ranch.

It’s a tight curve, no way in hell that truck can barrel down it without tipping over.

And it’s less than two miles.

Go, Libby!

It almost feels like Dad’s voice in my head, telling me to get the lead out my ass and floor it.

I lean into the steering wheel, clutching it so tight my hands hurt, punching the gas pedal until the needle creeps up over eighty, ninety, and all I can hear is the gunfire of my heart. Plus the roar of that semi creeping up like a hungry bear, so big its shadow falls over me.

No headlights, either.

He’s driving with them off, and when I steal a desperate glance in the rear-view mirror, I can’t see who’s behind the wheel. But I’ve got a good guess or two.

He’s almost on my bumper.

For a second, we flirt just inches away from a crash, before he veers left.

What the?

Oh, crap.

He’s trying to block me, wall me off before I can make the turn.

I’ve got my shotgun here somewhere. I fumble under the seat, but if I don’t wanna crash, I’ve gotta slow down.

Maybe that’s the smart thing.

He’s pulling up alongside me and won’t expect it.

Yeah.

I don’t slam on the brakes, but I do ease off the gas—and suddenly I’m dropping back while he surges ahead with a grinding of gears. A split second later, I risk dipping down to feel around until I find the holster and rip my shotgun out.

I jerk myself back up, propping the barrel on the steering wheel, blowing my hair out of my eyes as I take aim and—

And nearly knock my own dumb teeth out, slamming my head on the window as the semi angles over with all the grace of a hippo and slams into me sidelong.

He’d fallen back, too.

In the flash it took me to get my gun, he’s taken me by surprise.

Now the inside of my cab crunches inward with a metallic squeal, my head bouncing off the window in an agonizing thwack!

The shotgun skitters from my fingers and drops down between the dash and the passenger seat.

Crap, crap, crap.

With a cry, I grab at the steering wheel.

My gut lurches and twists as the truck goes up on two wheels, then crashes back down.

I just barely wrench the whole damn thing away from the shoulder before it can plunge through the guardrail and into the valley.

Breathing hard, I take a second to orient myself.

My poor truck’s limping. I can hear its front axle squealing, and I’m having to fight to keep it in a straight line.

But that semi’s still running alongside me, going a hell of a lot smoother—it’s like swatting a fly with a flipping tank, and as the whole rig goes easing over to the left, my breathing just stops.

Bastard’s gearing up to do it again.

He’s gonna hit me harder, and this time I won’t be able to stop him if he slams me over the guardrail to God knows where. This is almost like what happened with Warren and Haley Ford when they took down that drug lord—except the one man who could save me doesn’t even know what’s happening.

My heart turns over.

Terror becomes my state of being.

Thing is, I’m also too pissed off to die like this.

No, I’m not gonna make it if he hits me again. But I’ve got a few more aces up my sleeve.

Before he can wrench his semi over like a wrecking ball again, I slam on the brakes and swerve my truck to the left, cutting over behind him as I drop back.

I was gonna let him cut ahead of me while I did a swift U-turn and hauled it back to town. Only, I didn’t count on my truck’s age catching up with it, plus whatever damage he did from nailing me the first time.