Page 75 of Deadly Vendetta

Maybe he’s coming to find me. Please don’t let it be bad news!

Zach eased off the accelerator and struck the steering wheel with the palm of one hand, then slowed to a stop on the shoulder of the highway next to the patrol car. “I don’t need this now,” he muttered. “Not here and now!”

The deputy—Carl Robinson again—stepped out of his car and slammed the door shut. His face was a dark, angry mask.

“What are you doing with a man like this, Dana?” he growled.

Dana unbuckled her seat belt and leaned over to see him better. “We’ve got to get back to the ranch.”

“Not with this guy, you won’t.” Carl drew his semiautomatic and motioned for Zach to step out of the car. “Now I can haul your ass in for more than just arson, Forrester,” he growled. “Get out of that truck, and keep your hands where I can see them.”

Zach stilled, his hands on the steering wheel.

“She’s right, Deputy. We’ve got to get back. There’s someone who—”

“Now.” Carl stepped forward and reached for the door handle.

“Sorry, Officer. It has to be later.” Zach threw the truck into gear and floored the accelerator.

“Zach!” Dana gripped the door handle and the edge of the seat as he rapidly shifted gears and sped away. As if he were no stranger to escaping the law.

Behind them, a nightmare of flashing lights and the earsplitting wail of the siren rushed closer. Came within yards of the truck’s bumper.

The patrol car swung wide, as if planning to pass or force them to the shoulder.

Zach jerked the steering wheel to the left. From behind them came the squeal of brakes as the cruiser fishtailed, caught the edge of the asphalt, spun around and ended up skidding into the ditch.

“What on earth are you doing?”

“He wasn’t talking about a speeding ticket back there. What he thinks he knows could have come from only one source—someone who wanted me out of the way. I just hope we can get back to your place in time.”

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

Intently searching the shadows, Zach drove around the clinic, then past the barns and house. Apparently satisfied, he swung the truck back to the front of the house, slammed on the brakes, and hit the ground running.

Dana followed, her heart in her throat. There were no unexpected vehicles here. Her mother’s car was under the old ash tree, where she always parked. Which surely meant everything was okay—didn’t it?