front ends of both vehicles shuddered to a stop. A waterfall of rocks plunged hundreds of feet down.
He forced open his smashed door and headed toward Emily. Her driver’s side had melded to his SUV; her head lay against the window. He rounded to the passenger side. He squeezed, then jiggled the handle, but it was jammed.
“Emily. Can you hear me?” He pounded on the glass, ignoring the icy wind that whistled up from the canyon and the sky threatening to turn into a storm.
She didn’t move. No air bag on this ancient tin can.
She was so still. Too still. He had to get to her.
He ran his fingertips alongside the crumpled metal, searching for a seam. Yes, right there. He snagged a crowbar from his SUV. If he could get the leverage… He inserted the iron rod and, using his body weight, worked against the hinge. The metal finally gave way, and he forced open the door.
He dove into the car, careful not to jostle her too much. With a gentle touch, he moved some silky strands away from her face. No obvious wounds that he could see. He leaned closer.
“Emily?”
She groaned. At the sound, relief released terror’s grip on his heart. “Can you move?”
Those ridiculously long lashes blinked, and her eyes focused on him. “What happened?”
“Brakes.”
She nodded, and then her expression took a leap from confused to horrified. “The blanket!” She pulled at the door handle and looked at the crumpled side of his vehicle outside her window.
“It was the only way to stop you,” he said, unclicking her seat belt. “Slide toward me, but let me know if anything hurts. Your car jammed into mine pretty hard.”
She eased toward him, pausing as she tested one limb, then the next. “I’m okay. Just shaken.”
As he clasped her hands, a distinctive odor slammed his senses. Gasoline.
No time to waste. He yanked her away from the car. “Move!” he yelled, grabbing her hand and hauling her toward a large boulder.
She stumbled after him, but her legs gave way. She sagged to the ground. He swept her into his arms. Within seconds, he reached the large rock and settled her behind the massive boulder.
“What do you think you’re doing?” She glared at him. “Your leg can’t handle my weight.”
“That’ll be the day, when I can’t carry a little thing like you. As to why—gas. Would you rather risk a spark setting your car on fire?”
“It doesn’t sound like anything’s happening.” She tilted her head toward him. “Maybe we—”
His ears picked up a clicking sound over the wind. He held up his hand, and she went quiet. Mechanical. Definitely.
And familiar.
“Get down.” Mitch shoved her to the dirt. A loud explosion shook the ground. Flaming debris flew toward them, hot metal and plastic shrapnel. Mitch covered her body with his, shielding her from the incoming.
Several hot projectiles nipped his back. He brushed them away. Soon the mini-explosions had stopped and only the roar of fire remained. He raised his head and scanned the wreckage. From their vantage, he could see fire leaping between the vehicles, taking out his SUV and charring what was left of Emily’s. The remains might have been her grave.
The thought that she could’ve been pinned in the death trap froze his insides, but the fury at the psycho who’d planted the bomb boiled his temper. Emily could’ve died. On his watch.
He grabbed his phone and pressed a key. “This is Mitch Bradford. Get me the fire department and bomb squad. Now.”
Mitch rattled off their location and ended the call.
“A bomb?” she said, her voice huskier than usual. “I thought the car exploded because of the accident.”
“That’s Hollywood. I heard suspicious clicking right before the explosion. There was at least one device, maybe more. Someone wants you dead—with no evidence left behind.”
“If you hadn’t been here…”
She gripped his shirt and buried her head against him. He’d seen the reaction before. Violence wasn’t
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