Page 116 of Noel Secrets
Suddenly, the van jumped the shoulder.
Clay cut off two cars and followed, tires spitting gravel as he gunned it. He didn’t know this stretch of highway or how far the shoulder would go. If they slipped back into traffic, he might lose them.
A car veered into his path. Clay hit the brakes hard, flung out his arm instinctively, and swerved. The car slid back into its lane.
Clay surged ahead. The van was still within reach—but now the driver stared back in the mirror.
A muzzle flashed.
The first bullet pinged off Clay’s hood. He ducked low and didn’t let up. More gunfire ripped through the air.
Clay grabbed his gun, cracked his window, and started to return fire.
Then, at the sight of the cars he was swerving by, he thought better of it. Too many innocents. He couldn’t risk gunfire.
His prey didn’t share his concern as they fired off several more shots.
He made a call in that moment.
Stop them now, or lose her forever.
The traffic boxed them in. No room to pass. No choice but to ram.
Clay punched the gas. The truck slammed into the van’s rear. The van bucked. Through the mirror, he saw the driver shout. Another shot rang out—had to be the passenger. Bullets clipped Clay’s door.
He rammed them again, harder.
This time, the van spun out of control.
It fishtailed, veered off the road, and plowed into the grassy median, sliding to a stop inches from a tree.
Clay locked up the brakes. Tires screamed. The truck skidded to a halt behind them.
He jumped out, gun raised and ready for a fight.
The two men burst from the van and bolted into the trees. He didn’t chase them. Not yet. Darby came first.
Gun drawn, he cautiously approached the van’s back doors. No movement so far, but he wasn’t taking any chances. He flung open the doors and raised his weapon.
The only person inside was Darby Foster on the floor, bound and gagged. Her green eyes locked on him, wide with terror. He stepped inside, and she recoiled.
“It’s okay,” Clay said quickly, holstering his weapon. “I won’t hurt you.”
Her eyes were wet with tears and her hair and clothes disheveled from the struggle. But he still noted she was prettier than her photo as he knelt and peeled the tape from her mouth.
She gasped for breath. “They grabbed me from my house,” she whispered, trembling.
“I know. But you’re safe now.” He drew the knife from his boot, and she flinched at the sight of it. But as he used it to slice through the tape binding her hands and feet, Darby relaxed again. She sat up, pale and shivering, and wiped her face. Her chin trembled as she held back the torrent of emotion he saw in her eyes. “Who were those men?”
“I’m not sure yet, but I’ll find out,” he assured her. “They ran off. But we’ll find them.”
She crossed her arms, hugging her middle. Whether for comfort or warmth because of the chill coming in the open doors, he didn’t know. She’d been abducted without a coat, and the temperature hadn’t warmed.
He shrugged off his jacket and wrapped it around her shoulders.
Her eyes flashed gratitude as she pulled her arms into it. A small smile played on her lips, but a frown quickly replaced both her smile and her unspoken thanks as she stared up at him. “Who … who are you?”
He pulled his credentials from his pocket and held them out.
