Chapter 15 - The Ambush at Devil’s Creek
The black SUV lunged forward again, ramming the trunk with enough force to kick the tail of my car out.
To my right was a jagged rock wall; to my left was an eighty-foot drop into the raging waters of Devil's Creek.
The driver pulled up alongside me, trying to pin my front wheels against the crumbling gravel edge.
Through the heavily tinted glass, I saw a masked gunman in the passenger seat raising an automatic submachine gun.
I slammed the brakes with everything I had.
The SUV surged ahead, caught off guard by my sudden deceleration.
The moment their passenger window cleared my front fender, I unholstered my sidearm and fired three rounds through their glass.
The bullets shattered the window, striking the shooter and sending the driver swerving violently.
The SUV clipped the rock face on the right, sparks exploding in a blinding shower of orange and white.
The vehicle rolled twice down the narrow road, flipping end over end until it smashed into a thick pine tree.
I didn't stop to check for survivors.
I floored the accelerator, weaving through the smoking debris of shattered fiberglass and burning oil.
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Every second wasted was a second Julianne and Clara drifted closer to an unmarked grave.
Ahead, the rusted, skeletal towers of the Blackwood Iron Foundry pierced the graying canopy of the forest.
