Page 72 of Shadowed Agenda

The driver was slumped in his seat. He would have fallen forward if the seatbelt hadn’t held him in place. Blood ran down his face and shirt. It was smeared over the airbag now draped across his lap. She didn’t know if it was from the crash or the damage she’d inflicted to his eyes.

Regan tried not to look at the man in the passenger seat. He shouldn’t have undone his seatbelt. The red patch on the cracked windshield marked where his head had met the glass, thin cracks radiating out from the bloodied circle.

Regan yanked at the back seat’s door handle, but the child locks were still on. Her stomach turned over. She’d have to use one of the front doors.

First, she needed to see if they opened. She’d have to find another way out if the doors were damaged in the crash. Waiting in the car until a good Samaritan arrived was not an option. Regan snaked her hand between the driver’s seat and the door, squeezing her shoulder through the opening as far as she could. She felt for the handle and tugged. The door popped open.

Regan wiggled between the two front seats and crawled over the driver. Her stomach churned as she brushed against his dead body. She kicked the door open and used the bottom of the door’s frame to step onto the ground.

Regan slammed the door shut. Exhausted and sore, she sat on the grass next to the car. She needed to warn Pavlo about the bikers. Regan stuck her hand in her pocket and pulled out her old cell phone. Some of the tension held tight in her body released. The cell phone had survived the crash, so she switched it on.

No bars. Regan would have screamed, except she knew it would aggravate the pounding in her head. There were several dead zones along this stretch of highway. Just her luck. They’d crashed in one of them. She stuffed the cell phone back into her pocket.

No one was coming to rescue her. She’d need to rescue herself.

Traffic had been sparse. Most people wouldn’t head out to the lakes surrounding New York City until tomorrow. Eventually, someone would pass and stop. Maybe. More likely, they’d phone in the accident. People worried about getting involved.

Heading back the way they came was the best option. They’d passed a gravel driveway a minute before the crash. Regan had noticed the ornate sign. It was a cattle ranch. She’d find help there, and she’d be off the highway. There was no telling when Snake and Beard would show up.

Regan stood up slowly, her body protesting every movement, and turned to look at the car. Her body trembled as she took in the mangled wreck. How in the world had she survived?

The hot sun shining down on her warmed her cold body, and Regan walked to the shoulder. The only way to fight the pain was to move. She quickened her pace. The roar of the motorcycles drifted around the bend in the road before they rounded the curve.

She was still too far away to make out the riders, but Regan was sure it was Snake and Beard. She raced into the trees at the side of the road and kept going. The more distance she could put between them, the better. With a bit more luck, they’d call for instructions and give her more time to get away.

The car crash had ruined their plans. Regan was no longer useful to whoever had dragged her into this. He’d want her dead. Snake and Beard would be told to kill her.

Regan moved as fast as she could through the wooded areas as the sound of the motorcycles came nearer. At least the trees and shrubs weren’t as close as they had been in Central Park, which made her progress easier. It also meant there were fewer places to hide.

The motorcycle engines cut off. The men had reached the crash site. Regan pushed herself harder. She didn’t know how long she’d have before Snake and Beard came after her. And they would. Bits and pieces were missing, but Regan knew too much. She was a liability to the people behind the threats to the Senator the FBI had uncovered, the people they believed were responsible for what was happening.

The trees opened into a cow pasture. Barbed wire fence surrounded a large strip of grass stretching to either side of her. What she’d thought was forest was a thick strip of woodland bordering the grassy area on three sides. A hill rose in the background. Regan could see a dirt road heading into the trees at the far end of the field. It had to be the cattle ranch they’d passed.

The road probably led to the ranch house. They’d have a landline and could call for help.

It would be easy for Snake and Beard to spot her crossing the pasture. Regan headed back to the trees. They’d keep her hidden as she followed the fence’s perimeter to the road.

She quickened her pace, ignoring her aching body that was begging her to lie down and rest. At least the headache had dulled, and the nausea she’d felt earlier had subsided. Her plan would work.

“Slow down, Peanut.” Beard picked his way around the trees, striding toward her.

Regan turned in the opposite direction. Snake waved to her as he wound around the trees.

There were two choices, neither good. Highway or cow pasture? She’d have to deal with the barbed wire fence to cross the cow pasture. Regan headed toward the highway, moving as fast as she dared. Roots of old trees wove their way across the forest floor. It would be easy to trip as she darted around the trees.

“Peanut,” Beard growled. He was close, too close.

Then Snake blocked her path. Regan skidded to a halt. Beard’s hand wrapped around her waist and pulled her close.

Her stomach rolled as his hand pressed against her stomach. “I’m going to…”

Beard let her go. She fell to her knees and threw up. It wasn’t until the heaving subsided that she realized Beard was crouched behind her, holding her hair back.

“We got company,” Snake said, throwing a water bottle to Beard. Regan had heard Beard bark at him to get water from their saddlebags.

Company? Snake was worried. It had to be Pavlo. He must have seen him when he got the water bottle.

“Be quick. We gotta roll.” Beard passed it to her and then looked up at Snake. “Move the bikes onto the highway. Get her purse and the duffle from the trunk.”