Dead of Winter (Battle of the Bulls #2) - T. S. Joyce Page 0,30

open window. “You can’t hurt dirt.” He cast a crazy smile at Raven and hit the gas. The truck peeled out and threw mud and gravel behind the tires.

“Might want to roll that window up unless you want a mud bath,” he told her over the roaring of the engine.

“What are we doing?” she called, rolling it up as fast as she could.

“Muddin’, woman!” He twisted and checked the bed of his truck. “Last time I did this, I had my camp chairs and a bag of clothes in the back and caked them. Learned my lesson.”

Eyes wide and arms locked against the dashboard in fear, she tossed a look in the bed on instinct. “Dead, there’s still camp chairs and a bag back there!”

“Okay, maybe I didn’t learn my lesson.” He hit the gas, blazing between two rows of RVs. In the side mirror, she could see Quickdraw’s giant-ass truck following right behind them, and when they hit a curve, she could see Two Shot’s white truck behind him.

People were sticking their heads out of their RV doors as their trucks blasted by. Mostly cowboys lookin’ either grumpy-as-hell or curious. Raven didn’t know what else to do other than wave apologetically. Sorry for waking you up with three loud trucks and chaos.

He hit the end of the RV camp and aimed for the tree line that bordered the huge clearing.

“Oh, my gosh, Dead! I don’t think we’re supposed to go in there!” The trees were too tightly grouped. They were going to crash! She threw her arms over her face. “Dead, slow down!”

“Raven,” he said, aiming for an opening between two trees. “I won’t let anything happen to you. Just live!”

Just live.

When she peeked from behind her arms, they were already through the trees. In this stretch of woods, the foliage wasn’t so compact, and Dead skidded around a patch of brambles and hit the gas, spewing mud behind them. On either side of the truck was Quickdraw’s jacked-up navy blue Chevy, and Two Shots white truck. They were skidding this way and that through the trees. Their tires made big divots in the mud.

Beside her, Dead was turning the wheel expertly, navigating the trees with his back-end fishtailing back and forth.

This was okay. Everything was all right.

Through the trees, there was a clearing, and Dead pointed the nose of the truck toward an opening through two massive pines. Quickdraw was already in the clearing, right on the edge, stopped and revving his engine.

“Little shit thinks he has a chance in a Chevy,” Dead said through a laugh.

His eyes were bright green and dancing every time he glanced at her. “I’ve got you,” he said suddenly as he pulled up next to Quickdraw.

She nodded jerkily and grabbed onto the oh-shit handle above the door. “Just live.”

His grin turned straight wicked. “Atta girl.”

On Dead’s other side, Two Shots pulled up, and the passenger window rolled down. Cheyenne stood up out of the window, threw her arms out, and yelled at the sky. Pretty Cheyenne was even prettier with that free spirit leaking out. Maybe that’s where extra beauty came from. Letting go of control gave a person a different aura.

Cheyenne finished her howl and pointed at Dead. “You’re going down.”

Dead revved his engine loudly as Cheyenne scrambled back into the passenger seat and began rolling up her window.

There was a loaded moment when Dead was looking on either side of him at the trucks all lined up. Quickdraw hit the gas first, and Dead whooped as he gunned it. One hand on the wheel, one hand slipping to her tensed thigh, he drove them straight across that clearing. The problem was, there were puddles. They would get bogged down, and Dead would have to correct, but the same was happening to Two Shots and Quickdraw, and by the time they were midway through the field, Raven was cracking up and yelling encouragement. “This way, this way, this way!” she whooped as Two Shots had to veer to the right to avoid a tuft of brush. His movement gave them just enough room to skirt a deep muddy bog.

“Oh, yeah, I see it,” Dead murmured, heading for the gap.

Raven couldn’t stop laughing as adrenaline surged through her. Her skin tingled, and her breath caught in her chest as they almost, almost, hit the brush. Oh, Dead could drive. His wheels had come less than an inch from the branches of the foliage, and then he gunned it.

Two Shots was struggling to