Who will hit us? Trisha turned her head to peer out the back of the SUV. She saw a red truck with a metal grill coming fast at the back of the vehicle. She knew her mouth opened as the truck moved closer, realizing it would ram them. She softly gasped as it plowed into the back of the SUV.

The SUV swerved, fishtailing on the narrow road. Trisha’s head was thrown forward against the back of the cushioned driver’s seat. Her seat belt dug painfully into her lap as she realized she had pushed down the shoulder belt while sleeping.

“Oh my god,” Bart sounded as though he were sobbing. “They are trying to kill us.”

“Punch the gas,” Slade roared. “Our engine is bigger. They wouldn’t be able to catch us to ram us if you’d find your balls and put on some speed.”

“I can’t,” Bart yelled. “I’ll lose control. The turns are too sharp.”

“Next time, I’m driving,” Slade snarled.

Trisha experienced fear as she watched the edges of the road. There were trees everywhere and one side of the narrow road rose uphill while the on the other side, the one she sat closest to, dropped off into a vast space of trees. She stared downward. They were on some winding mountain road heading up.

“Call for help,” Trisha got out, confused and terrified at waking in a hellish situation.

“There’s no cell signal.” Slade snarled his words, obviously furious.

He turned his head, looking back. He cursed, throwing himself into the seat next to Trisha. She was shocked by the sight of the weapon he withdrew from his back from under his waistband. It was a black handgun.

“Oh crap,” she gasped.

The truck rammed them again. Trisha was thrown against the door next to her but this time she managed not to hit her head. Her hand got smashed instead between the door she gripped and her body. Slade was thrown into the back of the passenger seat before he moved onto his knees and bent into the back section of the SUV. He pointed the weapon.

“Cover your ears, Doc.”

She did that just as Slade opened fire. Glass exploded. The sound of the gun going off was earsplitting. The SUV fishtailed wildly as it nearly tipped on two wheels. Bart cursed a blue streak, taking a turn too fast.

Trisha twisted around to face the back. She saw white steam pour out from under the hood of the red truck, not needing to be told that Slade had shot into the engine. He had to have hit the radiator or something else. The red truck slowed and the SUV pulled away. Slade stopped firing. He cursed as he dropped the empty clip and shoved in another full one from his side pocket. They took a turn and the red truck wasn’t behind them anymore.

Trisha gaped at Slade. His blue gaze flashed to hers. “Are you okay, Doc?”

She managed to nod. “Who was that?”

Slade shrugged. “My guess is they weren’t friends of ours.” He threw himself down on the seat sideways, placing the gun down between them. He tore his focus from her to watch out the damaged back window. Wind rushed into the SUV from the gaping hole. He yanked his cell phone out of his pocket. He flipped it open, stared at it for a few seconds, and viciously cursed.

“There’s still no signal.” His gaze met hers. “Where’s your cell, Doc?”

“Mine won’t have one either if you don’t have a signal.”

“You never know. We might have different carriers. Where is it? I don’t want to sit here debating. I’d rather try.”

She reached for her purse but it wasn’t where she’d placed it. She peered down and realized it had fallen to the floor. She pointed. Slade lunged for her purse. His hand practically crushed the bag as he yanked it up. In a heartbeat he’d flipped her purse over, emptying all the contents out on the seat between them with a few rough shakes.

Trisha had to fight the urge to yell at him when her mouth dropped open in shock. Those were her things he’d just strewn all over the seat as thought it were garbage. He shoved his hand into the mess he’d created to find her cell then he flipped it open.

“Damn it,” he growled. He threw it to the floor.

“That is my phone! Don’t break it.”

Her temper flared. She was also scared and really, really angry. She unfastened her belt to reach forward to lean down to check on her cell phone. Slade shoved her back against her seat with his hand.

“It doesn’t work anyway,” he snarled, glaring at her.

“Throw your phone but not mine. That’s rude.”

“I’m sorry. I would hate to be impolite when someone just tried to kill us.”

“Hello?” Bart shouted. “There’s another truck. Could you guys stop fighting? I think we have another problem. It looks as if they weren’t alone!”

Trisha turned her head to stare in horror out the back of the SUV. A second truck came at them fast, this one a blue pickup that had a metal grill, almost the twin of the red one. She watched as a man stood up in the back of the truck bed, one arm gripping the roll bar over the cab of the truck to keep on his feet, and lifted his other arm to try to point a gun at them. Her mouth opened to scream out a warning.

Slade reached over, grabbed Trisha’s shirt with his fist and yanked her down over the seat. His body crushed down on top of hers, causing her purse and its contents to dig into her stomach. Slade’s hand shoved in between the seat and her. He grabbed her breast, squeezed it, and his hand turned. He found his gun and yanked it out from under her none too gently. A loud noise sounded but it was muffled for Trisha since Slade’s thighs were against her ears.