Page 25 of Carjacked

The silence is deafening, broken only by the rhythmic ticking of the truck’s cooling engine.

I refuse to meet his gaze, keeping my eyes trained on the deserted road ahead. I can feel the heat of his stare. But for now, I don’t care. I don’t want to talk. I don’t want to fight. I want to be alone with my thoughts.

Instead of speaking he grabs the back of my head and draws me toward him. His lips find mine in a searing, passionate kiss.

I try to resist, keep my resolve, and remember why I wanted to stay silent. But the taste of him, the warmth of his body against mine, the intensity of him, it overwhelms me. It floods my senses and drowns my resistance. I find myself melting into him, my anger dissipating with each heartbeat.

The kiss is intoxicating and consuming, and I lose myself in his taste, even enjoying the stale lingering tobacco on his breath. A bitter thought nags at the back of my mind. I hate myself for giving in so easily, for allowing one kiss to unravel me. But for now, those thoughts fade into the background.

A sudden knock on my window shatters the moment. We break apart instantly, our breaths ragged and hearts racing.

Ash looks up, his eyes widening at seeing the stranger outside the truck.

The hard expression on the man’s face sends a jolt of fear coursing through me.

Who the hell is this guy?

Ash’s hand automatically reaches for his gun tucked into the holster he wears on his belt. “Wind down the window, Lila.”

I do as I’m told. “How can I help you?”

“Get out of the truck,” he demands.

Ash growls. “Why? Are you a cop?”

The stranger’s lips curl up in a cold, cruel smile. “No, I’m not a cop,” he replies, his icy blue gaze locked onto Ash. “I’m a bounty hunter. And you, Ash,” he nods toward him, “you’ve been quite elusive.”

Ash’s face hardens, and he leans over me to address the bounty hunter. “Well, then, you’ve found me,” he says, his voice steady and devoid of fear. The cockiness in his tone surprises me, considering the gravity of the situation. He pulls his gun from the holster, holding it loosely but pointedly in the bounty hunter’s direction. “But I’m not going with you.”

The bounty hunter’s once confident expression falters as he sees the gun aimed at him. The power dynamic has shifted. Ash wouldn’t let this bounty hunter take him away. Not without a fight.

A sudden flurry of movement, and the bounty hunter’s hand shifts toward his own weapon. But Ash is quicker. Thethunderous sound of a gunshot echoes in the small cab of the truck, causing my breath to hitch sharply in my throat.

Blood sprays onto my face, making me scream. The bounty hunter staggers back, a look of utter surprise plastered across his face as he clutches the red stain on his chest. His gun drops from his hand, clattering noiselessly onto the dirt road. He collapses as the life slowly drains from his eyes.

“Why did you do that?” I ask, sounding hysterical.

His jaw is hard-set as he ignores my question. “Lila,” he says, his voice gruff. “Grab our things.” He doesn’t wait for my response before he steps out of the truck, leaving me alone with the chilling silence and the bitter metallic scent of blood.

I scramble to gather our belongings, taking one last glance at the lifeless body of the bounty hunter. I gasp as Ash effortlessly lifts the body, dragging it toward the guy’s abandoned truck.

He opens the trunk and, with a final grunt of effort, deposits the man inside. The harsh slam of the trunk reverberates in the desolate surroundings.

“Ash,” I call out, my voice shaking as I hold onto our bags, weighed down by the gravity of his actions.

He turns to look at me. “Get in the truck, Lila,” he orders, gesturing toward the bounty hunter’s vehicle.

I hesitate for a moment. But the urgency in Ash’s voice leaves no room for objections. I shove our belongings into the back seats before sliding into the passenger seat.

Ash gets in the driver’s seat, his hands gripping the steering wheel as he starts the truck. The engine roars to life, its grating sound a fitting soundtrack to the chaos of our lives.

I press my hands against my stomach, trying to calm the churning sensation as we speed away. I can’t shake off the image of the man’s lifeless body crumpled in the trunk of the truck we’re now driving.

The stark reality of our situation as we flee a murder scene with a dead body sends a fresh wave of dread washing over me.

I glance at Ash, his face set in a grim mask of determination, and my mind is flooded with conflicting emotions. Fear, confusion, disbelief, and relief all vie for dominance, leaving me feeling lost and overwhelmed. I close my eyes and swallow hard, trying to block out the reality of our grim situation.

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