Hearts Under Siege by Natalie J. Damschroder Page A

bracing herself. “Stop worrying about bouncing me.”
    “I’m not,” he ground out, mashing the accelerator down. “Does it feel like I’ve been worrying about that?” Okay, maybe he had been, unconsciously, because the vehicle surged up the hill, catching air when they came up over the top.
    “Side road!” she yelled, pointing.
    “Barely.” But he aimed the Jeep for it, hitting the brakes and skidding again. The rain and slop would hopefully disguise their tire tracks. Molly squeaked when, for a second, the Jeep seemed as if it would tip over, but he hit the gas again and it righted, sliding into a narrow gap between trees in a patch of jungle. It was more like a path than a road, but it was also flatter, less rutted, and the overhanging trees protected it a little from the rain, so he was able to drive faster.
    Leaves and branches slapped against the car, catching in the mirrors and windshield wipers. He couldn’t hear anything outside their manic cocoon, and was too afraid of clipping a tree to take his eyes off the nose of the Jeep.
    “See anything back there?” he asked.
    …
    Molly righted herself and peered over the seat again. She swallowed the blood that seeped out of her bitten tongue and the inside of her cheek, narrowing her eyes against the rain sliding down the flat back window. “I can’t tell.”
    “We need to know.”
    Without a word she popped the latch on her seatbelt and climbed over into the cargo area. That didn’t help much, so she twisted the handle inside the rear window and pushed it up enough to look under it. The pungent combination of wet bark and mold blew in her face, but the truck wasn’t visible on the path. She held her breath and tried to listen, but couldn’t hear past their vehicle’s own crashing progress.
    “Anything?” Brady called back.
    “No!” A bad feeling welled up. There was a reason the truck was gone, and she was pretty sure it wasn’t because they’d lost their pursuers. “Stop, Brady!” She relocked the window and scrambled back into her seat. “Find somewhere to hole up.”
    “Are you crazy? Where?”
    “There!” The road took a sharp turn up ahead, their view blocked not only by the trees but by an outcropping of rock. She had no idea if they’d fit, but urgency built in her chest. “We have to stop. They— I don’t know, took another route or something, to cut us off.”
    “We didn’t see another turnoff,” Brady said, but not argumentatively. He stopped at the rocky outcrop before the road turned, and backed quickly off the road as far as he could, coming to rest against a sapling. She relaxed. A little. Her side of the Jeep was inches from the rock. A double-trunked tree blocked Brady’s door. They were totally trapped if someone stopped on the path. But a couple of branches had fallen back into place in front of them, and she didn’t think anyone would notice the few torn leaves unless they were looking hard. They were as hidden as they could be.
    They sat, frozen, waiting in total silence. She couldn’t even hear Brady breathing. Maybe, like her, he was holding his breath. The engine still droned—Brady had his hand on the key but didn’t turn it off, probably wanting to be able to pull away as quickly as possible if they were found. The rain still plunked and pattered, masking any sound from outside, and their visibility was nil. The little bit of outside air she’d let in had filled the car with damp, and their anxiety turned it to steam that had begun fogging the windows.
    Minutes ticked past, each one an eternity. She released and re-held her breath three times.
    And then the truck that had been behind them surged past from around the bend—in the opposite direction. Molly jumped and gasped, her heart leaping so hard she thought it would lock up. But Brady only tightened his hands on the steering wheel and watched it drive on.
    “Good call,” he said. “We’d have run right into them.”
    “Go,” she urged him.