Page 67 of The Wounded Warrior

The bastard gunned it again, zooming up behind him. Rory swerved, which meant the jerk missed at the last moment.

“Doing my dead-level best. I’m heading into town. I’m going to stop at Avery Masters’s. He does therapy in his outbuilding.”

“Yes, sir.”

Hell, at this point the voice had changed, and he thoughthe was talking to the local emergency operator. “We’ll try to have a car there, as well as on its way to you on the road.”

“I’m close. I’m going to warn them.” He hit his hands-free. “Call Luke.”Now. Now, hurry.

The truck clipped him again, and the urge to turn this big bitch around and ram the fucker filled him up to the brim.

Thank God he wasn’t in the Mustang.

“Luke’s in the hot tub , man.”

“Someone’s trying to run me off the road. I’m three minutes from you!”

“What?” Avery’s voice rose.

“You heard me, you motherfucker! Help! Me!”

The next blow caught him on the left side, the guy trying to push him off the road and this time, he slammed on his brakes, the big Dodge screaming and shuddering to a stop as the other truck shot past him.

“Where are you? Have you called the cops?”

“Uh-huh. He just passed me. I’m pulling in your road. You armed?”

“I am now.” Avery sounded cold as ice.

“Rock on.” He wasn’t sure he could manage to find the pistol in his glove compartment, much less load and aim it. He was shaking but good.

Avery stood on the porch when he squealed to a halt. The tires threw up gravel and his springs were still rocking when he hopped out, Avery waving madly in the headlights.

He nodded and hurried over, his legs damn near too shaky to hold him.

“Come on.” Avery grabbed him around the waist and yanked him into the house. Luke sat at the window with a rifle in his hands, face set in stone.

“Cops on their way?” Luke asked.

“Uh-huh.” He blinked then shook himself.Come on. Focus. Focus, man. Luke is watching you.

Luke jerked his head at Avery. “Come man the window.” Once Avery took the rifle, Luke wheeled right over to him. “You in one piece?”

“Yeah. Yeah, don’t know about my truck. It’s running, though. Sheriff should be here soon. Hey you.”

“Hey.” Luke took his hand, then tugged him right down into the chair.

He leaned right in, hid his face for a second, and just breathed. If he was shaking, Luke didn’t mention it. Rory thought that was right decent.

Chapter Twenty-One

Luke waited until the cops had taken statements, until all the pictures of the truck had been taken, and until Rory had told the damned story fifteen times in a row.

The sheriff clearly thought Rory had provoked someone, but he refused to believe Doug Harris had dick to do with it. “You never saw the driver, and the vehicle doesn’t match anything from around here,” he’d said. “Road rage.”

“For what?” Rory had snapped. “Pulling off to let him pass? Man, I’m such a bitch.”

“Watch your mouth, boy.”

---