Tempted by His Target by Jill Sorenson Page A

collision.
    “Watch out!” he complained.
    “Do you want to drive?” she asked, incensed.
    “Damn it,” he said under his breath.
    “What?”
    “They’re following us.”
    Isabel glanced in the rearview mirror, noting the shiny black rental car. Within seconds, it was gaining on them. Worse, the gunman stuck his arm out the window on the passenger side, preparing to shoot.
    Brandon trained his weapon on the approaching vehicle. “Go faster.”
    She was already punching it, testing the cab’s limits. Nevertheless, she picked up speed, weaving through traffic with reckless desperation. It was a miracle she didn’t hit anything. Driving in Mexico was crazy on a good day. Driving in Oaxaca City during morning rush hour with a couple of assassins following…
    Well. A high-speed crash was likely.
    Shots rang out, echoing in her ears. Stifling a scream, she tried to drive and duck at the same time.
    “He’s going for the tires,” he said.
    “What should I do?”
    “Swerve around! Don’t give him an easy target.”
    She did the best she could, zigzagging across lanes of traffic, passing on the wrong side of the road. As she approached a busy intersection, her entire life flashed before her eyes. The green light turned yellow, then red.
    “Run it,” he ordered.
    She stepped on the gas, bracing herself for disaster. He leaned out the back window and squeezed off several shots. There was a terrific crash behind them as the pursuing car smashed into another vehicle.
    Somehow, amidst angry honks and shrieking rubber, Isabel made it through the intersection.
    She kept driving for several miles, feeling numb.
    “Damn, that was close,” Brandon said in a low voice. He must have decided it was safe to face forward, because he was sitting there with his eyes closed, gun beside him on the backseat, hand on his heart. His face looked pale.
    She wanted to ask about his gun, but she had another topic to discuss first. “How do you think they caught up with us?”
    “I don’t know.”
    “Do you have a cell phone?” His eyes flew open. Straightening, he drew a fancy smart phone from his pocket, checking the screen. “I had to turn it in at the police station.”
    Isabel glanced in the rearview mirror. “Maybe they tracked it.”
    “Damn it,” he said again. “I should have thought of that.”
    She didn’t know why he would have. She was accustomed to danger and intrigue, and she’d overlooked it.
    “Pull over right here,” he said, spotting a parked bus. He hopped out of the taxi and tossed his phone onto the roof of the bus. The destination sign read Mexico City. With any luck, Carranza’s men would follow it there.
    When Brandon got back in the taxi, Isabel headed the opposite direction, taking a road that went to Tehuantepec. They had many miles to travel before hitting the midway point to Guatemala.
    “Should we ditch this cab?” she asked.
    He deliberated for a moment. They couldn’t drive a stolen vehicle with distinctive markings for long. “How much gas does it have?”
    She checked the gauge. “A full tank.”
    “I don’t have enough cash to buy another car. Do you?”
    “No,” she said, her mouth twisting.
    “If they can track my phone, they can track my credit card.”
    “That’s probably true.”
    “So let’s just get the hell out of town and go until it runs out of gas.”
    She nodded, feeling an equal measure of anxiety and relief. Carranza could influence many of the top officials, but local forces weren’t very organized. They probably wouldn’t launch a state-wide manhunt for a stolen taxi. Even so, Isabel stayed away from the toll roads, choosing the bumpier, less regulated freeway.
    Brandon watched the blur of landscape out the side window, saying nothing.
    “Where did you get that gun?”
    His eyes met hers in the rearview mirror, startled. “I picked it up last night in the parking garage.”
    She hadn’t noticed. “Does your company test hunting gear, too? Rifles,