At last, she managed to convince one brave white bird with only a smattering of black feathers mixed in to climb the entire length of the board and join the goats. Afterward, the rest of the chickens followed suit with the rooster last to go. They shut the rear door as the first drop of rain landed on her cheek. “I didn’t think we’d ever get them inside.”

  “Let’s go before the rain turns Vince’s drive to mud.” Gloria rushed toward the driver’s door as Holly climbed into the backseat.

  Before Gloria could start the vehicle, the rooster fluffed his wings, hopped over the backseat, and landed straight on Holly’s lap. His claws dug into her thighs, and she clamped a hand over her mouth to keep from shrieking. After a moment, he fluffed his wings and settled down like her lap was his throne. Holly stared at him in disbelief.

  “You alright back there?” Emma twisted around, staring at the bird and Holly.

  Holly managed to string a few words together. “I—I think so.” She swallowed hard. “As long as he doesn’t stick me with a spur, I guess he can stay right here.” Never in her life did she think a rooster would decide her lap was the best place to hang out, but after everything she’d been through the past few weeks, at this point, nothing surprised her. She smiled at the bird as Gloria shifted into drive.

  Fat raindrops landed on the windshield as she navigated down the gravel drive toward the paved road. They bounced onto the asphalt and Holly spoke softly to the rooster, trying to keep him calm. A mile from the turn for Vince’s property, a violent pop sounded from somewhere beneath the Explorer and shook the backseat. The rooster fluffed his wings and Holly grabbed the door to brace herself as Gloria veered off the road. “What’s going on?”

  “I think we popped a tire.” Gloria slowed the vehicle, bouncing along the weeds and gravel on the side of the road until they came to a stop. Rain sheeted down the windshield. Thunder rumbled in the distance, followed by a crack of lightning on the horizon.

  “In this rain, it might make more sense to walk and come back when it passes.” Emma leaned toward the windshield, peering out at the sky.

  “The chickens will never follow us in this weather.” Holly stared down at the rooster who twisted his head back and forth while he sat on her lap.

  Gloria pulled her hair back and fashioned it into a low bun at the base of her neck. “Then I guess we have to change a tire.” She smiled at Emma. “Ready to get soaked?”

  Emma turned to Holly. “Try to keep the animals calm, okay?”

  Holly nodded as the two older women opened their doors. The rush of cooler, wet air filled the cabin and one of the goats hopped up on the rear seat to nose Holly’s neck. “It’s okay. We’ll be on the road again in no time.”

  She smiled at the little goat before turning back to the passenger side door. A shape loomed in the window and Holly squinted at it. “Gloria? Is that you?”

  She leaned forward as hands cupped the glass. A man she’d never seen before, with a week-old beard and a scar marring his cheek stared back.

  Chapter Twelve

  EMMA

  As soon as Emma opened the door to the Explorer, rain pelted her face. She blinked water from her lashes and shut the door with a thud. “What on earth did we run over?”

  “Whatever it was, it did a number on the tire. It’s totally flat already.” Gloria lowered into a crouch and inspected the rubber. Rain turned her gray shirt black, a wet spot spreading like cancer across her back. “What the heck is this?” She twisted and held a four-pointed star up in her open palm.

  Emma blinked. She’d only ever seen one in the movies. “That’s a caltrop.”

  “A what?”

  “Caltrop. They’re used to pop tires.”

  Gloria’s face fell. “You mean—”

  Emma twisted around and used her hand to shield her eyes from the worst of the rain. “It was intentional.”

  “Hey, ladies,” a male voice called out through the weather and Emma spun. A man stood ten feet away, hands held out like he meant them no harm. “Seems like you might be in need of a little assistance.”

  “We’re fine.” Emma flashed a tight smile as she stepped closer to Gloria and lowered her voice. “Do you have a weapon?”

  “It’s in the front seat. You?”

  “Same.” She cursed herself for leaving the handgun in the console. John would be so disappointed in her lack of preparation. Emma eased back until she bumped the driver’s side door.

  The man took another step closer. From the Mossy Oak camouflage jacket to the hiking boots coated in mud, he didn’t strike Emma as one of Dane’s crew. He nodded at the tire. “You got a jack? I’m happy to help get you on your way.”

  Gloria stood and leaned close enough to whisper. “You think he’s serious?”

  “Not a chance. Like I said, someone put that spike out on the road. It’s not an accident.”

  “John’s people?”

  “I don’t think so.”

  “Come on now, I ain’t gonna bite.” He took another step.

  “That’s close enough.” Emma motioned for him to stop. “We already told you we’re fine. I appreciate the offer, but we can manage on our own.”

  The hood of the jacket shielded the man’s face from the worst of the rain, but the lower half of his ruddy beard clumped and curled as the water dripped off. He scratched a spot underneath the damp, matted hair as his chin jutted out in their direction. “Don’t you understand? I’m not askin’, I’m tellin’.” He took another step.

  A scream cut through the rain and Emma spun. The rear door to the Explorer stood open and a hulking shape loomed over Holly. Emma blinked the water from her lashes, but it did no good. She shouted at the vehicle, “Holly!”

  The rooster crowed and a rush of tan feathers fanned out across the window.

  Gloria reached for the driver’s door and Emma dove for the rear, focused on Holly and the assailant on the opposite side of the SUV. Emma grabbed the door handle and tugged. The door flew open. Holly leaned back across the bench seat as a hulking shape of a man in a black raincoat loomed over her. She coiled back and struck out with both feet, the man flew back, fingers slipping off the frame of the Explorer as he stumbled into the weeds on the side of the road.

  The rooster crowed again, flapping and hopping from the floorboard to the seat.

  “Are you—” Before she could finish, a black shape crowded Emma’s peripheral vision. She twisted in time to catch a hook across the jaw. Pain radiated over her skin, into the muscles, and straight through the bone. She hovered for a long moment, world spinning, jaw hanging open.

  Rain ran in rivulets down her cheeks, over her nose, dripping into her open mouth.

  “Emma! Watch out!”

  She blinked Holly into focus as the shape came at her again, this time materializing into a man. Tan skin, buzz cut, reflective glasses. A blur of brute force and testosterone. She slumped as his fist flew forward, slamming into the frame of the vehicle as Emma tucked herself tight against the running board.

  Holly screamed again. The man in the black raincoat returned, meaty fingers gripping the frame of the rear passenger door as he clambered inside. Holly scrambled back toward Emma and the rooster flew over Holly’s wriggling form and straight at the man.

  Emma struggled to stand. The shotgun lay an arm’s length away on the floorboard of the backseat. She screamed at Holly. “Get the shotgun! Get it and shoot!”

  Holly twisted, eyes wide and full of panic at Emma’s words. Before she could even breathe, Mr. Buzz Cut returned, arms out fingers curled into claws. Emma tried to sidestep his advance, but he pulled back and kicked, boot colliding with her kneecap and sending her flying. The asphalt rose up to meet her, and Emma landed hard on the ground.

  Broken bits of road and debris dug into her palms, but she ignored the pain, scrambling up to reach for Holly as another kick connected with her middle. She twisted against her will, whole body contorting as her head slammed against the running board of the Explorer.

  The world spun. A thick, viscous liquid filled her mouth, the metallic tang undeniable. She spit out the blood, but it merely dribbled down her chin.

  Someone shouted. Gloria? Holly? Emma didn’t know. She shook her head to clear it, but it only made the vertigo worse. Everything floated and twisted in the mush of her brain.

  The boom of a single gunshot echoed through the sludge. The vehicle shook beneath her. Another boom and a cacophony of feathers flew across Emma’s vision. A chicken landed beside her, clucking and flapping and carrying on.

  Shoes she recognized landed on the wet pavement beside her and Holly lowered into a crouch. “Are you all right?”

  Emma wiped her face with the back of her hand, smearing spit and blood across her cheek. “I will be.”

  Holly held out her hand and Emma took it, wobbling to stand as she grabbed the frame of the open door for support. As she stretched to her full height, pain stole her breath. She reached for her ribs. “W-What about you?” She sucked in a gulp of air. “Are you—”

  “This one’s dead!” Gloria’s voice echoed from the other side of the vehicle. “What about yours?”

  Holly nudged a lump with her shoe and for the first time, Emma focused enough to bring the body of a man into view. “I think he’s dead, too.” She looked up and met Emma’s gaze with wide, terrified eyes.

  It had all happened so fast. The flat, the ambush, the gunshots. Emma reached for Holly and gave her hand a squeeze. “It’ll be okay. We’ll be okay.”

  “What about the third?” Gloria emerged from the other side of the vehicle, a chicken flapping and clucking behind her.

  Emma ran her tongue across her lips, rain diluting the tang of blood. She pinched her nose to stop the bleeding and leaned over, bracing against the SUV. “The guy who talked to us?”

  “I think he ran,” offered Holly. “When I—shot the first man.” She still held the shotgun in one hand, but she wrapped the other around her middle as she stared at the dead body at her feet. “Who were they?”

  “No idea.” Emma tested her nose, gingerly removing her fingers and checking for residual blood. “Don’t seem like Dane’s men. Too green. Not enough experience.”

  “No guns, either.” Gloria offered. “My guess, they were just waiting for someone to come along to steal from. Thought we’d be an easy target.”

  “What do we do with them? We can’t just—”

  “Leave them here?” Emma rose back up, ignoring the bruising spreading across her ribs. “I don’t think we have a choice. At least not for the moment.”

  “What about the police or the neighbors?”

  “If there are still any police doing their jobs, I can’t imagine it’s on a road in the middle of nowhere. As far as neighbors—” Emma paused. “It’s a risk we’ll have to take.”

  Gloria nodded in agreement, expression hard and unforgiving. “If we head through the field, we’re only a couple miles from Vince’s place. I vote we head that way on foot. Get Raymond or Vince to come out and help us deal with the vehicle and the bodies.”

  A chicken clucked at Holly’s feet, pecking dangerously close to the dead man’s hand. It pecked at the soft earth edging the asphalt and plucked a fat, juicy worm from the dirt. It threw it on the ground, pecked it again, and swallowed it right down.

  Holly stared at it or through it, Emma couldn’t tell. The teenager had seen so much death but being responsible for it was a different story. It was one thing to shoot Dane’s men, the same people who murdered her father. But two strangers with no connection to them other than the wrong place at the wrong time? It would take some time for Holly to come to terms. Emma, too. It wasn’t just Dane and his men they had to worry about. It was everyone else on their own, struggling to survive.

  Without police, without law, desperate people would begin to make desperate choices. She swallowed down a wave of pain as she pushed off the vehicle. They needed to move. “We should leave the animals.” Emma motioned at the chicken. “They don’t seem to mind the rain. When it stops, we can use the feed in the Explorer as bait to round them up. With any luck, they won’t go too far.”

  Holly opened her mouth to respond, but shut it after a moment, opting instead to turn to the rear of the SUV and open the door. As soon as it lifted, chickens hopped out one by one to totter over to the edge of the road and join their compatriot pecking at the wet earth.

  One of the little goats bleated, stretching toward Holly. She ran a hand over the goat’s nubby little head before coaxing it out of the vehicle and into the field. The second goat followed and both animals took to the grasses immediately, ripping away mouthfuls of greens and chewing them down. She hovered on the edge of the field, watching the goats disappear into the tall weeds. “I wish Tank were here to keep an eye on them.”

  “We’ll bring him when we come back.” Emma pushed off the door and pointed in the direction of the setting sun and Vince’s place. “Let’s get out of here before we’re forced to navigate in the dark.”

  Chapter Thirteen

  JOHN

  John paced, gritting his teeth against the discomfort. Vague traces of daylight remained, streaking through the trees like tendrils of smoke. They’d been gone too long. He glanced at the cabin. A solar-charged lantern sat on the kitchen table inside and John ducked to eye Raymond and Vincent. They sat across from each other nursing tumblers of scotch. Vince’s lips moved, but his eyes remained obscured by the dim light.

  John thought over his next move. The conservative course of action entailed hobbling back inside, laying out his concerns, and waiting for Raymond to chastise him for even breathing. But John didn’t rack up a list of confirmed kills longer than the inventory list tacked to the kitchen wall by playing it safe. He swallowed down the pain and walked to the Jeep. A swipe of his hand across his belt confirmed his necessary supplies.

  Thanks to the run-ins with the prisoners back in Georgia, he’d negotiated the return of his Sig Sauer. Combined with the sat phone he’d lifted from Vincent and his brain, albeit clouded over with pain and infection and guilt, he had all he needed.

  He hauled himself into the driver’s seat and cranked the key. As he punched the gas, Tank bounded out the front door with the hulking shape of Raymond rising up behind him to blot out the lantern light.

  Without another vehicle, they were powerless to stop him. He left the dog, Raymond, and the sensible option behind. The headlights bounded off ragged weeds and broken tree branches, tires dipping into ruts and into puddles of squishy mud. The rain had eased at last, leaving wet drips from the trees, and a treacherous exit road.

  Dane’s words from the night before echoed in his mind. Come back and you’ll be welcomed. Just finish the job.

  His eyebrows dipped in anger and regret. He thought about Nick and Sampson. The new guy hadn’t mattered, but at one time, Nick had been his friend. His buddy. His fellow marine. Now he was dead and for what? A woman John didn’t really know.

  His grip tightened on the steering wheel as he bounced onto the main road. That wasn’t true at all.

  He did know Emma. He knew how she blew across the surface of her coffee three times before taking a sip. How she stuck her tongue out to concentrate. How she dreamt of clinical trials, mumbling about mice and cages in her sleep.

  He wiped away the sweat beading across his forehead. Somewhere between her decision to save his life and John turning Dane down, he’d done more than decide to help her. He’d fallen for Emma Cross. Hard.

  It wasn’t that she’d shown him there were more options than being a hitman. Or that she’d reminded him of his own humanity lurking below the surface. She made him want to be the old John. The one before Afghanistan, Dane, and the horrible things he’d done. The one who had dreams of a future.

  The world might be going to hell in a handbasket, but with Emma by his side, it didn’t matter. He could protect her. Keep her safe. Become the man she wanted him to be.

  He accelerated into the dark.

  A handful of miles down the road, the outline of a vehicle separated from the darkness. John slowed. The headlights bounced across the license plate and John sucked in a breath.

  Raymond’s Explorer.

  He pulled up behind, unholstered the Sig, and approached, using the Jeep’s headlights to see. Legs sprawled out beside the vehicle and John took aim, sweeping with the barrel as he side-stepped closer. Glassed-over pupils greeted him, and he lowered his weapon. John reached forward and felt the man’s neck for a pulse. Nothing. Cold and clammy, dead for a while.

  He stood and looked around. No sign of Emma, Gloria, or Holly. He bent back down and rifled through the man’s pockets. A small, cheap flashlight was stuffed in his pants and John clicked it on, using it to light up the man’s body.

  Faded Army surplus fatigue pants. Black t-shirt with a hole at the neck hem. Scraggly goatee. Earring in his right ear. Not one of Dane’s.

  He left the dead man and a wave of nausea threatened to bring up the remains of dinner. When was the last time he’d eaten and not thrown up? He gripped the vehicle for support until it passed.

  After finishing his search of the man, he eased around to the front of the vehicle. Another dead body sprawled on the ground, blood coagulating in a hole the size of a golf ball in his chest. John searched the body. No guns to be found. No tactical gear. Nothing to connect the man to Dane at all. Were they just locals? It made no sense.

  A pair of guys out in the middle of Nowhere, Texas, just waiting to ambush someone who comes along? What were the odds? Had they ever seen another person on the road? He’d missed something. John was sure of it.

  He bent down again, running his hands over the body, searching for anything that might help it make sense. Still nothing. A rush of vertigo hit him all at once and he fell back, landing hard on his butt on the road. The satellite phone shifted in his pocket and clattered to the ground.