Shiver by Karen Robards

the point of suicidal, she cast him a furious look instead.
    “Get out of my truck!”
    “Yeah. No.”
    She was so wired, so upset and scared and angry, that the fact that he could shoot her at will didn’t seem to be registering with her like it should. She was in mortal danger: the gun he was pointing at her was proof positive of that. But she wasn’t as terrified as she should have been, and she blamed the adrenaline that had to be flooding her system by now for that.
    Or maybe it was the lingering memory of the gentle way he’d kissed her hand.
    “That’s my gun,” she snapped. “You had no right to take it.”
    “You ever hear of ‘might makes right’? Yeow!” It was a near-shout as, focused on him, she let the truck wander off onto the shoulder where it barely missed sideswiping a utility pole. She corrected course with a last-minute jerk of the wheel that had the weathered pole zipping past millimeters away from the mirror—on his side. “Watch where you’re going. And slow the hell down!”
    All righty, then. The briefest of grim smiles curved her mouth as she stood on the brake. The usual grinding sound the worn brake shoes made when they were called into service was amplified into a grating shriek as the truck convulsed before jerking to a dead stop. As she had intended, he was thrown violently forward. The bad news was, he managed to catch himself with a hand on the dashboard before he banged his head or any other significant body part. And he never lost his grip on her gun.
    Damn it.
    “What the fuck?” He looked pissed. “You did that on purpose.”
    “Ya think?”
    “Why?”
    “Why do you think? I want you out. ” Clutching the wheel so hard the rigid plastic hurt her hands, she screamed it at him. “Out, out, out!”
    “Give it up, baby doll. It’s not happening.” His tone was brutal. Her gun suddenly looked way more threatening as he pointed it at her again, this time with what seemed to be real purpose. “Drive! Now!”
    “You wish.” Sam grabbed for the door handle, prepared to leap from the truck. As her foot slid off the brake, Big Red started to roll. Lunging toward her, surprisingly fast despite the injuries that were obviously causing him both pain and mobility issues, Quasimodo caught her wrist. His fingers snapped closed around her delicate bones like he meant business; she knew instantly that she wasn’t going to be breaking that grip anytime soon. Then the mouth of her gun suddenly jammed into her ribs, and she cried out.
    And froze. And glared at him.
    “Hit the brake.” His voice was hard with menace. The look he gave her sent a shiver down her spine as she sulkily complied. Suddenly she did feel a little afraid of him, and she didn’t like the feeling. The sensation of the gun pressing into her flesh made her heart speed up. “Let’s get this straight: you’re not getting rid of me, and you’re not going anywhere without me. For which you should be prepared to kiss my ass. At this point, I’m all that’s standing between you and a bullet in the brain. So if you want to live through this, drive. ”
    Sam took a breath. His battered face was misshapen enough to make his expression impossible to determine, but his jaw was definitely set. His swollen right eye was an unblinking black slit. His uninjured left eye wasn’t much wider as they both bored into hers. She was almost positive he wouldn’t shoot her, much less at point-blank range like this, but, she decided with one more furious look at him, it was a chance she couldn’t afford to take.
    For Tyler’s sake.
    “Now!” he barked when she still hesitated, weighing her chances. “Unless you’d rather sit here and wait for more of the group who just tried to kill us to show up. Because I guarantee you, they’re on their way as we speak.”
    That thought was way more terrifying than he was. Sam’s stomach clenched like a fist. Lifting her foot from the brake, she stepped on the gas instead. The truck