Page 174 of New Storm Rising
“There!” Mr Ambrose’s voice abruptly pulled me from my thoughts. “Ahead!”
I glanced up, and I saw it. Light. Not just the dim, murky light that pervaded the canyon, but bright, brilliant sunlight.
“We’ve done it. We’re out of the canyon.”
“Good.” I glanced back at the rapidly approaching dust cloud rising from the gorge. “Because I’m out of ideas as well. What the heck are we gonna do?” I looked forward again, and saw nothing but endless desert stretching out in front of us. “What are we going to do?”
“Ride,” came Mr Ambrose’s monosyllabic reply. “Fast.Now.”
And, slapping my camel’s rear, he urged his own to a gallop.
What followed was a hair-curling race through the desert. If this had been any other time, it would have been amazing fun—especially taking into account the groans of the dozen or so men trying to keep their meals in on galloping camels. But it wasn’t any other time. It was here and now, and the shit was about to hit the fan.
Bam!
“Crap!”
This time, it wasn’t me shooting. Turning around, I squinted my eyes, and in the distance was just able to catch the figures of several riders rushing out from the entrance of the gorge. Metal blinked in the harsh, blinding sunlight.
“Double crap with a cherry on top!”
Bam! Bam!
Leaning down low in the saddle, I squeezed my mount’s flanks, driving him forward hard. Doing my best to ignore the way the world was violently jerking up and down, I glanced over at my darling husband and gave him my best hopeful little wifey look. “Do you have any more, ehem…presents for me?”
“Do you have any idea how much dynamite costs, Mrs Ambrose?”
“Obviously not. You’re the one who pays for it.”
Turning towards me, he speared me with an icy stare. “No. I donothave any more dynamite.”
I gave him my best attempt at a smile. “Well, at least now you know what to get me for my birthday.”
“Mrs Ambrose?”
“Yes, dear?”
“Be. Quiet. And. Ride.”
I opened my mouth to retort—until he caught my gaze, and I saw the look in his eyes. It was a look unlike any I had seen before. I had seen Mr Rikkard Ambrose calm as a glacier, filled with icy anger, even, on occasion, thawed by love. But this?
I had never seen this before.
His eyes were on fire. Not the cold fire I was used to, either. No, the searing, burning determination to guard and protect!
BAM!
I had just an instant to realize that, this time, the gunfire was much, much closer, before something hard and heavy came crashing down onto me, slamming me flat on my mount’s back. I heard the sharp hiss of two bullets cutting through the air just above me.
I swallowed.
“Mrs Ambrose?” his oh-so-familiar cool voice entered my ear.
“Yes, Sir?”
“Don’t die. This is an order. Understood?”
“Yes, Sir.”
