Suddenly, gunfire filled the air. “Who’s shooting, Saint?”
“Don’t know. Hang tight a minute. Ken’s got his eyes squeezed shut and his earphones on, trying to listen.”
Another shot exploded through the speakers, followed by a scream from Maria, then silence. “Talk to me. What’s going on?” The trucker he flew past blew his air horn and, startled, Jake jerked the wheel and almost ran off the road. “Dammit, man. You scared the shit out of me.”
“What?”
“Just having a friendly conversation with a trucker. Is Maria okay?” If she wasn’t, he’d go on a rampage, and God help anyone who got in his way.
“All we know is they’re on the move again . . . at least, her purse is.”
He should’ve planted a tracking device under her skin. When he had her back and safe again, that was the first thing he was going to do.
“You might want to slow it down. There’re two state troopers coming up behind you, going fast.”
Jake let off the gas and pulled into the right lane. Two minutes later, he heard sirens. A check in the rearview mirror showed the trooper’s cars in the fast lane, red and blue lights flashing.
After they passed, he pulled out behind them and sped up. What he’d like to do was give them a piece of his mind. If their pal had left well enough alone, he’d be almost caught up with Maria by now and would have delivered Fortunada to them, a shiny red bow plastered to his forehead.
He followed them off the Caryville exit, slowing and gawking like a regular driver would at the sight of a trooper lying on the side of the road. “Hope you’re okay,” he said as he drove by.
“Saint, you there?” he asked, halting at the stop sign. Nothing. Now that he’d verified for himself there was no cell service here, all he had to decide was whether to go left or right.
“You shot him! Why’d you do that? Couldn’t you have just tied him up or something?”
Maria swiped her fingers over the tears streaming down her cheeks. Her vision was so blurry she could barely see where she was going. What she couldn’t stop seeing though was the officer jerking backward, then crumbling into a heap when Fortunada had shot him.
It was her fault. She hadn’t been speeding like she’d told him and had rejoiced at the thought she was about to be rescued. It had never occurred to her it would come to this.
From the moment she’d opened her mother’s stud book, she’d grabbed at the idea of finding her father, dreaming that he would take one look at her and love her. Instead, all she’d done was get a cop killed. Why hadn’t she burned the stupid book?
She wanted Jake but by now, he’d be on his way to Egypt with no way of knowing how much she needed him. She didn’t even know if Jamie was listening in on the phone she’d stuffed into her bra.
Oh, God. She’d gotten a cop killed.
“Stop.”
Maria slammed on the brakes. Fortunada had already killed one person and the gun leveled at her head spoke volumes. She peered around them through her tears and froze at the sight of a gray-haired woman sitting on her porch. Then her gaze settled on the old car parked at the side of the small house and she knew what he wanted.
“No.” No way she was going to be responsible for hurting someone’s grandma, especially just to steal a car left over from the Stone Age.
Fortunada put his thumb on the revolver’s hammer and cocked it. “I just want her car. You’ve been a pain in my ass from the first so it makes no difference to me if I kill you now.”
“Promise you won’t hurt her.” God forgive her, she was a coward.
He pressed the gun to her head. “You got three seconds to drive this car behind that house.”
The part of her that wanted to live screamed at her to obey him, but the decent side of her decided this was where a line had to be drawn. “No.” She waited to die but nothing happened, so she ventured on. “You can’t go around killing people. It’s just not okay. I have no problem with stealing her car, but you have to swear you won’t hurt her. She’s just a little old lady.”
“If you were my wife, I’d be beating the shit out of you about now. Just get us the car.”
If she was his daughter, would he also beat her? The debate on whether or not to tell him it was a possibility raged on, and still, she couldn’t decide. She turned onto the dirt driveway and slowly approached the house. Please, lady, please get up and lock yourself in the house.