Hunted for Christmas by Jill Elizabeth Nelson

Author:Jill Elizabeth Nelson
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Harlequin
Published: 2020-08-09T20:10:36+00:00

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Rogan lunged with all his might and caught the rifle stock a hair’s breadth from cracking Trina’s skull. Snarling and cursing, Buzz wrestled him for possession of the weapon. The truck swerved out of control. A muzzle flashed in a sharp explosion—not from the rifle. Buzz screamed, releasing the Tikka then grabbing his lower right leg tugging the limb toward himself. With pressure removed from the accelerator, the truck immediately began to slow down, but they were headed for the left-hand ditch. As Rogan secured the rifle, Trina grabbed the steering wheel, but she overcorrected and, tires screeching, the semi and trailer began to jackknife.

“Other way!” Rogan cried out.

Trina turned the wheel gently the opposite direction, and the truck straightened out, continuing to lose speed. Swiftly, Rogan scanned the road ahead then checked the side-view mirror for traffic behind them. Nothing. Not atypical for the middle of nowhere in the dead of the night in Wyoming. Good thing for all concerned.

Somehow, from the passenger seat Trina managed to angle her foot over onto the brake pedal and slow the truck to a coast. But it was a contortionist position that couldn’t be held for long, and the strain must hurt her wound terribly.

“Help me move this guy to the rear compartment,” she said. “Then I can take his place and put on the brakes to stop us.”

Together, they wrestled a moaning Buzz over into the seat into the sleeping berth. Trina could only spare one hand to help as she kept the other one on the wheel and most of her attention on holding the truck on the road. Nearly forever later, they succeeded in moving Buzz. Trina was able to hop into the driver’s seat and bring the semi to a complete halt along the side of the road.

Rogan’s pulse beat painfully in his wound, and his breath came in gasps, but at least they weren’t laid out sideways in the ditch, a mangled wreck and most likely dead.

“You shot me!” Buzz’s voice squealed out a good octave higher than normal.

“How did that happen?” Rogan eyed the man slumped against the wall of the cab.

Her breath ragged, Trina waved a pistol in the air. “I found it...in the glove compartment...shortly before this guy launched his panic attack.”

“Okay, yeah. I woke up in time to hear the part about him figuring himself a dead man if he got turned in to the DEA. Must have slept through the moment you found the gun.”

Trina gazed back at him over her shoulder, her dark eyes luminous. “Thank you for stopping him from crushing my head.”

“My pleasure.” Rogan glared at Buzz, who wouldn’t meet his gaze.

“I’d better bind up that wound,” Trina said. “I’m pretty sure I just put a bullet through the calf, but we should do what we can.”

“I’m going to do more than bind up his wound. I wonder if there’s some rope around here to truss him up properly.”

“Don’t expect me to tell you.” Buzz’s words spat out like something bitter lay on his tongue.

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