I swallowed.
“Okay,” I said. “Are you sure you want to go to the Armory? Dad says he’ll protect you, but he’s just one person.”
Hunter gave a short, harsh laugh, then looked over at me. He reached over and touched my cheek.
“The Armory is the safest place I can think of right now,” he said. “This isn’t the army we’re up against. It’s one or two shooters, and that place was built to withstand a hell of a lot worse. Your sister is already there, and I guess most of the other women are, too. Fuck of a way to start the holiday.”
I reached down and grabbed my purse, pulling out my little black semiautomatic. I checked the magazine before setting it in my lap.
Then I glanced back over at Hunter. To my surprise, he was smiling.
“Best fuckin’ old lady ever,” he muttered, shaking his head.
“No, that was my mom.”
“Love you, babe.”
“I love you, too.”
Guess we didn’t need another conversation topic after all.
Things fell to shit about three miles after we turned off the main highway headed north. The sun had just set, and the frozen rain had covered everything, leaving a sheen of ice across the road. God, I hated driving on ice.
I knew there were probably guys stationed at the turnoff to the Armory, but I didn’t see any of them. I’d texted Dad with our ETA and Hunter’s license plate number, so hopefully they were just letting us pass through because they recognized us. I knew they’d call it in, though, which meant we’d hit the point of no return.
“Slide your seat forward, Em,” Hunter said as we started up the winding road. I slid forward, and then he reached around behind my seat. I heard the sound of Velcro tearing open, and then I felt his hand against my back, inside the cushions.
He pulled out a large handgun.
“Hold this for a sec,” he said. Then he reached over again and dug around some more, this time bringing up two spare magazines.
“Okay, you’re good to scoot back. Take a look for me?”
I dropped the magazine and examined it. Fully loaded, all good. I popped it back in and chambered a round. He tucked it down between the seats after I handed it to him.
“You know, Dad would never trust me to check his gun.”
“He sees you as a little girl,” Hunter replied, his eyes darting back and forth across the road. “I see you as a competent adult, one I trust. Big difference. Something feels off here.”
I shivered, thinking he was right. The weather was forcing us to drive way too slow. Fucking ice.
Suddenly there was a loud bang and the truck careened to the right.
“Crap,” Hunter grunted, fighting the wheel as the truck lurched to the side. At first I thought we’d just blown a tire. Never a good thing, but not the end of the world. Then there was another loud bang, and the front end collapsed. Two tires out, I realized. We slid abruptly toward the edge of the road, Hunter cursing steadily, but there was just too much ice. I braced myself as the truck skidded off the embankment, rolling down the side of the hill and smashing into a tree. Air bags exploded as the truck flipped over onto its side, passenger window pointing toward the sky.
Sudden horrible silence filled the cab.
It all happened so fucking fast. I couldn’t quite breathe and my heart was exploding with adrenaline.
“Shit,” I muttered, pushing the bag away from my face. God, something smelled horrible. Like burning. “What happened?”
Hunter didn’t answer. I blinked, trying to get my bearings. My eyes were watering and I couldn’t quite see. The seat belt held me suspended on my side, the position painfully uncomfortable. I reached up and rubbed my eyes, which didn’t help, and realized that the air itself was hurting my lungs.
Flopping my hand around, I found the window control and pushed it, the battery miraculously still working. The window rolled down into the door and a rush of cold air came in. I took a deep breath. Thank God, I could breathe again. Unfortunately, with the fresh air came cold, freezing rain.
“Hunter?” I whispered. Nothing. I looked down at him and gasped. A shattered tree stump had smashed up through the driver-side window, the remains splintered into sharp spikes of wood. It was less than an inch from the front of Hunter’s face, and I saw blood trickling out of his nose. Branches and pine needles were everywhere, so many I could hardly see him. They filled his entire half of the cab.
“Babe?” I asked slowly. I reached down and touched his shoulder. He shifted his head and moaned. Alive. Thank God, because if that thing had been one inch closer, it would’ve gone right through his skull. I reached down and felt his neck, finding a strong pulse. Okay.
Now what?
I shook my own head, forcing myself to focus. I needed to call for help, but my purse had gone flying. Where the hell was my phone? I couldn’t see it anywhere, and I’d smashed his last night. Damn it. That’s what I got for having a temper tantrum. Then I spotted my purse down in the footwell.
But how to get it? I reached down with my left hand and braced my body against the side of Hunter’s seat, then unclicked my seat belt with my right, holding on to the strap like a jungle vine for balance. Slowly I slid down into my footwell, kneeling on the side by the center console.
Hunter stirred again.
“Em?” he asked, his voice rough.
“I’m fine, babe,” I said, looking down at him. His eyes were open now, and I tried to see his pupils. Were they the same size? That’s when I realized the radio was still playing … I reached up and turned on the light, and we both flinched from the sudden brightness.
“Look at me,” I said. His head turned, and I breathed a sigh of relief. Pupils were fine, and he seemed to be getting more alert every second. Must’ve hit just enough to knock him out, but hopefully nothing serious.
“We had an accident,” I explained, my voice shaking. “I don’t know what happened—I think we lost a couple tires, maybe? Then we hit ice.”
“Someone shot out the tires,” Hunter said. He started squirming in his seat, trying to move his arms, but the stump and branches held him completely trapped. “One tire blowing, I can see. But two? That’s someone who knows their shit. We need to assume they’re outside, Em. Have to get ready for them. Start by turning off the light. No reason to give them an easier target than we have to.”
I froze, eyes wide. I hadn’t quite processed the whole shooting thing, but of course this wasn’t an accident. Not good. Not good at all.
“This really sucks,” I whispered, then realized how ridiculously inadequate that was, given the situation. Shit. I turned off the light and started fumbling in the darkness for my purse. It fell open and I nearly lost the phone. I caught it right before it fell, but unfortunately I dropped the purse in the process.
Hunter watched the whole time, frustration written all over his face.
“Call your dad. The club can get here faster than anyone else, and they’ll have the best shot of dealing with whoever’s out there, too.”
“What about an ambulance?” I asked.
“I’m fine,” he said, twisting in his seat uncomfortably.
“That’s what people usually say right before the brain hemorrhage kills them. You need a hospital.”
“Em,” he said, his voice firm. “Stop talking to me and call your dad. Now. Then I want you to find my gun and get ready to protect yourself while I try to work myself loose. Fuckin’ tree.”
My hands shook a little as I dialed my father’s number, but I forced myself to stay calm. Our lives depended on me not falling apart, no matter how scary the situation had gotten.
“Yeah?”
“Dad, it’s Em,” I said. “We’re about four miles from the Armory, and we’re in trouble. Hunter’s truck went off the embankment by the railroad tracks, on the south side of the road. I need you to get here fast.”
“Ambulance?”
“Hunter says no,” I said, glancing down at him again. His color was good, so that was something. “Someone shot our tires. That means they’re out there right now, they’re close, and they know what they’re doing. I need to hang up and grab my gun now.”