The Marshal's Runaway Witness by Diane Burke

Author:Diane Burke
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Harlequin
Published: 2015-10-15T00:00:00+00:00

TWELVE

Moving with stealth and speed, Dylan opened the passenger door of his car and climbed inside. “Climb over me,” he ordered. “You’ve got to drive.”

He pulled her into the car. “Stay as low as you can. Don’t be an easy target,” he ordered.

Angelina hurried to do as he requested, banging her head on the ceiling as she scrambled over Dylan and jarring her thigh on the shift stick between the seats.

No one fired at them. That was a good sign, right?

She settled into the driver’s seat, took the keys from Dylan and shoved them into the ignition. A quick glance his way spiked an adrenaline rush that pulsed through her body. His eyes were closed. His head hung toward his left shoulder. His wet shirt clung to his chest and for a second she was afraid he was gone.

She stared in horror at his chest, not realizing she was holding her breath until she heard the slight rise and fall of his own.

The wail of sirens drawing closer made her hopes grow.

“Dylan.” She reached over and shook his arm. “They’re only seconds away. We should wait. You need help.”

“Drive!”

“But...”

He reached over and turned the key. “For once in your life listen to me. Drive!”

Angelina threw the car in Reverse and hit the accelerator. Their tires squealed and threw up gravel as she pulled out into the street. Their neighbors, drawn by the fire and the commotion, huddled on the opposite curb.

“Where are we going?”

“Get out of this neighborhood as quickly as you can. Do you know how to get to the Garden State Parkway from here?”

Angelina nodded.

“Do it.”

Dylan turned away, watching out the passenger side-view mirror to see if anyone tried to follow them. He placed his drawn weapon on his leg.

The reflection of flashing red lights beamed off the rearview mirror. The first fire truck pulled up to the curb. A police car and second fire engine pulling in right behind it.

A knot the size of a boulder settled in Angelina’s stomach.

Help was there—right there, right now—and she was driving away.

With a heavy sigh and heavier heart, she pushed her foot harder on the accelerator and sped in the opposite direction down the street.

About forty-five minutes later and heading north, Angelina spoke for the first time since they’d left the scene.

“Do you think we’re being followed?”

“No. I haven’t seen anything suspicious. I think Frankie took off when he heard the sirens.”

Sweat beaded on Dylan’s forehead. Deep lines etched the sides of his mouth as he grimaced in pain. His breathing appeared shallow and labored.

“Dylan, you need help.”

“I’ll be fine. We have to make it to the cabin. That’s all I care about right now.”

“But you’re hurt. And it doesn’t look like the bleeding has stopped.”

He glared at her.

She felt like Daniel in the lion’s den and held her breath waiting for an attack. Mustering what little courage she could find, she said, “What happens if you pass out? Or worse, die? What am I supposed to do then?”

“I’m not going to pass out.

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