of the Glock, aiming at the man in the rear who was raising that military rifle—right at them. He sucked air slowly between his teeth, his entire focus, his life, in that bead he had drawn on the male with a weapon. He looked dark skinned, wearing a bright red bandanna across his forehead, bearded, desert camouflage clothing, telling Chase that he wasn’t some tourist out for just a ride in the desert. No, they were speeding toward them like Hell itself was on their tail.
His mind whirled with questions. How had they tracked them? And then, he cursed beneath his breath. A drone. Druggies always had drones, flying at high altitude, checking to see if any Border Patrol might be in the region. Had these two drug runners been monitoring them with a drone? Too high for him to pick up the sound? It was entirely possible. In the seat next to the man armed with the rifle was a huge, tan, plastic box strapped down. It was big enough to have been carrying a drone in it. Sonofabitch!
So, the druggies that pushed them off the cliff and into the canyon were still after them! Sweat dribbled down in his eyes, making them sting. He blinked rapidly, the sound of the growling ATV hurtling straight toward them, the roar vibrating around them. It was as if these druggies knew exactly where they were hiding.
Before Chase could think further, he saw the yellow flashing from the muzzle of the AR-15. Bracing himself against the protection of the thick, wide trunk of the juniper, he yelled to Cari, “They’re firing at us! DO NOT MOVE!”
The first bullets struck and whined through the grove of the three junipers. Wood chips and smaller branches cracked, snapped, flying like projectiles all around them.
He still wasn’t in range yet! An AR-15 had a half a mile range where bullet accuracy was guaranteed. His puny Glock had seventy-five feet accuracy. The bullets kept exploding into the grove, more bark and chips of wood detonating around them. He heard Cari scream once. There was nothing he could do. She had to stay put! He knew how scared she was.
God, don’t let her move. Make her stay exactly where she is!
The ATV began slowing, the closer it got to the grove. His breathing was slow and steady. How many times had he hunted bad guys just like these where there was no backup? They had none right now, either. The only thing that changed was that the woman he loved was huddled against his back legs, shaking. If only Cari weren’t here! Chase would have done things differently, but more than anything, she had to be protected at all costs. He’d give his life for her. No question.
The bark exploded, slivers screaming in every direction. Chase prayed the thick, old wood of the trunks, which was shaking and trembling with every hit of an AR bullet, would hold up. He knew the wood on this type of tree was thick, hard, and nearly impenetrable.
The ATV slowed more.
Chase got a look at the driver.
Sonofabitch, it was Dirk Bannock! He was wearing a red bandanna around his head, sunglasses, camo gear, and a beard. And the bastard was smiling.
His mind whirled with shock. How had Bannock found them?
There was no time to think. The ATV was slowing and was within a hundred feet of him. Chase knew the shooter was Bannock—pointing his weapon after ejecting the empty cartridge and slamming another one into the weapon with the butt of his palm. The barrel lifted in their direction. The man stood up as the ATV came to a halt. He pulled back on the trigger, bullets pouring into where he was standing. Above everything, he could not move! He had to have a steady bead on him!
Wincing, more wood being torn out of the tree by the AR that was now on full automatic, Chase focused. The shooter was swinging the weapon wildly. He pulled back on the trigger of the Glock. It was a long shot. They were a hundred feet away. This weapon was only good for seventy-five feet. Dammit!
He caressed the trigger, the Glock roaring, bucking in his hand. The sound was like a clap of thunder around him.
There was a scream. The man standing up behind Bannock got slammed backward, knocked out of the ATV, the AR-15 flying, flipping end over end in the air and landing ten feet away from the machine.
The man landed flat on