Page 10 of Going Rogue
“Fuck!” Crane cursed and pushed the pedal to the floor. “This thing’s too old to be armored.” It didn’t seem to make much of a difference, though. The Humvee hadn’t been built for speed.
The militants who’d been manning the guard shack by the gate ran after them, sending a barrage of bullets from assault rifles. At least their aim sucked.
"Who are these assholes?" she muttered the question under her breath. Whenever they made it back stateside, she had every intention of finding out.Andmaking sure their gun dealings and whatever other pies they had their fingers in were a thing of the past.
Sometimes, it pays to know people.
???
Crane
Crane glanced over at Rogue in time to see a sinister smile tilt her lips up. “Do I want to know what you’re thinking about over there?”
“Nope.” She shook her head. “Just drive, big guy.”
He grinned at the nickname. They weren’t out of the woods yet, but at least the overwhelming fear had passed. After nearly petrifying him. Whether from the length ofthis operation or the high stakes, he was on edge way more than usual.
The thought of failing Rogue . . . it choked him, clouded his brain when he needed to be sharp. He’d always been good at thinking on his feet, but when the truck hadn’t cranked, his mind had blanked and plunged right into panic.
Uncomfortable with the ‘why’ behind it, Crane’s hands tightened on the wheel. They were almost to the gate, except . . .
“Why’d they stop shooting?” Worry crept into his tone as he glanced over at Rogue.
She reared up to check behind them, only to let out a slew of curses before plopping back in her seat. “They’re giving chase on dirt bikes.”
“Damn it! We missed those.”
“Think we can outrun them?” Rogue asked, but her gaze stayed trained out the window.
In a brand-new Humvee? Possibly. In this old-ass junk of metal . . . “Probably not.”
With another curse, she disappeared over the seat.
“What are you doing?” A hint of feartinged his question. He didn’t like her being out of sight when they were still in danger.
He didn’t miss the smirk in her voice when she said, “In case you hadn’t noticed, this thing has an M60.”
Instead of that fact being a relief, it shot his blood pressure through the roof. Not that he wouldn’t love for her to fire at the militants and stop their pursuit, but it meant putting herself in danger to do so.
“Dammit, Rogue. What if they shoot back?” He reached blindly toward the hatch in the roof, hoping to catch her before she climbed up it.
She yelped when his hand closed around her leg. Something hit the floorboards, crashing and rolling. He thought it might be the ammo.
“Let go!” She tried shaking him off, but the gate loomed right in front of them.
Crane jerked her back into the seat before they crashed through it. “Hold on!”
The force of their impact sent the chain-link flying open, and metal clanged against metal. They broke free with a horrible screech when pieces of the gate clawed at theHumvee as if in a desperate attempt to keep them from escaping.
When he glanced over to ensure Rogue wasn’t injured, he found her rubbing at her chest. The Humvee didn’t have airbags, and they’d both bounced pretty good. “You okay?”
Her response came as a glare before she rechecked their six.
Her anger didn’t faze him. She would have been hurt a lot worse if she’d been halfway out of the vehicle when they’d crashed through the gate.
“They’re still following us.”
A disgruntled sigh moved Crane’s chest; he knew what she was going to do. “Don’t make yourself an easy target.”
