Page 118 of Durango

“We have to go,” I say to Willow. “Leave everything for now.”

Once we are in the truck, I pull out and curse at the slow speed limit inside the campground. I drive to the main lot and park down from Sylvia’s car.

“What’s going on?” Willow asks.

“The woman behind my kidnapping is here. I assume she’s looking for me.”

“Did she follow us?” Willow asks.

“If she did, that means she’s been here since last night. And I really doubt that.” Which means… I jump out of the truck and run my hands underneath. Sure enough, I feel it. An AirTag. I toss it into the trees lining the parking lot and jump back into the truck.

“She had an AirTag on the truck. I’m supposed to keep an eye on her. Harding and Ozzie will be here soon.”

“Soon? How? Are they not coming from the city?”

I grimace. “I spotted Sylvia about thirty minutes ago and called Harding. I stayed in the parking lot, watching her until she moved toward the campground.”

I’m angry at myself for not checking for any tags on my vehicle. But then, why would I expect any? As far as I was concerned, the CIA had this handled. Apparently, they didn’t.

“If your truck was tagged, why would she wait in the parking lot for so long?” Willow asks.

“My guess is she was waiting for back up. I’m sorry to have gotten you into this mess, but I’ll keep you safe.” I chance a glance at Willow.

“It’s all right. If she tries to grab you again, I’ll stop her.”

I grin, despite the circumstances. The Willow I used to know is back. Fearless and willing to dive into any situation. Tyler may have dimmed her light, but it’s back.

Now I’ll be dammed if Sylvia’s going to mess with what we are building.

Sylvia reenters the parking lot.

“I think those men are with her.” Willow points to three guys standing near a car.

They are watching Sylvia.

“Maybe.” I keep my eyes on all of them.

Sylvia turns in our direction and walks toward us. I’m about to pull out when she stops and simply points at me.

“What the hell is she doing?” Willow asks.

“I don’t know.”

The three men haven’t moved. Then, something hits my truck.

“What was that?” Willow asks.

It sounded like a rock that was thrown hard. I check my mirrors in time to see something pierce my back tire.

“Shit,” I say as I tear out of the spot. “Someone is trying to shoot out my tires. Stay down in case they aim for us.”

Willow bends down as I tear out of the lot. “I didn’t hear a gunshot,” she says.

“Probably has some kind of silencer on it so as not to draw the attention of others.” I toss my phone to Willow. “Call Harding. She’s the last call I made.”

I glance in my rearview. No one is behind us.

“What’s going on?” Harding asks from the phone.

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