Stolen Fury - By Elisabeth Naughton Page 0,35

I almost have it.” Muscles strained in his jaw and shoulders as he worked the seat belt free.

Someone had tried to run them off the road. Someone had shot at them.

A tangy scent hit her nostrils. “What is that?”

His head darted up. Fingers paused on her belt. He looked through the open space behind them where the rear window used to be. Seeing the disbelief race across his features, she twisted as much as she could so her gaze could follow.

A car—the one that must have hit them—was on fire.

“¡Hijo de puta!” He glanced back at her seat belt and worked faster.

Gas. Oh, shit. They were leaking gas.

“Hurry!” she yelled.

He swore again and yanked the belt harder. As Lisa looked back through the window, her heart rate kicked up in her chest.

Hurry, hurry, hurry…

The belt gave with a snap. She landed hard against Rafe’s chest. His arms closed around her, and in an instant he was wriggling them both out of the vehicle-turned-fire hazard.

When he was all the way out, he grasped her hands and yanked hard. “Go!” He half pushed, half pulled her away from the car.

“My pack!” She turned before he could stop her, dropped to her knees and reached back inside the vehicle.

“Fuck me! Let it go!” He gripped her around the waist and pulled violently. The pack slipped from her fingers.

Lisa kicked and struggled out of his arms. “I need it. Dammit, I almost had it!”

He swore again and pushed her hard away from the car. Her butt hit the pavement just as his head and shoulders disappeared inside the vehicle.

Shouts caught Lisa’s attention, and her gaze darted to the burning car only yards away. For the first time, she saw the trail of gasoline trickling from the rental.

She scrambled to her feet.

“Rafe!”

He jerked out of the vehicle and ran toward her, backpack in hand. Strong arms caught her around the waist and thrust her down behind a parked car halfway down the block.

Gasoline met flame. Fire raced along the ground. The rental ignited in a fireball of metal and glass, and the scent of burning rubber scarred the air.

Tires squealed somewhere behind the burning car.

Rafe’s head darted up. Before Lisa had time to grasp her surroundings, he glanced over the hood of the pickup they’d used as cover. In one swift movement he grabbed her hand and pulled her with him.

She shot to her feet as he set off at a dead run.

His legs were longer. She had a hard time keeping up, still reeling from the accident. Just when she’d matched his pace, he jerked her to an abrupt halt and darted into a smoky tavern.

He paused long enough for Lisa’s eyes to adjust to the smoke and swirling lights. A band in the corner was playing a bad version of Clapton’s “Cocaine.” Patrons filled the bar, and the dance floor near the stage was packed with bodies. Glasses clinked and voices resounded through the crowded room. A woman sitting at a table to Lisa’s left laughed and threw her head back.

The door behind them wrenched open. Startled by the blast of cold air, Lisa turned and saw two men frantically searching the maze of smoke and people.

Her pulse jumped. Rafe tugged her toward the back of the bar before she could get a close look at either man. They skirted tables before tearing out a back door and racing across an alley.

Her lungs burned, but it was obvious Rafe wasn’t slowing down for anything, especially not for her to catch her breath. The memory of that fire convinced her she wasn’t slowing down, either.

On the other side of the block he pulled her into the shadows. They hugged the concrete building, moving swiftly, putting as much distance between themselves and the explosion as possible.

His pace didn’t slow until they were a good six blocks away from the accident. He finally loosened his death grip on her arm, letting go long enough so he could look around to make sure they weren’t being followed. Satisfied, he signaled a passing taxi.

Lisa leaned forward, braced both hands on her knees and tried to draw air into her searing lungs. She could still taste the smoke from the fire. Her ears were ringing, her eyes stung.

Streetlamps cast shadows across the concrete. Cars whizzed by on the pavement. Garbage lined the gutters in the dilapidated neighborhood, and a Walgreens sign flickered down the street. Rafe pushed her into the cab before she could get her bearings and figure

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